by E. A. Copen
He lifted his face from the chair and stared at me. “Oh, you’re up. Aces. We need to have a chat.” He glanced at Emma before adding, “Alone.”
“Emma, would you mind?”
She set the computer aside and stood. “I need a break anyway. I’m starving.”
I was too but didn’t mention it. I felt like I’d already been enough of a burden on everyone’s life of late. Instead, I just nodded and gave her a quick peck on the cheek before watching her go.
Josiah got up and shut the door. “I see why you went to Hell for her. She’s a good woman.”
“A good woman who’s had a bad couple of months thanks to me. Sometimes I wonder why she sticks around...” I tipped my head to the side. “Speaking of sticking around, you and Khaleda?”
He lit a cigarette and put his hand in his pocket, still leaning against the door. “Don’t put too much thought into it, mate. It’s a working relationship. I do all the work, and she sorts out the relationships.”
I didn’t buy it. When working closely with a succubus like Khaleda Morningstar, there was no such thing as a working relationship. She had a way of getting under your skin so you couldn’t think about anything but being with her. And once she had you, you could kiss your free will goodbye. I’d survived our encounter only by sheer willpower, and lots and lots of luck.
I cleared my throat. “So, what’d you want to talk about?”
He pulled the smoking cigarette from between his lips and gestured to me. “You know an angel. Could’ve mentioned that before I started poking around for information.”
“I was a little dead if you hadn’t noticed, Josiah. Or close to it. Last time you were in town, I didn’t know Moses was anything other than an old cop and a crack shot.” I shrugged. “Why does it matter?”
“Because the bastards have me by the balls and they’re squeezing hard.” He pressed his back to the door and slid down so he was sitting, lanky legs bent. “As soon as they found out I was in town, they gave me trouble. You need to be careful to stay off their radar, Lazarus.”
I cringed. “Yeah, too late.”
“Bugger.” He studied his cigarette, shrugged, and put it back in his mouth. “Suppose it couldn’t be helped. You’re a trouble magnet.”
I considered what I’d learned from Moses. He hadn’t given me a lot to go on because his hands were tied, but Josiah’s weren’t. Maybe he could help. “Did you know God was missing?”
Josiah nearly swallowed his cigarette before pulling it away and coughing. “You don’t say? Well, that certainly explains a lot. Don’t see how it changes things, though. Michael’s still a fuckwit hellbent on his epic battle with the Adversary.”
“Yeah, and I guess he doesn’t care if that Adversary is Loki or the new Devil. Apparently, Heaven has no plans to step in and stop Loki from getting his revenge.”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t surprise me. Tunnel vision’s what he’s got. Likes staring into his own arse, expectin’ to shit glory.”
Funny way of putting it, but I wasn’t going to argue with him. I got up and went to the box Loki had sent earlier, lifting the clay image for him to see.
He frowned. “What’s that?”
“It’s how I got back. I made a deal that kind of sucks with a less than savory divine being. Promise me you won’t tell anyone, and I’ll give you the details. I… I could really use your help on this one.”
He studied the image, smoking in silence. “My help’s expensive. You can’t afford the help I’ve already given you.”
I lowered the clay image of Hades and Persephone. “Help me with this, and I’ll help you with your angel problem.”
“And just how do you propose to do that?” Josiah narrowed his eyes. “How could you possibly help me against the Hosts of Heaven?”
“You met Moses Moses?”
Josiah affirmed he had, with a grunt.
“He’s a personal friend, someone I’ve got dirt on. I’ll use it to help you get whatever you need whenever you need it for as long as I can. How’s that sound?” I didn’t like making that offer, but I hadn’t been left with much else to offer him. Tit for tat was all I had at the moment.
He nodded and pushed himself to his feet. “Sounds like you’ve got my attention. Now, what exactly are we talking about here?”
I shook my head and dropped the clay picture back into the box. “First, I need a blood oath that you won’t ever tell anyone about the deal I made, or about our deal. This has to be between you and me, Josiah. Not even Emma can know.”
Josiah nodded and drew a knife from his belt. “I swear not to speak of the deal that saved your life, or the deal we’re about to make, to anyone.”
A wizard’s oath was one thing. Some of the oldest magic available, it was mortally binding. Break it, and he’d die. A blood oath took things a step further by putting magic on the line. If Josiah broke his word, he’d lose something he valued even more than his own life: his magic.
The air snapped and sizzled around us, loud as a gunshot. Josiah tossed me the knife, and I made a small cut on the pad of my thumb. “And I swear that I’ll keep my end of the bargain by helping you against the angels, just as I said.”
Magic bubbled heavy in the air again, strong enough it made me wince. The air burned with it for a long moment before the power stretched thin and disappeared. Our oath was done, sealed in blood.
I told Josiah everything, and he smoked two cigarettes without saying a word. At first, I was worried he’d be judgmental, though I should’ve known better. The guy worked with blood magic and performed animal sacrifices regularly to fuel his spells. He understood the cost of doing business in the magical world, maybe better than most.
When I’d finished explaining things, he nodded and tapped his fingers on his leg. “I’m not sure what I can do to help with that. Killing gods is your department.”
“I don’t want to kill him,” I said, crossing my arms. “I guess that doesn’t matter. No matter what I do, Loki is always one step ahead of me, always got something on me to make me dance to his tune. I wouldn’t put it past him to be behind Remy’s kidnapping, at least in part. How am I going to beat this guy?”
Josiah shrugged. “He’s a god, right? How would you kill any other god?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Yes, it is.” He pushed himself up off the floor. “Killing Loki is easy. The hard part is shielding those you love from the fallout in the meantime and preserving who you are. I know Hades is your friend. These other names he gives you might be too. What you’ve got to decide is which thing means more to you: friendship or family. Doing the right thing or survival. You can’t always have both.”
I shook my head and focused on the computer Emma had set aside. “It’s so easy for you, isn’t it? Just do it. Whatever it takes. I’m not like you.”
Josiah crossed the room and put a hand on my shoulder. “You don’t want to be like me, Laz.”
He was right. Josiah was an unapologetic, cold-hearted bastard with no friends. He’d never change either. Forever alone, no matter what it cost him. I couldn’t do that. I needed Remy, needed Emma. Without having them around, I didn’t feel whole anymore.
“There might be something I can do,” Josiah said, withdrawing his hand. “But it’s risky, and it’s going to require you to do something…deceptive.”
“I can lie.”
“Can you lie to Emma?”
I turned away.
“I’m not the only person you have a pact with, then. Figured as much. You want to end this? Save the world and everyone in it? Then you’re going to need to be willing to get your hands dirty. You’re going to hurt people, Lazarus, those close to you most.”
“Just tell me what to do.” I met Josiah’s stormy gray eyes with a hard gaze of my own. He thought I wasn’t willing to do the work. I could see it in his face. Well, he was wrong. Dead wrong. I’d do whatever it took to stop Loki, but I wasn’t going to sacrifice Remy and Emma to do it.
Josiah’s expression softened. He shook his head. “No. You’re not ready to hear it.”
“You’re going to tell me to break things off with Emma and forget about Remy.”
“Yes.”
I made a fist. “I can’t do that.”
“Then you don’t want to win bad enough. A man with everything to lose is no threat to a tyrant god with no morals.” He pulled a fresh pack of cigarettes from his pocket and tapped one out into his palm before turning to walk away. “When you’re ready, you give me a call.”
“Josiah!” I called after him once he’d pulled open the door. “You’re not leaving yet, are you? I mean, Bizarro Me is still out there.”
Josiah’s hand slid down the door, but he didn’t turn back around. “You don’t need me for that, mate. With angels about, I think it’s better if we lie low until you figure out how to get them off my back. You’ve got my number. Call me when you need me and I’ll be there once that’s done, but until then?” He shook his head. “Sorry, mate. It’s business.”
“I understand.”
Josiah nodded and left, pulling the door closed behind him.
I deflated with a sigh and sank to my ass. Guess I’ll do this on my own, I thought, and pulled the laptop back into my lap.
Chapter Twelve
A brass band marched down the street outside, cymbals crashing and horns blaring. Onlookers poured from the nearby shops and houses to watch the brightly colored musicians pass. Behind the band came a float with metallic green, gold, and purple streamers. The front of the float had been made up to look like a purple dragon with plastic beads hanging from its mouth. Steam poured from its nostrils, and the dragon riders on the float spewed sweet-smelling smoke from their vaping devices at the crowds.
It was Sunday evening before Mardi Gras, which meant the partying in the Quarter would reach a fever pitch pretty soon. Tourists would cram onto Bourbon Street, flashing people for beads and doubloons. Strangers would gather, mistaking drunkenness for comradery, and the raucous partying for a true representation of what the date marked.
The parade passing outside the house was one of many small events that’d be going on all over the city. Groups called krewes spent months putting together their displays and marching them proudly through the streets. There were hundreds of krewes, each with a specific theme from science fiction to women’s rights. Most krewes ended their parade by holding a big party at some pre-determined location. Sometimes a masquerade and sometimes just a less formal gathering with lots of food, booze, and laughter.
And most of them were named after gods for a reason.
Modern-day gods didn’t derive power from the worshippers in temples like in the olden days. Instead, they thrived on other types of celebrations of their namesake, and no celebration was bigger than Mardi Gras in New Orleans. They had only to show up and drink in the praise. Gods like Bacchus—the Greek god of wine and revelry—probably got a big boost that time of year. Yet there were other, smaller krewes named after just about every god you could imagine, Hades included.
It took me three hours to realize he’d probably be at the revel held by the Krewe of Hades. All I had to do was find out where they were holding their event and get an invite. Not an easy task, I might add. It was a closed party, invite-only, and security would probably be tight. Just sneaking in would be out of the question, which meant I needed an official invitation.
While I was working on how to get one, Emma and Nate spent the afternoon poring over mythology books and notes, trying to figure out what Bizarro Laz really was. So far, the only thing they’d come up with was that he might be a doppelganger, but I didn’t think that fit. Doppelgangers were non-biologically connected to whatever person they were supposed to be a double of. The tracking spell I’d used took me right to Bizarro Laz, which meant his DNA was at least strikingly similar to mine, unlikely if he were a construction like a doppelganger.
I leaned on one arm, staring out the window at the passing band. “Do you guys know anyone in the Krewe of Hades?”
Nate looked up from the book he was reading and pushed up his glasses. “Never heard of that one.”
Figures. It wasn’t a very big or well-known krewe. Guess I could always just show up at the party and demand to be let in, a risky move considering the cops were out looking for me. Being wanted sucked. That was only a possibility if I knew where they were holding their revel, but that information wasn’t available publicly. Baron Samedi might know, but if I called him up, he’d want to know why I wanted to talk to Hades.
I have bigger problems than the Baron, I thought, looking at Emma. She was chewing her fingernails again. Slipping out without anyone noticing wasn’t going to be easy. Dammit, why did my clone have to be evil? I would’ve loved to be two places at once.
Emma stood up straighter and put her hands on her hips. “I think I’ve got it. It’s a fetch.”
I groaned and pushed away from the window. “Doesn’t matter what it is. It’s ruining my life while I’m stuck here, hiding because the stupid police think I’m a monster. I should be out there, running down leads.”
Emma shot me a warning glare. “You go out there, you’ll get yourself arrested or worse, and I’m not breaking you out.”
Darius knocked on the door. He was dressed in the most ridiculous sequined green suit with purple and gold stripes. More important, he had a stack of paper plates in one hand and a big white box tucked under his arm. “How’s it goin’, Magic Man?” He held up the box. “Thought you could use some fuel.”
Darius walked into the room and put the box down on the cot before flipping it open, revealing an oval-shaped pastry with colored icing—purple, gold, and green, just like everything else during Mardi Gras. A King Cake, a Mardi Gras tradition.
My chest ached looking at the thing. I’d been looking forward to sharing a piece with Remy all year. Seeing it just made me miss her more.
That’s it. I can’t just hide up here anymore. I need to do something. While everyone else was gathered around the cake, watching Darius cut it, I snapped up one of the paper plates and one of the green highlighters Emma had been using on the book she was working on. I ripped a few pieces off the plate and then set to coloring it lime green.
“You okay?” Emma asked.
In response, I lifted the quick mask I’d made and made it rest on my nose. “What do you think?”
Emma pulled the paper mask away. “I think I’ve seen better masks in the toy aisle. That’s not going to get you down the street without someone recognizing your face.”
“If you want a mask, I got a few extra.” Darius thrust his thumb toward the door. “Marcelle, go get Lazarus a mask.”
“Why do you need a mask?” Nate asked, poking through his cake with a frown.
“You’re not thinking of going out.” Emma tilted her head and gave me a look that said she’d kick my ass if I gave the wrong answer.
I sighed. “I’m going crazy here, Emma. I need to do something. I can’t stay cooped up in a room that smells like sweaty gym socks in a porn shop. No offense, Darius.”
He shrugged and shoved a forkful of colorful cake into his mouth. “Bleach only cleans so much, you know?”
“Besides,” I continued, “we’re not going to find a way into Faerie from here.”
“Why don’t you just ask Paula?” Everyone in the room stared at Nate. He shrugged. “She’s fae, right? Or part fae?”
“She’s Shadow fae, which means she’s the one type of fae that hates me more than Summer. Or her people do.” I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose to try and ward off the headache. “She won’t help for free either, and if I show up at the bar, she might get in trouble with the authorities. They might even be watching the place.”
Emma crossed-cut off a big piece of the cake with the side of her fork. “You think she’d let a bunch of cops hang out there and scare off her clientele?”
An idea came to me; a devious one, sure, but it’d keep Emma off my bac
k long enough for me to track down Hades and do what I needed to do. “Tell you what, Em. Why don’t you and Nate go to Paula’s? There’ll be less trouble if they spot you two. Just make sure you don’t accept any gifts or strike any deals with her without talking to me first.”
Nate and Emma exchanged a glance. “And what will you be doing while we do that?” Nate asked.
Marcelle returned, holding out a gold-and-black-checkered mask with green and purple feathers. It had a bird’s beak to cover my nose and wings that would stretch all the way back to my ears.
I took the mask and affixed it to my face. “I’m going to see if I can conjure up some help.”
“Clever.” Emma rolled her eyes and put the cake in her mouth only to wince when she bit down. She turned away and spat a tiny plastic baby figurine into her hand.
“Ha!” Darius pointed at her and grinned before picking up a plastic crown sitting on the table that he sat on her head. “Now you have to buy the next one!”
Emma frowned up at the crown. “You know that’s bad luck, right?”
“Queen for a day is good luck, cha!” I imitated a broader accent and leaned in to plant a kiss on her cheek. “You’re still the Queen of Thorns where it counts, baby.”
She punched me in the side hard enough that it hurt.
Chapter Thirteen
Put on a mask, pick up a string of colored plastic beads and walk down the street with an open bottle of liquor any other week and people will think you’re a nutcase. During Mardi Gras in New Orleans, the normally dressed folks were the odd ones out.
I left the mansion in a borrowed t-shirt, a black leather vest (also borrowed), and my mask. Darius promised to send me a bill, both for putting me up for almost a week, and any damage I did to the borrowed clothing.
A bunch of people were milling around in the street after the parade passed, moving like a blob to follow them down the street. I joined them for a short while and turned down a side street. To find the Hades Krewe, I’d have to ask around, and it was too early in the afternoon for roving groups of drunks. That meant my best bet was to talk to someone official, something I never would’ve risked if I weren’t in a mask.
