Death And Darkness

by E. A. Copen

  “As long as I retain ownership of the building and reserve the right to refuse service for any reason.” She lifted the gun and slid it back behind the counter where it belonged. “But it’s not just something you can do. You need people to have a court, Lazarus.”

  I put my hands on my hips and addressed the crowd. “Well? How about it? Who wants to join my court?”

  The room was silent.

  “Free drinks while court’s in session,” Paula announced.

  Every hand in the room suddenly shot up.

  I smiled and nodded to Foxglove. “Okay, how do I make it happen?”

  He drew a small dagger at his hip and passed it to me. “Call on your power and declare it so. Claim it and these people with your blood, and it will be done.”

  The dagger felt cold and heavy in my hand. Magic buzzed faintly inside the fae metal, pushing against mine. Power licked at my mental shields, tapping gently on the defenses once, and then crashing hard into them. I winced and drew the dagger through the meat of my palm. Blood raced down my wrist and fell to the floor in fat droplets infused with magic.

  “I claim this place in the name of the Pale Horseman. With my blood, and with my power, I make it mine.” I don’t know where the words came from. They flowed out of me on automatic. Though I had never heard them and never been taught how to use them, it felt like I had been waiting to say them all my life.

  The three drops of blood on the floor steamed and crackled. Little flashes of lightning danced between them like one of those novelty balls of electricity that reacted to being touched.

  Paula licked her lips. “Again.”

  I sucked in a breath, closed my eyes, and squeezed my fist. “With my blood and power, I claim this place in the name of the Pale Horseman!”

  Lightning jumped from the blood on the floor to bore into my chest. The world flashed in white, hot pain and then went icy cold. I stood, frozen, as the bolt of power crawled over my skin as if making a topographical map. Once it finished with me, the lightning shot away from my body in dozens of tiny arms and struck everyone in the room, Paula and Foxglove included. The explosion of power knocked me from my feet. I flew backward and hit the bar, knocking over two stools on my way down to the floor.

  “Ow,” I wheezed once the magic retreated. I could still feel it buzzing around me, pricking at the edge of my consciousness, but at least it was no longer trying to burn my skin off.

  I sat up and shook away the cobwebs. Everyone else in the bar was lying draped over a table, or flat on the floor groaning. Everyone except for Foxglove, who had clearly anticipated the shock. He’d gone down to one knee and pushed himself up with a grunt.

  “Congratulations,” he said dryly. “The bar is yours.”

  “Good.” I pushed myself up on wobbly legs and turned to lean on the bar just as Paula pulled herself up. “Whiskey, Paula. And better make it a double. This is going to be a long night.”

  Chapter Twenty

  As it turns out, there’s more to claiming a space than just turning it into a safe place to hide while on the lam. I’d forged some kind of magical connection with everyone that was in the bar and felt the weight of it, even when Paula closed the bar and they left. Foxglove said that was why the Faerie queens had knights. They helped shoulder the burden of care.

  Whatever. All I knew was that all the sudden responsibility was giving me a headache. And I only had fifteen people to look after. I couldn’t imagine what it must’ve been like to bear responsibility for a whole country.

  While Paula moved around, putting chairs up on tables and sweeping up, I sat at the bar with Foxglove, staring at the amber remains at the bottom of my glass. I wasn’t drunk, which was a little disappointing. Falling into the bottom of a bottle would’ve been the easy way to cope with suddenly being alone, despite all that new weight.

  Foxglove sat next to me with his back to the bar, watching Paula with his predatory eyes. I got the feeling the two had history I wasn’t privy to, but I didn’t want to ask. Fae and faekin lived a long time. Long lives could lead to lots of drama, and Lord knows I didn’t need any more of that.

  I picked up the glass and downed the last of my drink. “So, tell me about her.”

  “About the Summer Princess?” Foxglove asked.

  I nodded.

  He emptied his glass of beer and put it on the bar. A small reflective smile touched his eyes. “She’s strong. A fast learner. Smart with a sharp wit. She perceives more than most her age. The one thing she will never be is a pawn for Titania. The velvet fist has not worked for her.”

  Hollow pride pricked at my chest. I hadn’t raised her, but it sounded like she had just enough of my stubbornness in her to keep her from being totally brainwashed. Even if she wanted nothing to do with me, that would be good enough for me.

  Foxglove spun his stool around to lean on the bar. “She’s still young and foolish sometimes, but she will make a great queen someday.”

  “Yeah.” My throat was suddenly too dry. I reached across the bar and grabbed the first bottle I found, refilling both our glasses. “Maybe it’s selfish of me, but I don’t want her to be a queen. I never wanted her to be a princess. I just wanted her to be a little girl, you know? Her biggest problems growing up should’ve been learning to put on her makeup and fighting with me about curfews.”

  “Remy in makeup?” He laughed and lifted his drink. “She’d be angry at the suggestion. In Faerie, the suggestion that one should change their natural appearance is considered an insult.”

  “Well, I suppose it is here too, but it’s just something girls do.” I shrugged. “What about magic?”

  Foxglove’s face sobered. He shook his head. “The queen alone tutored her. Titania has limited what she’s allowed Remy to learn.”

  “Could she have taught herself?”

  “Perhaps,” said Foxglove with a nod. “If she has learned anything beyond the basics, she’s kept it well hidden.”

  I shrugged. “If she’s anything like me, she can’t help herself. Magic is part of who she is.”

  “Indeed, it is.” He raised his cup and touched it to mine before tipping it back and emptying the contents into his mouth. “She reminds me of her mother in many regards. Or what Odette might have been if Titania hadn’t gotten her claws in her. Remy is very powerful, however. There are many who fear what she could do if she were ever made aware of her full power.”

  “Death in Faerie. I know. I saw, remember?”

  “Not just that.” He put the glass down on the bar but left his fingers wrapped around it. “Her abilities are unique. Death follows her, yes, but she brings life to everything she touches. I have seen her drain the life from a bird with one hand only to restore it with the other. Titania was terrified.”

  I didn’t blame her. That was a lot of power to bestow on a little girl. Even I couldn’t kill with a touch, not if I was in control. I’d never heard of someone resurrecting the dead with simple touch either. It took me a ritual and lots of powders and potions to do the job. If that was Remy on a good day, I didn’t want to see her pissed off.

  “Titania wants to marry her to Roshan.” Foxglove made a sour face and reached to refill his glass. “As if that coward were good enough for her. Not that the Prince of Light is any better. Oh, he’s pretty, and he can fight—unlike Roshan—but his skills are limited to the tourney field. The lad has never fought in a real battle.”

  I stared at Foxglove, feeling a little sick. “Holy shit. You love her.”

  He spat his drink all over the bar.

  “Hey!” Paula called. “You’re cleaning that!”

  I ignored her. “But you’re like twice her age! And she’s my kid!”

  “You’re misinterpreting this,” he grumbled and started peeling napkins out of the metal container on the bar. “I’m merely a trusted confidant. A friend.”

  “Good,” I said, though I didn’t buy it. I knew that lovestruck look. God, I wasn’t ready to deal with that. “Because Remy’s
not marrying anybody. Not if I have anything to say about it, dammit. She’s not even allowed to date until I’m dead. My heart can’t take that kind of stress.”

  Foxglove snorted and mopped up his mess.

  “So,” said Paula tossing a towel over her shoulder and slipping behind the bar, “you got a plan?”

  I nodded and pushed away the glass. “Titania is going to present Remy at the revel. We need to get in, find her, and get out.”

  “You make it sound simple.” Foxglove wadded the napkins he’d been using and tossed them into the trash can. “There will be more guards at the revel than in Faerie probably. Especially near the princess. Not to mention your fetch, and Titania herself. You’ll never get close.”

  “I have to try. Noelle said she’d be drinking Faerie wine at the ball, and if she does, she’ll be stuck in the Fae forever.”

  “Yes and no.” Paula bobbed her head back and forth. “Those who drink the wine can leave Faerie, but usually have to go back during dawn, dusk, and other celestial events like an eclipse. There are exceptions to that rule like me. But I’m only half-fae.”

  “And me.” Foxglove slid back onto his stool. “But that’s because I’m high fae.”

  “Thought you were Summer?”

  “I am.”

  I gestured for him to elaborate.

  He sighed and reached for the bottle, but Paula quickly pulled it away. He glared at her. “The high court isn’t really a court. Not in the same way as Light, Shadow, Summer, and Winter. We’re…different. But those of us in the lower echelons often find a place in one of the other four courts more agreeable. The high court members can be a little…”

  “Conceited?” Paula said and chugged directly from the bottle.

  Foxglove’s smile was bitter. “Competitive. Let’s just say the high court lords tend to lose a lot of limbs. Almost half a dozen have been seriously maimed in the last hundred years by various means. Fae are painfully clever and sadistic. At any rate, I had no desire to play power games, so I pledged myself to Summer to train Titania’s knights. Now, I’m pledged to you.”

  Now it was my turn to choke on my drink. “To me?”

  He nodded. “What did you think the light show was? You claimed the place and the people. That includes me.”

  “Me too,” Paula confirmed with a nod. “Though I have to say, my court won’t care about losing me as much as Titania will about losing you, Foxglove. You were her best sword.”

  “It’s temporary. No offense, Lazarus, but my loyalty is to Remy. Once Titania is gone, you and I will part ways, and I will offer her my sword.”

  I frowned. “So long as we’re just talking about the weapon at your side there, and that’s not a clever metaphor.”

  He roared with laughter and patted my back hard enough to knock the air out.

  Paula rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Okay, so how do we get into the revel? I don’t rank high enough on the food chain to get an invite.”

  “Don’t look at me,” Foxglove said. “I could get one of you in, but not the other, and if I take Lazarus as my plus one, I’m going to set the place on fire with rumors I’d rather not get going.”

  I coughed into my hand. “Well, I was going to go with the Winter Knight.”

  Paula made a gagging sound. “I don’t have enough time to explain to you why doing anything with the Winter Knight is a bad idea.”

  “She saved me.” And Emma, but I didn’t want to say her name out loud. If I did, the room would feel even more empty than it already did. “And we kind of have a deal.”

  Paula set the bottle in her hands down with a loud thump. “Dammit, Lazarus! Fae deals are bad news, or hadn’t you heard?”

  I blinked. “Paula…Whatever happened to no cussing in the bar?”

  “You’re the kind of person who could make a saint cuss and a sinner go straight, Laz. You’re an idiot! What kind of deal did you make?”

  Oh, you know. Just a run of the mill regicide. Nothing big. I cleared my throat. “Can’t really talk about it, but if Noelle is alive, I think I’m supposed to go with her. Except I don’t know how to find her since she fell into the river with William.”

  Foxglove sighed loudly. “I can get a message to the Winter Knight. I won’t enjoy it, and it will take some time, but I’ll do it.” He stood. “In the meantime, I suggest you two get some formal attire.”

  “Me?” Paula cringed. “And how am I supposed to get in?”

  “You’ll go with me, of course,” Foxglove said. “Are we all on the same page? Is there anything else I should know about before I make the final arrangements?”

  I tried to think about what I might’ve left out. Foxglove knew all the important stuff, didn’t he? The information about the two names I still owed Loki and the fae queen Noelle was supposed to kill didn’t affect our mission to rescue Remy from Summer. “No, everything should be good to go.”

  “If there’s nothing else then, I’ll rejoin you mid-afternoon. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He nodded to Paula and left.

  I glanced at the clock ticking away behind the bar, eyelids heavy. It was closing in on four in the morning. I was beat. My body ached in places I didn’t know I had, and my brain was mush, but I hated to ask Paula for anything else. I’d claimed her bar as my sanctuary, made her aid and abet a criminal on the run, and magically indebted all her patrons to me.

  But Paula saw right through me just like she always did. She lifted a set of brass keys from a hook on the way, sliding them across the bar to me.

  I stared at them. “You didn’t rent it out for Mardi Gras? I figured every place in the city would be booked for the week.”

  Paula shrugged. “Took it off the market a while ago. Just wasn’t worth all the hassle, renting it to strangers. But you or any of your people need a place to crash, you’re welcome to it.”

  “Thanks, Paula.”

  Her eyes widened. “You know better than to thank me, Lazarus.”

  “I do. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” I reached over the bar and put my hand over hers. “I’m in your debt. If there’s ever anything I can do to repay you, all you have to do is ask.”

  She pressed her lips together, rolled her eyes, and shook her head. “Just go get some rest, you idiot. And if you get a free minute, practice your waltz. Fae really like the waltz for some reason. I’ll never figure it out.”

  I bid Paula goodnight and climbed the stairs to the familiar studio apartment above the bar. Back when I first got out of prison, the apartment was home. Yeah, I could hear the music and the pool through the floor, but anything was better than the echo of distant footsteps and slamming doors I’d gotten to know in prison.

  The apartment itself wasn’t much, and that hadn’t changed since I’d moved out. A tired old recliner sat on a shaggy rug in the middle of the living room. Instead of a kitchen table, it had a bar with two stools. A cooktop hidden in one of the drawers would serve as a stove, and the fridge light only worked when it felt like it.

  I trudged through the living room, kicking off my shoes and stumbled, exhausted, into the bedroom. It was pitch black in there with the curtains drawn. I flipped on the light and froze when I saw who was sitting on the bed waiting for me.

  Bizarro Laz smirked and tapped his fingers on his knee. “Hello, Lazarus. I think it’s time we talked.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I thought about getting out of there. If I could just get to the door and out, I might get away to fight another day.

  Instead, I stepped in and shut the bedroom door, sealing myself in the room with me. “I’d rather stab you in the heart, but since I don’t have any sharp objects handy, I guess I’ll settle for talk.”

  My fetch pushed himself up off the bed to stand. Emma was right. He did dress better than me. I’d never have been able to pull off that black jacket over a black button-up shirt. Definitely not with the collar flipped up like that.

  I gestured to him. “Come on, man. Don’t you think the
goatee is a bit on the mark?”

  “You think?” He drew a hand over his face. “I’ve always wanted one.”

  “I know, but it makes me look like a supervillain reject.”

  He chuckled and put his hands in his pockets. “There it is. That self-deprecating humor. Do you know why you put yourself down? It’s not because you believe all that. It’s because you don’t want to seem like a conceited asshole. That’s the difference between you and me. I don’t care what other people think of me.”

  He paced around in a circle, sharp eyes pricking at my skin. When he got behind me, I resisted the urge to turn and follow him. He was a predator, a shark, and I wasn’t going to let him know I was scared to death of him.

  “Is that why you’re doing this?” I asked. “To prove a point?”

  “I’m doing this because there’s no point in being second best. I want something, so I take it. And why not? No one’s ever going to give either of us a damn thing. Look at all the women who’ve taken advantage of you. Beth used you, threw you away the minute you became inconvenient. Odette ran away as soon as things started getting serious, and then went and died rather than try to patch things up.”

  I couldn’t take it anymore and spun around, planting the staff hard on the wood floor. “That’s not how it was. She didn’t choose what happened to her.”

  “No?” Bizarro Laz quirked a perfect eyebrow. “What about Emma? You died for her. Went to hell for her, probably kicked off the apocalypse for her, and how does she repay you?” He finally stopped moving and gestured to me. “She runs when she finds out who you really are. A murderer.”