by E. A. Copen
Nate’s expression hardened. “Because I don’t have powers like you?”
“That isn’t—”
“Yes, it is. That’s exactly what you meant. That’s always what it boils down to, isn’t it? You’re the Pale Horseman, a necromancer. Always saving people. But what about all the people you don’t save? The ones that get hurt in the process?” His chin quivered, and he blinked back angry tears. “You don’t get it. Since losing Jessica, everything has gone wrong. I was on the fast track to getting promoted, but now I can barely focus on my work. I can’t sleep. My marriage is falling apart…”
“Jesus, Nate. Why didn’t you say anything?” I’d known things were tense between him and Leah lately, which was why he was pulling overtime, but I didn’t know it was that bad. I tried to put my hand on his shoulder.
Nate jerked away. “It’s time for my break,” he said and stormed out the morgue doors.
I sighed and rolled my head toward the ceiling. Solve one problem and two more spring up to take its place. This whole thing was a hydra. I was so over it.
“You still want me to take the first shift?” Finn asked, crossing his arms.
I reached over and tugged open the drawer just a crack. “Stay in the room with him, Finn. Make sure Nate doesn’t open it. No more interaction between Mask and Nate. He can’t take it. You…” I pointed at Remy. “Why didn’t you tell me about Jess?”
She shifted her weight from one leg to the other. “What was I supposed to say? I did something stupid, and now my best friend is probably dead because of it? I never should’ve left her there. She warned me not to do it. I didn’t listen. I just ran headlong into danger like I always do. I risked everyone’s life.” She hugged herself tighter and glanced at the cracked drawer. “Ethan was right. Everything that happened in Shadow was my fault. All those people in that village…”
“We can’t change the past,” Finn said, putting a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Don’t focus on what you can’t change, Remy. We can help everyone else. And Jess is still alive.”
Remy pushed tears from her eyes. “How do you know?”
“Because Mask wouldn’t kill such a valuable hostage. Foxglove also said ‘in danger’, not dead.”
“You know what, I think—” I was about to tell Finn that I’d take the first shift when my phone buzzed again. I frowned at the text Emma had sent.
CALL ME. EMERGENCY.
“Excuse me a second, guys. I need to take this.” I stepped out into the hallway and dialed Emma’s number. With each ring, my heart crept farther up my throat. “Come on, Em. Pick up.” When the call finally went through, I breathed a sigh of relief. But that relief was short-lived.
“Lazarus? Where are you?” Her voice was strained with worry and just a hint of panic. Emma never panicked.
“I’m at the morgue. A situation came up, and I had to talk to Nate.”
“Find the nearest television and turn on the news.”
I pushed back through the swinging doors of the morgue and searched Nate’s desk for a remote. “What channel?”
“Any channel. It’s everywhere.”
That didn’t sound good. I mashed the power button and turned the volume up. Sure enough, every channel was playing the same footage of busy hospital waiting rooms with nurses pushing beds around and rushing through the hallways. The heading at the bottom of the screen read: MYSTERIOUS FLU OUTBREAK.
An emotionless anchorwoman spoke over the footage of the bustling emergency room. “Reports coming in of a strange illness sweeping the city tonight. Emergency departments overflowing with sick patients are urging the unwell not to come in unless they feel their symptoms are severe.”
Footage cut to an older, frazzled-looking doctor. “Symptoms we’d consider severe are ones that don’t respond to over the counter medications. Tylenol for fever and body aches. You don’t need to be seen unless your fever’s 103 or above, or you’ve seen a decrease in urine output. If you come to the emergency room, we’re not going to make you better. We’re not going to prescribe antibiotics. They don’t help the flu. Our job is to stabilize you if you’re in a dangerous or life-threatening situation. Generally, unless you’re very young or very old, or immunocompromised, the flu isn’t going to be life-threatening.”
“So you’re saying this is just an unusually large, and unusually early influenza outbreak?” the reporter asked and shoved her microphone at him.
The doctor shifted in his chair. “Well, you’re right that it’s usually another week or two before we start to see widespread cases of flu-like this, and there are more patients presenting with flu-like symptoms.”
More images of the busy hospital showed on-screen as the camera panned out to focus on another reporter standing just outside the emergency room doors. “Our sources report that more than five thousand people have come into emergency rooms in the greater New Orleans area since this morning. Of those, more than eighty percent have complained of flu-like symptoms, despite the usual kickoff of flu season being weeks away. While we don’t have exact figures, a significant number of patients have been admitted here at Tulane Medical center, enough that they’re shuttling less severe patients to other area hospitals for evaluation. Mary?”
Back in the newsroom, the anchorwoman folded her hands on her desk. “Thank you, Diane. Now again, symptoms to be concerned about are a fever over 103 that doesn’t come down with Tylenol, severe pain, or flu-like symptoms in people over sixty-five or under two. Action News is monitoring the situation. Here’s Randal Whorf with a heat map of the city. Randal, which areas are being hit hardest by this sudden outbreak?”
I shifted the phone on my ear and muted the broadcast. “Emma, what am I looking at?”
“I don’t know. Nobody seems to.” She sounded badly shaken. “The doctors aren’t saying it on air, but whatever this is, it’s serious, and it’s spreading fast. We don’t know the cause, or how to stop it. I just came from a meeting with the mayor’s office. They’re talking about shutting down the city, declaring a state of emergency, and bringing in the CDC.”
“Over the flu?”
“That’s just it, Laz. It’s not the flu. Whatever it is, it moves fast. This morning, no one was sick. Now, there are thousands, and those are just the ones we know about. The figure goes up every hour.”
I glanced up at the screen, watching as the anchor pointed out different colored sections of the city. The Lower Ninth Ward and the Holy Cross areas had been hit the hardest, with The Bywater and St. Claude not far behind. Florida, St. Roach, the South Seventh Ward…
Wait a minute. I leaned in closer to the television. “Emma, where’d they put that new water treatment plant in?”
“What? Why?”
“Just humor me. Where is it?”
“Over off of North Claiborne in the Lower Ninth Ward. Why?”
I traced my finger over the screen showing the map. North Claiborne wasn’t the exact center, but it was damn close. I had a sudden flashback to my dream. “Steer clear of the water,” Odin had said. What if he didn’t mean the river?
“It’s in the water,” I whispered, and then repeated it louder to make sure Emma heard. “Emma, we’ve got to shut that plant down.”
“The first thing the city did when people started getting sick was check the water, Laz. It’s clear. That can’t be it.”
“Not unless there’s something supernatural causing the outbreak. Em, I’ve got a hunch. I’m going to need you to meet me at the water treatment plant ASAP.”
“This isn’t my case,” Emma said, slightly pained. “I got moved to cold cases, remember?”
I took a step toward the door. “Find an excuse. I’m going to need someone official to help me get inside because if I’m right, we’re going to have to shut the whole thing down.”
“What do you want us to do?” Finn called after me as I reached the doors.
“Sit on Mask until I get back! Whatever you do, don’t let Nate talk to him again.”
I pushed open the door and found Nate standing on the other side, a panicked look on his face.
“The news,” he said. “Did you see?”
I nodded and stepped past him. “I’m on my way to go check it out.”
“Laz, if the feds are coming, you can’t stash Mask here. Laz!”
I waved to him and ran for the elevator. Hopefully, he’d understand I meant to come back and pick up Mask long before the CDC ever rolled into town. It had to take them at least a couple hours to mobilize a task force, right?
Chapter Seven
I listened to the radio all the way across town, trying to glean any additional information from the news reports that I could. Not that it did me any good. News anchors didn’t know the first thing about magic and curses.
What if it’s not magic I know? What if it’s just Mask? Who knows what he can do? I stared at the red light, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, willing it to change. When it didn’t, I dug my cell out, shoved it into the little plastic phone holder attached to the heating vent on the dash, and said, “Call Crocodile Dundee.”
“Calling Crocodile Dundee,” the phone chirped back cheerfully.
There was music in the background when he answered, but it sounded more like a stereo than like he was out anywhere. “What did you do this time, fuckwit?”
“I don’t call you for months, and that’s how you answer the phone? I’m hurt, Josiah.”
The music faded. “And yet every time you do call, it’s because you want something. What is it this time? Demon? Titan?”
The light changed so I hit the gas and sped through the intersection. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sound eager.”
There was a slight pause before the telltale click of Josiah’s lighter and a longer pause followed. “Khaleda’s out doing her own thing and I’m staying off the God Squad’s radar, which means no work from them. I’ve resorted to hunting vampires, Laz. Bloody vampires. Now tell me you’ve got something for me to do or otherwise don’t waste my fucking time.”
Right to the point as always. “Well, if you’re bored, you won’t mind giving me a discount.”
“Ten seconds and I hang up.”
“Okay, fine. What do you know about a creature that calls itself Mask? He’s native to the Nightlands.”
He didn’t answer for a long time.
“Josiah? Hello?”
“I thought I made myself clear last time the Nightlands were brought up. I won’t go there.”
“Wait, wait!” I jerked the steering wheel to the right, taking the next turn. “Don’t hang up! There’s no need to go to the Nightlands. Mask is here. And in Faerie.”
“Here? What’s a creature from…Never mind. You attract trouble. I should be used to that by now.”
“Takes one to know one, pal.” I shifted the phone so I could hold it against my shoulder by leaning my head to the side. “Mask is possessing my Knight. I know you’re jumpy about anything from the Nightlands, but I really need your help on this one, Josiah. Please.”
“For good reason.” He sighed. “Fine. I can fly down tomorrow morning.”
“Thing is, I might need you here sooner. Not instantly, but before seven am. There are…complications. There’s some sort of virus going around town, and I think it has a supernatural source.”
“Related to this Mask fella?”
I shrugged and almost dropped the phone before I remembered he couldn’t see me. “I’m on my way there right now to find out. Point is, it’s spreading, and fast. They’ll shut down the airports soon if they haven’t already to try to contain it.”
“You need me to come by alternate transportation then.”
I turned. The new water treatment plant sat ahead on the corner, marked by a shiny new sign that lit up when my headlights hit it. “Will you do it?”
A muffled voice said something in the background to which Josiah grumbled a curse.
“I thought you said Khaleda was off doing something else?”
“She is,” he snapped back. “I’m with…a friend. Someone you should meet. Let me get cleaned up and I’ll be there. Meet you outside that bar you like as soon as I can.”
“See you then.” I hung up, parked, and turned off the car. Emma was already there, along with someone I wasn’t happy to see. “Detective Drake,” I said, getting out of the car. “Where’s your partner? Busy practicing his scowl?”
He hesitated. Guess my smartass greeting had thrown him off. “Codey’s on medical leave.”
“Oh, did he finally get that stick removed from his ass? About time, I’d say.”
Drake stopped and put his hands on his waist in just such a way as to make his jacket flare open, revealing the gun tucked in its holster. “I’m here doing you a favor, chasing down this pointless lead, so I wouldn’t get snippy with me if I were you.”
“Heaven forbid,” I said dryly and put an arm around Emma’s shoulders. “Give us a second, would you?”
“Sure, take all the time you need. Not like I have anything better to do, like actually solve crimes.” Drake waved his hands at us.
I pulled Emma just out of earshot. “What the hell is he doing here?”
She pulled her arm away and took a step back. “Detective Drake is the liaison between the department and Homeland Security.”
“Homeland? Jesus Christ, they’re not getting involved, are they?”
“Depends on what Drake puts in his report.” Emma tucked some hair behind her ear and crossed her arms. “You told me to find the excuse. Drake is the closest thing to a detective working this thing. It’s not officially with the department. The CDC and WHO will probably be heading any investigative efforts, and that’s if Drake doesn’t determine this was an act of biological terrorism, so you’d better hope you’re wrong about contagion in the water.”
I glanced over my shoulder at Drake, who was tapping his foot. “I hope I’m wrong too, Emma. You think you can keep him busy while I do my thing?”
“I can try, but no guarantees.”
I folded my hands and made a slight bow. “Thank you. And I’m sorry about missing our lunch date earlier. I swear I’ll make it up to you once this is all over.”
She raised an eyebrow at me and marched back up to Detective Drake. “Come on. The longer we draw this out, the more people are potentially getting sick.”
Drake tugged a rectangular plastic keycard from his pocket as we moved toward the locked gate. “The health department issued a boil order as a precaution.”
“They can’t just shut the whole thing down?” I asked.
“Not without just cause. You’d be cutting off thousands of people’s water supply. Sick people in disadvantaged neighborhoods. I think you’re smart enough to know that wouldn’t go over well for city hall.”
I blinked and smiled. “Thanks, Drake. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Don’t get used to it.” He slid his card through the reader. The gate buzzed, clicked, and popped open. Drake tugged the metal gate open farther and held it for us, shutting it behind him once all three of us were inside.
The new water treatment plant was a massive brick building with a corrugated metal door. A simple padlock was all that stood between us and the neighborhood’s water. Hop a fence, break the lock and anyone could get in there. It was downright unsettling just how easy it was.
Drake opened the lock with a key and pushed the door up. Hot, humid air rushed out, immediately drenching me in sweat. Lights banged as they came on one at a time, illuminating a long corridor with huge, blue pipes on either side. Machinery buzzed and whirred at different pitches and paces, creating a cacophony of sound that made it difficult to think, let alone impossible to hear each other.
Detective Drake grabbed three sets of headphones from a hook next to the door and passed them out along with safety goggles. What good the safety goggles would do was anyone’s guess, but at least the noise dissipated to a dull roar as soon as I slid my head
phones on.
“It’ll be faster if we split up,” I shouted.
Drake shook his head. “Police escort required. We have to look at the tanks one by one for signs of tampering.”
Emma affixed her headphones. “How many tanks are there?”
“Thirteen. Come on. This way to tank number one.” Drake started for the other end of the long corridor.
I slipped away between two tanks the second he stopped watching me. I wouldn’t have long before he realized I was gone, and he was going to be pissed when he found me, so I had to work fast.
The first tank on my right had a big number ten stamped on it while the one on the left said twelve. All the even-numbered tanks must’ve been on one side of the walkway while the odds were on the other. Even with the lights shining above, it was dark between the tanks because of all the plastic pipes running around. All sorts of gauges and knobs were attached to the tank, and every so often a valve somewhere would open and spray out super-heated steam. Venturing off the marked walkways while the tanks were in use was dangerous, probably a good way to get boiled alive by one of those steam vents, so I had to be careful.
The ladder to tank number twelve was in front, in clear view of wherever Emma and Drake had gone, so I went around back to the secondary ladder. A short length of chain and a caution sign blocked it from use. Getting past that was easy enough. All I had to do was unhook the chain and let it drop. All the noise would mask it falling so I didn’t bother to try and quiet the jingling chain. I climbed up the metal ladder and hovered near the top, my hand outstretched, eyes closed. What I was looking for, I had no idea. Maybe malevolent energies? The dark, greasy stain left behind by a malicious curse? I had no way of knowing what kind of energy signature Mask’s magic left behind, or if I could even detect it.
I’ll know it when I see it, I told myself and finished looking over the tank.
Tanks twelve, ten, and eight were all clear, at least as far as I could tell. Nothing set off any alarm bells for me. I was halfway up the ladder to tank six when I heard the faint shout. I paused, gripping the rung above my head. Sounded like Drake. Maybe I should ignore it. He could just be calling for me to see where I went. But that cold, sick feeling curled in the bottom of my gut, the one that only showed up when something was seriously wrong.
