Night Terror (The Lazarus Codex Book 7)

by E. A. Copen

  My ever-present hold on the grave faltered as my shields tumbled with no guidance from me. Raw necromantic magic leaked out of me in thick tendrils. It shot out into the world in search of something to pour itself into. I pulled it back with a grunt of effort and rushed to rebuild my shields, only to find my normal method of visualizing bone and decay held nothing back. With a curse, I gritted my teeth and tried to build up a wall of living things like I’d used before becoming the Pale Horseman. A wave of shimmering white sand slammed into the vision, flooding over it like ocean waves cresting over a levy. Power leaked through the sand. It was useless as a wall.

  “Make it stop!” I shouted. “Before I start bringing things back that shouldn’t be back!”

  The Sandman—who was the Sandman no longer—squeezed my wrists, digging his fingernails in. “Sandstone. Brick. Any type of stone will serve as a shield. But make sure there are no cracks.”

  I squeezed my eyes closed and built a wall of brick and mortar as quickly as I could. Sand and necromancy leaked out in the meantime. I tried not to notice my power reaching into something dead, pulling, filling it… Whatever I was accidentally resurrecting, I hoped it’d wait until later to be a problem.

  It seemed to take forever, but I finally got the wall built and opened my eyes. Everything was still dark and shadowy with streaks of red and green, but I felt thirty pounds lighter. “Wow. That wasn’t so bad.”

  Point of fact. There are phrases you just don’t utter. Things like “gee, it’s quiet” or “what could go wrong?” My “that wasn’t so bad” remark was definitely on that list somewhere toward the top.

  I suddenly doubled over as a heavy weight settled on my back. My bones ached and my stomach bubbled with indigestion. “What the hell is this?”

  “I must’ve forgotten to mention the mantle comes with the added weight of the Sands of Time.” The former Sandman grunted. “Just like you forgot to mention how awful it was to die a thousand times in a moment. But, wow! This Soul Vision thingie is groovy!”

  “The Sands of Time?” I forced myself to stand straight. My back cracked in three places.

  “Welcome to what it feels like to be old.” He hissed laughter through his teeth.

  Emma’s hand rested on my shoulder. It was the only reason I didn’t surge forward and try to strangle the guy. “How does this help?”

  He didn’t answer. Not until Samedi cleared his throat. “Huh? What? Oh, right. You wanted my powers so you could fight the Oneiroi.”

  It took me a minute to remember that Oneiroi were the three brothers who personified dreams in Greek myth.

  “Not all the Oneiroi,” I clarified. “Just Ikelos.”

  “Right,” said the new Pale Horseman. “Well, for starters, you can travel to the Demos Oneiroi, fully conscious. Your body doesn’t, but the rest of you can. And you can make people around you fall asleep at will. Just toss a little sand at them and viola. Nighty-night.”

  “And where do I get this sand?”

  He snapped his fingers. After a few seconds, he dropped a string over my wrist. Whatever was on the other end of the string was heavy enough it almost made me fall over. “Don’t be too liberal with it. It only refills itself at dawn every morning, so what you’ve got is all you have until then.”

  I grunted and shifted the weight onto my shoulder. That didn’t make it any easier to bear. So far, being the Sandman disagreed with my plans to never join a gym and get ripped. “Will it hurt him?”

  He blew out a mouthful of air through loose lips, making him sound like an irritated horse. “Probably not. I’ve never thrown it at a Titan before, so I’m not sure how he’ll react. Pretty sure you’ll probably die though. I hope you’ve got a replacement lined up, Samedi. I’m not planning on staying as Death forever.”

  “There are others who could wear the mantle. Perhaps some who would wear it better.” Samedi sounded like he was smiling.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, assholes,” I grumbled and knelt to pick up the coffee.

  Baron Samedi snatched the cup right out of my hand and slurped from it loudly. “On the extremely unlikely chance that you do succeed, I am prepared to offer you a small increase to your monthly stipend. Does me no good to let you starve, does it? Until then, come with me, Eugene.”

  I bit my tongue to keep from laughing. For once, that made me nicer than Emma.

  “Eugene?” she said. “Your name is Eugene?”

  “It’s a respectable name. A lot of very important people have been named Eugene!” he snapped back.

  Emma’s snicker exploded into infectious laughter.

  I quit trying to hold back and doubled over laughing despite the pain in my back and crick in my neck. “Eugene…The Pale Horseman’s name is Eugene! I’m sorry. I just can’t.”

  “I am Death, dammit!” He stomped a foot.

  Samedi sighed. “You smell like it. Come. You need a shower. Maybe two. I can’t have my Horseman, even an interim one, be seen like that. Brigette would never let me live it down.”

  I wiped a tear from my eye and stood up straight, shifting the weight of the sandbag to my back. That was a laugh I badly needed.

  Emma’s hand grasped the inside of my elbow and slid down so she could twist her fingers in mine, the touch practically electric. “Well, Mr. Sandman, should we take off for Pearlington and see to those eyes?”

  “Absolutely.” I squeezed her hand.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Pearlington, Mississippi was a tiny town on the Mississippi-Louisiana border about fifty miles northeast of New Orleans. If you’ve ever heard of the place, it was probably in relation to Hurricane Katrina, which came ashore just south of Pearlington and wiped the whole city off the map. Only two buildings were left standing in Katrina’s wake: a single house and an elementary school. The hurricane reduced the four hundred fifty homes to piles of rubble drowned under a toxic slurry of storm surge, spilled chemicals, and debris.

  Since then, the sleepy, unincorporated area had rebuilt itself. Southerners are nothing if not a stubborn and hearty bunch. That’s not always such a good thing, and Pearlington was a perfect example of that. High water tables meant there was no way to put in plumbing unless you were willing to dig a shallow well. Such shallow wells were easily contaminated and more than half of them had unsafe levels of bacteria according to a recent story I’d read in the papers. Arsenic was present in the soil and flooding was common. With little to no economy, and less than desirable living conditions, Pearlington didn’t attract wealthy investors. Three out of four houses were tired looking trailers, with the fourth usually just a pile of debris still left sitting.

  Of course, I couldn’t see any of that, but I could smell Pearlington from miles away, and it reeked of backed up sewage and swamp gas. Not a good combination. Even with the windows up, I plugged my nose and tried not to open my mouth.

  Just before we crossed the state line, I called Beth and confirmed our meeting spot at the Pearlington Recovery Center, which was like their community center. As Emma slowed the Escalade down, my heart jumped into my throat and thumped there, cutting off my ability to breathe.

  The last time I’d seen Beth, she’d just gone to work for Loki. She hadn’t been apologetic about it either. Just pissed off that I’d pulled her back into my world when she’d tried so desperately to escape. It seemed to happen to everyone around me, but I wasn’t going to take blame for it that time. Beth made her decision and she’d have to live with it.

  That was three weeks ago and change. Loki must’ve had plenty of time to twist her perception of things. I had no doubt in my mind that was exactly what he’d been doing, working to turn her against me. His number one goal was to have all four Horsemen under his thumb. He had Beth. Felicia Bradley, also known as Pestilence, was still in a coma as far as I knew, and War wouldn’t bend to Loki’s will easily. So far, he was losing that gambit.

  But this was Loki, trickster prince, god of mischief. I had no doubt he’d made contingency p
lans and somehow, I was playing right into them.

  We rolled from the even pavement into a dip. Gravel crunched under the tires and Emma’s brakes squealed at a barely audible tone.

  “She’s not here yet,” Emma announced.

  I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding and rubbed my eyes. “She will be. She said she was almost here when we spoke.”

  The car stopped rolling and Emma clicked the gearshift up three spaces to park. “Before she gets here, can I ask you something?”

  “Shoot.”

  “You said Loki strongarmed Beth into working for him, but that she didn’t put up much of a fight. She’s Famine now, but she’s also a healer. She barely seems to fit the bill for the Horseman of hunger. At least your powers line up with being Death.”

  I knew what her question was before she could ask it. “You want to know why Loki chose her.”

  Silence. She’d probably nodded. When she remembered I couldn’t see the gesture, she added, “Yes. Exactly that.”

  I crossed my arms and settled into the seat to wait. “I can’t be sure, but I think he was hoping to use her to somehow get to me. Loki wants me on his side for his war against the gods. The more Horsemen he can recruit, the easier it will be for him to cross off every name on his hit list. He knows I’d never do it willingly, so he’ll try to blackmail me into it. Or trick me.” I turned my face toward her. We must’ve parked with the sun on that side because my face was warmer when I turned. “He might try to get to you too. Or Remy. That’s my biggest fear, Emma. I don’t want either of you to get hurt.”

  “Laz,” Emma started, her tone a gentle rebuke.

  I lifted a hand. “I’m not going to stop seeing you. I can’t keep running, changing my life around to avoid conflict. Once I thought things could go back to the way they were. That I could just give up being the Pale Horseman and go back to being a con man running a curio shop and fade into the background. But that’s not me. Not anymore. This job has changed me. I can’t keep my head down and ignore people when they ask me for help anymore.”

  The memory of Brandi Lavelle shoving a bundle of cash at me, her features drawn tight with fear, flashed through my brain like lightning. Pangs of guilt struck my chest and weighed me down more than the bag of sand at my feet ever could. She was dead because of me. How many others could I have helped when I walked away?

  I pushed the thought away. “I can’t protect you. Not fully. But I trust you to protect yourself. If at any point we get into a situation where things look bad, I want you to get out. Not for me. Not for you. For Remy. She needs someone strong to guide her. Someone who understands.”

  Emma’s fingers closed tight around mine. “I’ve got your back.”

  “Thanks, Em. That means the world.” Four foreign wheels slid over gravel, pulling into the lot behind us. I turned my ear toward the sound. “She’s here.”

  “And she’s not alone. Looks like she brought her boss.”

  Figures she would. Nothing could ever go easy.

  The air outside was too chilly for the sun to warm. If I could see, I bet we would’ve all been breathing in little white clouds. Tiny stones rolled under the soles of my shoes as I walked, hands in the pockets of my coat. Emma led me with her arm tucked tight around mine. She walked closer than normal too, a possessive gesture. She and Beth had only met a handful of times, and there’d been trouble every single one of them. I didn’t think Emma liked Beth, and not just because she was my ex.

  Two sets of unfamiliar footsteps scraped over the gravel and stopped a few feet in front of us.

  “Well,” said Loki, his smirk evident in his voice, “I’ve heard of the blind leading the blind, but this is a little ridiculous.”

  Emma planted her feet and we halted our advance. “Excuse me? I can see just fine.”

  “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. The capability for sight doesn’t give you vision, and it’s your lack of vision that makes you blind. You need a stronger vision for the future, my dear Emma. Aspirations of a grander purpose.” Pebbles shifted, scraping against the dry ground as he shifted his weight and his attention from Emma to me. “I see you’re still leaping before you look.”

  “You know, I took up sign language recently.” I raised my middle finger. “Here’s what I’ve learned so far.”

  He laughed once. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

  “Nope. I’ve got two of those for you. How’s this?”

  Loki sighed. “I suppose I shouldn’t expect mature behavior from you, Lazarus.”

  I lowered my hand. “You set Ikelos free. People are dead because of you. I should kill you where you stand.”

  “Except you can’t, can you?”

  I wanted to break his perfect, smug teeth. I didn’t need to see the bastard to know he was grinning ear to ear, obviously pleased with himself.

  Loki’s weight shifted, moving forward. Emma moved faster, drawing her gun and pointing it at him. She’d barely gotten the weapon up before something hollow and metal snapped against her hand with a thunk and the gun hit the ground, sliding away. Emma gasped and whimpered a curse. I readied myself for a blow that never came.

  “Someone should’ve informed you, Ms. Knight.” Loki took several steps to the right, in the same direction the gun had fallen. “Never bring a gun to a god fight.”

  “Fuck you,” Emma spat.

  “Stand down.” Beth. Her voice was her own, but something about her was different. Harder. What had Loki made her do? Just hearing the difference made my stomach drop.

  Once, Beth had been good. Innocent. Someone I would’ve trusted with my life. Now I couldn’t trust her not to kill me. We were enemies by her own choice. That was hard for me to process.

  I stuck my hands out toward where Emma had been and found the air empty until I dipped my hands lower. She was bent over, cradling her injured hand if I was judging the posture right. “Em, you okay?”

  “I don’t think it’s broken,” she said through clenched teeth and stood. Her back pressed against my hand. Had she just stepped back from Beth?

  Metal whispered through the air, maybe a pole or a pipe, and planted itself firmly on the ground. “You asked me to come, Lazarus, so I came. I can fix your eyes, but I have to ask for something in return.”

  I frowned. “Something for you? Or something for him?”

  Beth didn’t answer. That’s what I thought. She was firmly under Loki’s thumb now and I couldn’t hope to reach her. Dammit, Beth.

  “I have a list,” Beth said after a long pause. “Gods who have committed crimes against other gods, against humans, and other supernaturals. Along with the list, I have irrefutable evidence of their guilt. Details that would make you cringe, Lazarus. These gods all deserve the punishment that’s coming to them. But there are too many for me. I need help.”

  I removed my sunglasses and hung them on my shirt collar. “Let me guess. Twenty-one names, all of them given to you by Loki? All sentenced to die by Loki?”

  “By me. And once you know what I know, you’ll agree. They have to go.”

  I was pretty sure the metal I’d heard was a staff. The last Famine had had no weapons aside from his teeth or razor-sharp claws, but he hadn’t needed one. He was a ghoul. Beth was a regular human, a kind and gentle soul that Loki had turned into a brutal killer in a matter of weeks. She’d swung that thing like she’d been doing it all her life. Not a fraction of hesitation.

  I wished I’d come armed. “What if I don’t help you?”

  Beth gave an exaggerated, heavy sigh. “I’d prefer it if you did. I know you. I trust you. But if you don’t, I’ll have to approach the others.”

  The others. She meant War and Pestilence. Haru wouldn’t go for it. A hit list wasn’t his thing. Haru was all about honor and a worthy challenge. Hunting down a target and stabbing him in the back for something he did thousands of years ago didn’t sound like the War I knew. Felicia was in a coma, but Beth was a talented healer. She might actually be able
to wake Pestilence, and Pestilence would go for it.

  I suppressed a shiver. Pestilence wouldn’t be too happy with me either when she woke up. Not only had I put her in that coma to begin with, but I’d helped War cut off her boss’s feet. Felicia seemed like the kind of woman who’d want revenge.

  “And if they don’t go for it? What then, Beth?” It was hopeless, trying to talk any sense into her. I knew, and still, I had to try.

  She ground her metal staff into the rocks. “I’ll make them.”

  “You’re welcome to try, but I can’t help you. Not with this.” I shook my head. “Even if it means I have to stay like this. I’d rather be blind the rest of my life than jump onto Loki’s team and start killing gods for his sick and twisted vengeance spree.”

  “They deserve to die!” Loki’s mask of calm slipped and his rage showed through. “They passed a death sentence on a child. And when Odin, my father, killed my children before me, tortured me, they did nothing. You cannot deny it. Vengeance is my right!”

  I snapped my head toward Loki’s voice. “I don’t deny it. What they did to you was wrong. But killing them won’t change what happened to you. You kill them, their people will want to kill you. Revenge is an endless cycle of violence and chaos. I won’t be a part of it. Come on, Emma. Sorry to have wasted your time.” I turned my back and walked, hoping I was going in the right direction.

  “This isn’t the end of this!” Loki shouted after me. “You think you can just say no to me and walk away? Let the guilty walk free?”

  I kept walking. There was nothing he could say to change my mind, and nothing I said would get him to back off. The conversation was over. Though I was disappointed I wouldn’t be getting my eyesight back, I could live with it. I couldn’t live with abusing my powers for Loki’s gain.

  “What would your daughter say?”

  I froze. He wouldn’t… No, he would. Nothing was below a trickster like Loki. He’d hurt everyone I cared about until I caved. This had to end here and now.