Death Match (The Lazarus Codex Book 5)

by E. A. Copen

“Come on!” My shoulders slumped. “You can’t expect three people to keep order in the entire world, Faerie, and all these stupid pocket dimensions. That’s too much to expect from a handful of folks!”

  “There were four,” said one of the Tengu.

  “Before you killed Famine,” finished the other.

  “Famine was the bad guy! And so was the Namer. You guys should be banning the Archons from entering teams into these fights. They’re bad news!”

  “And yet you fight for one,” Haru pointed out. “Hypocrite.”

  “Enough!” The Tengu flapped their wings. “You will go and see Pestilence and her Namer. You will lay these accusations at their feet and return having done no harm.”

  “You guys realize I don’t have to do whatever you say just because you say it,” I said, leaning on my staff.

  An inky sheen passed over the Tengus’ eyes. “Do you intend to refuse us?”

  I eyed their talons and their sharp beaks. I’d looked them up on my phone the night before in the middle of getting drunk on gin. Tengu were renowned martial artists, and masters of the Japanese sword. They probably had magic too.

  I rocked back on my heels. “Like you said, Birdman. Not today.”

  They nodded in tandem.

  “Go then. Report what you see.”

  “If she attacks you, defend yourselves,” added the other. “But avoid killing her until you have proof.”

  Haru bowed stiffly and walked back to the false wall, pressing a hand to it. The stone wall rolled aside. “Come on, Death. Let’s go not kill someone.”

  “Who is the Namer for Pestilence anyway?” I figured it couldn’t be anyone that scary. Usually, whoever won the right to name the Horseman had something to do with the Horseman’s attributes. Pestilence’s Namer was probably some god of disease. I racked my brain trying to call any to memory, but most of the gods I knew had the opposite function of curing disease.

  “His name is Xipetotec,” Haru said. “And he is the reason there are no more Aztec gods left to fight.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sand crunched underfoot as Haru and I made our way down the narrow, unfamiliar hallway. I hadn’t noticed all the sand before going into the arena, but now I couldn’t stop noticing the way it covered everything. How much blood had stained this place? How many ghosts clung to it? Curiosity almost made me want to look. Disgust made me resist.

  The hallway we turned down seemed to close in on us. Flickering lights hung from the low ceiling, close enough to my head that I had to duck to keep from hitting them if I walked down the center of the hall. I chose to walk off to the side instead. Little alcoves in the stone wall sported colorful masks, feathers, and piles of bone. The recesses in the wall started out the size of my fist and got larger and longer the further we walked. By the time we reached the end of the hallway, there were whole skeletons stretched out in the holes, covered by burial cloths. The air took on heavy, musty qualities as if we’d plunged underground. A chill in the air seemed to match that assessment, despite the lack of a noticeable slope in the floor. We’d stepped out of the arena and into catacombs.

  Silence on top of the heavy air and walls full of death felt like too much to bear. I cleared my throat and turned to Haru to see if he was as unsettled by it as I was. He barely seemed to notice. He walked with the familiar grace of a professional swordsman. I’d seen Foxglove move the same way in Faerie, and he’d been an awe-inspiring fighter. I had yet to see Haru actually fight considering our last bout had been in darkness, but I imagined him moving the same way. Every muscle twitch deadly, decisive, and yet still full of power and elegance. He’d be scary to fight one on one.

  “So, this Xipetotec guy,” I said, eager to fill the silence, “what do you know about him? You said he was the reason there were no Aztec gods left to fight?”

  Haru nodded. His hand went instinctually to grip the sword at his side. “He is the god of many things. The east, agriculture, gold and silversmiths, the four seasons...”

  “Disease?”

  Haru nodded. “He was once an important deity among the Aztecs.”

  “What happened?”

  “Like most of the old gods, he was forgotten when their civilization fell. Unlike most of the old gods, he took it personally.”

  I’d met another god like that. Vesta, Roman goddess of the hearth, hadn’t liked how she’d been forgotten. Once the most important goddess in Roman religion, venerated by millions, the fall of Rome left her a footnote in history. She’d gone crazy and tried to start her own cult. When they didn’t meet her ridiculous demands for chastity and purity, she’d crushed them to death. The youngest member of her cult had been eleven, guilty of nothing more than liking a boy.

  My fingers tightened around my staff. “Let me guess. He started killing people in his quest to relive the glory days.”

  “If only,” Haru said with a grunt. “No, he gathered the rest of the Aztec gods in this very arena and promised them a return to greatness. Then he unleashed a monster and killed them all.”

  I stopped walking. “I thought only Horsemen could kill gods?”

  Haru stopped a few paces ahead and turned around. “Some say it was a Horseman. Others claim it was something else. I will say that the Horseman bore the brunt of the punishment. A council of gods and the other three Horsemen at the time convened for a trial. Pestilence was executed by my predecessor.”

  “So this wasn’t a recent development?”

  He shook his head. “Fifty years ago or more. It’s been some time. I doubt he’s gotten over it though.”

  I counted. If the last Pestilence had been killed fifty years ago, the one we were going to meet and question had to be seventy or older. That didn’t seem right. “And the Pestilence we’re about to go talk to? What do you know about her?”

  He started walking again, so I followed. “Not much. I know she took up the mantle willingly, and that she’s distantly related to the one that served before her, though I’m not sure how. There have been three Pestilences since the execution. They don’t tend to last long. Horsemen, in general, don’t seem to last.”

  “How long have you been at it?”

  He smirked. “I took the mantle from my predecessor in a trial by combat when I was twenty-five. I have served as War for five years now. The average service time in my office tends to be longer than most, honestly.”

  “And Pale Horsemen?”

  Haru gave me a bemused look. “Since I’ve been War there have been six of you.”

  Six? Holy shit. The Baron had failed to mention that. I knew there were some before me that didn’t do well at the job, but six in five years was a little excessive.

  “Pale Horsemen tend to come in two varieties,” Haru continued. “Either they turn to the darker arts and have to be put down rather quickly, or the pressure of the job makes them crack. They go crazy and have to be put down if they don’t do it themselves first.”

  That I’d believe. With all the shit I’d gone through over the past six months, I’d wanted to throw in the towel more than once. When I was facing down becoming a ghoul, I had planned to off myself rather than let it happen. I’d sacrificed myself to get a chance at taking down the Archon, and I’d nearly died more times than I could count. Luck kept me on my feet.

  No, not luck. I had people to come back to. That alone kept me going when the going got tough. The more I sank into this Horseman job and the world that surrounded it, the harder it became to keep up with those people. Being near me was a risk. I’d come to accept that for what it was and resolved to enjoy every moment, but it was hard to do when work kept pulling me away.

  “The pressure is a little ridiculous,” I said. “I mean, I’m one guy. I can barely keep things from destroying my city, and I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to be policing more than just New Orleans. How’s a guy supposed to have any kind of life when he’s one of these Horsemen anyway?”

  “We’re not,” Haru answered, his tone grave. “We’re expe
cted to give up all our ties to people and become this mantle. Surely Baron Samedi told you all of this?”

  He had, but I was still convinced it was bullshit. I’d sooner walk from the job than give up my friends and family. Unfortunately, walking away from being the Pale Horseman meant death. “Yeah, after the fact.”

  “I suppose I was lucky then. I was brought up to be what I am.”

  “Wait a minute. You were born to be War?”

  He nodded. “Well, not born for it. I’m told my mother was very poor and I was dying. She climbed the mountain and begged for the Tengu to save me. They did, but in exchange, she was forced to leave me with them to serve. From the time I could stand, I was trained to fight and think about war. I studied its purpose and place, the great masters of warfare. Hannibal, Genghis Khan, Quin Shi Huang, Alexander the Great, Saladin... I studied them all before I was ten. My body has been honed as a weapon, and my mind as well.”

  “But what about family? Friends? What if you wanted to marry and have a family?”

  “I am married to my sword. There can be no one else.”

  “Says the guy who flirts with any woman breathing,” I grumbled.

  Haru shrugged. “I take my pleasure where I can. I suggest you do the same. The woman you’ve been chasing? Bed her. Get it out of your system. Then drop it and go. Leave the city of your birth and find somewhere secluded to continue your work.”

  “I can’t do that.” I shook my head. “I have a daughter.”

  “I have three sons. I have never seen them except in dreams, nor do I know where they are. It’s better that way. Safer for them.”

  We came to a large stone door and stopped in front of it, facing each other.

  “Love will twist your heart,” Haru said, facing the door. “You will tell yourself you’ll do anything for the people you love, and you will. And it will kill you. You open your veins for love, and all you’ll do is poison things. If you don’t listen to anything else I say, listen to that.”

  He rapped three times on the door, each knock sounding like a clanging gong. I’d expected there to be some security at the door, or at least someone keeping watch. Instead, the hallway and the room beyond were silent, befitting the décor.

  Twin flames sprang to life on either side of the door, called by a magic from beyond. The distant quick pounding of drums made me take a step back and ready my staff for a spell of my own. Haru’s hand remained firmly on the grip of his katana. The ground shook and the door slid up, dust and dirt spilling down the hinges as if no one had opened this chamber for decades. Putrid death scents wafted from the room beyond, prompting both Haru and me to cover our faces and exchange a look. The door gaped, the open mouth of a crocodile inviting us inside for a bite.

  Haru drew his sword and entered. I followed.

  The room on the other side was constructed of sandstone floor to ceiling. Dim blue flame danced in iron braziers placed around the room. With that much fire, the place should’ve been sweltering. Instead, it was cool enough I shivered. The drumming sped up, pounding at the same beat of a runner’s pulse. Shadows swung around the edges of the room, human-like bodies twisting and contorting into unnatural poses. Screens of tanned hides obscured the dancing drummers from view.

  An intricately carved throne of limestone sat in the center of the chamber, a body propped in it. At least, I thought it was a body until I saw it move. The face turned toward us, and I tasted bile at the sight of it. Dark skin stretched over a body far too large to contain it. A huge hole in the chest revealed a much paler body underneath the flesh draped over it. An extra set of limp hands hung around the wrists while another pair of feet dangled from the ankles, all filled with nothing. He was wearing a human skin.

  Dark eyes appraised me through the eye slits and plump lips sneered through the gaping skin mouth. Words spilled out in a deep, raspy voice.

  A woman with a short, bleach blonde bob stepped around the throne. She wore a dark blazer and smart pants over a white top. Sensible earrings sat flat against each earlobe while a silver chain hung around her neck. She gripped a heavy metal staff while a serpent slithered over her shoulder.

  This must be Pestilence. She didn’t look like much, but I could practically feel her bitchiness radiate through the room as she appraised us.

  “You stand before Our Lord the Flayed One,” Pestilence said. “He bids you welcome so long as your business is peaceful. Should your intent be violence, he reminds you of his right to match your aggression with his own.”

  Haru scanned the room. I saw him consider doing this the easy way and just killing her, then decide against it. His katana slid back into the sheath before he made a stiff bow, making sure never to take his eyes off the throne. “We come with peaceful intentions.”

  Pestilence frowned at me. “It is customary to bow before a god.”

  “Forget it, sister. I don’t bow or kneel to anyone.”

  The Flayed One, who I took to be Xipetotec, gestured to me and spoke again.

  “He asks if you are the new Pale Horseman. If so, he observes that Baron Samedi’s standards are slipping.”

  I came to stand beside Haru and planted my staff, meeting Xipetotc’s eyes. “Is the skin suit supposed to make you look scary? I don’t think it does. You what to know what I think is scary? They’re still letting Michael Bay direct movies after what he did to the Ninja Turtles. That was an insult to nineties kids everywhere. You’re like the gritty reboot of Buffalo Bill in Silence of the Lambs. Meh.” I turned to Pestilence. “Did you get all that or should I repeat the last bit?”

  She opened her mouth.

  “You know what, scratch that. Tell ugly here most of my questions aren’t for him. They’re for you.”

  “Lazarus,” Haru hissed in a whisper, “diplomacy.”

  “I’m American. Usually, our negotiations open with missiles. This is diplomacy.”

  He sighed and shook his head while Pestilence translated.

  Xipetotec leaned on a fist and answered me in broken English. “Why should I allow this? You come, you insult, you threaten. You say it is peace you want, but you come in the company of War.”

  “There have been a number of suspicious deaths recently,” Haru said. “Chernobog and the Valkyrie Gala were both found, their bodies destroyed by disease.”

  “And you accuse me?” said Pestilence. “What reason could I possibly have for killing them?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to find out.” I shifted so I could keep an eye on her rather than her boss. Not that I thought Xipetotec wasn’t a threat, but he didn’t seem like he was about to shoot out of his throne and attack us. “Why aren’t you fighting in the tournament?”

  She raised a plucked eyebrow. “Do I look like someone who can sling around spells? My power is to heal. To help. To know disease and pests inside and out. I can destroy crops with blight and heal Ebola with the touch of a hand. What I can’t do is swing a sword, or throw a fireball. I’m not suited for it.”

  “Do you have an alibi for your whereabouts during both murders?” Haru asked.

  Pestilence set her jaw. “I was here. With my lord.”

  Not a very good alibi, considering he’d probably lie for his underling.

  “We are misunderstood,” Xipetotec volunteered. “Disease is dirty business. But this was not us.”

  “Care to prove that?” Haru gave me a look so I added, “Please.” Never hurts to be polite to gods wearing flayed human skin.

  “Felicia.” Xipetotec nodded to Pestilence. “A demonstration?”

  Pestilence nodded and walked over to one of the tanned hides and waved her hand over it. Black boils erupted over the skin. With another wave of her hand, they disappeared.

  Haru tilted his head to the side. “And what exactly does that prove?”

  Pestilence glared at him. “If I were to kill someone like this, don’t you think I’d cover my tracks if I were capable? I’ve just shown you I can. So why didn’t I?”

  “What hap
pens when you rip out somebody’s soul?” I asked.

  Pestilence’s glare moved to me. “Would you like to find out?”

  “It’s a valid question. If you’re killing gods—and I think you are—then you’d do it exactly the way I do. You’d reach into their chest and pull the wriggling mass of soul right out. When I do it, their bodies turn to ash and disintegrate. When Famine did it to humans, he left empty shells behind. What do you leave? My guess? Pockmarked bodies of the slain.”

  The snake slithered up and hissed at me. Pestilence patted it on the head, green eyes gleaming. “Have you seen your own soul, Horseman? Do you know what all that death has done to it? Perhaps it’s time to examine yourself instead of pointing the finger at me.” She took a step forward.

  The snake flung itself off her shoulder at me, sailing through the air too fast for me to move out of the way.

  Steel gleamed. Haru’s Katana flashed, and the snake’s head dropped at my feet. The rest of the body twisted and coiled on the ground in front of him. He kicked it aside, swept the blood from his sword and slid it back into its sheath.

  “An attack would violate the peaceful pretenses under which we have come,” Haru said calmly. “Good thing a snake is only a stupid animal and you were unable to control it.”

  Pestilence offered a dark smile. “Yes. Good thing.”

  “Did you kill Chernobog and Gala? Yes or no?” I demanded.

  “I deny involvement,” Pestilence answered.

  I used my staff to bat the twitching snake head away from my foot. “Then I think we’re done here.”

  Haru nodded. “I agree.” He turned and bowed to Xipetotec. “My apologies for the mess.” He swept toward the door with a furious look in his eyes.

  I moved to follow.

  “Lazarus,” Pestilence called after me.

  I paused in the doorway to look over my shoulder.

  “It’s a pity we didn’t meet a few months sooner. I could’ve helped with your ghoul problem. Removing such a virus from your body is well within my power. Had you sought me out instead of Morningstar, your friend’s soul wouldn’t be in danger.”