by E. A. Copen
Persephone swung the door open and gestured for me to step in.
The room on the other side was long and narrow, ending in an iron grate. Sandstone benches lined either wall. A fine dusting of white sand over a stone floor crunched underfoot. Despite being empty, the room smelled like sweat, blood, and sand.
“We can speak privately here,” Persephone said, swinging the door closed behind us before turning around and pressing her back to it. “I heard about Chernobog and the Valkyrie. I know what you’re thinking. Stay away from it, Lazarus. For once, just don’t get involved and let things play out.”
“Let War or Pestilence keep killing gods and fixing the tournament?” I shook my head. “You know I can’t. What if they come after Morningstar next? Then Emma’s fucked.”
Persephone pushed away from the door with a hip and grabbed my shirt, crumpling it in her fists. “Then let her be fucked. This is bigger than her. The balance has to be restored and we’re running out of time to do it before…” She snapped her jaw closed before she finished.
“Before what?”
She lowered her head and shied away.
Oh no you don’t. Persephone wasn’t the first one to mention something big coming. Vesta had said some ominous He was behind everything and the Archon had been afraid of whatever was about to happen. There were enough gods, monsters, and powerful beings hanging around New Orleans these days to turn the place into a powder keg. Something was up, I just didn’t know what.
I grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her once. “Tell me what you know. What’s coming? Tell me!”
“All right!” She threw her arms up and broke free of my grip. Some of her hair had broken free from the tight bun. She swept a hand through the strands, pushing them out of her face. “If I tell you what I know, then you can’t repeat it. Not to anyone. I want a wizard’s oath.”
I ground my teeth. Such an oath would be magically binding, meaning I literally couldn’t break my promise. There were ways to circumvent the magic, but everyone I’d ever heard of that had tried had died horribly. Swearing an oath wasn’t something I did lightly. Persephone knew that, which meant whatever she was about to tell me was a doozy.
“Fine. I’ll give you the oath.”
Persephone nodded and took my hands in hers. Our eyes met.
“I give you my word, Persephone, daughter of Demeter. I will not repeat your secret to any living soul. So swear I, Lazarus Kerrigan, necromancer and Pale Horseman.”
The air around us snapped and crackled with power as the oath was made. Persephone winced at the sound.
“Okay,” she said, letting go of my hands. “You want to know why the world’s been going to hell the last few months? Well, turns out that phrase just might be a little more literal than you realize.”
“Wait, you’re not saying…”
Persephone nodded. “Every soothsayer, palm reader, and fortune teller has been seeing the same thing. Someone’s about to open the gates between this world and the next and let Hell loose on Earth.”
I swallowed. Hell on Earth would be bad, no matter which mythology it was coming from. All of them had a few things in common, the walking dead and demons among them. Huge monsters, damned souls, and a dark magic free-for-all would just be the tip of the iceberg. If that happened, we’d need all four Horsemen on board to clean up the mess. No wonder every fae, god, and monster was trying to fortify his power base with a nervous frenzy.
“Can we stop it?” I whispered.
Persephone shook her head. “I don’t know. No one does. We’ve all been getting flashes for the last few months, every god. Premonitions. It was only a matter of time before those visions started seeping through into the magical human population. Some gods have been working to try and put together what they might mean. You met War, right?”
I nodded. “Haru something. Works for some Tengu.”
“He’s been heading the effort to collect dreams and premonitions with their help. They’re putting together the pieces. Last I spoke with Haru, they didn’t know when it would happen, but they knew it was soon. Lazarus, you can’t kill any more Horsemen. You need them. It will take all four of you to close the doors once they’ve been opened.”
“What if I don’t have a choice?” I asked. “Couldn’t the Namer just name someone else? Why not—”
Persephone silenced me, putting a finger to my lips. “There might not be time. Just promise me you won’t kill War or Pestilence. No matter what.”
I considered it. She’d been right when she said this was bigger than Emma. Letting Hellspawn loose on the world would be the beginning of the end. Without all four Horsemen to put a stop to it, they’d devour the world. Life on Earth as we knew it would end.
But if it meant sacrificing Emma, I didn’t think I could do it. It didn’t matter that doing so might save the world. Yeah, maybe that made me a selfish prick, but the world without her in it might not be worth saving.
“I can’t promise you that, Persephone, but I will promise not to kill anyone lightly. I never do. It’s just that I keep getting cornered.”
She sighed. “I know. I tried at least. At any rate, once someone does start opening doors, I’ll be one of the first to know.”
“You will?” I cocked my head to the side.
Persephone smiled. “Of course. This is my season in the Underworld. No one comes or goes through my realm without me knowing.” She pulled open the door for me. “Whoever it is, Lazarus, I’ll be sure to let you know as soon as I do. Maybe we can head them off before all Hell breaks loose.”
“Literally,” I added and ducked through the door only to find a sea of people standing in the previously empty hallway. I blinked and tapped someone on the shoulder. “What’s happening?”
The tall, muscular woman in a toga frowned at me. “You haven’t heard? Since the Russians got disqualified, they’re letting Baba Yaga design the arena for the qualifying rounds. But they’re only permitting the fighters in to watch her work.”
I looked back to Persephone.
She shrugged. “Morningstar didn’t tell you? The arena landscape changes every round. Gods get to design them and add one hazard. You should go. See what she’s up to.”
“Which way?”
Persephone pointed down the hall. I nodded my thanks and slid that way.
The door to the interior of the arena was blocked by two Valkyries who stood in full armor with their spears crossed over the door. A large crowd had gathered in front of them, with people craning their necks in hopes of a glimpse inside. It seemed Baba Yaga had drawn quite the crowd of curious onlookers, though I couldn’t understand why.
Depending on who you talked to, Baba Yaga was either one person or three. Regardless, the one thing she was famous for was being hard to look at. She was a withered old crone (or crone sisters) with a huge nose. Her house supposedly stood on a pair of chicken legs in the deepest darkest woods. Not exactly the kind of celebrity you’d think people would be clamoring to get a glimpse of.
I shouldered my way through the crowd and up to the Valkyrie guards. “Afternoon, ladies.”
The one on the right grabbed the badge hanging around my neck and jerked it up to look at it, forcing me off balance. “He’s good,” she announced to her partner and let me go. They uncrossed their spears. “Go on in. Just don’t make us come in to get you.”
I rubbed the fresh rope burn on the back of my neck. She had one hell of a grip. I’d have to remember not to cross the Valkyries.
Walking through that arch was like walking into a different world. The floor sloped upward, spilling out into a section of stadium-style seats. Thick concrete walls swooped down at an angle toward the arena floor below. The floor itself was deep, carved several stories below ground, which was covered by white sand.
A tiny figure hunched below in the center of a mound of sand. Scraggly silver hair crawled down her back like a mane. Her clothes were shoddy and worn, in shades of brown and mossy green, patched with sli
ghtly brighter fabric. Bare wrinkled feet, speckled with dark spots, shifted in the sand, slowly turning. She was surveying the space.
On either side of me, the stadium rose. Fighters dotted the seats, spread out from each other. They watched the figure in silence, muscles tense, waiting.
All but one.
Haru sat about four rows over from where I’d come up, reclining in his seat with his feet resting on the seat below him. He was dressed in traditional Japanese garb, the kind you’d expect a samurai to be wearing, all of it blood red. With his hands folded over his chest, he looked more like he was about to fall asleep waiting rather than jump to his feet.
I glanced to either side before turning and climbing up the stairs to join him.
“Came for the show?” he inquired without looking away.
“Seemed like everyone else was, so I figured why not?” I pointed to the seat next to him. “This seat taken?”
Haru pulled his sandaled feet off the chair in front of him and sat up before gesturing to the seat. “It is now.”
I sat. Persephone had said Haru was heading the effort to collect information about this impending doom. It didn’t mean he wasn’t killing gods to improve his chances of winning, but it did mean he was probably on my side in the grand scheme of things. Talking to him and finding out what he knew about it would be helpful, but I wasn’t sure how to approach the subject while still keeping my oath to Persephone.
After a moment, I settled on, “So I hear you’re into prophecy and dreams.”
He put a finger to his lips. “I think she’s about to start.”
Even as Haru spoke, a new voice rose on the air, throaty and deep like a grandma who’d smoked since she could crawl. Words echoed through the arena with consonants sharp enough to cut and nasal vowels. The language was one I didn’t know, but I didn’t have to understand it to know the words had power. Thick, sticky magic crawled lazily around the arena, pricking at exposed skin and sending chills down every spine.
Sand shifted beneath her feet, coming alive at her command. Huge clumps rolled away from the edge of the arena to form a long ridge bisecting the center. Wet sand solidified into rock. With a quake that shook the arena, massive stone peaks erupted, forming the spine of a mountain. Rock hewed itself into sheer cliffs frosted in icy crags. At the base of the rock face, evergreen trees exploded out of the ground in jagged rows. Snow blossomed on the boughs, transforming them from green to white. Ice drained from the edges of everything, forming into glistening spears. More trees sprang up until the arena floor was a dense, primordial forest of unforgiving snow and ice. The old, hunched over crone disappeared behind the tree line.
The arena was so quiet, you could hear the trees creaking under the weight of the snow.
A black shape emerged from the trees, morphing into the shape of an old woman with a hook nose. She walked with the aid of a malformed crutch. Baba Yaga.
Everyone watching, Haru included, sprang to their feet and showered her in applause.
I was still too dumbfounded to react. That much creation in such a short span of time was no small feat, even for a goddess. I figured Baba Yaga was powerful, but this was a whole new level of talent I hadn’t been prepared to see in person. Whoever had killed Chernobog had risked her wrath. Not smart.
I was suddenly aware of her eyes on me and realized I was still the only person sitting. She squinted and the corner of her lip trembled as if she might sneer.
I wisely shot to my feet and joined in on the applause.
Chapter Thirteen
After Baba Yaga constructed the arena, I spent my time in the stands asking the other fighters questions. Most of them were unwilling to talk to me, let alone help me. A few of them detailed the creative ways in which they would display my corpse.
Slowly, more people filed into the arena and found their seats. I spotted Morningstar climbing down the stairs with a woman on his arm. Dressed up in soft fur and supple leather, with her hair piled neatly on her head, she radiated both elegance and menace all rolled into one. The long legs and sharp fingernails reminded me of a spider among flies. She looked a little different, but there was no mistaking it. This was Nikki, Darius’ sister.
Nikki stopped by someone in the crowd, touched their arm and smiled. They exchanged a hug and a quick chat before she slid her arm back in Morningstar’s and they moved on.
She sure as hell doesn’t look like she’s been kidnapped, I thought and started toward them. Maybe Darius had manipulated the facts, or maybe there was something going on that wasn’t obvious.
“Ah, Lazarus,” Morningstar said with an incline of his head. “This is Nicole. Nicole, Lazarus.”
Nikki’s lip twitched. She looked at me as if I were a piece of sub-par meat at the supermarket. “My brother told me about you.”
“Good things I hope?”
“No.”
Ouch. Guess Darius had been vocal about our falling out. “Well, I don’t know what he told you about me. Just what he told me about you. Say the word and I’ll be happy to step in to deal with this bozo. No charge.” I jabbed a thumb at Morningstar.
Nikki burst into a giggle. “Oh, that’s rich. My brother sent you to save me, didn’t he?” The laugh faded, replaced by a sneer. “You can tell him the only person I needed saving from was him.”
I shrugged. “He seemed to think you were here against your will. Should I tell him he’s wrong?”
“Yes,” she said lifting her chin and flipping some hair behind her head. “He thinks I’m still a little girl and he can tell me what to do. I’m a grown woman and I can make my own choices, isn’t that right, baby?” She squeezed Morningstar’s arm.
I leveled my gaze at him. “So she’s not with you because Darius missed making good on your investment in his business?”
Morningstar flashed perfect pearly white teeth. “Absolutely not. That debt is between us. Nicole is not involved at any level. Our relationship is purely that, a relationship based on mutual understanding and respect.” He leaned over to exchange a big, wet kiss with Nikki.
Gross. I’d have to bleach my brain to get that image out. If she was there of her own volition and didn’t want my help, there wasn’t much I could do. I wasn’t about to drag her kicking and screaming back to her criminal brother. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t buy Morningstar’s story for a minute. Chances were good he’d manipulated her into falling for him, or used a spell or something, and he was taking full advantage of that fact. But I wasn’t going to risk pissing off Morningstar and losing Emma’s soul to save a brat who didn’t want saving. Barring further evidence of foul play, she’d either have to come around on her own and see him for what he was, or just live with her decision.
Emma emerged from the entry with Spot on a leash. People shied away from the dog, and, by extension, her. As long as she held Spot’s leash, no one would bother the human. Good thinking, Emma. I waved to her. She spotted us and started our way. Apparently, we were all going to watch the qualifying rounds. Might as well sit as a team. Team spirit and all that.
Spot tugged hard on his leash to get to me, half-choking each of the three necks. Hot doggie breath washed my face before three slobbery tongues drenched my head.
Emma laughed. “He likes you.”
“Scooby needs a breath mint!” I pushed the dog down.
We took a set of seats the row below Morningstar and his date while Spot sat at our feet, panting and drooling.
“How long until Khaleda fights?” I asked.
“She’s in the fourth round,” Morningstar answered from behind me. “I don’t expect it will be long.”
Emma unfolded a blank sheet of paper from her pocket and held it out to me along with a pen. “For notes.”
I hadn’t thought of taking notes. “Good idea.”
A horn sounded somewhere in the arena and the crowd cheered. The first fight was about to begin.
I strained to see through the heavy tree cover, but it was useless. There were too many
trees, and too much white. “Who’s fighting first?”
“Should be obvious momentarily,” Morningstar assured me. “Just watch.”
In most fights I’d seen, there was almost always an announcer who introduced the fighter. Apparently, we weren’t going to get that here. The crowd was already on its feet, cheering so loud I couldn’t hear myself think, despite nothing seemingly happening.
A loud roar cut through the arena, shaking the seats. The roaring crowd fell eerily silent. Wood creaked.
One of the arena doors exploded in a hail of splinters and a hulking blue form charged out. He was taller than the tallest tree, dressed in minimal fur and armor. Judging by the thick muscle, he didn’t need much. It’d take a chainsaw to penetrate that hide. Huge hands gripped an ax that he swung with a roar, decapitating trees. Clouds of breath rushed from his nostrils, reminding me of a cartoon bull preparing to charge.
“Holy shit,” I whispered. “Is that…?”
“Frost giant.” Morningstar sounded completely unimpressed.
I twisted in my seat. “I thought the Norse weren’t fighting?”
He shrugged. “Loki declined to enlist a team, just like Baron Samedi and the Tengu. Yet you’re fighting. Individual fighters can pledge to any team, regardless of where they’re from.”
I turned back around, thankful I wasn’t the one down in the arena with that thing. Whoever had drawn that short stick, I felt sorry for them.
The frost giant tore through the arena, uprooting trees and tossing them aside, looking for his opponent. Guess the heavy tree cover worked both ways. We couldn’t see the other guy, and neither could the giant. I found myself inching toward the edge of my seat, hoping for a glance at whoever had the misfortune of being pitted against a giant.
A shape moved, leaping from branch to another. It was just a shade lighter than the snow itself, and I would’ve missed it if I wasn’t focusing right on that spot, but there was no doubt I’d seen something else move down there. Whatever it was, I watched it leap to another tree. It was smart, keeping out of sight and trying to come at the giant from behind. That’d be the only way to take that thing down.