by E. A. Copen
The baboon flipped through the bills as if counting them, hopped back to the organ grinder, deposited the cash in the hat and then disappeared again into the cart. The organ grinder placed the hat on top of his head, nodded, and took up his cart, slowly rolling it away.
I watched him go. In all my years wandering around voodoo shops and graveyards, I’d never been as freaked out as I was when that organ grinder stopped in front of me. And I’d never been so relieved to see a man disappear around the corner.
With a sigh, I trudged back to my car. Could this day get any weirder?
Chapter Four
“You have got to be kidding me.” I glanced down at the address Darius had given me, scrawled over the business card, and back up at the house.
It was a two-story gallery-style mansion with an immaculate front yard surrounded by a wrought iron fence. Three steps led through the big, white columns and to the front door.
Most people probably assumed Darius had come up in the world now that he was living in a mansion. Then again, most people probably didn’t know that said mansion had belonged to Vesta, Ancient Roman goddess of the hearth and flame, protector of Rome, and murderer of innocent women and children.
He’d certainly made the place his own, though. A couple of pimped-out rides sat out in front, big red low riders with orange flames. Tacky, if you ask me, and probably the neighbors too. The rest of the houses on the street had Lincolns and BMWs parked out front. The steady thump of music heavy with bass came out of the house like a heartbeat, and if I looked hard, I could make out some colored lights rotating in one of the upstairs rooms.
The front door opened as I got out of my car and the ugliest dog in history came bounding out to bark at me through the gate.
“Heya, Joeline.”
Joeline, Darius’s dog, was stuck solidly somewhere between a Bullmastiff and a Shar-Pei with all of the ugly and none of the charm. When she bounced up and down, she made it almost as high as the tip of the fence, doggie drool flying everywhere.
“Joeline, heel!” Darius commanded from the stairs.
The dog immediately stopped hopping excitedly and trotted back to sit at her master’s feet. That lasted all of two seconds before she rolled onto her back and presented her belly for Darius to rub. Instead of rubbing the dog’s belly though, Darius reached down and picked her up like she weighed nothing, carrying her on her back like an infant all the way to open the gate for me.
“Whatcha think of my new digs, Magic Man?” he said nodding to the house.
“How’d you wind up with this place?” I jabbed a thumb toward the front door.
“Easy. After what happened, it went on the market at a steal. Put the bar up as collateral, took some donations from the rest of the crew for a down payment, and here we are. Of course, we bought it as-is. Had to get the bloodstains out ourselves, and there’s that weird portal in the locked room upstairs, but it don’t bother me and Joeline none, does it, snookums?”
I tried not to gag while he made kissing noises at the dog. It was downright weird how some people treated their pets.
Joeline wriggled free of Darius’s arms and commenced running circles around us at full speed.
Darius wiped his hands on his ripped up, saggy jeans, and tugged on his bright red ball cap. “You want to come in and see what I’ve done with the place? How about a beer? You look like you could use one.”
As tempting as that sounded after what I’d just seen, my stomach was still in open rebellion. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Captain Ross’s chest ripped open, his grayish-red guts on display. Well, what was left of them, anyway.
“No thanks on the beer, but I think what I’ve got to say would probably go over better behind closed doors if you know what I mean.” I tilted my head to the side, pointing out one of his neighbors’ faces pressed against a window, giving us a death glare.
“Yeah, man. Right this way.”
Darius led me up the walk and through the front door where I had to stop and gape at the place. Where once there had been tasteful furniture and wholesome floral print everywhere, there was now chrome, brass, and streaks of red. The chandeliers were still there, but gold chains now hung from them. Even the quaint little runner on the floor was gone, leaving the floor bare.
The music was loud enough inside to rattle my skull. Though I couldn’t see the source, I was sure it was somewhere upstairs. I don’t know how he managed, but Darius screamed well above the music’s volume for someone named Nikki turn it down. Except Darius used a lot of expletives in there. Feet stomped across the floor over our heads, and the music went down to a manageable volume.
“My kid sister’s a bitch, man,” Darius said, shaking his head. “Thinks she’s entitled to everything. I never shoulda let her move in here. She’s been giving me headaches ever since.” He shouted the last part loud enough that she was sure to hear him.
My throat suddenly felt tight as I thought of my own kid sister. I wanted to tell Darius to enjoy how much of a pain in the neck she was. He didn’t know how good he had it.
Instead, I cleared my throat and said, “So, I’ve got another job from a client.”
“Who?” Darius went to a little cart in the hall and lifted a lid. Steam wafted out along with the scent of hot dogs. Joeline sat down next to the cart, licking her chops loudly.
My stomach did a flip-flop and didn’t even stick the landing. “Not at liberty to share client details with you.”
He grunted and shoved a hot dog into a steamed bun, coating it in mustard and onions before continuing. “Okay, what’s that got to do with me?”
“I figure if anyone knows the seedy criminal underworld of this city, it’s you. And I need some information about shady happenings in the city, Darius.”
He shoved half the hotdog in his mouth and tossed another to the dog who caught it mid-air and swallowed it in a single gulp. “What kinda shady happenings?”
I studied him carefully. This was the risky part. He could refuse to tell me, and there’d be nothing I could do about it. Darius didn’t owe me after all. This information as probably going to cost me, an expense I’d be sure to bill the precinct for. But I couldn’t let on that I was working with the police or Darius would balk. It was also equally possible he knew absolutely nothing about an unground magical items auction, or that the auction was truly a myth. If Darius didn’t have any useful information, I’d be back at square one with nothing to report when Emma called later that night.
“I’m looking for a black market that sells human remains.”
Darius almost choked on his hot dog. He hit his chest and swallowed it. “You know I don’t mess with that shit. I sell crystal on the corner, Magic Man, not bodies from the bag. That sounds like some kinda mystical voodoo or hoodoo shit like you’d be into.”
“I don’t deal in body parts,” I said. “But I need to find someone who does. I’m not accusing you of being involved, just thought you might know someone who knows someone.”
Darius frowned and looked down at Joeline.
Joeline panted and smiled, probably hoping for another hot dog.
“I can probably make some calls and see what I can find out, but I can’t make no promises. And I can’t do it for free, neither. I’d be sticking my neck out for you. You’re gonna owe me.”
I sighed, my shoulders slumping. “I was afraid of that. How much?”
He turned back to the indoor hot dog cart and put together another one under Joeline’s watchful eye. “What I need is to get out of that game. I’m tired of slinging drugs. I want to go legit. I’m thinking of a website startup.”
“What kind of website and what’s that got to do with me?” I asked.
“Porn, man.” He made a vulgar gesture with the hot dog. “I just need a little cash up front. Everything I had is tied up in this place, which will be great once we start filming. I need investors. You’re gonna be my first.”
I had to hand it to Darius for trying to go legit, but he had
some crazy ideas about how much cash I had. “Hate to break it to you, pal, but I’m probably even more broke than you. I’m a month behind on my rent. I’ve got money coming in—” If The Baron ever resurfaced with my stipend, that was. “—but no idea when or how much it’ll be, and I’ve got to take care of my other obligations before I can back a startup.”
“Come on, man. It’s a guaranteed money maker!” He took a big bite out of the hot dog, chewed, and swallowed. “One of the most profitable businesses of the modern age. Complete anonymity. I can guarantee you’ll make back twice what you put in.”
“You’re not hearing me. I’m saying I don’t have the cash to give you in the first place.”
Joeline tore her attention from the hot dog to growl at me for raising my voice and taking a step toward Darius.
I stayed where I was and sighed again. If I didn’t hand Darius some money, I wasn’t going to get what I was after. “Look, I can get it to you by Friday, okay? And only if your information pans out.”
Darius nodded slowly. “I can live with that deal if you shake on it.” He extended his hand.
After everything else that’d happened to me, entering into a verbal business partnership with a drug lord to open a porn studio in his mansion hardly seemed out of place. I put my hand in his, and we traded grips.
“I’ll make some calls.” He walked me to the front door and pulled it open. “Should have something in a few hours if there’s anything to be had. You just make sure I get my money, Magic Man.”
Joeline followed me all the way to the gate, but I barely noticed her. I was too deep in thought, worried about making good on my promise to Darius. He was a decent guy for a drug lord, but I’d seen what he could do to people he didn’t like. He’d bury me in the swamp if I lied to him. The Baron had better show up soon, or I’m screwed.
Chapter Five
I arrived at the shop five minutes late, but there were no other cars out front, so I guessed my three o’clock was also late. Paula hadn’t told me anything about her friend, or what she wanted, so I came mentally prepared for anything.
For a necromancer, my skillset was pretty varied. I didn’t offer to raise the dead for clients, just their ghosts and shades, and even then, I rarely needed to do that. Very few clients wanted any sort of proof that I did what I claimed to do. Most weren’t even looking to talk to their dead relatives. They just wanted peace and comfort in a difficult time, which was why I considered myself equal parts counselor and wizard.
On normal jobs, I met with my clients once to determine their needs. During that first meeting, they filled out a service form which gave me everything I needed to run background and credit checks. Using that information, and an initial assessment, I could usually throw together enough information to fake a séance. Yeah, I might be lying to my clients, but most didn’t really want to know what the dead had to say. They wanted to know the dead were gone, that they weren’t holding grudges, that they’d died at peace. If I asked every ghost or shade to verify that, I’d never have a happy client. No one goes without pain or grudges.
I put my hand on the doorknob, and the door creaked open. A chill ran through me as I realized that meant someone might be waiting for me inside. The lock didn’t look broken, but that didn’t mean anything. Just like with Spellbound, anyone with the right power might be able to unlock my door. Of course, then they’d have to deal with the defensive wards I had in place. The wards which were currently down.
I extended my senses into the shop. Maybe if there was someone still in there, I’d be able to sense them. Unfortunately, I couldn’t sense anything. It was as if there was a thick magical dampening wall between me and anything inside the shop. Either there wasn’t anyone in there, or I wasn’t able to sense them. Either way, I was going to have to open the door.
I went back to the car to get my staff. I’d been meaning to carve some runes in it or something to make it more useful for doing magic, but I’d gotten distracted and hadn’t yet found the time. Still, a big stick was effective enough when smacked against an unsuspecting noggin. Using the staff, I pushed open the door.
The waiting area was dark and didn’t look like it’d been trashed. The pamphlets still sat in their little plastic stand. The chairs kept their silent vigil against the wall. Even the cash register sat where it always did on top of the stout counter next to the basket of mints. Maybe I’d just forgotten to lock up.
The beaded curtain that led back to my reading room shifted and an attractive guy in the blackest tailored suit I’d ever seen stepped through, a dagger in hand. He took one look at me and flicked his wrist. Something black cut through the darkness, whizzing past my ear. Only when I turned my head did I realize it was the tiny dagger and it had embedded itself in the door beside me.
I had maybe a split second before the dark suit was in front of me, slashing at me with another dagger. I dodged to the left, just barely avoiding having my ear filleted, and tried to swing the staff at him, but he danced too close. Once he got inside the range of the staff, it was all I could do to keep the staff against my body and push away his strikes, which came at me with precision and speed I couldn’t hope to match. His daggers sliced into my coat and nicked the staff, leaving deep scars in the wood.
I tried swinging the staff at his feet, but he jumped up, avoiding the sweep and actually managing to land on the end of the staff. He looked at his feet briefly, as if he were as surprised as I was that he’d succeeded, and then met my eyes with a knowing grin.
“No way you’re human,” I said.
He didn’t answer but hopped up again, anticipating me trying to pull the staff out from under him. When he came back down, it was to land a kick to my chest that knocked the wind out of me. I staggered back and fell into a chair, fighting to draw a breath into my burning lungs. It was a pointless effort. As soon as I was down, I felt the sting of something sharp against my neck. The intruder had won.
“Enough,” called a woman’s voice. The beaded curtains parted once more, and the speaker stepped through. If shadow had a feminine form, she was it. Her dress was made of the same strange black material as dagger guy’s suit. Black pearls covered the full skirts and the long train that followed her into the room. Her gloves were black lace, the pattern on them as intricate as a spider’s web. On her head, she wore a crown of black gold with a single point. She stopped behind her man and folded her hands in front of her. “You’ve made your point, Osric. He’s no warrior.”
She made a slight movement with her head, and Osric withdrew his knife, stepped back, and offered me a stiff bow, never taking his eyes off my face.
I rubbed the stinging spot on my neck and came away with blood smeared on my hand. “Did you guys miss the sign? I never claimed to be any kind of fighter. I’m a—”
“You’re the Pale Horseman,” said the woman, tapping her foot impatiently. “Death. I honestly don’t see what everyone is so worked up over. While you’re more impressive than the last Horseman I encountered, you’re nothing compared to some of your predecessors. Even if the last few Pale Horsemen have been a disappointment. But here I am prattling on, and you’ve no idea who you’re speaking to. Osric, do introduce me.”
Osric mimicked her stance, folding his hands in front of his body. “You stand in the presence of the Matron of Darkness, the Lady of Night, and the Queen of Shadows. Bow before Her Royal Majesty, Queen Nyx of the Shadow Court.”
The Shadow Court? The Baron had mentioned something about them right before I took on the mantle of the Pale Horseman. What was it he’d said? That the fae generally didn’t like death and decay—except for the Shadow Court. I didn’t know much about the fae, mostly because I had no reason to interact with them beyond Paula most of the time, but the Shadow Court sounded…well, shady.
“I’m not really keen on bowing,” I shot back. “Guess that’s the American in me.”
I hadn’t realized Osric’s daggers his disappeared, but they reappeared in a miasma of black. He gri
pped them with renewed purpose and lowered his head.
Nyx put a hand on his shoulder. “Put away your knives, Osric. We are guests in his place of business, and here to transact, not shed blood.”
Osric’s daggers disappeared again. He stood up straight, eyes full of spite, but said nothing.
“Transact?” I repeated. The wheels turned in my head. Here before me stood a faerie queen, at the exact time and place I was supposed to meet my three o’clock appointment. Paula, who was also fae, had set the meeting up.
I sank further into my chair, wishing I’d never agreed to this meeting in the first place. “You’re my three o’clock, aren’t you?”
“And you are late.” Her voice carried no hint of irritation. It was simply an observation.
My eyes flitted from the queen to Osric and back. I was still sitting in the lobby chair, unsure if I should get up or if they’d take offense.
The queen watched me carefully. “If it would make things easier, for the duration of this visit, we shall put aside the formalities due someone in my position, and you may treat us just as you would any other clients. Within reason, of course.”
“Most of my clients don’t have their manservant attack me as soon as I’m through the door.”
“You must forgive Osric’s enthusiasm for my safety. His only intention was to make a measure of you, which he has done. He was under oath not to cause you any permanent harm.”
I didn’t miss the word “was” in there, which meant those orders were no longer in effect. Osric smirked at me, and I made a note to be careful what I said to either of them.
What little I knew of fae, I’d learned from Paula. The one thing she made sure I knew was how not to get indebted to them. You didn’t thank fae, and you didn’t apologize or accept unsolicited gifts. Trades were acceptable, but only if they were even trades, and you had to follow them to the letter. Paula had made me breakfast in exchange for my agreeing to meet with the queen. That didn’t mean I had to accept the job, but I had to go through the motions.