Organ Grind (The Lazarus Codex Book 2)

by E. A. Copen

  We got in line behind another couple holding hands with a preschooler belting Ba Ba Black Sheep as loud as she could. I winced at the off-key notes, though her parents seemed to think she was the next Elton John by the way they cooed over her.

  I turned my back to the kid and tried to tune her out. “So you said you might have a job for me? Please tell me it involves the mummy.”

  Beth pressed her lips together a moment. “Well, it sort of does, but probably not in the way you’re thinking.”

  With a juice box in her hands, the little girl finally fell silent. The couple in front of us finished with their order and moved away to their table. I’d just stepped up to the cashier when someone called Beth’s name. I paused mid-order to glance back at the door where a tall guy with shoulder-length hair and a beard stood. He wore a brown suit jacket with jeans and a button-up with the sleeves rolled up. Dark-rimmed glasses that nearly matched the pair Beth wore sat halfway down his nose.

  “Dr. Feneque!” Beth smiled and accepted a hug from the man. A hug. She hadn’t hugged me when she saw me.

  The barista placed a large coffee on the counter next to my hand and repeated my total. I handed him a few bills, grabbed my coffee and stepped out of line to join Beth and this Dr. Feneque, interrupting a conversation about dinner plans. A balloon inflated in my chest at the thought of Beth having a fancy dinner with someone other than me, though I didn’t know why. It’d been seven years since the last time Beth and I’d been an item. She could see whoever she wanted.

  “Dr. Feneque,” Beth started, gesturing to me, “This is Lazarus Kerrigan, an old friend of mine.”

  I bit my tongue at being called an old friend. I should’ve warranted a better introduction than that, but then again, I guess it would’ve been weird to introduce me to her current boyfriend as an ex. I offered the guy my hand.

  He took it in a vice grip that nearly made me drop my coffee. “Dr. Seb Feneque,” he offered with a genuine smile that just made me hate him more. “It’s good to meet you. Any friend of Beth’s is a friend of mine.”

  “Uh-huh.” I pulled my hand free and shook out the stiffness. “So what kind of doctor are you? Let me guess. With a grip like that, orthopedics? What better way than to ensure job security than to crush the hand of every guy you meet?”

  “Lazarus!” Beth hissed.

  “It’s all right.” He touched Beth’s shoulder before turning back to me. That stupid smile never left his face. “I’m not a medical doctor. I have a doctorate in Anthropology from Stanford. But please call me Seb.”

  “Dr. Feneque is overseeing Pipi’s transfer and the opening of the sarcophagus.” Beth was practically gushing over the guy.

  It made my stomach sour enough that the coffee no longer sounded appetizing. I slurped at it anyway, just to keep from saying anything, especially as Seb reminded Beth to call him by his first name.

  “Pipi is one of the oldest mummies on the continent,” Seb said. “But the sarcophagus has been opened before for an initial examination.”

  “But not since the early forties,” Beth cut in and turned to me to explain. “Pipi’s remains were in a French museum during World War II when the Nazis marched in. They went missing during the war, presumably destroyed by Nazi forces until a private collector in Argentina came forward and made the generous donation.”

  “Interesting,” I lied with even less enthusiasm than I’d greeted Seb with. They didn’t get the hint.

  “We’ll be opening the sarcophagus tomorrow afternoon, and holding a fundraising gala afterward at the museum.” Seb patted my shoulder. “You should come, Lazarus. You look like the sort of person who’d enjoy an after-hours costume party with a fun twist.”

  I lifted my coffee cup to my mouth to hide the involuntary scowl. “What kind of fun twist?”

  “It’s a lock-in,” Beth said excitedly. “Remember the last one we went to at that church fundraiser when we were kids? This will be even more fun.”

  Locked inside a museum full of priceless artifacts and well-preserved dead Egyptian guys with a bunch of rich donors. It sounded more like a recipe for disaster than fun.

  I suddenly felt Seb’s eyes burning my skin and turned to give him one of my best “back off” glances, but paused when I saw him frowning at me. His forehead had wrinkled in thought, and his eyes were wide. Was that fear? He was looking at me as if I were a lion and he’d suddenly been transformed into an antelope. I’d been scowling and growling at the guy, sure, but nothing to get that kind of reaction. Maybe he saw something Beth couldn’t.

  I studied him again. His features were even. Perfect. He had a nice job, one that probably netted him lots of cash and allowed for travel. While that didn’t necessarily mean anything, it might mean something. Or maybe I was just looking for a reason not to like the guy. Either way, I wasn’t going to feel comfortable again until I indulged the curiosity nibbling at my guts.

  With a little will, I called on my Soul Vision, letting it slip over my normal vision. Silver balls of light sprang up around me, one for each person in the coffee shop. Some were brighter than others, and some were smaller. I didn’t know what that meant, but none of it seemed out of the ordinary. Souls tended to vary in size, shape, and intensity from what I’d seen. Beth’s blazed a brilliant silver-white, dancing like a flame.

  But Seb’s soul was gold.

  I let out a small curse under my breath, and the Soul Vision slipped away. Dr. Seb Feneque was a god, but which one? The only way I was going to find out was to corner him, which wasn’t going to happen with Beth standing right there.

  “Is everything okay?” Beth put her hand on Seb’s shoulder.

  I ground my teeth and bit my tongue. Again.

  Seb smiled at her. “Yes, of course. Why don’t you go and get your coffee? Lazarus and I will find a booth. This place is starting to get crowded, and I don’t want you to have to stand.”

  Beth seemed to realize for the first time that she hadn’t gotten her coffee yet and nodded. “You boys behave,” she said as she stepped away, making sure to give me a pointed glare.

  As soon as she was gone, I grabbed Seb’s arm and pulled him toward the back of the coffee shop. “You and me need to talk. Now.” I let him go once we reached an empty table at the back. It wasn’t secluded by any means, but we’d be out of earshot of most patrons as long as no one started shouting. “All right, pal. Who are you?”

  He tugged on his jacket. “I already told you. I’m Dr. Seb Feneque, Beth’s boss.”

  “Bullshit, you’re a god, and I want to know which one.”

  His eyeballs practically bugged out of his head. “How did you…”

  Several patrons looked our way, so I pulled him further into the corner. Apparently, a necromancer and a god couldn’t have a conversation in peace. Once we were as far away from the other patrons as we could get, I answered him in a whisper. “I’m a Horseman. Your soul is as golden as King Tut’s burial mask.” I jabbed a finger into his chest. “Now if you don’t want me ripping that out here and now, you’re going to tell me which god you are, and you’re going to do it before Beth gets back here with her coffee.”

  A look crossed his face, something between terror and doubt. “You wouldn’t. Not in front of all these witnesses.”

  “Try me, pal. I’m having a weird day. I might just be slightly unhinged. Who knows what I’ll do?”

  His eyes darted past me, but I didn’t fall for it. I wasn’t going to turn around so he could get away.

  “Qebehsenuef.” He said it so fast I almost missed it.

  I blinked and tried to form the word, but my brain refused to accept that such a combination of sounds could possibly be a real name. “Kobi who now?”

  “There you are.” Beth walked up, smiling and holding an iced latte. “You disappeared on me. Any reason you two are hiding back here in the corner?”

  Seb—whose real name was way too hard to pronounce—looked at me, his eyes pleading. Of course he wouldn’t want me to tell
Beth he was some god in hiding. Not that I could explain that to her anyway. She’d heard me spout a lot of crazy things in the years we’d known each other, but gods would be too much, especially after not seeing me for seven years. She’d laugh her way straight out the door if I said anything about Horsemen and gods, and Seb would laugh right alongside her as she walked away and never spoke to me again. He’d be free to hatch whatever evil plan he wanted, to hurt her, and there’d be nothing I could do about it. The only way I could hope to intervene would be to gain Beth’s trust and stick with her, at least until I figured out what Seb was up to.

  “I don’t like crowds,” I muttered. “Never get used to it after staring at the same four walls for six years day in and day out.” It was a flat-out lie, but the lie was better than the truth in this situation.

  Seb closed his eyes. His shoulders relaxed, and he gave me a small, relieved nod.

  “Dr. Feneque, are you okay?” Beth asked, putting a hand on his cheek. “You look pale and clammy.”

  He was smiling when he opened his eyes again, the jerk. “I’m afraid this Southern humidity doesn’t agree with me, especially in the late afternoon. I think I need to go lie down.” He started to step away but paused, turning to address me directly. When he spoke again, it was with a measured tone, one that commanded my attention. “You should come to the gala, Lazarus. I’m sure you’ll find it won’t be dull.”

  “Oh, I plan on it,” I said nodding. “See you there, Seb.”

  “Likewise.” He inclined his head and made for a quick exit.

  Beth watched him go, frowning. “What did you say to him?”

  “Me? Nothing.” I sipped my coffee.

  “You’re not jealous, are you? After all this time?”

  I wasn’t. I couldn’t be. That didn’t stop my mouth from running away. “Why? Are you sleeping with him? With your boss, Beth? Come on. He’s not even that good-looking.”

  Okay, so he was. The guy wasn’t built like you’d expect for a god, but he had the same sort of bookish charm as Beth. A good disguise for a god, I guessed. No one would dare call a god a nerd. Well, except for me. I’d do it any day of the week with that dweeb.

  Beth’s cheeks flushed. She rolled her eyes and sank into the booth. “I’m not sleeping with him, Lazarus. I’m not even dating anyone. I’m too busy to date.”

  I sat down across from her. “So, why did you just leave like that? No calls, no letters, not even a goodbye.”

  She spun the thermal cup, pushing it between two fingers and staring down at it for a long while before she answered. “Seeing you in that ugly prison jumpsuit with your hands and ankles shackled…I could barely believe it was you. When you entered a guilty plea and didn’t even fight…” She closed her watering eyes and shook her head.

  I reached across the table, placing my hands gently over hers. “Beth, I was guilty. I did break into the morgue, assault a police officer, and resist arrest.”

  “Yes, but there were extenuating circumstances. If you’d just tried to explain—”

  “Nobody would’ve listened.” I shook my head. “Come on, Beth. My parents are lifers. I’d already had plenty of run-ins with the police to establish a pattern of behavior. And they thought I was abusing my sister’s body. No amount of me insisting on my own innocence would’ve changed their minds, not after the way the news smeared my name.” I lifted one hand and wiped it through the air. “Adult male abuses dead child. How do you think I was supposed to explain that?”

  “But you didn’t!” She jerked her other hand away and looked up at me, tears in her eyes, her jaw set.

  I sighed. “Do you think the judge would buy a story about a magic spell to bring her back to life? One that didn’t work, I might add. The rest of the world doesn’t believe in magic and the supernatural. Hell, you don’t even believe in it anymore, not like you used to.”

  She shifted in her seat and turned her face away. Her eyes were still teary, but no tears fell.

  Dammit, now I’d upset her all over again.

  I sipped my coffee and found it had turned cold and tasted even more bitter than usual. “So, you said you might have work for me?” I pushed the cup away.

  Beth breathed a sigh of relief and turned back. “I did. I got a tip the other day that there might be an artifact in the city, one that belongs in a museum. An Egyptian one that dates back to about the time of our mummy. I thought it would be good to recover it for the unveiling, and I thought you might help me find it.”

  I quirked an eyebrow. “No offense, but since when am I lost and found? You’re like the third person today to ask me to find something.”

  “This is a special something.” Her eyes sparkled, and this time because of excitement instead of tears. “A sheut box.”

  I cringed. Wasn’t that the exact thing Nyx had asked me to find? If I found it, I couldn’t hand it over to Beth, not if it contained part of a faerie queen’s soul. If I did, Nyx would send Osric to recover it, and I’d be in violation of my contract with a faerie. I was sure that wouldn’t bode well for my health.

  “Sorry,” I said, shaking my head, “going to have to pass.”

  “But I haven’t even told you what a sheut box is!”

  I checked my watch. Almost five-fifteen. I had about forty-five minutes until dark, which meant I had that long to get over to the herb shop Darius had mentioned and get out of the neighborhood before the ghouls woke up.

  Beth followed me as I stood. “Please, Lazarus. I know you don’t care about history—”

  “Who said I don’t care about history?”

  She raised her eyebrows and tilted her head to the side as if to say, “Really?”

  Okay, so I’d skipped history courses in both high school and college with reckless abandon, but that was because of how they taught it. There’s really no interesting way to teach history, and even then it’s always so focused on the Western hemisphere and all its wars. Now, if they’d talked about mummies and monsters, maybe I’d have been more interested.

  “Beth, I’m not turning you down because I want to,” I lied. “I have two other jobs right now, and one of them is with the police. I’ve just got too much of a workload to take on another job searching the city for a random box, no matter how well you promise to pay me.”

  “What about as a favor for a friend?” She put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed, then chewed on her lip.

  Damn her, that was a low blow. She knew I couldn’t say no to that. I’d never been able to say no to that. But I still couldn’t give her and Nyx the box. Of course, neither she nor Nyx had explicitly stated I had to give them the box, just find it. I was splitting hairs with that, but given half the chance Nyx would’ve exploited the same type of loophole. It was in her faerie nature. And besides, I’d wanted an excuse to stay close to Beth until I figured out who her boss was. Working for her would give me exactly that opportunity.

  I sighed. “I can promise to keep an eye out and an ear to the ground, but that’s it. I won’t take your money, Beth.”

  Beth beamed and took her hand away. Pity. I was just getting used to the weight of it. “You’re the best, Lazarus.” She bounced up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on my cheek. Her lips felt unnaturally hot against my cool skin, enough that when she stepped away my face still burned where she’d kissed me. “And you are coming to the gala tomorrow night?”

  I nodded and smiled. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  Inside, I was groaning that I’d have to put on something formal. I didn’t even know if I owned a suit, and my bank account was empty. If The Baron didn’t show up before tomorrow night, things were going to get interesting.

  Chapter Seven

  On the corner of Canal Street and City Park Avenue, behind a locked gate and a high cement wall, lies the abandoned cemetery known as Odd Fellows Rest. The final resting place of the members of the lodge of the Grand Order of Odd Fellows, the cemetery fell into disrepair even before Katrina left its scars on the city. With no
clear owner, the long rows of tombs had begun to crumble. Trees had grown up around the stone and marble statues, and stainless-steel mausoleums stood all but forgotten. The city had closed it to the public for safety reasons long ago.

  An old urban legend said that you could still get into Odd Fellows Rest through the herb shop that butted up against the gate, but only if you knew the secret password. According to the rumors, the password ranged from a bouquet of black roses to all kinds of ridiculous phrases. Of course, if you were me, you just scaled the fence at nineteen and ran into a bunch of ghouls.

  As I drove past where I’d hopped the wall all those years ago, a smile crossed my face. Beth had gone with me. At the time, I’d been looking impress a girl I wanted to sleep with. The appeal for Beth was the novelty of dead strangers, a passion she must’ve carried into her career playing with mummies.

  I stopped my car in front of the herb shop and parked on the street. Faded green letters painted onto the off-white front of the building named the shop as Imperial Herbs. A neon sign in the window advertised they sold vaping supplies. If they were involved in the Black Bazaar, that wasn’t all they were selling.

  A tinny bell rang over my head as I pushed the door open. Music drifted from a tiny speaker on the front desk, something reggae, though the guy manning the desk was Middle Eastern. He looked up from the magazine he was examining, his bushy eyebrows rising as he took in my sliced-up coat, sunglasses, and unshaven face. I must’ve looked a sight because he flipped the magazine closed and one hand went below the counter to rest on whatever gun he probably had protecting the shop.

  His voice was still pleasant as he asked, “Can I help you, sir?”

  “Depends. You know a Seth Emits?”

  I expected his hand to ease off the gun when I dropped the name, but he didn’t move. His eyes moved over me again, calculating, analyzing. Deciding. Was I a threat? A potential paying customer? Or just some dumb drunk who wandered in with the wrong name on his mind? Too bad for him I was all three.