Organ Grind (The Lazarus Codex Book 2)

by E. A. Copen

  My feet kicked off my shoes without much prompting from me, and I pulled off the torn coat only to remember I was covered in blood. It had crusted on my leg and the back of my shirt, which meant I’d have to undress if I didn’t want gross sheets. With a sigh, I stripped to my underwear and slid in under the cheap sheets. A bed never felt so good. Now, if only it could be a little warmer. I had a couple more blankets in the closet, and some warmer pajamas, but that was going to be too much effort, and I was already dozing off. Better to sleep cold than not sleep at all.

  I was almost out when I heard the bedroom door open. Bare feet padded across the carpet. The sheets rustled, and suddenly there was another body tucked into bed next to me, skin against skin. The heat almost felt like too much at first, but as my body acclimated, it felt just right.

  Beth wrapped an arm around my chest and pulled me closer, nestling her head against my spine. “I miss this.”

  All I could offer in answer was a contented sigh before I fell into a deep sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The alarm screamed out its song and jolted us from sleep. In the two hours or so, Beth and I had gotten tangled up, so the rude awakening left us scrambling to recover our respective limbs. Beth seemed to have forgotten where she was and why because she immediately started looking around for her clothes. I stumbled out of bed in nothing but my boxers and had my own momentary confusion as I tried to recall what had led to me curling up with an old flame.

  As soon as everything came back to me, I stopped halfway between reaching for a pair of ripped-up jeans and a discarded sundress that was way too small to be mine. Odette’s. She’d left a few things here and in my two weeks of self-pity, I’d alternated between ripping those things to shreds and neatly folding them in case she came back. I must’ve stopped somewhere in between with the emerald sundress and just dropped it on the floor.

  Shit, if Beth sees this, we’re going to have a really awkward conversation. I scooped up the dress and made a mad dive to shove it in the dirty clothes only to pause again. What the hell was wrong with me? Odette wasn’t coming back. I didn’t need to keep secrets from Beth. Besides, she needed something to wear, didn’t she?

  I shoved the dress at her but left my back turned. “Here.”

  “Since when have you taken to wearing dresses?” she asked, snatching it from my hand.

  “Ex-girlfriend. Tell you about her sometime.”

  “Am I likely to run into her anywhere?”

  I grabbed the jeans and pulled them on. “Probably not.” And it was true, so long as I didn’t get further involved in fae politics, which I had no plans to do.

  “Then I don’t want to hear about her. Not unless you want to hear about all my exes.”

  “Why? How many are there?” I chanced a look behind me in time to see her slip the dress over her shoulders. A satisfied smirk formed on my lips. She had tan lines in the shape of a bikini.

  “And that’s why we’re not going to talk about exes.” She pulled her hair out of the back of the dress and ran her fingers through it. That seemed to be all it took to make it look perfect. I’ll never understand how girls can wake up and look gorgeous while we men always look like we’ve been through a hurricane that gave us two black eyes. It just ain’t fair.

  She turned around and made a face. “You’re not going to shower?”

  I lifted an arm and sniffed. A shower would make me smell better, but then so would a little deodorant. “I don’t want to be late.”

  Without another word, she stalked to my closet and pulled it open, frowning at the mostly bare hangers she found there. “And what were you planning on wearing to the gala tonight? I don’t see a suit in here.”

  Oh yeah. I’d forgotten it was a suit and tie affair and I didn’t own a suit. Unless The Baron showed up with a pile of money, I wasn’t going to own one by the end of the day either. I shrugged. “I’ll improvise.”

  “I really don’t like the sound of that.” Beth pulled out a white t-shirt with red text, and I cringed as she read the text out loud. “Choose cremation, you urned it?” She raised an eyebrow at me.

  “Look, there’s only a limited number of necromancer puns out there. I thought it was funny.”

  She rolled her eyes but tossed me the shirt anyway.

  “Also, I hate to bring this up, but my car kind of got totaled by a flying alligator, and I’m pretty sure you left your car at Jackson Square, so we’re going to have to take a cab, and I’m sort of broke.”

  Beth frowned, closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. “Fine, I’ll take care of the cab fare, but you’re going to owe me.”

  So what else is new? I slid the t-shirt on and found my ratty, sliced-up jacket. As soon as I picked it up, something fell out of one of the pockets. Sybille’s tea, ironwort. I grabbed the tea bag, turning it over in my hands. What was it she’d said? Use it when you go to the place with no death. Where was that? Either way, I wasn’t willing to go anywhere without it in case I needed it. My coat was sliced beyond usefulness, so I shoved the tea baggie into my pocket and grabbed my staff.

  Twenty minutes later, our cab pulled into the parking lot of the police precinct where Emma worked, and I stepped out into the cool night air. My teeth chattered. It had to be fifty-five or so, maybe a little warmer, but I was only comfortable without a coat or sweater anymore if it was above eighty.

  We’d arrived just before eleven and found Detective Moses Moses waiting for us out in front of the building. He gave me a bob of my head as I approached. “Lazarus.”

  “Moses,” I said, returning the bob. “This is Paula.”

  “We met briefly last night,” Paula said, extending a hand.

  Moses took it with both his hands, offering a warm smile. “Pleasure to meet you again, Miss Paula. Wish it was under better circumstances.”

  “And this is Beth,” I said, placing a hand on Beth’s shoulder. “She’s an anthropologist specializing in Ancient Egyptian artifacts.”

  “Interesting.” Moses moved on to shake her hand. “This case have something to do with Ancient Egyptian artifacts?”

  “More than you know,” Beth said. “We’ll fill everyone in at once when we get inside.”

  Moses nodded and gestured for us to follow him.

  I fell in step next to him and let the ladies bring up the rear. “So is everyone here?”

  “Yep. Emma was pretty insistent. Had one fella who wasn’t keen on coming, so she arrested him for littering. She’s got them holed up in the drunk tank, waiting on you.”

  Good. The drunk tank was probably surrounded by iron bars. That wouldn’t do much to slow down the sons of Horus, but at least we could be sure Osric wouldn’t make a play for the box. Best of all, it was a tightly controlled area, accessible only by anyone who had a key so we could control who came and went. It was also a well-lit area, reducing the number of shadows. If she hadn’t already, I’d have Emma bring in a few extra lights, and we’d make the place shine like daytime from every angle. That’d eliminate as many shadows as possible.

  We pushed through the rotating front door and into a lobby full of stale air that smelled like old newspaper print, sweat, and strong coffee. The place buzzed with anxious energy that made me straighten my back and look around. Even those officers who weren’t involved in our plan seemed to move around with heightened unease. They had to know something was up, but they weren’t sure what.

  We walked into a large room where a bunch of desks had been pushed back-to-back. Emma sat at one of the desks, head down over folded arms, snoring gently.

  A ghost moved back and forth in front of her desk, dressed in his uniform. A silver mustache hid his upper lip from view, matching the bushy white eyebrows, all that white contrasting with his dark skin. He stopped and nodded to me, so I nodded back. We’d met before when Emma arrested me for a murder a while back, though this was the first time I’d seen Malik Knight. Last time, I’d only had momentary contact with him, but I’d always gotten the sen
se that someone was watching over her. It was almost a relief to know it was the stern-faced ghost of her grandfather.

  Moses walked right through Malik, and I shuddered. It was always weird when people did that, though Moses was no more aware of Malik’s presence than Emma. “Wake up, Emma. We got visitors.”

  Emma sat up, red-eyed, and suppressed a yawn with her hand. I suddenly felt guilty about my two hours of sleep looking at her. I’d seen the dead look more well-rested than she did. “Glad to see you could finally make it,” she said, pushing her chair out.

  “I made it in time,” I protested. “And I even brought some help.”

  I made quick introductions before our party of five wandered through a maze of desks and cubicles to find the collection of holding cells in the back of the precinct. Most were empty.

  I paused by one, peering in. It was about the same size as my prison cell had been, with the same thin mattresses on the metal bench-like shelves that served as a bed. A single stainless-steel commode sat attached to the back wall. The room would be tiny with two people occupying it, with barely enough space for two to move around without touching, but the jail was probably rarely full enough to have two men to a cell. Prison, however, was a different story. If the warden didn’t like you, sometimes you wound up sharing your cell with two or even three other guys. Talk about overcrowding.

  “You coming, Laz?” Emma asked.

  I shook away all the bad memories encroaching on the moment, along with the strangling feeling in my throat. Those days were behind me. I’d gotten out, and I wasn’t going back. I’d die first. “Yeah, coming.”

  Emma led us out of the main holding cell area to another, bigger room. This one had a large iron cage taking up about half the room and a metal desk with security cameras on the wall above it. Someone had already thought to bring in some extra floodlights, which made the area painfully bright. There was space inside the cage for ten, maybe fifteen people, but tonight only four were in there so far.

  A balding man in a suit and tie stormed to the bars but stopped short of touching them. “I demand to speak to my lawyer!”

  “For the last time, Mr. Voorhees, you’re not under arrest.” Emma waved to the guard doing duty at the desk. “Thanks, Bill. We’ve got it from here.”

  While they made the changeover, I marched up to the bars and leaned in. “Not under arrest, but I bet all this iron isn’t making you feel too hot, huh?”

  His bottom lip protruded, and his face reddened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Paula stepped up beside me and crossed her arms. “Can it, Frank. Laz is on our side.” She turned to me. “There’s a lot of iron here, but we’ll manage until dawn as long as there’s no direct contact and none of it gets into the bloodstream.”

  “Are we here because of what we are?” asked a thin young woman in a shirt two sizes too big. She rubbed her elbow and avoided making direct eye contact.

  Emma strode over to stand on the other side of me. “You’re here in protective custody, which means you’re free to leave at any time if you wish to relinquish that protective custody.”

  Mr. Voorhees reached for the door.

  “But,” Emma continued, “doing so means you’ll be in imminent danger. There’s a pair of killers targeting fae who are also organ donors. All of you fit that profile. If you leave, it’s likely you’ll die.”

  Voorhees’ hand dropped limply to his side. “Why target us? We’ve never done anything but keep our heads down.”

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss details of an ongoing investigation,” Emma said.

  When Voorhees protested some more, Moses walked over and opened the door. “If you got so many questions, sir, you can be sure to ask them when that pair of killers shows up. Don’t think it’ll be comforting though. ’Course, you’re always free to leave.” He held the door open wider.

  Voorhees didn’t take Moses up on the offer, however, opting instead to seat himself cross-legged in the center of the cage. Paula and Beth stepped into the cage, joining the other four.

  Emma nodded to me. “This is Lazarus Kerrigan. He’s going to give you some instructions. You make sure you follow them, and we’ll all try to make it until dawn, okay?”

  I clapped my hands together. “Okay, everybody, gather round. We’re going to learn all about an exciting magical thing called a circle, and why if you step on or outside of the circle once I power it up, bad things will happen to you. Imagine the circle I’m about to draw is a sort of invisible, semi-permeable wall. You can step through it, but magical energy can’t penetrate it. That means anything made of magic—that’s going to be the bad guys—can’t walk in there and rip out your guts. Now, if you happen to step directly on the circle, you’ll break it, and all that protective energy I was just talking about goes bye-bye. Plus, it’s like fingernails on a chalkboard to me, and you don’t want to piss off the only guy in the room capable of ripping out your soul, okay? Good. Now, any questions?”

  Beth slapped her forehead with an open palm. Most of the rest of the people just looked horrified. And that is why I’d never had any interest in being a teacher. I didn’t have the patience to explain everything. It was way easier to just scare people into doing what you wanted them to do.

  Of course, Mr. Voorhees raised his hand. “What if we have to go to the bathroom?”

  “Hold it,” I said. “Anyone else?”

  “Yes, but what if I can’t hold it?”

  “Hold it anyway.” I checked my watch. “You’ve got about ten minutes to cycle in and out of the bathroom, get a drink, whatever. After that, I’m putting the circle up. Anyone stuck on the outside is out of luck, so I suggest some of you make it a point to visit the little fae’s room before we get going.”

  “Right this way.” Moses gestured, taking a line of them down the hall.

  I pulled the black oil pastel I’d brought with me, went into the cage, and got to work. Usually, I drew my circles with chalk because I intended for them to be temporary. Removing chalk was easy, inexpensive, and didn’t require any hard work on my part. Just grab a broom, and you’re done.

  I also normally built my circles to contain ghosts and shades, not living people. Granted, I wasn’t technically containing the fae donors, but I wanted the circle to be a little more robust than normal. And visible. Couldn’t have them stepping on it accidentally.

  Oil pastels were sort of a happy medium between a permanent marker and chalk. With a little scrubbing and hot water, they’d come right off the cement like they were never there, yet it’d still be visible and hold a little better than chalk. Plus, they were cheap, and I happened to have some lying around from when I thought I’d take up art. Judging by the lopsided circle I drew, it was probably a good thing I’d given up on the art.

  I made the circle large enough that it encompassed as much of the cage as it possibly could without touching any of the iron. Putting the circle inside the iron was a double layer of protection since iron also disrupted some magical energies. But it was also a double-edged sword. If something made it past the iron bars, there’d be almost nothing to stop them from hitting the circle. Unless whatever attacked was a being of pure energy, the circle wouldn’t stop them immediately, but rather slow them down. Stopping them would be up to me. I really hoped it wouldn’t come to that with as tired as I was.

  Once everyone was back in the circle, I drew the last part of it before pricking my finger and pressing the smallest amount of blood against the circle. With the blood went my will, and the circle sprang up with a static snap. The fae—and Beth—inside it glanced around nervously. They were sensitive enough they’d probably felt the circle go up. Moses and Emma, however, hadn’t seen or felt a thing.

  “Is it done?” Emma asked, halting her incessant pacing.

  I nodded and stood, backing away from the circle. “All that’s left to do now is wait.”

  And so we waited.

  As the clock ticked closer to midnight, the anxi
ety in the room increased to palpable levels. I watched the red second hand spin around the clock, my pulse pounding in my ears. Emma paced. Moses leaned against the corner of the cage, arms crossed. No one dared speak after the initial instructions were given for fear that we’d miss a sign that something was about to go wrong.

  At eleven forty-five, Emma stopped in front of the clock and sucked in a deep breath, her shoulders tense. “It’s time.”

  I tightened my grip on the staff. “Time?”

  She nodded. “All the accidents happened between eleven forty-five and twelve-fifteen as far as we can tell. If they’re going to make a move, it’ll be in the next half-hour. So, talk me through it. What’s the plan if they do show?”

  “We went over this,” I said, frowning.

  “I know, I know. Just… one more time. Just to make sure I’ve got it.” She hugged herself as if she were as cold as I was.

  “You see shadows move, you grab those floodlights and hit them with the beams. Light is the only thing that hurts these guys. Other than the floodlights, you stay the hell away and let me keep them back. Got it?”

  She nodded and rolled her shoulders.

  “Why midnight?”

  I turned to face Moses who’d asked the question. “What?”

  “Just wondering about the timing of the attacks. If they’re occurring on either side of midnight, there must be some significance to the time, right?”

  He had a point, one I hadn’t had time to think about. I knew dawn and dusk were important to Osric, and probably most fae who lived in Faerie. He’d said he was virtually powerless during those times. If that were true, maybe anyone associated with the Shadow Court was also strongest in the dead of night. Midnight. They were striking with the Shadow Court was at its strongest, probably hoping to gain some extra power from their choice in timing.

  I shared my theory with everyone in the room.