by E. A. Copen
She marched over to the table, drew back a hand and gave me a stinging slap that left me blinking away stars.
“Hi to you, too,” I managed, only to be silenced by her arms crushing my ribs.
“Don’t you ever disappear for two weeks again,” she whispered into my ear.
I smiled and hugged her back.
For the first time in a long time, despite the sting in my cheek, I knew everything was going to be okay.
Help me out
Reviews are the absolute best way to tell others (and me!) how you liked this book. Without reviews from readers like you, it’s really difficult for books to get noticed. Please do me a solid and leave an honest review on Amazon. Thank you so much for your help!
CLICK HERE to leave a review for Organ Grind on Amazon.
Or HERE to leave one on Goodreads.
A special preview of Shallow Grave, book 3 of The Lazarus Codex
Dead men tell no tales…Unless you’re a necromancer. Then they never shut up.
Life is finally going right for Lazarus Kerrigan, necromancer and Pale Horseman. Business is booming, and no gods have tried to kill him for a whole month. But the past is catching up to him.
There’s a serial killer on the loose in New Orleans, one that targets children and leaves behind only bones. When the case develops eerie similarities to his sister’s murder, Laz knows the police are in over their heads. They need help, and the dead aren’t talking.
Well, except for the ghost of a two-hundred-year-old pirate, and Laz doesn’t like what he has to say. If he’s right, then the creature Laz is chasing a monster way out of his league. If he’s not careful, Laz just might end up in Davey Jones’ Locker, or worse…
Chapter One
I pulled my foot out of the mud, leaving my shoe behind, and sighed. It was the third shoe I’d lost in as many days trekking through the bayou east of New Orleans looking for Daniel Lawrence’s ashes. I’d finally found the sealed urn wedged in the roots of a cypress tree and thought I’d get away clean for once. Instead, not only had I destroyed another pair of shoes, but now my last pair of jeans were also caked in muck up to the knee. At least I’d be able to afford a pair of waders with the finder’s fee Mrs. Lawrence had offered.
But first, I’d have to make it the last few yards from the shoe-eating sinkhole to the parking lot.
A pair of bushes nearby rustled. I shifted the urn under my arm and eyed the sun sinking into the treetops. Sweat stung my eyes. I wiped away and took another big step, wincing as I drove my sock down into the mud. Yuck. Swamp feet. Still preferable to facing whatever was hiding in those bushes. Being a necromancer had taught me to appreciate life even more.
A low, inhuman growl carried through the air from behind the bushes, sending a shiver down my spine. I did my best to speed up my escape from the mucky water, but there’s only so much you can do. The swampy muck made a hungry sucking sound as I pulled my foot free.
The bushes in front of me parted and a big, spotted wildcat stepped out. A bobcat. Great, now my day was complete. I raised my left hand, palm out. “Nice kitty. Good kitty.”
The bobcat let out a scream that made the metal urn in my hand vibrate.
Ugh, cats. This is why I’m a dog person.
Half a heartbeat later, the bobcat leapt at me, claws extended, ears back, so I did the only thing I could do. I threw Daniel Lawrence’s ashes at it and dove into the muck.
Thick, putrid water sloshed up over my head. I opened my eyes to cloudy darkness with uneven streaks of light. Decaying plant matter grabbed at me as soon as I went under, pulling me further into the bayou. An explosion of bubbles to my right told me the bobcat had dove in after me, so I kicked my way free of the waving weeds and pulled myself through the water for shore. If I was quick, maybe I could get out before the damn bobcat figured out where I went.
I broke through the surface with a gasp and grabbed for dry land. Well, I suppose when you’re in The Bayou, dry is relative. Dryer. Patchy grass and mud broke off in my fingers so I flung myself further, still blind thanks to all the dirt I’d gotten in my eyes when I opened them under water. The minute the ground didn’t cave under the weight of my arm, I hauled myself out of the swampy water and spun around.
Bobby the Bobcat was paddling a few feet upstream, a minor panicked look on his face as the current moved him.
“Ha!” I shouted and put my hands to my ears to make a face. “That’s what you get for swimming in The Bayou after a hurricane, fuzz bucket! Shoulda been smart enough to stay near shore. Opposable thumbs for the win!”
The bobcat made a pathetic mewling sound as I turned my back and searched for the urn I’d tossed at it. I found it still intact near some rocks and went to scoop it up. The lid had come loose, so when I picked it up the gray ashes spilled out into a small mound. I blinked at Lawrence’s ashes. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!”
Meanwhile, behind me, the fuzz bucket was winning his war with the current. He threw one big, angry paw on shore.
Time to go. I bent over and scooped as much of the ashes as I could back into the urn before tucking it back under my arm and booking it out of there. Undergrowth snapped and groaned behind me. I ducked under hanging vines and dodged thorn bushes.
The parking lot loomed in all its asphalted glory just a few more strides ahead. My getaway car sat in a space on the other side of the lot, but the lot was otherwise empty so I had a straight shot. Or so I thought.
The swamps around New Orleans are just teaming with wildlife, most of it not the friendly kind. Just about everything in the Bayou wants to either eat you or sting you. Between the mosquitoes, the snakes, the gators and now the bobcat, it was a wonder I’d lasted as long as I did.
But a black bear was just ridiculous. There was no way any normal person would run into that much wildlife on a short stroll through the bayou. Hell, most people from New Orleans hadn’t ever seen a bear. Good thing I’m not most people.
“Guess it’s just my lucky day,” I muttered as the black bear stepped between me and my car just as the bobcat fought its way through the last of the underbrush. I was effectively trapped with no way out.
I took a step back, shifting the urn in my grip. “Your wife was right. The Bayou really doesn’t want to give you up, Danny boy.”
Eying the bobcat behind me, I decided I was better off taking on the bear. It might be big, but it was slower and I’d rather go out as bear food than the human version of Meow Mix.
The driver’s side window on the little black sedan rolled down and a pasty guy with freckles and curly red hair ala Chucky the Rugrat stuck his head out of the car, pushing up his thick glasses. “Uh, Lazarus? There’s a bear.”
“Start the car, Nate! Now would be nice.” I made sure the urn was secure under my arm and stepped to the right. The bear followed, but the bobcat moved left. As soon as I bolted, it’d hit full speed and probably kill me.
Unless I distract it again. The bobcat wasn’t the smartest kitty in the kennel, but I doubted it hadn’t learned from our last encounter that getting hit in the head with funerary urns hurts. Besides, my throwing arm hadn’t been that good since high school. And I had a better idea.
I feinted right, toward the bear. The bear went down on all fours and swiped with a massive paw, but I slid left and dropped well below where the bear had swiped, slamming my free palm onto the pavement. The asphalt split with a resounding crack that sounded more like a gunshot than the tiny earthquake I’d just set off. Bob the bobcat yelped, turned and ran, and the bear got smart too, galumphing off the other way.
I reached the back door of the car and jerked it open, throwing myself and the urn inside. “Drive!”
Nate frowned back at me. “Buckle up first!”
I liked Nate, especially since he’d started hanging around the office more and helping me put a few smaller cases to bed, but he was a worry wart sometimes. A real stickler for road safety too, thanks to his wife’s job as an auto insurance saleswoman. But
now was not the time. I started to tell him as much before the car shook and water struck my legs as a small wave washed over the parking lot from the way I’d just come.
In a panic, I hauled myself the rest of the way inside, grabbed the buckle and slammed it into the receiver. “Now drive!”
“But the door…” Nate got halfway through saying the word door before his eyes got huge. He grabbed the gear shift, jerked it backward and slammed his foot on the gas pedal, backing us at forty miles an hour toward the winding country road. The door swung shut when he jerked the car sideways and the much larger wave that had followed my little earthquake slammed into the side of the car, tipping it up on two wheels.
In the briefest of moments while the car was still tipped, I heard Nate huff out a sigh. “Oy vey.”
The car crashed onto its side, the metal groaning, and then flipped over onto its hood. Glass shattered. I tumbled, but the seatbelt pulled tight, keeping me from flopping around the car.
Daniel Lawrence’s ashes weren’t so lucky. The lid dislodged and the ashes I’d already tossed back inside once spilled out, settling among broken glass on the upside-down roof.
As I hung upside down in Nate’s broken car, suspended by my seatbelt and staring at the ashes of my latest client’s late husband, I found myself counting my blessings. At least I had my health.
A gentle, repetitive thudding in the front seat made me twist my neck to see poor Nate tapping his forehead against the steering wheel. “Leah’s going to kill me.”
“Look at it this way,” I said trying to brace myself against the side of the car. “At least you’ve got good insurance.” My thumb depressed the seatbelt release and I fell ungracefully. Though I managed to avoid further disturbing Daniel Lawrence’s ashes, I put my knee down directly in a bunch of glass and cursed.
It took a while to get the ashes back in the urn, and to get Nate out of the car, but at least The Bayou seemed to cooperate because no more furry or slithery things came out after us. The water, which had been the direct result of the spell I’d used to split a line in the parking lot, receded too. For its part, the car was wrecked, probably totaled considering all the shattered glass and bent frame. All-in-all, it still didn’t look as bad as my last car.
Luckily, we also had enough signal for Nate to call Leah and arrange for a ride out of The Bayou back to New Orleans proper. As Nate and I stood, leaning against the remains of his car, Daniel’s urn between us, Nate crossed his arms and said, “So, you’re not getting any better at using your magic without the staff, huh?”
I winced. As a necromancer, most of my powers revolved around raising or controlling ghosts, spirits, and other dead things. I’d also recently become one of the Four Horsemen, the pale one, which let me see and interact with souls. In addition to that, I could do a few low-key elemental spells, but they often went haywire unless I directed them through the staff I’d inherited from my mentor first. I’d been trying to get better at the earthquake one in particular for the last few weeks without much luck. “Doesn’t seem so.”
Nate turned his head, frowning at the urn. “Well, I hope it was worth it. I hate to say this, Laz, but you’re going to have to help me with the down payment on another car. Leah said—”
“I know.” I cut him off, waving my hand.
Leah’s voice was already chewing me out in my head. She wasn’t my biggest fan, especially since I re-animated dinner the last—and only—time they had me over for it. But how was I supposed to know re-animating a chicken made it non-kosher?
“Look,” I continued after a sigh, “I’ll make it up to you. To Leah.”
“I really hope so.” Nate shook his head. “We’re already in dire straits financially, what with the baby coming and all. Leah’s going to have to take time off work and an assistant coroner’s salary just isn’t enough in this economy. As it is, I already have a few things in hock that I don’t know if I can get back so we could get the baby’s room ready.”
“Geez, Nate. I didn’t know you were that hard up.” I looked back at the car I’d accidentally wrecked. Part of me wanted to offer him the money. I didn’t have much, but there were a couple of people in the supernatural community that owed me favors. Maybe I could get an advance to help him out. Not that Nate would accept any cash from me. Well, not any more than he thought I owed him. But maybe I could get his stuff back. “What exactly did you pawn?”
“Nothing Leah will miss. Couple of golf clubs. A ukulele. My grandmother’s opal ring.”
He tried to play it down, but grandma Frieder’s ring sounded important. After everything that had just happened, no way I was letting him lose that. But I tried not to let on I’d noticed how much value he’d placed on it.
“A ukulele?” I said, raising an eyebrow.
He rolled his shoulders. “Like I said. Nothing anyone’s going to miss.”
A white sedan cruised down the road, prompting Nate and I both to take a step away from the overturned car, as if moving away from it would somehow distance our association with it. The little car drove into the parking lot, stopping beside us. I thought for a minute Leah wasn’t going to get out, but no such luck.
Her door opened, and a very pregnant lady in a blue skirt, white blouse, and sensible flats got out. “My car! What’d you do to my car, Nathaniel?”
He glanced at me. Leah followed his eyes and her face turned a shade of crimson, indicating a spike in blood pressure that couldn’t have been healthy.
“A bear!” Nate exclaimed suddenly before continuing in a calmer voice. “There was a bear. Pushed the car over. We were lucky it didn’t do worse. Laz here chased it off.”
Leah narrowed her eyes at me. I could tell she didn’t buy the story, but lack of a better one meant she had to accept whatever she was told. In the end, she chose to ignore me in favor of going to her husband and grabbing him by the cheeks. “You poor man. Let me see. Are you okay? Did you bend your glasses?”
While she checked him over he looked to me for a rescue. Wasn’t anything I could do for the guy but mouth “thank you” to him. He’d just broken one of the Ten Commandments for me, or at least stretched one about as thin as it could go. Guess it was the bear’s fault the car got knocked over, even if it hadn’t technically pushed it. I hoped the Jewish God was the kind who understood little white lies for Nate’s sake.
“I’m fine,” he finally said, prying her hands off his face. “Please, Leah. Go sit down. We’ll get our gear loaded in the trunk.”
Leah stepped back, turned to me, and wrinkled her nose. “And you… You can take off those filthy clothes before you get into my car. There’s a couple of grocery bags in the trunk for you to put them in. I don’t want swamp water in the interior.”
“Uh…” I said. That’s me, eloquent.
“No buts.” Leah shook a finger at me. “I’ve got my eye on you, Mister Kerrigan. If I didn’t think Nathaniel was being something of a good influence on you instead of the other way around, I’d have to put a stop to these adventures of yours.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Leah made a sour face, but waddled back to the car and got into the driver’s seat. A second later, the trunk popped open. I grabbed the urn and stepped around to the back with Nate following me. “Thanks for the cover,” I said, wrapping the urn in one of Leah’s plastic baggies. That way, at least if we hit a bump and the ashes came back out a third time, they’d be contained.
“Don’t mention it. But, um, do you think you could…” He gestured as if he couldn’t find the words. “About the stuff I mentioned. I really would like to have it back, Laz. Some of it has… sentimental value, you know?”
I hopped on one foot, pulling off my one remaining shoe and dumping out the mud. “Yeah, I’ll get your granny’s ring back. And the ukulele.”
“And the golf clubs.”
“And the golf clubs,” I repeated.
He nodded and glanced around. “I’ll, uh…”
I pulled off the sopping wet black
t-shirt with a grunt. “Yep.”
With a nod, Nate walked around the side of the car and got into the passenger seat while I pulled off my waterlogged jeans and stuffed them into yet another plastic bag before opening the back where I topped. The back seat was piled high with pink things. Pink blankets, pink bibs and diapers, a pink pacifier. There were even a couple of pairs of knitted pink booties. It wasn’t easy, but I found enough room to sit down.
And that’s how I wound up in my boxers in the back seat next to a jumbo pack of newborn diapers, shivering, while listening to Meghan Trainor sing about her bass.
Surrounded by all the baby items, it was hard not to think about my own impending fatherhood. I hadn’t known for more than a few weeks that my ex was set to have my kid, barely enough time to process it. Of course, for all I knew my offspring was already a teenager with the way time passed in Faerie. Unlike Nate’s moody wife, my ex was a faerie princess who’d been recalled to the Summer Court. Last time I saw her, she was at least as far along as Leah and only a few weeks had passed since the last time I saw her before that.
Despite all that, Odette and I were through. She didn’t want anything from me, and I wasn’t sure I wanted anything more from her. As much as a part of me wanted to be a father to my kid, there was still part of me that liked my freedom. Every time I looked at Nate, I was reminded of why I’d sworn off marriage.
Marriage yes. Girlfriends? No way. Call me a masochist, but I’d somehow fallen back into a long-distance relationship with my high school sweetheart. She was supposed to be in town that evening. I was taking her to dinner to celebrate a one-month anniversary. One month didn’t feel like it deserved a big to do to me, but I knew it mattered to her. Pro tip number one when it comes to girls? They like anniversaries, any and all.