Death Rites (The Lazarus Codex Book 1)

by E. A. Copen

  My stomach churned as he spun me around. I’d have fallen over if he didn’t hold me up. I stared down at him, my vision crossing. “Well? You gonna hit me or what?”

  “Hit you? He grinned, showing a mouthful of bad teeth. “Damn, man, you really are fucked up. What, you think I’m still mad over that forty bucks you owe me? Nah, man. I been doing some thinking. Finding that art? Best thing that ever happened to me.”

  He led me to a booth where he dropped my ass on the hard plastic bench that served as a seat. I didn’t have the wherewithal to ask him to elaborate, but he did anyway as he slid into the booth across from me. “If I hadn’ta found it instead of Ma’s stash, I wouldn’ta come down to Paula’s that night. And if I hadn’t done that, I’d never have met Joeline. Man, you practically introduced us.”

  I swayed in my seat. “Who’s Joeline?”

  As if in answer, the ugliest dog in the world plodded out from behind the counter. She was charcoal gray, hip high, and looked like the inbred cousin of a Bullmastiff and a Shar Pei, except maybe it’d been dropped on its head as a puppy. A lot. The dog trotted up to the booth and jumped up next to Darius, covering him in doggie drool. I don’t know which made my stomach turn more, looking at that ugly mutt or listening to Darius baby talk to it.

  “Magic Man, meet Joeline. Joeline, Magic Man.”

  Joeline put her paws on the table, flopped out a big spotted tongue and breathed heavily at me.

  I wrinkled my nose. “Charmed.”

  The bartender dropped a glass of water in front of me, no ice. “Drink.”

  I was desperate to get the taste of vomit out of my mouth, but I wasn’t sure I could keep it down, so I sipped at the water. Pleased, the bartender grunted and went to get the mop from the corner.

  Darius put his hands on the table and leaned forward. “What brings you to my door, Magic Man?”

  I gave Darius the short version of everything that’d happened over the last few days. I probably shouldn’t have made him privy to a police investigation, considering he was a gangster and all, but the combination of whiskey and nausea made my tongue loose. Besides, I needed him to trust me. Darius was one of the few people who believed I could do exactly everything I said I could. He might’ve initially disliked the information I brought him, but he never questioned its source.

  He listened intently, interrupting only to ask for clarification on a few issues. When I was finished, he leaned back, crossed his arms and said, “Man, that’s fucked up.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  He drummed his fingers on the table. It sounded and felt like he was drumming them inside my skull. “So, what do you need from me?”

  I gulped down a mouthful of room temp water. “You want to help?”

  Darius shrugged. “I ain’t no white knight, Laz, but I can’t be down with some bitch killing in my city. Plus, I’d be doing a favor for the man who brought me and Joeline together. Isn’t that right, snookums?” He scratched the dog’s ears. “Tell me what you need, and I’m there, brother.”

  Darius’ change of heart was unexpected, but not unwelcome. About time something went right for a change. Who cared it if it was due to something I hadn’t actually done? He was happy with his dog, and if it made him happier to think I’d helped him find the pup, I was okay with that.

  I grabbed a pen from the corner of the table and scribbled the address to Vesta’s place on the back of a napkin, sliding it across the table to Darius. “You and a handful of your guys can meet me here at sundown. Come armed and ready to cause some damage.”

  “You ain’t worried about attracting the attention of the cops or these Feds you’re running from?” He eyed me as he took the napkin.

  “I figure I’m pretty well fucked as far as the Feds go, and the cops will have to hand me over to them anyway, so…”

  “I feel you. If you’re going away, might as well go with a bang.”

  I nodded. “But none of your guys go with me, understand? If the heat shows, they’re to book it out of there full speed. I’ll deny any knowledge of them being present. Even if it comes out, I’ll back a story about me strong-arming you into lending me your men.”

  Darius extended a hand over the table. “I like the way you think, Magic Man.”

  I shook his hand, and he did something weird with his fist and thumb that I tried to imitate and failed. “Thanks, Darius. I’ll owe you one.”

  He grinned at me. “Careful now, or I’ll start thinking you’ve gone soft.”

  Joeline barked and wagged her stubby little tail.

  I stood and swayed. It hadn’t been long enough since I downed the whiskey that I was ready to drive, so I left my wheels with Darius, who promised not to let the cops find them. He was even nice enough to front the cash for a cab to take me to my next stop. I’d never met a man so happy to find a dog, and I couldn’t help but second-guess his motives, but then again maybe I’d just built up enough good karma over the last few days.

  “Where to?” asked the cabbie without turning around.

  “Karma,” I said and closed my eyes. Might as well go big or go home.

  Chapter Twenty

  It was late afternoon, about three hours before the sun would go down, which meant Karma didn’t have any crowds. Good. That’d make it easier to pick out who I was looking for. By the time I climbed out of the cab, I was still woozy and unsure on my feet, but gulping the water back at Darius’ place had helped me work it through my system.

  The atmosphere inside Karma was a lot different than it’d been at my last visit. Red filters had been placed on the spotlights, each one focused on the main stage where, instead of a pole, the brunette was working a microphone. Her gravelly alto voice accompanied the live band the next stage over, perfectly accenting the sax, piano, and bass. She was dressed in the style of a forties’ pin-up model. Several other girls I recognized from my last trip milled around the occupied seats dressed similarly. The whole shtick made the place feel more like a jazz club than a strip joint.

  I stood in the doorway, studying faces before settling on a table where a woman in a navy dress blocked the other patron from view. Bright red hair curled over her shoulder. Bingo.

  I stopped a few feet to the right of the table, planting the staff.

  Pony wore a grin the size of Alaska and didn’t look away from the pretty girl, who sat on a chair that’d been placed on the table, one leg crossed over the other. She wasn’t wearing any shoes, but she had her skirt hiked high enough to show the top of her garters plus a little thigh. She wasn’t paying him any attention though, preferring to stare at her own reflection in a compact while she applied another layer of lipstick.

  “Always did have a thing for redheads and women who don’t know you exist, didn’t you, Pony?” I asked.

  Pony’s smile faded only a little. “Not now, Lazarus.”

  I lowered the staff, tapping him on the shoulder and forcing his attention away from the redhead. “Pay the lady for her time and let’s you and me find somewhere less open to talk.”

  “Why? Ain’t that shop of yours making you enough dough to spread the wealth? Or you just don’t want to be seen?”

  I jabbed the staff harder into his shoulder. “I won’t ask nicely again.”

  Pony scowled and fished out his wallet, dropping a ten on the table. The woman didn’t even notice.

  I cleared my throat. “Come on, man. How long have you been sitting here gawking at her? She’s not bagging your groceries, Pony.”

  “Fine,” he snapped and dropped a twenty. He moved to collect the ten, but I smacked his hand away. With a heavy sigh and a roll of his eyes, he left the money on the table and slid away.

  The redhead collected the bills with her toes, passing them to her hand and then stuffing them into the garters.

  Pony gave her a longing look. “You’d better have a good reason for interrupting my peace, Lazarus. I thought we weren’t even talking.”

  “Trust me, if I had someone else to bring th
is to, I would.”

  I put an arm around his shoulders and led him back toward the narrow hall that contained the bathroom. Purple light washed over us from where some red and blue neon intermingled on the wall. I gave him a shove back toward the fire exit at the end of the hall but stopped him short of tumbling through it. “Where’s The Baron?”

  Pony pretended to dust himself off. “He’s not someone you can just call because you feel like it. The offer he made you isn’t one he’ll make twice.”

  “Why? Has he given his god-killing powers to someone else already?” I snorted. No way he’d gone through all the trouble of hunting me down and making a show of his powers just to hand that kind of magic over to his second choice.

  The old man’s eyes slid to the staff in my hand, and he grinned. “See you took the staff.”

  “It was more available than the baseball bat, and I was in a hurry. I’ll return it once I’m done with it.”

  “In a hurry, huh?” He rubbed his chin, looking me up and down. His nostrils flared, and then he wrinkled his nose. “You smell like unwashed desperation, boy, and you look even worse. You been on a bender since last night or what?”

  “I don’t have time for this, Pony!”

  “Then make time!” he barked. “You think you can come down here and pull me aside, demand that I take you to The Baron and I’ll just do it? After last night? You might as well have spat in my face.”

  Pony tried to push past me, but I dropped the staff in front of him, blocking his path. “Then let’s call it even after how you treated me right after I got out of prison.”

  His eyes locked on mine, focusing hard. I didn’t look away. Pony and I’d had our share of staring contests over the years. Usually, they ended with him kicking ass, but I wasn’t a kid anymore, and he wasn’t my mentor. If he decided to throw down in that hallway, I had every intention of cutting loose. After all, I had nothing to lose.

  But Pony’s hard expression softened. He took a step back, tipping his hat slightly. “You’ve got me there. All right, we forget last night. Say I can help you find The Baron, and that’s a big if, why should I? Have a change of heart? I wonder what could’ve led to that?”

  “There’s a goddess in town, killing women and dumping them in my life. I’ve got the distinct feeling she’s trying to pin the murders on me. The Feds looking for me seem to be buying it.”

  Pony’s face didn’t change. Only one reason he wouldn’t be stunned to learn any of that.

  “You already knew?”

  Pony shrugged, tilting his head to the side. “I knew about the goddess, but the Feds are news. Don’t look at me like that, boy. I wasn’t allowed to tell you. There are rules that come with this gig.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “And what gig is that?” I knew he worked for The Baron. The question was in what capacity? Even in voodoo myth, there were lots of different characters associated with Baron Samedi. Pony could be standing in for any number of them.

  Pony ran his finger over the brim of his dark fedora and tugged on his shirt. “I’m his official representative in mortal affairs. Just a stand-in for now, of course, until he names his Horseman.”

  “Horseman?” I shook my head. “As in the four horsemen of the apocalypse? Nobody said anything about that.”

  “It ain’t like that, fool.” He reached out and smacked the back of my head like he used to do when I gave him the wrong answer in a lesson. “Don’t believe everything you read. There’s always been four who keep the gods in check. Just because one book gave them a bad reputation doesn’t mean they’re evil. One of The Baron’s jobs is to bestow the title of the Pale Horseman. It’s supposed to be an honor, you know.”

  “If it’s such an honor, then why don’t you want it?” I mumbled.

  “I’m old and clairvoyant. I can’t interact with the dead like you can. Not many can, and of those who do, most are pricks. Not that you’re not, you’re just a little more tolerable than the others he considered.”

  I had to get him back on topic. Whatever it was Pony and The Baron wanted to call it, they had something I needed if I wanted to stand a chance of taking down Vesta. I needed to be able to kill a goddess and to do it before the law caught up to me.

  “Speaking of pricks…” Pony nodded, shifting his gaze over my shoulder.

  I turned to see what he was pointing out. Two suits had just walked into the club, the kind with slicked-back hair and expensive shoes. Feds. I let out a curse that somehow drew their attention over the sound of the music. The shorter fed tapped his partner on the shoulder and pointed in my direction. Both went for the guns in their shoulder holsters.

  “Pony, I—” I turned back around just in time to see the emergency exit door swing closed. Son of a bitch had bolted.

  “Stay where you are!”

  Well, crap. If I wanted to remain a free man long enough to do anything with that freedom, I’d have to run too. Hope these fellas aren’t into cardio, I thought and darted for the door.

  I burst into late afternoon sun and humidity, which only slightly bothered me considering my body temp had yet to fully recover. The alley behind Karma was home to a big green dumpster, a cardboard recycling bin and a couple of suspicious looking stains. There was no sign of Pony, and I didn’t have time to stand around and try to figure out which way he went, so I ran to the right and rounded the corner. Ahead, the alley led to a sidewalk bustling with people, and beyond that the road. I darted for the sidewalk and turned left, pushing my way through, hoping the people would slow down my pursuers. At the very least, I figured Feds wouldn’t fire into a crowded street.

  Gunshots rang out behind me, and I dropped to the ground along with everyone else on the sidewalk. A woman somewhere started screaming as more shots fired. So much for not firing on unarmed civilians. What the hell kind of Feds were these?

  I jumped up as the suits advanced and took off down another alley as fast as my legs could carry me. I was halfway down the alley when a black hearse with whitewall tires screeched to a stop in the mouth of the alley. The back door flew open, and Pony appeared inside the vehicle, waving me on. “Come on, get in!”

  I didn’t have time to debate doing much of anything else. More gunshots echoed down the alley, one of the bullets coming close enough to punch a hole in my coat. It missed me by fractions of an inch. I dove into the hearse. Pony slammed the door shut, and the car burned rubber, tearing out of there.

  “That was close,” Pony remarked, sinking into the seat.

  Unlike a normal car, the hearse only had limited seating in the back. Most of the space needed to be open to accommodate the transport of coffins. Of course, that particular hearse wasn’t bearing any coffins to the graveyard, at least not that I could see. I’d tumbled in to land on plush red upholstery. The only other seat was across from Pony, so I pulled myself into it.

  “What the hell kind of Feds are willing to shoot into a busy street like that?” I tried to shift the staff, but it hit the ceiling, so I laid it on the floor between Pony and me.

  Pony leaned back in his seat. “If those are Feds, I’m a saint. Those were fae, son.”

  “Fae?” I crossed my arms and leaned back in my seat. Why would a couple of fae be after me? And why resort to wearing suits and shooting guns?

  “I thought fae didn’t do well with iron! There’s not enough iron in a gun to be a problem?”

  “The fae have their own metals.” Pony waved a hand. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen fae use their own metals to make human weapons. Helps them blend in, I guess. As for why they’re after you…”

  I eyed Pony. Something was going on, something he either couldn’t or wouldn’t tell me about, not until after I talked to The Baron. I supposed it could have something to do with Paula. She was the only fae I knew. Maybe they’d found out about the incident at the bar.

  I shook my head. Even if they had, it didn’t explain why they were shooting at me. “Does this have something to do with why The Baron is suddenly
back in town? He owes me, by the way. Asshole left the other night without giving me the information he promised.”

  Pony sighed and rubbed his knees before shaking his head. “I can’t tell you anything, Laz. Believe me, I wish I could, but there are rules.”

  That was the second time Pony had mentioned rules since I’d found him. Maybe there was some magic in place, preventing him from telling me.

  “Doesn’t matter,” I said. “I can deal with the fae later. Right now, I need to stop Vesta before the cops charge in there and get killed, or before she goes to ground. The Baron said he could give me the power to do that. Is that true?”

  “It is.” Pony nodded. “But what he won’t tell you that I will is that there’s a cost to wear the mantle of that power. You take that on, you make yourself a target. Vesta isn’t the only divine being in New Orleans. As far as powerful gods go, she barely registers. You’ll be stepping into a dangerous world, more so than you realize.”

  More gods in New Orleans? I supposed it wasn’t really a surprise. New Orleans was the largest city in Louisiana, and one of the oldest cities in that part of the country. Steeped in culture and lore, who wouldn’t want to hang out there? But if I accepted this power, I wouldn’t be just another necromancer. I’d have the power to take down any god or goddess who caused me trouble. They suddenly seemed a lot less threatening if I could kill them. Then again, they could kill me too.

  Pony leaned forward. “There’s more. There’s a war brewing in the underworld of this city, Lazarus. There’s only so much power to go around, and New Orleans sure has a lot up for grabs right now. Killing a player like Vesta would only open more of a vacuum. You’ll be throwing yourself directly in the middle of all that. I want to make sure you know that.”

  In other words, once I took on this power, things would probably get worse in the city, and I wouldn’t be able to duck it. I’d be front and center in the mess, either as part of it, or part of the solution. Being in the middle of whatever was coming was likely to be bad for my health.

  It didn’t matter to me. The worst possible thing that could happen would be dying, and with Odette gone… What did I have to fight to live for? I felt like shit, but that didn’t mean I was going to lay down and die. Maybe, if I could clear my name, I’d at least have Moses and Emma on my side. And innocent women and children would stop being murdered by a psychotic Ancient Roman goddess.