by E. A. Copen
Samedi frowned. “After you save them, then what? What’s to stop someone else from doing this again?”
“I am,” I said, pushing myself up to stand straight. “Once this is done, you won’t have to worry about Emma being a potential weakness anymore.”
“You’re going to break things off with her?” He raised an expectant eyebrow.
My throat was suddenly dry. I picked up the glass and drained it before turning it upside down on the bar. “Yes, I will.”
He planted both hands on his cane. “And what about your daughter?”
“I can’t let what Titania did go unanswered. She has to pay for kidnapping Remy and making a fetch of me. When I’m finished with her, no one will want to repeat what she did. They’ll look at her and be reminded not to fuck with me, or any other Horseman. That much, I promise you.”
Samedi nodded. “There are some suits waiting for you at Adelard’s. After he took your measurements last time, I took the liberty of having several prepared for you to pick up at your convenience. No cost to you. You need only show up and pick out which one you would like.” He placed his top hat on his head.
“Just one more question, Samedi, if you don’t mind.”
He gestured for me to continue.
I cleared my throat. This would be a delicate question. “My fetch said he could also see and interact with souls. Claimed he also had the Pale Horseman mantle. How is that possible? We can’t both be the Pale Horseman, can we?”
“A shade, a ghost, and a zombie can all be made of one man,” he said with a shrug. “But none of them are the man. They’re all pieces of a whole. There is only one Pale Horseman mantle, Lazarus, but it is possible that it was split in two during the creation of the fetch. It would explain why you didn’t retain the knowledge of your predecessors.”
“Wait, are you saying the Pale Horseman mantle does more?”
“I’m saying you were meant to do more than slay misbehaving gods, Lazarus. Your place, your destiny, is much greater. I don’t know that killing your fetch will have any effect on your powers. Perhaps it will. Perhaps it won’t. All I’m saying is that it’s possible. With magic and mantles, there is a lot even I don’t understand.” The Baron ran a finger along the brim of his hat. “I wish you luck, but I’m not holding my breath either.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I mumbled and turned away to put up the bottle. When I turned back, he was gone.
Chapter Twenty-Five
I found a paper plate, duct tape, and streamers, and made myself a mask. It wasn’t pretty, but then neither was I, so it fit. With the mask on, I hoped no one would recognize me so I could go out. It’d worked the first time well enough, though Khaleda recognized me. I just hoped no one else I’d run into knew me well enough to recognize the sound of my voice.
With the mask on, I used the bar phone to call a cab. I didn’t have any money, so I borrowed a little from Paula’s safe, which wasn’t that hard to crack. In place of the twenty I took, I left a note telling her it had been transferred into the court treasury. She’d be pissed when she found it, but I’d pay her back with interest once Baron Samedi paid me.
My ride was a little white Ford sedan decked out for Mardi Gras with purple, gold, and green streamers. About twenty strings of beads hung from the rear-view mirror. The driver was a twenty-something college kid with a cat on his t-shirt along with the words SHOW ME YOUR KITTIES.
I slid into the back. The cab smelled like stale beer, feet, and old Skittles.
“Where to, Mister?” he asked, adjusting his mirror.
“Quarter. How close can you get me to Bourbon Street?”
He shook his head. “Gonna be a walk. Quarter’s rough ’cause of all the partyin’.”
“Just get me as close as you can.”
On the cab ride to the Quarter, we passed roving mobs of drunken partiers. The closer we got, the bigger the mobs became until it was all just one massive clog of people on all sides of the car. We were still a couple of blocks from Bourbon Street proper, but we were as close as we would get in a car. I’d have to walk the rest of the way.
“Thanks, man,” I said and slid him the twenty.
“You want my advice?” said the cabbie, taking my money. “I wouldn’t be in the Quarter once the sun goes down. Too crowded. Ain’t no fun when you can’t move your arms.”
He’d mistaken me for a tourist. Guess I had overpaid him to take me to the biggest tourist trap in the city. I should’ve been insulted. Instead, I flashed him a grin and a friendly nod before climbing out of the car.
The crowd immediately swept me away. People moved almost like a solid mass, shouting to their friends several yards ahead. Occasionally, someone would let out a scream. Not a panicked scream, but the kind drunk partygoers thought everyone else wanted to hear. Someone else would inevitably answer with a scream of their own until a whole bunch of them would get going and leave my ears ringing.
We flowed toward Bourbon Street at a snail’s pace. Too many people were stopping, talking to other people, for me to make good time. Every once in a while, someone would elbow me, push me, or step on my foot. I got beer spilled on me twice and invited to six parties.
A few streets up, one of the bigger krewes was putting on their annual parade, blocking progress. Pretty girls leaned over the balconies above shouting, “Throw me something, Mister,” at passersby and flashing people. Tourists stopped to grin, elbow each other, and ogle the show.
I pushed on by and slid down a side street. The bead throws, drinking, and flashing had long ago worn off its novelty for me. Besides, if you knew the right places to go, you could get a way better show on the right night without a bunch of drunk tourists blocking the way.
The side street was still plenty crowded, though at least I wasn’t brushing up against people with every step. There was enough room to breathe, even if the alley stank of urine and beer. I used the alley to cut down a few blocks and turn right into another alley, this one almost completely empty. I felt why when I stepped into it. Someone had woven a spell at the entryway to discourage people from coming that way. Just passing over it made me nauseous and sweaty. I pushed through the feeling to make it halfway down the alley to where Adelard’s shop door was and knock three times.
A small section of the door slid aside, and two beady eyes peered out. “Closed today. Closed today. Tomorrow too. Come back on Thursday.” He started to slide it closed.
“Now, wait just a minute.” I thrust my hand into the opening and instantly regretted it. Adelard didn’t stop trying to close it just because my fingers were in the way.
“Move it or lose it!” Adelard sneered.
“Baron Samedi sent me! Said you had some suits for me.”
He slid the peephole open a little more and looked me up and down. “You again. Ungrateful Horseman. Yes, I remember you. Destroyed my suit the first time you wore it. Don’t think I forgot that.”
“I wasn’t planning on resurrecting mummies and swimming in a fae ocean,” I said defensively. “Look, I really need the suit. Fate of the world and all that. You going to let me in, or do I have to break down the door?”
“One minute, one minute.” He closed the peephole and undid several locks before pulling open the door. “Come in, come in.” Adelard was about four feet tall with an oversized hook nose and tufts of gray hair that hung in a thin strip about halfway down his head. He wore thin, wire-rimmed glasses low on his nose and a permanent scowl to accompany his buck teeth. He wasn’t easy to look at, but then from my understanding, most leprechauns weren’t.
Adelard turned away from the door and waddled further into his shop without another word.
I ducked through the low door and followed.
Unlike most tailors, Adelard’s wasn’t the sort of place where you went in and picked out a ready-made outfit. He had swaths of fabric lying around, sample books, and example shirts, jackets, and pants hanging everywhere. He’d take your measurements, and a giant spider in
the back would weave the suit to your specifications. The last suit I’d gotten was not only really comfortable and light but also bulletproof. Not bad for something constructed of magic spider butt rope.
“Come, come,” Adelard growled impatiently and held aside a curtain. “Back here.”
I crossed the shop and followed him to the back room. Several garment racks waited around, mostly empty. The ones that weren’t had garment bags with monogrammed name tags. Looked like Adelard had made suits recently for lots of important people and gods. Hades’ suit hung alone on a rack. I tried not to notice it, focusing instead on the spider-woman doing the weaving.
Adelard’s seamstress wasn’t really a spider, but she had four arms and four legs. Two of her arms were busy pushing fabric through a sewing machine while one foot worked the pedal. The other two were hand stitching something. Her three remaining feet, she was using to turn the pages of a paperback romance novel; two to hold the book in place and one to turn the pages.
All her work halted when I stepped in. She smiled at me, showing dimples and stood, folding her hands. “Why, Lazarus! So good to see you back!”
Adelard came out, pushing a whole rack of suits in varying shades of blue and gray.
“Wow, I didn’t expect so many.” I reached out to touch one and got my hand smacked for the trouble.
The spider-woman came over excitedly. “And for what purpose will you be dressing this evening? Business or pleasure?”
“A little of both, but mostly business,” I answered.
Her hands pushed away three of the suits. “Will there be any blood?”
I cringed. “Probably.”
She removed one suit. “Blades or bullets today?”
“Blades, definitely.”
She moved two more suits aside and smiled at me again, adjusting her horn-rimmed glasses, which hung on a pink chain. “Will you be dancing tonight?”
I frowned. “I don’t really dance, but it is a masquerade. I’ll do my best to avoid it.”
The spider-woman plucked a charcoal gray suit from the rack along with a green shirt and held both up to me. “The fabric is stain-resistant, but not stain-proof. Both the jacket and the shirt have tactical linings and enchantments that will make it as effective as chainmail. Enchanted blades may pass through, however. There are pressure points here, here, and here.” She gestured to the chest and shoulder areas. “They will activate on impact to absorb some of the damage, protecting you against broken bones to some degree.”
“Wow, you guys put some thought into this.” I took the two hangers from her.
“This,” she said, presenting me with a matching tie, “contains a hidden compartment.” She flipped it over and gestured. “Large enough to fit keys, a small knife, or other important items. It also ties and unties when hit with magic. No more worrying about getting it straight, right?” She pinched my cheek and draped the tie over my arm.
Adelard held out a pair of matching pants. “Flotation device,” he said. “Pull the tag.”
“Why would I need a flotation device?” I took the pants anyway.
Adelard didn’t answer.
“Oh, and there’s one more thing,” said the spider-woman. She fussed with something in the corner. “Oh, bless me. Where is it? There it is!” She came back with a length of iron seven feet long and about two inches in diameter, holding it out to me proudly.
“What’s this?”
She put a hand by her mouth and whispered, “A present from the woman who was with you last time.”
“What woman?” I said, taking it.
“She was short. Glasses. Ash-blonde.”
“Beth?” I ran my hands over the iron staff. Why would Beth leave it for me? She hated me, blamed me for pulling her back into the supernatural after she’d almost gotten out.
A tag hung from the end with my name on it. I pulled it off the string and found it was a card, not a tag. I flipped it open.
Lazarus,
I’m leaving this for you in case I can’t deliver it myself. Last time we met, you didn’t have your staff with you, which I figured must mean you lost it again. Here’s a replacement.
I want you to know it’s not your fault I am whatever I’ve become. I had a choice, and I made it. I’ve always been a little jealous of you and your power. You’ve always been big and important while I just kind of faded into the background. I thought if I could do this one thing, save the museum exhibit, then I would matter. Someone would remember me.
But I’ve done terrible things. By the time you’ve gotten this, the Famine mantle will have changed me. It has a way of twisting your mind, making you want things. Even now, I can feel it scratching, working to get into my head. Eventually, I won’t be able to stop it.
When that happens, I want you to use this to kill me. And I don’t want you to feel bad about it. I want it to be you. I know you won’t make it hurt too terribly. You’ve always been so kind.
Love forever,
Beth
I folded the card closed and stared at it for a long time before I could speak. “How long ago did she leave this with you?”
“A few months?” The spider-woman tilted her head to the side and glanced at Adelard.
He confirmed it with a nod. “Months, months.”
So, before the mantle had twisted her into the thing I’d seen at the playground yesterday. It must’ve been awful, holding on for so long. Fighting when she knew she would lose. I should have helped her more. Should’ve stopped her.
My hands closed around the staff and swallowed the growing tightness there. “Thank you. Thank you both.”
“Bah,” Adelard said and waved a hand. “It was nothing. Nothing!”
The spider-woman kissed me on the cheek. “You’re welcome, dear. Is that the mask you were planning on wearing? Oh, dear. That won’t do. One moment.”
She rushed to the back of the room, tossing aside boxes and muttering to herself. After a loud crash, she re-emerged with a mask covered in glittering yellow, purple, and green stones.
“I can’t accept this,” I said as she held the mask out to me.
She smiled warmly. “Oh, please do. It’s just been back there collecting dust all this time. We can’t really go out for Mardi Gras anymore. Too many people, even at night, and our fae glamour wore off years ago.”
Adelard nodded. “Can’t get more. No more, not without a court.”
I glanced from the spider-woman to Adelard. “You guys aren’t members of any of the fae courts?”
The spider-woman wrung her hands. “We were in the Uprising, dear. We’re lucky to have escaped with our lives. The peddler of glamours here in the city won’t sell to us, not unless we’re members of a court. He doesn’t want to upset the queens, you see. It’s all terribly complicated, and nothing you need to worry about.” She pressed the mask into my hands.
I used it to gesture to her. “You could join my court. I mean, it’s not big and powerful or anything, but it’d get you what you needed.”
She exchanged a glance with Adelard. “You have a court?”
“Just started it. Kind of had to. I got tired of playing games with Summer, Shadow, and Winter, so I just declared a space and made my own.”
Her eyes flashed red a moment. “Yes, I see. It’s true.”
Adelard put a hand on her arm. “What do you want from us? What’s the price?”
I shrugged. “No price. Just promise me you’ll help people when they come to you. Be charitable. Show up every once in a while when I hold court and defend it from assholes who want to destroy it.”
“That’s it?” Adelard raised a bushy white eyebrow.
“That’s it.” I extended my hand. “Then you can get your glamours and go out and enjoy yourselves again.”
Adelard and the spider-woman turned away and whispered to each other a moment before she turned back around. “What’s your court called, dear?”
I thought for a minute. I couldn’t very well name it after one of th
e seasons like the fae did, and I didn’t claim all of New Orleans, so that didn’t work either. Most of the people I’d claimed weren’t exactly the most savory types. They were the downtrodden, bikers and drunks and rogue fae rejected by society at large. Freaks with nowhere else to belong. For most of us, it was a miracle we’d survived as long as we had.
That’s it. I smiled. “Court of Miracles.”
Spider-woman smiled and grasped my hand with all four of hers. “We shall join your Court of Miracles, Horseman.”
“Why not?” Adelard nodded. “Nothing better to do. Not at all.”
“Perfect!” I affixed the mask. “Mind if I try all this on?”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Noelle was waiting in the alley when I exited the shop with the garment bag on my arm. I hadn’t affixed the mask yet, so when I saw her, I paused in sliding it on. “How’d you know where to find me?”
She paced away from the dumpster she’d been standing next to. “I asked Baron Samedi. He told me your plan, by the way. I think you’re an idiot, but I’m not going to stop you. You want to kill yourself, be my guest. As long as I get my shot at the crown.”
“You’ll get it.” I put the mask on. “So, when and where is the party?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll get you there, provided you’ve got some suitable clothes.” She stepped forward to caress my cheek with icy cold fingers.
I shuddered.
“In the meantime, I still need to find my dress, and I need someone to hold my bags while I shop. You look like you can handle it.” She smirked.
I adjusted the garment bag. “I’m not here to dress-shop, Noelle. I’ve got things I need to do.”
“One of those things is keeping me happy so I get you into the ball,” she said, walking toward the end of the alley. She reached the end and crooked her finger. “Come, Horseman.”
I scowled at her. It was still morning, though almost noon. We had five or six hours before we had to dress for the ball. How long could it take to buy one stupid dress?