by E. A. Copen
I grunted, half dismissing Stefan’s words. “I’m giving up being a Horseman as soon as Mask is dealt with. Whatever’s coming is someone else’s problem.”
Stefan shook his head. “You still don’t get it. Just remember I told you so, and that I won’t hold it against you for not listening to me.” He looked past me and nodded toward Emma. “She’s going to be okay, no matter how this plays out. You need to know that before you go.”
I watched Emma pace, her phone to her ear. She was making final arrangements with the helicopters, probably arguing with one of the higher-ups. The assholes in charge never listened when the fate of the world was at stake, but she’d make it work, even if she had to steal a helicopter herself. That was just the sort of person Emma was. She’d get the job done because it needed to be done.
“I know she will.” I patted Stefan’s back and stood. “You rest and recover. I’ll make sure Josiah comes back in one piece.”
He chuckled. “Good luck with that.”
I stopped to give Emma a kiss on my way to the door. “Are we all set?”
She sighed and clenched her fingers around the phone. From the look in her eyes, she would’ve thrown it if the thing had belonged to her. “I got two choppers. It won’t be enough, but it’s better than nothing.”
“It’ll be enough.”
Emma put the phone down on the table. “So we’re ready to roll out then?”
I nodded and squeezed her hand. “See you on the flip side.”
She called to me when I pushed open the door. I turned back.
Emma looked around, smiled, and said, “I think I’m taking Jackson Square off the list of possible wedding venues.”
I nodded in agreement. I could’ve sworn she was reading my mind.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ulmir, Josiah, and I took one Humvee while Foxglove, Paula, and Drake rode in another. Each vehicle had a driver courtesy of the National Guard since they apparently didn’t trust us with their equipment. Our little caravan rolled down the street, headlights lighting up overturned trash bins and abandoned piles of garbage in the street. The empty roads left me with an eerie feeling. Even after a hurricane, I’d never seen the city that empty. It was the first time I’d ever looked out the window at New Orleans and saw a city that didn’t feel like home.
The first barricade was under an overpass. On any normal day, I-10 above would’ve been packed with motorists on their way into work. Instead, a big banner hung from the side of the overpass, declaring the area beyond a restricted zone. Our Humvee slid to a stop in front of several armed guards and what might’ve been the world’s largest collection of orange construction barrels. After a short exchange with the guards, verifying who we were and what we were headed into the restricted area to do, they moved some of the barrels out of the way, and we drove through to the second checkpoint at Tremé Street.
Once we hit Rampart Avenue, we were officially in the Quarter, but there were no signs of any infected. Foxglove’s team turned right on Bourbon Street while we continued down Esplanade, headed for Decatur. I watched their vehicle drive out of sight, suddenly more aware of the Speaking Stones’ weight in my pocket. The decoys Foxglove carried wouldn’t pass under close inspection, but I’d zapped them with just enough magic I hoped it’d fool Mask temporarily. There was still so much that could go wrong with this plan, even if all the important parts went right. Once the seal was closed, Mask might decide to start executing his hostages if he hadn’t already. I didn’t know what I’d do if he’d decided to kill Finn rather than hold onto him. We were all just hoping he was more interested in vengeance than ensuring a quick and easy win.
The Humvee suddenly braked hard, tossing me up against the back of the driver’s seat. I righted myself and grabbed my staff. “Hey, what gives?”
“Infected,” announced the driver. He rolled the Humvee in reverse a few feet and switched on the brights.
Sure enough, a crowd of thirty or forty of them blocked our path to Decatur Street. The infected hissed, snarled and scattered away from the light before charging the vehicle. The driver left the Humvee in reverse and hit the gas. Tires squealed, and the smell of burning rubber filled the cabin. The giant car jerked in reverse in slow motion. Too slow.
The first of the infected reached the car and screamed, throwing himself full force at the grill. Hands gripped the hood, and another pulled herself up onto it to punch at the windshield.
Our driver pulled his sidearm.
“What are you doing?”
He didn’t even spare me a look. “Surviving.”
I grabbed his arm from behind and jerked it up just in time to keep him from getting the punching lady square between the eyes. The gun went off with a flash and a bang that left my ears ringing. “We’re not here to kill people! We’re here to save them!”
There was a loud pop, followed by a hiss, and the Humvee leaned suddenly to the right.
Josiah strained his neck to look out the window. “Tell that to the bastard eating our tire.”
I slapped my face. “Dammit. You said violent roving groups, not rabid, violent eating machines.”
“Well, the Humvee is dead in the water now, and there’s a whole bunch of pissed off, hungry wankers between us and where we need to be.” Josiah turned around in the front seat. “What do you want to do?”
Before I could answer, the side window bent and caved in. Hands shot in, grabbing fistfuls of my hair and clothes. I batted away what I could with my staff.
Ulmir slid across the back and punched one of them in the face, followed by another and another. When one more hand shot through the opening, he kicked it until the bone snapped. Better a broken arm than a dead body though.
“Fuck this,” Josiah grumbled and undid his seatbelt. “I’m too bloody old for this shit.” He snapped open his door, bashing two infected in the head, punched another, and clapped his hands. Bright blue light flashed like lightning.
I shielded my face from it. When I lowered my hands, the onslaught of infected had ended, with most of them backing away to cling to the shadows. Whenever one would come close, Josiah lobbed a handful of blue angel fire in their general direction. The driver and I looked at each other before scrambling out of the Humvee to stand next to him.
Ulmir rummaged around on the floor.
“Ulmir,” I growled and gestured. “Come on!”
He hopped out of the Humvee a moment later, a tire iron in one hand and a wrench in the other. With a grunt, he thrust the wrench at our driver. “Hit ‘em in the head. They can’t rip you apart if they’re unconscious.”
“We don’t want to give them brain bleeds either, Ulmir,” I puffed as we took off running.
Ulmir snorted. “I’m not taking any chances.”
“Isn’t that thing pure iron?”
His answer was a chuckle followed by a grunt as he leapt over some debris in the road.
We cut through several parking lots, climbed over two fences, and found ourselves in an unlabeled alley. Three infected wandered out from behind a dumpster. Ulmir rushed forward.
“Not the head!” I shouted.
He pulled back at the last second and went barreling into one, tackling it to the ground. I put my staff out in front of me and pushed two out of the way. It was enough of a hole that Josiah and the driver could rush through before they got up. As long as we didn’t stop running, they wouldn’t catch us, right?
I looked over my shoulder to find one of them closing. Well, so much for that idea.
“How far is it to this bloody park?” Josiah shouted.
I thought back to the image of the map on the projector. I might’ve lived in New Orleans all my life, but I didn’t count city blocks, especially in the Quarter. “Five blocks, I think? Maybe four? Not far.”
We rounded a corner, spilling out of the mouth of an alley and directly into a hoard of fifty or sixty infected.
I halted. So far, we’d only attracted the attention of about a dozen. If we we
re quiet and careful, we might be able to slip into the alley across the street and…
The rhythmic whumpa-whumpa of helicopter blades bounced off the brick building facades. A bright light suddenly fell on the hoard from the sky, forcing the infected back with their hands over their faces. But the spotlight only cleared the area immediately in front of us. The others were still closing behind us, and there was no clear path forward. We’d have to rely on the helicopter escort to make it through the crowd.
The spotlight raced forward and we ran to keep up with it, staying to the edge. As soon as the light passed, the infected rejoined the chase at our heels. Though my lungs were burning, and my legs aching, I pushed harder. I hadn’t run that much in…well, probably ever. Six blocks was more than I ever cared to run again, especially with supernaturally infected people trying to kill me.
As I ran, I found myself wondering how I’d explain my current situation to any future kids. “Hey, son. How was school? Did I ever tell you about that time a dwarf, a chain-smoking half-angel, and your dad were in an episode of The Walking Dead? Yeah, I was the one in the back with too much of a beer gut who looked like he was going to throw up the whole time.”
The crazy thing about the entire run was that the chubby dwarf was outrunning both me and Josiah. Maybe this was one of those stories I was better off not sharing.
The helicopter spotlight suddenly veered off to the right. We were still about a block from Jackson Park, but the road there seemed clear.
The ground suddenly trembled. I lost my footing and fell into Josiah and knocked us both against the side of a parked car. If the infected hadn’t suddenly stopped in their tracks, we’d both have been goners. Another quake shook the ground. Asphalt cracked, huge chunks heaved up from below and tossed into buildings from whatever was burrowing its way up.
A giant paw exploded out of the ground, and then another, each easily more than two feet wide. Claws flexed, gripping the street. Hairy, black arms vibrated. With a skull-vibrating roar, Mask’s latest monstrous creation heaved and pulled itself from underground to tower over us as tall as a two-story house.
“Dude,” I shouted, “you are fugly! Your mouth is sideways!”
It blinked at us with tiny, pink eyes, flexed its talons and swiped at us, missing by a longshot.
Josiah bent over, coughing as he tried to catch his breath. “We need…to get past it.”
He was right. Foxglove could only stall for so long. All Mask had to do was keep us from getting to Jackson Park and he’d win by default. Not to mention the longer we spent tangling with Fugly, the more time Mask had to execute his hostages. We couldn’t afford to stand there and fight him.
“I can get past him,” I yelled over Fugly’s roaring. “Mask and his creatures can’t touch me, and I can’t touch them either. Not without my shadow.”
Josiah let out one last breath and stood. He teetered and caught himself on the side of the car again. “Sorry, mate. I’m not good for a fight. I told you I’d be buggered after sealing that room for Stefan.”
That left Ulmir and our driver. Where was the driver anyway? I looked around and spotted him just as he ran off the other way. “So much for his help,” I grumbled. “Guess this is where the normal folks get off.”
Ulmir grinned. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.” He stepped toward the giant monster.
“Hold up, Ulmir. You can’t take that thing on by yourself armed only with a tire iron.”
“You’re right.” The dwarf glanced around, settled on a length of chain that’d once been part of a bicycle. He picked it up, wrapped it around the tire iron and grunted. The weapon glowed a pale red light and shifted, the chain somehow fusing to the tire iron. All four ends thinned to sharpened points.
“Metalcraft.” Josiah nodded, obviously impressed.
“Metalcraft?” I sputtered. “Since when? I thought fae hated iron?”
Ulmir’s eye twitched. He slung the chain over his shoulder. “When we’re done here, I’ll school you on the difference between the mighty dwarves and other fae. In the meantime, no offense, Highness, but get your ass over there and do what we came here to do. I’ve got a nasty bastard to carve up and a lot of pent up rage to work out.”
He lifted the weapon off his shoulder, screamed like a madman, and ran straight for Fugly. I thought for sure Fugly would smash him in an instant, but Ulmir lifted his blade, spun it over his head, and threw it forward. It latched onto Fugly’s arm, sending a spray of black blood everywhere. Fugly’s scream made my teeth rattle. He clawed at the blade now embedded in his arm, trying to hook the chain, but Ulmir just laughed and yanked the blades free to swing them again.
I blinked and took off for the park. “Damn. If I’d known he could do that, I’d have drafted him months ago. Of course, I think this is the first time he’s been sober since I met him.”
“Don’t think he’s sober either, mate. Saw him in the chemical closet earlier. Whatever he was after, it might’ve been glowing.”
We raced into the park and stopped behind a brick wall. Fugly screamed again, followed by a loud crash and more of Ulmir’s mad laughter.
Josiah stood and wiped sweat from his forehead. “Remind me not to mess with the dwarves.”
“Consider yourself reminded.” I rasped. I would’ve sold my right arm for a glass of water, but there wasn’t any to be had, and I had a job to do. “What now?”
Josiah stared at me. “What now? What d’ya mean what now? You’ve got the stones, we made it to the park. Quit dicking around and close the bloody seal you fuckwit!”
“Problem is I don’t really know how to do that part. I was kinda hoping it would come to me when I got here, but so far, I’ve got nothing.”
“Well, you’d better start putting a spell together quick.” He pointed back the way we’d come where several infected had wandered in after us. “Get to the center of the smallest circle. I’ll keep them off you.”
I wanted to argue, but he was right. Unless someone kept them from getting to me, I wouldn’t have a chance to finish whatever it was I started. “Don’t die!” I shouted before I turned and ran for the statue at the center of the square.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Finn
The human Laz had been calling Detective Codey was probably dead. Even if he wasn’t, Mask was in charge of that body now, and said body wasn’t doing so hot, so it was only a matter of time.
Mask took us to some ugly building on a corner with a big sign out front that said BROTHER LOVE: MASTER PSYCHIC AND PALM READINGS. For a master psychic, he didn’t have a premium crib. I would never understand people like that, the idiots who had magic but refused to use it to their advantage. You don’t get handed power like that to live paycheck to paycheck, just like I didn’t spend the last few months flirting with Queen Remy so we could both die in dramatic fashion in Brother Love’s shitty psychic shop.
Mask tossed us into the corner, and immediately, some of his infected minions came out to tie us up. He flipped a switch in the corner and a bunch of bright lights buzzed to life, all focused on me.
I winced and turned away. “Hey, man, I don’t do the whole tanning bed thing. Ruins my naturally perfect alabaster complexion.”
“It’s not for your complexion,” he hissed, adjusting one of the lights.
“Oh, good. See, I’ve been thinking of trying out the whole punk rocker vampire aesthetic. Black hair, leather, chains. File down my teeth. Or do you think that’s too far? I mean, they’d just grow back to normal after a few months, so it’s no big deal, but I’ve always wondered, you know?”
Mask’s shadowy tentacles slapped against the ground. He shoved his face in front of mine, his hot, putrid breath making my stomach lurch. “Quiet yourself, or I’ll remove your flapping jaw.”
I gagged. “I know you’re into the whole evil overlord thing, but have you ever considered a breath mint? Or maybe just lay off the peanut butter, onion, and garlic sundaes, because that is some rancid breath.”
“Killing him won’t do you any good.” Remy’s voice was calm, collected, with just the perfect hint of superiority. Just the right tone to get under Mask’s skin enough that he let me go to focus on her.
“Oh, I don’t plan on killing either of you just yet.” He drew the back of his hand over Remy’s cheek. “I’m going to use both of you to get the others to bring the stones to me. Then me and my army will obliterate this city and devour any meat that gets in our way as we expand our empire.”
Remy snapped her teeth and Mask withdrew his hand, laughing.
“My army and I,” I said. I tried to hold it in, but sometimes, you’ve just got to correct people when they’re wrong.
Mask whirled around to face me. “What?”
“It’s ‘my army and I,’ not me and my army. Actually, I think either is correct. Honestly, your English is really good for a crazy tentacle monster who possesses people, even if I do detect a tiny hint of a Brooklyn accent.”
Mask snarled, grabbed a shard of broken glass from the floor, and held it to my throat.
I scooted away until my back hit the wall. “It’s okay, man. Nothing to be ashamed of. I actually kind of like it.”
He grabbed me by the foot and dragged me closer. When I tried to pull away again, his tentacle appendages pinned me to the ground while his human hand waved the big glass shard around. “Your screaming will encourage them to hurry.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, pal. This isn’t my first time being tortured. You’re really going to have to work for it if you want me to scream.”
He grinned, turned away from me, and sliced through Remy’s upper arm. She let out a cry that made heat surge into my throat.