by E. A. Copen
Samedi stepped past me, placing his top hat further back on his head. He examined the arena, looking from one goalpost to the other. “Yes, this will do. Mister Gaston, did you bring your second?”
“He’ll be here any moment.” Gaston pressed his fingers together nervously.
Samedi grunted and lifted his pocket watch. “If he does not appear in the next 10 minutes, you will have to forfeit. You should have told him not to be late.”
“Death is never late, Baron,” said Thanatos from behind Samedi. He stepped into the arena and planted his scythe in the ground before pushing back his hood dramatically. “Nor is he early. He arrives when he is meant to.”
“That’s Gandalf’s line,” I said, crossing my arms. “What the hell are you doing here, Green Day?”
His eye twitched. “Thanatos. And I am here to be Gaston’s second.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me! Do you two even know each other?”
“Gaston and I are old associates,” said Thanatos, going to stand beside Gaston. “He sent his fair share of souls to their final resting place. It was my honor to see them there. By night’s end, you’ll be but another casualty on a long list, Lazarus.”
I clenched my fist. “We’ll see about that.”
Jean motioned for me to lean in and cupped a hand around my ear. “He’s kind of big, isn’t he? And he’s been a disembodied soul much longer than you. How do you plan on beating him?”
“I’ve got no idea,” I whispered back. “I’m kinda playing this by ear.”
Jean slapped his face and sighed. “Some things never change.”
“Gentlemen,” said Samedi loud enough for everyone to hear. “These are the rules for the duel. They may still be amended at this time if they are unsatisfactory to either party. However, the duel cannot be postponed, and once both parties have agreed to these rules, they are binding. Do you understand?”
Gaston nodded. “I do.”
“Yep,” I said.
Samedi gave me a curious look and cleared his throat. “The only weapons permitted in this duel are the specially designed dueling pistols I have provided. I will now present them to your seconds for inspection.”
Samedi turned and retrieved an ornate box from behind him. He lifted it and blew a layer of dust and dirt from the lid before carefully sliding the lid off. From the box, he produced two silver revolvers, handing one to Jean and the other to Thanatos.
“You will find these of special construction, containing exactly zero iron. These pistols were forged in Faerie, as were the bullets.” He lifted one from the box.
“Reaper stone,” Thanatos said. “The bullets are made from the same enchanted mineral as my scythe.”
I cringed. That meant even a graze could be fatal.
Samedi nodded and placed the bullet back into the box. “Each gun holds six bullets. Each combatant will be provided with five enchanted bullets and one blank.”
“Why the blank?” Jean tipped up the gun and frowned.
“Because it would be boring otherwise,” Samedi answered. “I will load each gun. The seconds will spin the barrel and present the guns to their respective dueler. Both parties will walk to the fifty-yard line and stand back to back. Upon my mark, you will each take ten equal paces straight forward. Then, on my second mark, you will turn and fire. Should both shots miss, at ten paces, the dualists will be permitted to move about the arena and battle as they see fit, using anything on the field they find. Should any duelist leave the field, however, it falls to the seconds to do what they must. In the unlikely event that a second should fail at carrying out his duty, I will not hesitate to do so. Any questions so far?”
Jean shook his head and held the gun back out to Samedi.
“The prize is a piece of Lazarus’ soul, is it not?” Thanatos spun the empty barrel and handed it back to Samedi.
Samedi nodded. “It is. And continued existence on this plane. The prize has already been entrusted to me for safekeeping. Whoever is shot first will be rendered available for collection by the nearest Reaper. Neither I nor any other present will attempt to interfere. However, any attempt to collect the winning soul in my presence will be met with violence. If Lazarus wins, you will not be able to reap him here, Thanatos.”
Thanatos narrowed his eyes at me. “No matter. He has to leave the arena to make his next duel. I’ll get him outside. Even if I don’t, I still have his Spark.”
“I’ll be coming for that soon enough,” I told him.
“What if they run out of bullets and no one has been shot?” Jean asked.
“Then the duel is over and declared a draw. Bear in mind that a draw has no winner, however, and in order to secure the piece of your soul, Lazarus, you will need to be victorious. A draw will not win your soul for you, and you will be subject to reaping once the duel is over.”
According to those rules, a draw was as good as a loss for me.
The doors on the other side of the Superdome opened and several familiar faces came streaming in. Remy, Emma, and Nate all rushed along the sidelines toward me.
Samedi frowned. “Settle your business, Lazarus. Once the duel begins, there can be no interference. If your people attempt to get involved, you will forfeit the match.”
“Understood.” I hurried to meet them. “What the hell are you guys doing here? Who even told you where I was?”
“One second,” said Nate as he grabbed my hand. He hit me with a shock of magic that left me twitching. “Sorry, but this’ll all be easier if everyone can see you. I’m too tired to relay whole conversations.”
I shook my hand. “Was it Khaleda who told you where I was? It was, wasn’t it? I’m going to kill her. You shouldn’t be here.”
“What did you expect us to do?” Emma said. “Just sit on our hands and wait for news?” She shook her head. “Not this time. Not again.”
“If you get involved, even a little, it’s going to cost me the match. Samedi will zap me, and Thanatos will reap me.”
Nate tilted his head questioningly to the side. “The purple guy from those comic book movies?”
“No, Thanatos. Greek embodiment of Death and the King of the Reapers. He’s taken a personal interest in dragging my soul to Hell. I’d like to prevent that if I can. You can’t interfere. None of you can. Swear to me that you won’t, not even if it looks like I’m going to lose, and you can stay.”
Emma took a step forward, her gaze hard as she stared into my eyes. Beneath that serious look, I could tell she was worried. “Don’t lose, Lazarus. You get your soul together and you get your ass back to me, or I swear I’ll never forgive you.”
I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
She nodded and stepped back.
Remy gripped the sword at her side. She looked exhausted but resolute. “I rushed back from Faerie because you needed me for the second fight. Make sure I get it.”
“And as cool as these powers are, I’m not sure I want to hold onto them,” Nate added. “Don’t die.”
I saluted them both, turned my back, and floated back over to Samedi. “I’m ready.”
“Then you agree to the terms of the duel?” he asked.
“I do.”
Samedi turned to Gaston. “And you?”
He cracked his knuckles somehow, despite not having any knuckles. “Let’s do this.”
Samedi turned, placing his back to us as he loaded both guns. A moment later, he turned around and held a gun out in each hand. Jean and Thanatos each took one and spun the barrel. I licked my lips and watched the barrel of my gun go around and around. There was no way to tell which chamber held the blank or where it would land, especially since I barely knew anything about guns. I’d never so much as handled one, and now I was going to have to shoot a man at ten paces. Well, the disembodied spirit of a man. How the hell did I get myself into these messes?
The barrel stopped spinning. Jean secured it and handed the gun over to me.
“Please approach the fifty-yard line.” Samedi gest
ured out to the field.
Gaston and I both slowly made our way there.
Samedi had us shake hands, which I would’ve thought impossible up until we actually did it. The rules for being a disembodied spirit were starting to get confusing. About the time I figured out how everything worked, I’d likely already be back in my body. Thank God for that. I was really starting to miss the damn thing.
“Now, stand back to back. I will count out the paces. When I reach ten, you will stop, turn, and fire. One…”
I stared straight into the bright lights, knowing I should be sweating. My heart should’ve been racing, pulse pounding in my neck. Here I was, steps from permanent death with only a minimal chance of success, and I felt calm. Too calm.
I’m going to die with everyone watching, and in a gunfight no less. I guess I could try to put a positive spin on it. A midnight duel at the Superdome with the disembodied soul is a pretty cool way to go out. Not as badass as Haru, but still… I could do worse.
“Ten!” Samedi’s voice boomed through the arena.
I turned, raised the gun, and fired blindly.
Chapter Nineteen
Looking back through history, there’ve been many moments where things had to have aligned perfectly for an otherwise impossible event to occur. Take, for example, human life on Earth. Any one thing could’ve gone wrong at any time over the span of millions of years and it wouldn’t have happened. Imagine if the asteroid that wiped out the dinosaurs had veered a couple of thousand miles either way or if our close cousins, the Neanderthals, had been just slightly more efficient at breeding more of their species. If the first primate to walk on two legs had gotten eaten by some ancient lion instead of getting laid, we’d all be screwed as a species.
The likelihood that my first bullet would hit home was about the same as any of those things, so I’d been hopeful. After all, a positive attitude can do a lot of good in an impossible situation.
All the attitude in the world didn’t help me shoot straight.
My bullet went wide and struck the goalpost behind Gaston. Not even close.
I got lucky and Gaston fired the blank first. It made a loud pop and sailed right through my chest without doing any damage. That was both good and bad news. It meant that I’d survived the initial draw, but that the next five bullets were live. My blank was still somewhere in the gun, which gave me an even smaller chance of hitting him than before. I’d also learned that Gaston was a marksman. His first shot was dead on. If it’d been with a live round, I would be halfway to the After already.
Gaston gritted his teeth, thumbed back the hammer, and fired again.
I yelped as the bullet whizzed so close to my ear that the air burned, and took off into the sky over him. The rules said we had to be ten paces from the fifty-yard line when the first shot was fired, but no one had specified we couldn’t move closer for subsequent shots, so that was exactly what I was going to do. Of course, the closer I was, the easier it was for him to hit me. To make it just a little more difficult, I tried to move in a weaving pattern.
“What are you doing?” Gaston spat and backed up, pointing his gun at me and firing again. Thankfully, he missed.
“Evasive maneuvers!” I pointed the gun straight down at him and fired. It hit the turf next to him. Close, but not close enough. Three bullets and one blank left.
I dropped behind Gaston, but he saw me coming and tried to turn around. He didn’t quite get there before I pressed the barrel of the gun against the side of his face. “Sorry, Gaston.” I pulled the trigger.
The bullet whistled straight through his head without hurting him. Guess I’d found the blank.
Gaston grinned and brought his gun around.
I narrowly avoided being shot by ducking under his arm.
“Come back here, you coward!” he shouted as I zipped away. One shot ricocheted off something and hit the dirt in front of me.
I turned back and sped the other way. Another went off to my right. Gaston finally got smart and chased me to the edge of the field, where I had to halt. If I put so much as an eyelash beyond the goal line, Jean or Samedi would kill me for fleeing the duel. Turning back would put me at his mercy though. Good thing I still had three shots left.
“There’s nowhere to go,” Gaston said. “And you’ve got shit aim. Just stand still so I can kill you.”
“Just how do you plan on doing that with an empty gun, Gaston?” I turned around and pointed the gun at his head.
He repeated the same motion, leveling his gun at my head, teeth gritted. His eyes told a different story, the story of a man searching his memory, counting bullets. Had he fired six shots or just five? Honestly, I was doing the same. I knew I’d counted six, but there was a small part of me that doubted the count. What if I was wrong and there was still one more bullet in that gun?
And if this wasn’t the best opportunity for a Dirty Harry reference, I was the Queen of England. “Looks like you’ve just got one question left to ask. Do you feel lucky?” I thumbed back the hammer. “Well? Do you, punk?”
His hand shook, so he shifted to gripping the pistol with both hands. A long moment of silence passed, so quiet I swore I could hear the echo of my friends breathing from the stands.
Gaston gritted his teeth and pulled the trigger. The gun clicked.
“Guess you’re not so lucky after all,” I said and pulled the trigger.
My bullet struck Gaston right between the eyes, and he exploded in a shower of blue electrical sparks. The small crowd erupted in excited applause, and I made a show of blowing non-existent smoke from the barrel.
Thanatos appeared right next to me, totally ruining the cool moment by making me jump. He narrowed his eyes at me. “Congratulations,” he said and plucked Gaston’s soul out of thin air. “But it’s still early, and you have a long way to go.”
Samedi approached and removed his hat. He reached inside and pulled out a glimmering fragment of my soul. “To the victor go the spoils, then.”
I held out my hand. “Thanks, Samedi. You’re all right.”
He laughed. “It doesn’t go in your hand, simpleton. Brace yourself. This is going to hurt.”
Samedi plunged his hand into my chest.
My experience of pain as a disembodied spirit had been limited up to that point. To say anything hurt would’ve been an overstatement. I felt little twinges, and varying degrees of discomfort, but I’d completely forgotten what pain felt like. Samedi gave me a pretty solid re-introduction to the meaning of the word, and even spent a few minutes redefining it for me. Shockwaves of pain rolled through my spectral body, each one stronger than the last. Long tendrils of power sprouted in my chest and spread into my limbs like roots.
With the pain came a newfound will to be. I’d wanted things before, but the desire had been stunted, minimized to a distant echo of what came pouring back. All the wants and fears I’d forgotten came back in a rush. The big obvious things were there, things like my desire to be with Emma or to stay out of prison. I knew I was missing those, yet I hadn’t realized I was also missing a bacon cheeseburger craving or the need for a long nap. It might’ve sounded pleasant, but it wasn’t. Suddenly, I had opinions about everything, from world politics to soda brands. It was a little overwhelming.
Samedi finally retracted his hand and I fell over. Nothing else seemed different until I opened my eyes and found I hadn’t fallen through the ground. I’d managed to interact with a solid object without even trying!
“Cool,” I said, standing on wobbly legs.
Thanatos closed his fist around Gaston’s soul and it disappeared to wherever it was supposed to go for processing. “The duel is concluded then?”
The Baron nodded. “It is.”
Thanatos shifted his grip on the scythe and turned to me. “Then I shall be waiting outside.”
I gulped. His message was clear. The minute I stepped out of the arena, I was fair game for reaping. I’d have to race to the next duel and hope the rules there also kept
me from being reaped during the fighting.
Emma, Remy, and Nate joined me on the field. I would’ve hugged them if I could, but I still wasn’t solid. That would have to wait for when I got my body back.
“How much time is left before we’re supposed to meet Fenrir?” I asked Remy.
She leaned over to check Emma’s phone when Emma showed it to her. “We still have time. It’s just down the street. Two hours tops, though. Why?”
I gestured to where Thanatos had gone. “Because he’s going to be waiting for me when I leave. I’ll be safe as long as I stay in here, I think. Right?” I looked at Samedi for clarification.
He planted his shovel in the turf and leaned on it with both arms. “As long as I choose to remain, yes.”
“What were you thinking?” Nate asked.
“I know where all the pieces of my soul are, but I haven’t made arrangements to get my shadow back from Odin. I’ll need it if I want to be complete when I come back. It’s part of my soul. That means I need an audience with the Allfather.”
Nate and Remy looked at each other. He shrugged. “How do I get you that?”
I looked at Samedi and pressed my hands together in a pleading gesture.
He rolled his eyes. “Very well. I will speak on your behalf, but only if you secure me a new cigar. I have to have something to entertain me in the coming hours. Might as well be that.”
“You heard Baron Samedi. A good cigar. But don’t run off just yet. Odin will want payment, so I need to make sure we have something of equal or greater value to trade for my shadow.”
“How much is a shadow worth?” Remy asked.
“It’s not something you can buy,” I explained. “Money has no value to a god. It’ll have to be a trade, something he cares more about than holding onto a piece of my soul.”
“A sword,” Remy suggested.
“A rare book,” said Nate.
Emma thought a minute and added, “How about a new car?”
I shook my head. “No, we need Twinkies.”
Emma frowned. “We’re going to trade snack cakes to a god for your soul?”
“Not just any snack cake. Make sure they’re Twinkies. Bring as many as you can find.”