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  The sun had come up, but it was hidden behind gray storm clouds now. A light drizzle fell on the white stone, darkening its glow. Below, Mask’s army clashed with ours, still fighting for control over the castle inch by bloody inch.

  Mask himself stood atop the spire in the body he’d stolen from some fae. He hadn’t bothered with armor or a sword but chose to stand in the rain wearing nothing but a pair of torn pants. His back was to the opening Finn, Remy, and the others had climbed through. Just looking at him, I could tell the fae he’d chosen to inhabit had once been a force to be reckoned with. The evidence of his swordsmanship was still apparent in the ropy muscle, and the skin bore more scars than I could count. Long, white hair hung in matted strings, waving slightly in the wind.

  “You’ve fought your way to the top of the tallest tower,” Mask said without turning to face us. “Despite all I’ve thrown at you, you stand here alive. You think you’ve won. You’re about to find out just how wrong you are.”

  He spread his arms wide and slowly turned around.

  Emma lifted her gun to fire. It clicked. Empty.

  Mask jerked as a black tentacle ripped its way out of his back, stretching into the air. Another erupted from over his shoulder on the other side. Four bladed spider legs tore out of his body and planted themselves in the stone roof. Fabric tore, and the fae body twisted into a black creature covered in steaming slime. A scorpion-like tail waved in the air when he was done and pincers snapped at us.

  “Get behind me!” Remy shouted and leveled her sword at Mask. “Cast the spell, Finn!”

  “I can’t,” Finn said, backing up. “No sun means no shadows. I need a shadow to extract the stones from where I stashed them.”

  One of Mask’s tentacles whipped out, grabbed Emma, and pushed her off the side of the tower.

  Emma! I rushed to the side while Mask scuttled forward, stabbing and snapping at the others. A Tengu swooped out of the sky and caught her several stories down, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

  While Remy did her best to keep Mask from killing Finn, Nate pulled his penlight out and worked with Finn to try to cast a deep enough shadow for him to reach into. It flashed on for a moment, but the light quickly went out. “Stupid penlight! Not now!” It flickered as he smacked it with his palm.

  Mask’s armored tail stabbed at Remy, grazing her arm. Remy slashed at the exposed flesh on its underside and black ichor poured out, steaming as it hit the ground. She followed the slash with a perfect thrust, but Mask deflected it with a claw.

  “Even if you defeat me here, this won’t be over,” he taunted. “This is but one avatar of many. I will make another, and I’ll come back again and again until you have nothing left to throw at me.”

  Remy stabbed at Mask’s eye, but he caught her sword with his pincer and pulled it away. With another tentacle, he pushed Nate aside. Nate managed to grab one of the walls to keep himself from falling, but he wouldn’t be able to hold on for long, especially since several Nightclaws had begun to climb up.

  Finn needs those stones now. I had to do something to help, but what? I was still just a disembodied spirit. I couldn’t grab onto anything. At best, I could make the stupid penlight flicker a little bit. That might be enough, I thought as I watched Finn fight with it.

  Mask’s scorpion tail reared back to strike at Finn.

  I flew grabbed for the penlight and stopped with it jammed halfway in my hand. It lit up and stayed lit, casting a shadow of Finn’s arm onto the ground. He reached into it.

  Mask’s tail came down just as Finn pulled all three stones out of the shadow. It slashed him across the face, and with a pained cry, he fell flat on the rooftop. The blue stone skipped away, teetered on the edge of the roof a moment, then dropped out of reach.

  A tentacle wrapped around Finn and lifted him into the air with just two stones in hand. The slash had gone straight through his left eye, and that whole side of his face was open and bleeding.

  Mask tightened the tentacle around him. “I’m going to enjoy crushing you both,” he said, lifting Remy in one of his claws. She’d dropped her sword to focus on keeping his claws wide enough that her ribcage didn’t cave in.

  “Faerie belongs to me,” Mask spat.

  “Not yet,” said a voice from behind Mask.

  With Remy and Finn still trapped, he turned around to find Nate had clawed his way back from the side of the tower and picked up Remy’s sword.

  “Fool, you’ll die where you stand!”

  Nate pointed the sword at Mask, gritted his teeth, and shouted, “For Jessica!”

  Mask sneered. “Who?”

  Nate jabbed the sword at Mask’s belly and grunted in surprise as it sank in.

  Mask screamed and dropped both Remy and Finn to grip his new wound.

  The Tengu carrying Emma soared above the tower in that same moment and Emma called to Finn, holding up the stone he’d dropped. She tossed it to him, and he caught it.

  Mask tried to grab Finn, tried to stab him, but Nate grabbed onto his side and held him back just enough to slow him down.

  Power exploded out of Finn in all directions, bathing the world in prismatic white light. It slammed into me, and I felt my spectral body begin to fade to nothing.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I don’t know where ghosts and spirits go whenever they’re forced out of existence by iron or magic. Wherever Finn’s spell sent me, I have no memory of the place, nor did I have any sense of the passage of time. It was as if I simply stopped being.

  I manifested again on Earth in the darkness and rain, lying in an alley and staring up at a hole in the clouds. Stars shone through the hole. I sat up, or tried to. For a minute, I forgot I didn’t have a body, and my hand went straight through the cracked pavement of the alley. When I remembered, I floated up and dusted myself off, even though there wasn’t anything on me.

  How long has it been? I wondered, looking at the sky. We’d fought a whole battle in Faerie, and spent a night and part of the morning there. It hadn’t been dark when we left, which meant I’d lost a day at least, maybe more. I hope I haven’t missed my duels…or my deadline.

  Memory came flooding back of where I’d been when I got zapped by the magic. I still didn’t know if it’d worked, and I wouldn’t until I could talk to Nate or Khaleda again. I did need to find Remy for the second duel with Fenrir, just in case I hadn’t missed the deadline.

  Even if I had screwed everything up by going to Faerie, I wouldn’t have changed it. I had a sense of peace now, that hadn’t been there before. If I didn’t make it back, everyone was going to be okay. Sure, Mask was still out there, trapped in the Nightlands, but Nate had proven he could handle himself. All he’d need to do was put in a call to Josiah and they could take the fight to Mask. They didn’t need me.

  Remy had proven herself to be a hell of a queen. She’d grown up, though she hadn’t become the woman I hoped she’d be. No, she was better than the image I had of her in my mind. Provided Finn had survived the battle, she’d found a decent guy to spend her life with. He wasn’t perfect, but at least I knew he’d protect her. That was all I wanted.

  And Emma… Emma would hurt, but she was strong. She’d heal without me. She was the most badass person I knew. If I didn’t make it back in time, she’d be okay either way.

  I floated through the wall and into the back end of a dive bar. The main area had a few patrons, all of them either off-duty cops or other first responders by the looks of them. When I’d left New Orleans for Faerie, that was all who was left in the city, so maybe I hadn’t been gone as long as I thought.

  A waitress walked right through me and set down a beer at a table in the corner. I recognized the patron as Detective Brad Drake. He looked like he’d fallen asleep in the booth until he lifted his head to thank the waitress. I came closer and looked over his shoulder to find him staring down at a worn photograph. The brunette in the photo held a chubby baby with either chocolate or marinara all over his face. At least, I hoped that’
s what it was. Babies eat some weird stuff.

  Drake ran his thumb over the side of the photo, sighed, and turned his wrist over. Ten twenty in the evening. Question was, what day?

  He sighed again and took a long pull from the beer. “Figures they’d be late. No one’s ever on time anymore.”

  “Hey, you try being a disembodied soul,” I mumbled.

  The door to the bar opened and Ulmir strode in, still covered in streaks of mud and blood. Two trolls followed him to the bar where he took a seat and drew the eyes of every patron as he ordered a round of ale for himself and his troll friends. The trolls were glamoured, but it wasn’t a very good glamour. They were still pretty ugly.

  He turned to the officer next to him, who was staring unabashedly. “What’re you looking at?”

  “You have an ear on your shirt,” answered the cop. “A pointed ear.”

  Ulmir looked down, picked the ear off, and turned it over. “Elf, I think. Hard to say.”

  The officer stood, his hand going toward his belt. “I think I’d better take you to the station for a chat.”

  Ulmir’s two trolls stepped between Ulmir and the officer.

  The front door banged open and Khaleda stepped in. All the attention in the place snapped to her, eyes widening and pupils dilating as she hit them with a muted dose of her come-hither succubus magic. “Out,” she demanded.

  Chairs scraped across the floor as everyone rose in unison to exit.

  She pointed to the bartender as he moved to go. “Not you. You make me a sex on the beach with a splash of pineapple and two ice cubes. And not you, Detective Drake. We have business.”

  I floated alongside Khaleda as she made her way to where Drake sat. “Well? What happened? Did we win? Is Mask dead? How is Remy?”

  She halted and put a hand up in front of my face without looking at me. “One question at a time, Lazarus.”

  “Lazarus?” Drake grunted and sat back down. “He’s here?”

  “Part of his soul is, and it won’t shut up.” She slid into the table across from him.

  “You look like you’ve seen better days,” Drake remarked and took a drink.

  The hint of a smile touched Khaleda’s lips. “You’re mistaken. Any day I get a rematch against a smug bitch who managed to escape the first time is a good day. My armies have just returned from their first major victory.”

  “So, we won.” I floated down into the booth next to Drake. “What about Remy? Finn? We lost War. Did we lose anyone else? Come on, Khaleda. I gotta know.”

  She tapped her fingers on the table before holding a finger up to Drake. “One moment. I apparently need to update Lazarus.” She turned to me. “I thought you went to the roof with Finn?”

  “I did, but when he used the stones, I got zapped back here.”

  Khaleda frowned. “We’ve been back on Earth for hours. Remy insisted we return in a hurry because of your duels. She said that even if you didn’t show up, she intended to.”

  “I haven’t missed them?”

  She gestured to Drake. “Why do you think I’m meeting with the referee of your second match?”

  I deflated and almost sank through the seat with a sigh. I still had time. Not much, but a little.

  “You know about Haru,” Khaleda said, folding her hands. “We also lost Everleigh. Iron poisoning. Apparently, those in the High Court are more sensitive to it than others.”

  “Finn, Remy, and Nate,” I pressed. “What happened to them?

  Khaleda crossed her arms. “Never expected you to be so concerned about Finn. I got the impression you didn’t like him. Remy and Nate are fine. Bumps, scrapes, and bruises, but that’s it. Finn…”

  “Finn got a badass new battle scar,” Ulmir said, hopping down from the bar. He pointed to his eye. “Lost his eye too, but he’ll live, and be all the more irresistible for it. In dwarven culture, scars are like an aphrodisiac. Wanna see mine?” He grinned at Khaleda.

  She rolled her eyes. “I think I just threw up a little. Anyway, he’s out of commission for a few weeks while his face heals. I think that’s for the best. After that battle, everyone will need to rest. Except for Remy and me because we had the pleasure of being volunteered to fight your battles for you, Lazarus.”

  “I didn’t ask you to fight for me.”

  “Nevertheless, you’re helpless without Nate or me, and Nate is spending some well-earned time with his daughter.” She nodded at Drake. “Shall we continue?”

  He sighed. “I think you’re all crazy. Sometimes, I wish I’d never asked to be part of all this supernatural mumbo jumbo. But, if it helps clear the city and to get things back to normal so my family can come home, I’ll help however I can.”

  Khaleda nodded. “Good. Then let’s go over the details.”

  “A second!” I exclaimed, pounding a fist into one hand. I still had to find a second for my first duel, and I hadn’t asked anyone. Khaleda was out. She didn’t seem inclined to help me more than she already was, but only she and Nate could see me. No, there’s one more person who’s better suited to the job. I just need to find him. “Khaleda, what happened to Jean?”

  She shrugged. “He and his disgusting ship probably went back to wherever it came from. Not my department.”

  Hades owned The Dutchman, which meant to talk to Jean, all I had to do was get a message to Hades. That was easy enough for someone with hands that could text.

  Khaleda sighed. “I can tell from the look on your face you want me to do something for you, Lazarus. What is it?”

  The door opened, and the gas station attendant from before walked in awkwardly. She shuffled forward a few stiff steps, tripped into a stool, and stuck her arms out to keep her balance. “No cause for alarm, friends. Nothing to see here. Just another human here to indulge in a little alcohol post-shift. All is well!”

  I squinted and spotted Jean inside her, piloting her body. Why he’d decided to possess the same human and then walk all the way to this bar was beyond me, but it wasn’t the strangest thing Jean had done. I shrugged. “Never mind, Khaleda. Found him. Hey, Jean.”

  “Oh, hi, Lazarus.” He waved back. “Damn. Am I so transparent?”

  “What’s with the meat suit?” I gestured to the poor woman he was trying to navigate to the bar.

  He stood up straight and pushed her hair out of her face. “For your information, and for future reference, it is impossible for a disembodied soul to enjoy a drink.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “You possessed a human so you could get drunk?”

  “Spoken like a man who remembers the thrill of it all too well. Give it time. You’ll yearn for the simple pleasures of the flesh too once you’ve been stuck like this for two hundred years.” He walked her on wobbly legs to the bar and plopped into a seat.

  “Well, I don’t plan on being this way much longer. I know where all four parts of my soul are, and I need to go win back two of them tonight. With your help.”

  Jean nearly forced the poor woman to choke on the peanut he popped into her mouth, shell and all. He had to pound on his chest to dislodge it. “Me?”

  I nodded. “You’ll be my second in a duel.”

  He frowned and pushed himself so the stool rotated around to face me. “Do you even know what a second does?”

  I shrugged.

  “Firstly, my job would be to ensure you follow the agreed-upon rules of combat, which I have not yet been made aware of and therefore cannot do. Additionally, it generally falls to the second to locate an appropriate dueling location far from the watchful eye of the authorities or anyone who might intervene.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that,” I told him. “The locations are set, as are the rules. You’ll get briefed on those when we get there. Anything else?”

  “Yes,” said Jean, placing the woman’s hands on her knees. “Should you show cowardice and attempt to flee the duel, or should you cheat, it would be my responsibility to kill you.”

  I swallowed. I wasn’t planning on running aw
ay, but I did like to bend the rules as far as I could in a fight to increase my chances of winning. Just the thought of putting my life on the line some other way was enough to give me pause. Of course, I was already taking a risk. If I showed up, I might die. If I didn’t, I definitely would. “Can you do it? I’m kind of out of time to ask anyone else.”

  Jean picked up the beer that had been placed on the bar in front of him and attempted to bring it to his mouth. Instead, he wound up dumping it on himself. He looked down at the front of his wet polo and sighed. “Why not? It can’t possibly go any worse than this misadventure. Ah, well. I tried. Farewell, Ms. Tisdale! I do hope you find all twelve of your missing cats.”

  The woman went stiff as Jean floated out of her. Then her eyes rolled back in her head, and she collapsed on the bar as if asleep.

  “When she wakes, it’ll all be like an alcohol-induced bad dream,” Jean said and turned to me. “Now, who is this salty dog you’re to slay?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  It was near midnight by the time I made it back to the Superdome. At least, that’s what time I thought it was. The moon was high and it felt like it took more than an hour to find my way through the dark city.

  Samedi was waiting outside the entrance, leaning on his shovel and puffing on a cigar. “I see you’re still stupid,” he said and blew a perfect O.

  “I see you’re still an asshole.”

  His white grin lit up the darkness. He pushed off the shovel and swung it over his shoulder. “Tell me, Lazarus. Will today be the day Baron Samedi gets to dig your grave?”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  The lights came up in the arena, illuminating the hallway beyond. I took that as my signal that Gaston was ready and floated down the hallway with Samedi and Jean.

  Gaston was waiting for me near the door. “You came.” His expression was flat, lifeless.

  “Were you expecting me not to?”

  He made a fist. “Honestly? I was hoping you wouldn’t. Part of me would enjoy hunting you down.”