Reliquary (Reliquary Series Book 1) (14 page)

So I could avoid manipulation—as long as I was paying attention. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Asa grunted and tugged my shoe off, then fastened the bristles using superglue he also just happened to be toting. “And in answer to your question—I’m going to play, and you’re going to watch.” He stood up, leaving me to put the shoe back on by myself.

“That’s it?”

His eyes met mine. “That’s it. If you get any weird vibes, tap me on the shoulder.”

“Aren’t vibes more your territory?”

“Just watch my back, okay?” he asked, sounding exasperated. “I need to concentrate while I’m down there.”

I watched him for a moment. His edginess had only increased. He had to be tired, and he was in a place that was reportedly dripping with magic. He probably had a headache, too. Coming here was clearly not pleasant for him.

I just wished I knew he had made the journey for the right reasons. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll watch your back.”

We set out, riding the elevator down to a lounge called Risko. “That’s not a very clever name,” I said as the host ushered us through the door.

“No one comes here just for pun, Mattie,” Asa said, and for a second, he flashed a half smile.

I followed him as he sauntered over to the roulette wheel, where the dealer was costumed in heavily embroidered robes, long black fingernails, and a golden medallion with a dragon on it that swung like a pendulum with every spin of the wheel. Several people were clamoring to place their bets, pushing chips across a board arrayed with numbers, red and black patches, the words “odd” and “even,” and a few other choices. The placard on the table indicated the minimum bet was a hundred, and there was no hint of a maximum.

“Placing a bet, sir?” The dealer looked at Asa, her eyebrows raised.

“Mm,” said Asa. He pulled out his wallet and laid several hundreds on the space between the dealer and the stacks of chips she was doling out. “Let me see what I can do.” He winked at her as he accepted his chips.

I moved close to watch. The table was crowded, so there were chips all over the place, and the players were elbowing each other in an attempt to place their bets—it seemed like they all wanted the same thing at the same time, either red or black, odd or even. The dealer observed the melee, muttering under her breath. I glanced at the chips. I kind of wanted to place a bet, too. And as six people all pushed their chips toward red, I knew that was the best decision ever. Definitely a winner.

But then Asa put all his chips on black. I grabbed for them. “No, put them on red!”

The dealer smiled at me, and I smiled back as she set the wheel in motion. But just as she did, Asa put his hand over mine and prevented me from moving his chips. “This is nothing like a game of
jacks
, am I right?” he asked as he pulled my hand away.

I blinked up at him. “What?”

His eyes widened as he stared at me, and then he put his foot on top of my toe and applied just enough pressure for me to feel the bite of the metal bristles.

“Oh! Oh.” I shook my head. “
Nooo.
Nothing like jacks.”

Asa had already turned back to the dealer, who was no longer smiling. “I’ve always been a bit of a black sheep,” he told her as the ball settled into number twenty-two, a black notch on the wheel. Everyone except for Asa slumped in defeat.

He cashed in his winnings and moved on to blackjack, where he stared down the bespectacled dealer and walked away with a tall stack of chips, which he in turn carried over to the poker table. Now that I had my toe crimped over those painful little bristles, I could see it all—each dealer must have been either a natural Knedas or wearing a relic full of manipulation magic. They were subtly influencing the players. Not every time, and not enough to clean them out, but enough so that the house had a massive advantage.

Asa requested a glass of water from a willowy waitress and then took a seat. I stood behind him, sipping very slowly on a cucumber gin and tonic he’d ordered for me. Sweat was trickling down Asa’s jaw as he sized up the other players, and I saw his gaze zero in on a fat guy right next to him. He reminded me of a bullfrog with his bulging eyes and double chin. The man was flipping a poker chip across the backs of his knuckles as he waited for his cards.

Asa grinned at the guy and spoke in a low voice. “Look at this table of stoics, eh?” He gestured at the others, who definitely had their game faces on. “They don’t make it easy to spot those tells.”

The bullfrog man grunted. “Easy is for pussies.”

The corner of Asa’s eye twitched. “You can say that again.” He focused on the guy’s fingers as they fiddled with the chip, which was black and inscribed with dark-red runes, same as the chips in one of the stacks in front of Asa.

They played a hand or two, and it was obvious Mr. Bullfrog was good. A small crowd had gathered to spectate, and I looked over each face, remembering Asa’s request for me to watch his back. Whatever his intentions, I felt like I should at least try to do what he’d asked right now. There was something about the slight tremble in his hands as he held his cards that made my stomach hurt. My headache had subsided, and I was feeling loose from the alcohol, but I kept rubbing my toe over the bristles, on the lookout for manipulation. But with this poker game, I wasn’t seeing it. The only thing I was noticing was that Mr. Bullfrog was cleaning up—and Asa’s chips were dwindling.

But then, between hands, as the waitress was refreshing drinks and the dealer was cashing someone out, Asa’s fingers trailed up my arm. It sent a shiver down my spine so sudden that I nearly spilled my drink in his lap. His hand closed around the nape of my neck as he tilted his head back, and then he pulled my face down to his, pausing when our lips were only millimeters apart. “Hi there,” he whispered, giving me a lazy smile.

“Hi,” I managed.

He slid my drink out of my grasp and set it on the table, then caught my hand and ran his thumb along my palm in a slow circle. “What are you doing later? I think I’m going to need some consolation.”

He’s playing,
I reminded myself, wishing my heart would stop its mad gallop. So many things were wrong with this—how close he was, the heat of his hand on the back of my neck, the way one sudden move would bring our mouths together. Oh, and how I was bent over him, giving half the people at the table a view straight down the front of my dress. I needed this to stop. “It’s a date,” I said breathlessly. “Just—”

He grinned and let me go, and I stood up, my cheeks on fire, especially when I realized that Mr. Bullfrog was still leering at my chest. “I’d be tempted to lose, too, if I had something like that waiting for me,” he said to Asa.

I scowled at him. “Hey, buddy. I’m a some
one
. Not a some
thing
.”

Asa bowed his head, his shoulders shaking. “Damn straight. Except you
are
kinda something.” Then he took a deep breath and raised his head, and when I looked down, I saw that he was now flipping a black chip over his knuckles, one just like Mr. Bullfrog’s.

Mr. Bullfrog had noticed, too, and was looking back and forth from his own chip to Asa’s, his wide mouth drooping into a frown. The frown deepened as he lost the next hand. And the next, and the next.

Asa was on a tear. He systematically knocked three of the players out before Mr. Bullfrog finally gave up. And as soon as he did, Asa announced he’d had enough and was cashing out. He smiled down at the black chip in his palm. “Thanks for the inspiration,” he said, then flipped it onto the swell of Mr. Bullfrog’s round belly as the man pushed away from the table.

As soon as the chip landed, Mr. Bullfrog’s frown turned to a grimace. “You smug son of a bitch!” he barked—just as the dealer waved over a security guard.

Asa took a few steps back from the table and looked around, and it was only then I remembered that I was supposed to be watching his back. I’d been so riveted on the game that I’d lost track, though, and now I realized that there were a few well-dressed men standing at the bar and a nearby table, watching Asa with interest.

One of them was Tavana.

Asa took my hand. “Time to go for a walk, Mattie.” He led me out of the lounge.

“What just happened?” I whispered. “Was that chip a relic?”

Asa nodded as he headed for the front doors of the hotel, walking fast enough that I was nearly jogging to keep up, and with each step, my toe clamped down on those stupid bristles. “It was emotion-sensing magic,” he said. “That guy was using it to read the other players.”

“But how did you end up with it?”

Asa waggled his eyebrows at me. “You helped.”

Of course. Asa had used me to distract the guy, and the rest was simple sleight of hand. “You are so—”

“Oh, I am. I am indeed. Ready to jump into the fire? Not that you have a choice at this point.”

“What?” He was nearly dragging me now, out to the wide plaza at the front of the hotel, where a huge expanse of glittering runes were pressed into the glazed cement. I yanked my hand away, all of Jack’s warnings ringing in my head. “Asa, tell me what we’re—”

“We’re going to stand where half of fucking Vegas can see us. It’s not complicated.”

We’d reached the middle of the plaza, and Asa stopped and spun around abruptly. “I could feel your ooze the moment I hit the parking garage,” he spat out.

My heart was in my throat as I turned to see Tavana standing maybe thirty feet away. He’d come to a stop, too.

Asa’s hand slipped under his vest, and he pulled that black cylindrical handle thing, which I assumed was some sort of weapon, from his belt. “I must have ruffled some feathers if you decided to deal with this yourself.”

Tavana smiled. “Nonsense. I hope you enjoyed the game. You really did a lovely job there. But it seems like it took a lot out of you.”

I glanced up at Asa. Sweat was beaded across his forehead. It was a warm night, to be sure, but he looked like he’d just trekked across the Sahara. “Fuck you, Reza,” he growled.

“He told me his name was Tavana,” I said weakly.

“Tavana’s his fucking last name,” Asa said, looking at me like I’d betrayed him. “You met him earlier? And you didn’t
tell me
?”

I shrank back. “I thought he was the concierge!”

Asa’s jaw was rigid as he returned his attention to Reza, clutching that black handle thing with a white-knuckled grip. “It would look bad,” Asa said, nodding toward a group of tourists, mostly elderly, who had just gotten off a bus in front of the entrance to Mistika, “if you tried to take me down right here in the middle of this plaza. You really want to do this?”

“Absolutely not. You’re overreacting. Brawling in the plaza is not on our agenda this evening. Creating lasting partnerships, though—”

“Fuck you. You know what I came for.”

Reza’s dark eyes flared with what looked like amusement. “Oh, no. I know what
Mattie
came for. You? We had to take a leap of faith. But it seems that faith was well-placed.”

Asa cursed again. “I knew it.”

Reza let his eyes drift up Asa’s body, just like he’d done to me this afternoon. And unlike me, he seemed to know exactly why Asa was so pissed. “We’ll be happy to let you see Dr. Ward. He’s a personal guest of Mr. Brindle’s.”

I nearly fell to the ground, the relief was so heavy. “Really?” Tears flooded my eyes. “Is he all right?”

Reza nodded. “I’ll take you to him, as soon as we settle some business.” His gaze settled on Asa again. “Welcome to Las Vegas, Asa Ward. Mr. Brindle is
so
looking forward to finally meeting you.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

It had been about Asa the whole time, and he’d known it.

I wasn’t sure what to think about that as I stood next to him, watching him glare at Reza Tavana with sweat running down his angular face. So many things didn’t make sense.

“Reel it in, asshole,” Asa snapped. “If you can.”

Reza took a step back. “I can hardly help the fact that you are so . . .
exquisitely
sensitive.” His voice was a caress, but it made me shudder. He was a Strikon, apparently very strong, and from the way he was looking at Asa, I was betting he was enjoying his effect on him. I couldn’t feel a thing—but I did wonder if my headache earlier had come from sitting right next to Reza at the bar. “I’ll try to control myself, though,” he added with a seductive curve of his lips.

Asa let out a shuddery breath. “You guys went to a hell of a lot of trouble on my account.”

Reza shrugged. “We are in great need.” He gestured magnanimously at three men who had joined him. “I promise no harm will come to you, but I am going to have to ask that we take this inside.” He glanced at a group of college-aged girls and guys who were giggling and joking with each other as they passed by, headed for Mistika. “Privacy is required, I think.”

Hatred was etched in the lines around Asa’s mouth. “In an enclosed space with you? No fucking way.”

Reza put his hands up. “I will take my leave of you. My associates will escort you to Mr. Brindle.”

“And Ben?” I asked.

Reza turned his gorgeous smile on me. “Of course, Mattie. As soon as Asa hammers out a few details with us.”

I looked up at Asa to find him staring down at me. I didn’t know whether to apologize to him, thank him, or smack him on the arm for not explaining things to me. “Will you do it?”

He swiped his sleeve across his face. “Yeah,” he said quietly, flipping the handle thing in his palm and sliding it back under his vest.

You love Ben after all,
I thought.

Reza clapped his hands, just once, like he was delighted. “Until later, then,” he said to us, then strode down the street, away from the hotel.

The farther away Reza got, the better Asa looked. As we followed Brindle’s men back into Mistika, Asa’s strides became smoother and his shoulders relaxed. He was still grim and pale, but no longer seemed a second away from collapsing. Brindle’s agents, or guards, or whatever they were—all of them were sharply dressed young men toting no obvious weapons, but they carried themselves with the same smooth confidence Reza had—led us through the main lobby and down a hallway to a restaurant called Odorajxon.

I squinted up at the sign, and Asa let out a low chuckle. “That one’s not so obvious, is it?”

“I can’t even pronounce it.” I gave him a little smile. It was strangely good to hear him laugh, even if it was at me.

Our procession wound its way past leather booths, the now-familiar runes carved into the borders around the edges of the tables. My stomach growled ferociously, and despite the bustling noise of the restaurant, one of the agents looked over his shoulder at me. “We’ll get you something to eat soon,” he said with a wink.

“He can feel your hunger,” Asa said, leaning down to speak in my ear.

“Wait—can you, too?”

“Nah, I just heard that little monster inside you let out a roar.”

I nodded at the agent’s back. “So he’s a sensor?”

“But not for emotion. For . . . bodily sensations, I guess you’d say.”

“Great. So if I’m feeling gassy, he’ll know.”

Asa snorted and looked away. “
Dammit
, Mattie,” he muttered.

I craned my neck as we exited the main restaurant and entered a warmly lit hallway. My whole body felt like it had been strung with live wires—was Ben close by? How much longer until I would see him? My hope was increasing by the second.

The agents reached a room with an arched entrance and parted the thick curtains that blocked the view from the hall. Inside was a sumptuously decorated room with gorgeous murals on the walls, lush flowering plants and a fountain in the corner, several doors to places unknown, and one large booth, at which sat an incredibly fat man with bushy brown eyebrows and pitted skin. He was bald, and it looked like a helmet of shiny, peachy skin had been crammed over his skull—but the flesh at his chin and neck hadn’t fit, and it sat all flabby and loose on his round shoulders. He held a tumbler of amber liquid in his hand, and when we entered, he held it up, his face brightening.

“Ah, Mr. Ward! At last,” he said in a deep, gravelly voice. He beckoned to us, inviting Asa to join him in the booth. “Come and let me look at you!”

A hand closed around my upper arm, keeping me from moving forward as Asa did. One of the agents, this one with short blond hair, had restrained me. “What about her, Mr. Brindle?” he asked.

“She’s with me,” Asa said without turning around.

“Really, Mr. Ward,” said Frank Brindle. “We’ll only be discussing details, and I’m sure dear Miss Carver would be bored. Besides, I wanted to introduce you to Lila, as I’m sure you two will want to get to know each other.” He gestured to one corner of the room, where a stately woman who looked to be in her late thirties stood, her shoulders straight and her reddish hair in an elegant twist, wearing a black business suit.

Asa narrowed his eyes at Lila, sizing her up. “Nope. That’s not how this is going to go down. Mattie’s my reliquary.”

Frank’s bushy eyebrows shot up. “What?” He gave his agents a stern look. “I thought she was a veterinarian’s assistant.”

“Oh, I am,” I said. “This is my side gig.”

“But Lila is the best.”

Asa tugged me out of the blond agent’s grasp. “Mattie’s better.”

“You don’t know me, Mr. Ward,” Lila said in a crisp English accent.

Asa glared at her as he slowly and deliberately tapped the tip of his crooked nose.

Frank cleared his throat. “Allow me to state the purpose of this little gathering, and perhaps we can discuss details later. I am in need of the best magic sniffer there is.”

“Don’t you have one of your own?” I asked.

He sighed, producing a ponderous, wet flapping of his thick lips. “Well, I did. But poor Wendell . . . may he rest in peace.”

“Oh. My condolences,” I said.

Asa muttered something under his breath, but I didn’t catch it, and if Frank did, he seemed willing to ignore it. “We tried to reach out to you through your contacts but received no answer,” he said to Asa.

“Did you ever stop to think that maybe it was because I wasn’t interested in talking to you?”

Frank smiled, revealing his yellow teeth. “And yet here you are. Brotherly love wins the day. Imagine how fortunate we felt when we discovered the existence of Benjamin Ward, late of Rockford, Illinois, where you yourself engaged in some youthful shenanigans.”

Asa’s jaw was clenched, but Frank didn’t seem fazed by his hostility. “And,” he continued, “imagine how motivated we felt when we realized he was in dire need of assistance to prevent Zhong Lei’s Strikon from paying him and his lovely fiancée a visit.”

A chill ran down my spine.

“So you sent fucking Reza instead?” Asa’s lip curled.

Frank rubbed his belly. “Reza was gentle.”

“Reza pulled Ben’s pacemaker out of his chest,” I said, my voice cracking as I remembered the moment I found it.

“Ah, but he had an Ekstazo healer with him. Ben was never in any real danger.” His pale-blue eyes focused on Asa. “We just needed to get your attention.”

“You’re lucky Mattie loves him,” Asa grumbled, looking away.

“Come and sit,” Frank said, flicking his fingers at a waiter, who disappeared through a swinging door on the other side of the room. “Let’s discuss the possibilities for collaboration over dinner.”

A moment later, several waiters came in, carrying platters laden with food. Asa sidled over to the booth like a wary coyote and sat right on the edge of the seat, looking like he was ready to flee if given the right reason. I sat across from him because he gave no indication he was willing to scoot over.

As soon as Asa was settled, one of the waiters put several plates in front of him: a few different kinds of salad, some kind of sushi-looking roll thing, fruit kebabs, and a creamy soup.

“It’s all organic, vegan, and raw,” Frank said as a waiter set a plate of filet mignon a few inches from the enormous swell of his belly, and another in front of me.

Asa looked startled, and Frank merely grinned. “We did want to make sure you were comfortable, Mr. Ward.”

“By interrogating my contacts?”

“By inquiring as to your preferences,” Frank said smoothly before turning to me. He laid his chubby hand over mine, and it was warm and reassuring. “And you, my dear? Forgive me, but we were not attentive enough to see to your needs. You are a bit of a surprise.”

Asa chuckled, seemingly to himself.

I glanced over at Lila, who was still standing in the corner, as if waiting to be invited to the table. “I’ll eat just about anything.”

“Mattie likes fries,” Asa said, picking up his fork. “And Pringles. Also, Twizzlers.
Loves
Twizzlers.”

I couldn’t tell if it was a dig or not, but I couldn’t bring myself to be offended. “I eat plenty of other things, too.”

He smirked and dug into his food. “Oh,” he said between bites. “And Frank’s an Ekstazo, Mattie. You keep holding his hand like that, and you’ll be high as a kite before the second course.”

I yanked my fingers from beneath Frank’s heavy hand. “That was sneaky, Mr. Brindle.”

The man chuckled good-naturedly. “Habit, my dear. I mean no harm.” He took a sip from his tumbler. “Shall we talk business?” He motioned Lila over to the table, but she hadn’t taken two steps when Asa looked up from his food.

“Out,” he said to her. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I wouldn’t work with you.”

Frank frowned. “I selected her especially for this job.”

“I’ll bet.” Asa swallowed the bite of salad he’d been chewing and sat back. “You want someone to babysit me and report back, to make sure I’m still in the pocket.”

“This is a sensitive matter.”

“Then send me with someone I trust.” Asa looked at me, then averted his gaze just as quickly.

I stared at him, an unexpectedly warm feeling stirring in my chest.

“But Frank trusts
me
,” said Lila, then clamped her lips shut as Frank’s eyes cut over to her. He regarded her for a moment, the conflict clear on his face. Then he waved Lila away. She scowled at me but exited quickly through the curtains.

“Now that we’ve lost our extra baggage,” Asa said as he started eating again, “you can tell me what exactly you want.” He shoved a huge forkful of salad into his mouth.

Frank grinned at him, as if taking pleasure in Asa’s enjoyment of his food. “It’s quite simple. I need you to go to Bangkok and collect a relic, then bring it back to me. I’ll provide your transportation and accommodation.”

“Mattie’ll need papers,” Asa said without looking up from his plate.

“I will have them waiting for you in San Francisco, along with your tickets.”

Asa plucked a strawberry off the end of a kebab. “Who has the relic now?”

Frank spun a gold ring around his thick index finger. “It is currently in the possession of Sukrit Montri.”

Asa swallowed his strawberry and stared at Frank. “You want me to steal a relic from the Thai boss.”

“Well, it’s not really his. He just happens to have it right now.”

“Asa doesn’t like semantics,” I babbled as I took a bite of the filet, which practically melted in my mouth. I couldn’t remember when I’d had a better steak.

“Mattie.” Asa’s voice jarred me to attention. “Jacks.”

“What? Oh!” I pressed my toe to the bristles he’d pasted to my shoe, and it was a little like a fog clearing. I’d had no idea that Frank was having that effect on me, but as soon as the pain zinged through me, so did reality. “So you’re saying that my fiancé’s life depends on whether Asa and I can steal some relic from a boss—one like you?” I looked over to the curtains, where I could see the silhouettes of Brindle’s guards hovering in the hallway.

“We don’t have to put it so bluntly,” said Frank with a smile.

I pushed my toe harder onto the bristles. “But it would save time if we were just honest.” My heart had started to pound. “You’ll let him go if we bring you this magic?”

Frank nodded. “You have my word.”

Asa pushed an empty plate away and pulled his soup toward him. “And that’s all you want. One job.”

“It’s a big job, young man.”

“Kinda figured.” Asa hunched over his soup and set to work.

I bit my lip. “What kind of magic is it?”

“Strikon,” said Frank.

Asa paused with his spoon halfway toward his mouth. His gaze flicked to me, and then he continued eating. “Type?”

“Not really known,” said Frank. “It’s fairly old.”

“So the natural who produced it is dead.”

“Oh, yes.” Frank smiled. “Long since dead. And it’s apparently one of a kind. Hence my interest. I’m a bit of a collector.”

“Yeah, I can feel it,” Asa said quietly.

“You’d be feeling it more if I didn’t keep my relics properly packaged,” Frank replied. “And I have no doubt Montri does as well.”

“What does ‘properly packaged’ mean?” I asked.

“It just means it’s kept in some sort of reliquary,” Asa said. “An object, not a person, though.”

“You may have to be quite close to sense it,” said Frank, polishing off his drink. “And you must transfer it to your reliquary as quickly as possible. It’s valuable. Montri will not be happy to lose it. We’ll have a private plane waiting at the airport, as exiting the city will likely be much more difficult than entering, even with a good reliquary.” He eyed me. “Are you sure about this, my dear? Forgive me, but you don’t sound very experienced.”

“You’ve got my fiancé, Mr. Brindle. I’d do anything. Also, I’m apparently a vault.”

“Strongest I ever met, bar none,” Asa said, though now he looked a little conflicted at getting me involved.

Frank peered at me, his blue eyes intent. “Well, I suppose you do have every reason to carry out this job and bring my relic home to me.”