Reliquary (Reliquary Series Book 1) (17 page)

I don’t think anyone could say they know Asa well,
Daria had told me. And yet, he’d just shared what had to be one of the most painful moments of his life. With
me
.

I let go of his hand. It suddenly felt like too much and not enough at the same time.

I needed to go back to my room.

I couldn’t go back to my room.

Not only did I not want to leave him—I didn’t want to be alone, not with these thoughts, not with all my fears, not with the journey ahead looming, not with knowing there were people out there who were hunting both of us. I slipped off my shoes, pulled the tie out of my hair, and crawled onto the opposite side of the bed. And I lay there, listening to Asa breathe, feeling the tremors in the mattress as he shifted and turned, until sleep came to claim me, too.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I stretched, my toes curling as I felt Ben’s warmth behind me. I snuggled in, loving the weight of his arm over my waist, the feel of his body against mine.

“Stop squirming,” he said in a teasing, sleepy voice.

I obeyed, and his fingers found my belly and scratched, tickling me. “Good girl,” he mumbled.

Good girl?
I didn’t want to be good. I’d missed him so much. And I wanted to be bad. I laid my hand over his and began to push it lower.

He froze. Then he yanked his hand away, and my eyes flew open. Reality crashing down on me, I rolled quickly—so quickly that I went right over the edge of the bed and landed on the floor, conking my skull on the bedside table. My heart hammering, I slowly raised my aching head and found Asa squinting back at me, his eyes still bloodshot and hair sticking up on one side of his head. “You thought I was Ben,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep.

My whole body was jangling with mixed signals: alarm along with the lingering pull of desire. My gaze darted to his long fingers, the ones I’d apparently just been pushing into the waist of my shorts. “And you thought I was . . .”

“Gracie.”

“You mistook me for your pit bull.”

“You mistook me for my brother. I think we’re even.”

“I’m not sure.” My face felt as if it were on fire. How far would it have gone if Asa hadn’t woken up enough to stop it? Shouldn’t I have known the difference immediately? I lowered my forehead to the bed.

“Well, this is awkward.” Asa’s laughter sent a tremor through the mattress. “Fortunately, although I love Gracie dearly, our relationship is strictly platonic.” He clutched at his head and sank into the pillow. “Ow,” he said feebly.

Needing something to do, I got up and filled a glass of water in the sink, then brought it to his side of the bed. He rose on one elbow and took a sip, then drained the glass. “Thanks.”

“I’ve got some Advil in my purse if you want it.”

He shook his head. “I don’t put anything like that in my body.” He pressed his face into the pillow and sighed.

“You must miss her a lot.”

“I hated leaving her.” His voice was muffled, but I heard the sadness there.

“She’s part of it, isn’t she? All the things you do to keep yourself healthy.” I’d seen it myself—every time he looked at Gracie, it was as if a weight were lifted from his shoulders. Every time she gave him a lick or laid her head in his lap, it drew a gentle smile to his face. Even his voice changed when he talked to her.

“She’s more than that.” Asa rolled to the side. “She’s my girl,” he said quietly. “She’d tear someone’s throat out if it meant protecting me.”

After what he’d told me last night, I could only imagine what that meant to him. “And you’d do the same if it meant protecting her.”

“Damn straight. I nearly did, the night I found her.”

I thought of the scars on Gracie’s ugly-cute face, the way her ears were cut to thin strips of skin and cartilage. “Someone was making her fight.”

He nodded. “It was in this little town in Kentucky. I was doing my thing, just there to swipe a relic and get out. She was in this tiny, dirty cage, waiting her turn to get torn up. She stuck her nose against the bars and whined as I passed, like she was begging me to help her, and I just couldn’t . . .” His shoulders flexed as he pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. “I’ve been in cages before. Every time, I thought I was going to lose my mind. And I couldn’t stand to see her in a cage, either. It wasn’t right.”

“Something tells me this story ends with you and Gracie running for your lives.”

“Well, that time I was carrying her,” he said with a little smile. “She wasn’t as heavy as she is now, though.” He stretched and winced, his fingers rising to run along the purple bruises at his throat. “Still, I nearly got myself shot. I’m not sure if that was because of her or the relic I stole, though. Had to lie low for nearly a year after that.”

I shook my head. “You’re lucky you’re so hard to catch.”

“It’s not luck.” His arms dropped to his sides and he looked up at me. “I don’t do cages, Mattie. You could paint it up with gold and fill it with diamonds, but to me it still feels the same. And I won’t ever be put in one again.”

He stood up, walked into the bathroom, and shut the door. I looked down at a smear of blood on his pillowcase and knew what he was trying to tell me.

Too bad it was the last thing in the world I wanted to hear.

Of all the places one could go, Bangkok has to be the most alive, the wildest, the most intense. And as I walked down the street with Asa, seeing it for the first time, the air filled with the scent of gasoline and limes and sweat and roses and spices I couldn’t even name, as we passed markets brimming with flowers and fruits I’d never seen before, I felt like I’d been dropped into a brand-new world. After checking into our hotel, we set out on the main road, Sukhumvit, at least five lanes of snarled traffic penned in by high-rises on either side, flashing signs, and a train running on an elevated track. The heat raised little beads of sweat on my skin, and I was glad I’d put on just a tank and shorts for this excursion.

Asa insisted on holding my hand. “Because you’re afraid I’ll wander off?” I asked, even as my head was turned toward the sight of juicy dumplings arrayed on a street cart.

“No, because you’re my girlfriend,” he said casually, then laughed as I stopped dead right in the middle of the sidewalk. He turned to me, looking better rested than I’d seen him for a while—he’d slept the entire flight to Taipei and dozed again until we landed in Bangkok, then shut himself in his room for a few hours when we’d arrived at our hotel, probably meditating or doing tai chi or something. He’d emerged clean-shaven and looking like a tourist, wearing cargo shorts (I had to laugh), sandals, and sunglasses, which he now lowered on the bridge of his nose so I could see his eyes. “People here are going to get to know me right quick, Mattie, but they don’t know you, and they don’t need to. You don’t want me going around telling people you’re my reliquary.”

“Is that bad?”

His eyebrow arched. “I told you how rare you are.”

“As rare as you?”

He chuckled. “Nearly.” He tugged my hand and guided me down a side street.

“Do you know where you’re going?”

“No idea.”

I looked up at him, his gaze darting constantly from corner to corner, face to face, his long body taut and ready while still taking relaxed strides, his nostrils flaring as he breathed in the city.

He pulled me down one street and up another for hours, until my curls were frizzing like nobody’s business and sweat trickled down my back. Finally, as we reached the edge of a long string of booths shaded by awnings made of blue tarps, Asa’s steps faltered and he came to a stop. “Interesting,” he whispered.

We were standing in front of what appeared to be a souvenir shop. Three steps led up from the street into a long, shallow room absolutely filled with goodies. My eyes went wide as I took it all in. Carved jade or marble (honestly, they might have been plastic) Buddhas, amulets of all shapes and sizes, figurines with fanged monster faces wearing hats topped with gold spires, golden tea sets, carved wooden elephants, silky patterned kites. I was totally sucked in and wanted them all, so many tempting little treats to take home as a reminder that once in my life, I had been someplace truly foreign, someplace so far away from Wisconsin that I’d never believe it myself unless I had something to cradle in my hands and make it real again.

A scrawny old man with skin like well-tanned leather greeted us by pressing his hands together and nodding his head. I mimicked his movement, which brought a broad grin to his face, revealing a missing front tooth. He gestured toward the figurines, inviting me and Asa closer. But Asa was already busy wandering back and forth in front of the open shop, a rangy wolf on the prowl. The old man’s brow furrowed, but then he beckoned to Asa and held up a pretty burnished gold charm on a chain, inclining his head toward me as if suggesting Asa should buy me a gift.

Asa glanced over at me and winked, the kind of mischievous look that made me nervous. I looked down at my sandals, getting ready to run. But Asa merely shook his head at the old man’s invitation and sauntered over to a carved wooden box sitting next to the man’s stool. “I want what’s in there,” he said to the man.

The man blinked at him. “Not souvenir.”

“No, I’m sure it’s not.” Asa’s nose twitched as he leaned closer. “Ekstazo, yeah?”

The old man took an abrupt step back. “No-no—”

Asa smiled. “Knedas, too. But whatever it is, it’s pretty weak. You’ve been using it to pull your customers in.”

“Dammit,” I said, throwing the old man a resentful look.

Asa ran his hand along the top of the box. “How do you think the local Headsmen would feel if I told them about this?” he asked the man.

I wasn’t sure the man understood everything Asa had just said, but at the mention of the Headsmen, the poor guy’s hands went up. “No! Please!”

I’d only heard the Headsmen mentioned once before—when Grandpa had told me they were the magical brand of law enforcement. And this little man looked terrified of them.

Asa seemed pleased at the effect he’d had as he pulled a small pad of paper and a pen from his pocket. “No Headsmen? No problem.” He offered the pad and pen to the man and made a writing motion. “Supplier. Password.”

An hour later, after a fun little ride in a cab that seemed to be the love child of a motorbike and a Smart car, we were standing on a narrow street outside a café with bars on its windows and a winking pig on the sign out front. Asa led me inside. It was full of middle-aged white men—American and European tourists from the sound of them. They were lounging at tables, drinking tea. Some of them were also greedily eyeing the hallway leading to the back.

“Is this a den?” I whispered to Asa as we approached a glassed-in counter containing an array of fruity treats and candies.

“Sort of.” He grinned at the petite woman behind the counter, who put her hands together and bowed her head in greeting. “I’d like to sample the merchandise,” he said, then showed the woman a note written by the terrified souvenir-shop owner.

The woman gave him a curious glance, then led us to the back hallway and into a room filled with . . . “Oh my God,” I whispered. “Are those all sex toys?”

“Which one would you like to try?” the woman asked in perfect accented English, all courtesy, as she gestured at a rack of dildos and another of fuzzy handcuffs, whips, and other stuff—I couldn’t even figure out where some of them would go.

But suddenly, I kind of wanted to explore. I looked over the various toys, my heart beating a little faster, my body tightening. Asa pulled me close as I reached out to touch a pair of fuzzy black wrist cuffs. “Patience, honey,” he said. “I need to concentrate, and you’re distracting me.”

“But—” Ben and I had never tried anything kinky, but now I couldn’t get the image out of my head: me with my wrists cuffed, him standing over me . . .

Asa’s grip on me tightened. “Jacks, baby,” he whispered.

“Dammit!” I stomped my foot and pinched the inside of my wrist, trying to clear both the fog and the twist of need that had once again risen inside me.

The petite woman gave me a concerned look, then turned back to Asa. “Well?”

“Um . . . how about . . .” Asa turned and walked over to a Buddha statue, of all things, sitting all by itself in the corner. Benevolent and fat, the jade figurine was insanely out of place. “How about this?”

The woman laughed. “That is not for sale.”

Asa gave her a polite smile. “But I could buy anything else in this room, and it’s guaranteed to be absolutely full of magic?”

“Best in Bangkok. A special blend.” The woman nodded toward me. “Make her scream with pleasure.” She touched one of the whips. “Or pain.”

I pinched myself again for good measure.

Asa rubbed his hands together, seemingly in anticipation, then leaned over and swiped a hot-pink dildo from a rack before turning back to the woman. “Except there’s not a single fucking drop of Ekstazo on this,” he said, tossing it into the air and catching it again, then pointing it at the rest of the rack. “Or on any of these.” He put it back. “And no Strikon, either.” He inclined his head toward the Buddha. “But that . . . that’s different. Who loaded that thing up? That’s a mindfucker I’d like to get to know. Does he belong to Montri? Bet he does.” Asa pointed to another door, this one on the other side of the room, and I couldn’t help but notice the tiny tremble in his hand as he stepped toward it. “That’s where the real stuff is. But you save it for the locals, right? The business customers. Or the high rollers. Not for magic tourists who don’t know the difference.”

The woman gave him a condescending smile. “I’m afraid you are confused.”

Asa shook his head. “I’m not a tourist, lady. I want the good stuff.” A drop of sweat slid down his cheek.

Our host considered Asa for a moment, then pulled a key from her apron and walked over to the door, unlocking it with a quick twist of her wrist. She pushed the door open and pressed her lips together as Asa approached. It was a closet, lined with shelves containing an array of objects similar to what I’d seen in the souvenir shop. Asa ran his finger along the top shelf, touching each item in turn. “Healing, sexual, contentment—oh, that one’s pretty strong . . .” He went down each tier, listing what each object contained with increasing specificity, as the woman’s eyes went wide. And then he stopped in the middle of the bottom row, and he chuckled. “I hope you didn’t pay too much for that one.”

The woman frowned. “That is a very valuable Sensilo relic.”

“Nope. Doesn’t have any magic in it at all.” He grabbed the thing, a little wooden elephant with a gold headdress, and tossed it to her. “Someone grifted you on that one—probably the conduit channeled it into a decoy relic during the transaction. You know what you need? A sniffer to make sure you get what you pay for.”

The woman folded her arms over her chest. “What do you want?”

“Tell Montri I’m looking for a job.”