Reliquary (Reliquary Series Book 1) (9 page)

Asa glanced at me and nodded. “We’d better. That’ll give us a few hours before we need to drop it off, and I need the time.”

As Daria wheeled my suitcase into a room down the hallway, I said, “I want to clean up and change first.”

Asa spun the record case on his finger. “I think you’ll want to wait until after.”

I eyed the record. “Why?”

He caught it and held it up, the
F**k You!
on the cover facing me. “This is going to be intense.”

Daria emerged from the hallway. “Where do you want to be, honey?” she asked me. “What makes you most comfortable?”

She was a conduit. Like Don. Except she smelled a lot better and actually cared about my comfort. “I’m flexible,” I said.

Daria smiled. “I mean—do you like to lie down? Sit up?”

“No idea. I’m a little new to this.”

Daria frowned and gave Asa a skeptical look. “Darling, this isn’t newbie magic.”

“She’s a lot stronger than she looks,” Asa said. “You’ll see.”

“I’m a bank vault, apparently,” I added.

Daria sank down gracefully into her couch and patted the cushion next to her. “If you’re sure.” She still looked doubtful. Even Gracie whined and slunk off the couch, moving to stand between Asa’s legs.

I sat down next to Daria, my heart hammering. Last night, the magic had lit up the inside of my skull so brightly that I wouldn’t have been shocked to hear that my eyes were glowing, and this was going to be
more
intense? “Wait,” I said as Asa came forward, carefully slipping the round edge of the vinyl from its case without actually touching it. “What kind of magic is this?”

Asa’s eyes met mine. “Emotion sensing.”

Daria rolled her head around. “It’s my favorite,” she said to me. “Such a rush. Ready?”

I looked from Asa to the vinyl to Daria. “I guess?”

Daria put her arm around me, her large, warm hand cupping my bare shoulder. “See you on the other side.” Her fingers pinched closed over the shiny black vinyl.

“Wait—I—”

When I was little, my parents took me to North Carolina, to a sandy beach with lapping waves. I was splashing in the surf, having the time of my life, when a wave crashed over me and pulled me under. I remember the water going up my nose, the sand scoring my bare skin, the world tumbling and spinning until I didn’t know the sky from the ground.

That experience was awesome compared to this.

My throat closed and my chest squeezed so tight that it felt like my ribs were breaking. A massive wave of sorrow crashed over me, stinging my eyes and turning my thoughts so black that I knew that everyone I loved had died, that no one cared about me, that I was going to be alone forever. And as quickly as I’d accepted that truth, another wave pounded me: incredible anger, filling my brain with slashing knives and dreams of choking the life out of faceless enemies. But before I could sink my teeth into the hatred, it turned to joy, lifting me up so high that I was sure I could kiss the clouds until I fell just as fast, drowning in jealousy. On and on it went, shooting up and down my limbs, winding around my neck.

And then I found myself blinking up at a small brown water stain on the ceiling. My face was wet with tears, my nose was running, and my chest was heaving. The room spun as I lifted my head.

“All set,” said Asa.

Daria moaned, and I turned to see she had fallen away from me. Her robe had gaped open, and I stared down at a rounded lump lying on the floor. As I squinted at it, Asa quickly leaned down, picked it up, and respectfully slipped it into her bra, filling out the cup again. Then he pulled her robe closed and gave me a hard look, as if daring me to comment.

Daria was shaking as she pushed herself upright. “Oh my God,” she whispered, clutching at her robe. “You weren’t kidding.”

I let out a shuddery breath that ended in a choked sob. Daria let out a sympathetic noise. “Aw, Asa . . . look at her.” She handed me a tissue from a box next to the couch.

Asa had the decency to look a little ashamed. He ran the toe of his boot along the tattered edge of Daria’s area rug. “She’s fine.”

“Screw you,” I whispered, then noisily blew my nose.

Asa knelt in front of me, and his eyes met mine. “You’re fine, Mattie.” His hand closed around my fingers, and his grip tightened when I tried to pull away. “Shh. I just need to make sure it’s all there.” He closed his eyes. “Damn. I don’t even know how you do that,” he said quietly. “It’s barely detectable.”

“But it’s all in there?” Daria asked, eyeing the vinyl, which Asa had set on the counter.

“Yeah.” Asa stood up and tugged at my hand, pulling me to my feet and looking down at me. “Now I’ll bet you want that shower.”

“Perceptive,” I whispered.

He squeezed my hand and let it go. “Good. When you’re ready, I’ll take you out to dinner in Chinatown.”

I looked down at my sweaty, tear-stained sundress. “Okay. Chinese food would be nice.” My eyes narrowed. “Wait. You’re going to take me there and pull this magic out of me, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “But after, I’ll buy you an entire fucking buffet of fried rice and crab rangoon, if that’s what you want.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

His casual demeanor dropped away like a cloak, and he gave Daria a grim look. “We’re going to have to make it past some of the tightest security in the Midwest to do it.”

“Where are we unloading this sensing magic?” I asked.

“It’s for the mistress of the Chicago boss,” Asa replied. “And we’re going to deliver it without the boss knowing.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll wear sturdier shoes in case I have to run for my life again.”

I turned on my heel and shuffled down the hallway, not bothering to ask where the bathroom was. I mostly needed to get away from Asa before I lost it in front of him. Nearly buckling with relief when I caught sight of my suitcase, I rushed into that room and shut the door behind me, then sank to the floor and let the sobs come. I don’t know whether it was the emotion-sensing magic that had just been packed into my body, the fact that I was far from home in a weird place, the ache of missing Ben, or knowing that before the night was over, I would have to venture into the heavily protected lair of a mob boss and escape without his knowing I was ever there.

But right then, the one thing I needed was a really good cry.

CHAPTER EIGHT

A few hours later, I found myself in a bar on the outskirts of Chinatown, a shot of something charmingly called “liquid cocaine” in front of me. I had changed into slim black pants, a shimmery lavender shirt, and sensible flats. Asa had taken a full three hours to emerge from his room, during which time Gracie stationed herself outside his door and I paced constantly. Daria sat on her sofa, eating ice cream and watching an old Meg Ryan movie. She was bawling her eyes out—maybe an aftereffect of having that much emotion-sensing magic pass through her. I expected Asa to emerge looking like a new man. But despite taking all that time and
maybe
running a comb through his hair, he looked pretty much the same.

The pockets of his cargo pants occasionally rattled with his steps, and I’d had plenty of time to listen. Instead of driving the van, we’d walked several blocks before taking two buses and the El to get to the bar, the whole ride spent in tense silence. I’d always been a talker, so the lack of conversation had already put me on edge.

Now Asa was lounging on the barstool next to me, his long body seemingly relaxed but his eyes darting from exit to window to hallway and back again. “Drink up,” he said.

“Do I have to?”

He nodded. “It’ll relax you.”

“I’m kind of a lightweight.”

“Even better.”

I lifted the full shot glass and sniffed at its contents. “You might not feel that way when I barf all over your elegant ensemble there.”

He smirked. “I’m pretty good at dodging.”

“How come you’re not having anything?”

He stopped his constant visual scanning to look at me. “I don’t drink.” My eyebrows shot up, but before I could say anything, he shook his head. “Just take your medicine.”

I took a sip and grimaced as it burned my tongue. “Ew! What—”

“Jäger, Rumple Minze, and Bacardí. It’s a shot, Mattie, not a cup of tea.” He craned his neck to look toward the exit again. “Remember the set of bouncers at the door of the Phan Club?”

“One emotion sensor, one . . . manipulator.”

He leaned down and spoke quietly. “Zhong Lei has layers of them posted around his territory, and unlike Bart and Diego, these guys don’t have to touch you to know what you’re feeling. If you walk in radiating anxiety, they’ll spot you in a second.”

“You’re the one scanning escape routes and fidgeting like you’ve got fleas!”

He groaned. “Oh my God, just drink the fucking shot.”

“Could you just consider for one moment what this is like for me?” I asked, my throat getting tight. “You’re a virtual stranger, and everything that’s happening is so new and weird, and you’re asking me to trust you with my life.”

“No.” His eyes were hard. “We’re having to trust
each other
, because we
both
want something. Don’t pretend I roped you into this. You made the decision. Own it.”

I’m scared,
I wanted to say.
Would it hurt you to be nice to me, just for a second?
I was right on the edge of crying again. But then I thought of Ben and how much he needed me, and the determination rose up, crowding out my tears. I lifted the glass to my lips and tossed it back, swallowing quickly. The burn was incredible, searing from my throat to my belly. I shuddered and clamped my eyes shut. “Ugh.”

“Good girl. Let’s go.” Asa slid off his stool and poked my arm.

Clenching my teeth, I followed him out of the bar and onto the sidewalk, where we made our way beneath the big red gates that arched over the entrance to Chinatown. On any other night, I would have been thrilled to be here in the big city, the smells of ginger and garlic wafting from the open doorways of restaurants we passed, the foreign, beautiful writing that bedecked the storefronts and signs—it was like we’d stepped into a different country. Not that I would have known, since I’d only ever been as far as Canada, but still. There was so much to see. And as we walked, a lovely warmth filled my chest and made my arms feel heavy, and I found myself grinning.

Until I collided with Asa, who’d stopped dead.

He turned quickly and smiled down at me, and it was soft and friendly and such a relief that my knees felt a little weak (the alcohol helped). “How are you doing?” he asked, his voice gentle.

“I’m feeling a little woozy.”

“I’d never have guessed.” He took my hand. “Let’s keep walking for a while. I shouldn’t have rushed you. We’ve got time.”

I stared down at his fingers curled around mine.

He winked at me. “Just to make sure I don’t lose you.” He tugged me into motion again. “You’ve never been here before?” he asked as we strolled along, past noodle shops and a bank and a karaoke club.

“No. I don’t get out of Wisconsin much.”

Asa simply nodded and continued to ask me questions, about where I had been, how I felt about airplane travel, whether I had a passport, and all the places I’d ever dreamed of going. I babbled, so grateful to finally be having a pleasant conversation, barely noticing as he guided me inside what looked like a cross between a recreation center and a dive bar. A few middle-aged men sat playing some kind of domino game while a waitress set small glasses of clear liquid in front of them. They stared at us as we entered, their dark eyes lingering on Asa.

As soon as the doors closed behind us, he let go of my hand and his smile disappeared. He pushed me against the wall and peered out of the doors, then pressed himself in next to me. “I thought those motherfuckers were on to us.”

So his friendliness had all been fake, and I had eagerly eaten it up. Alcohol and humiliation burned red on my cheeks. “You’re a real prize,” I muttered.

“If you want to go outside and meet the two enforcers who just passed us on the street, go ahead.” He gestured toward the exit. “No?” he asked as I took a quick step away from the door. “Then stop whining and follow me.” He inclined his head toward a hallway, and one of the guys at the table directly in front of us nodded.

Asa stalked down the corridor and through a set of double doors, into a room with thick green carpeting and red walls covered in scrolls of Chinese calligraphy. People were sprawled on cushions and leaning on low tables, each caressing a single colorful domino. It was a magic den, just like the one in Sheboygan. Asa strode through the room toward the back, me tiptoeing along behind him even though nearly every occupant of the room seemed oblivious to our presence. Right as we reached another door, though, an old woman stepped from behind a counter. She couldn’t have weighed more than ninety pounds. “Pockets,” she said softly, gesturing at the two of us.

“Come on, Mrs. Wong,” Asa replied, giving her a winning smile. “You know I’m harmless.”

Mrs. Wong grunted. “Pockets,” she hissed. She reached for Asa’s wrist, but he yanked it away. Quick as a snake, she turned to me and grabbed my wrist instead. “Pockets?”

I totally got where she was coming from. She was just there protecting her boss, and there would be serious consequences for everyone if she couldn’t do her job. “Absolutely,” I said, turning out my pockets to show her they were empty. “Asa, she needs to see what you’ve got in there.”

He caught my fingers as I tried to dip them into his front pocket. “Whoa, Mattie,” he said, looking like he was trying not to laugh. “I don’t think we know each other nearly well enough for that.”

He let go of my hand and pursed his lips, giving Mrs. Wong an exasperated look. “Stop fucking with my friend’s mind, young lady.”

The old woman’s eyes narrowed, but she let go of my wrist.

“Hey,” I said, realization dawning.

“Pockets!” Mrs. Wong jabbed her gnarled finger at Asa.

“Fine, fine,” Asa said, his tone one of weary resignation as he started laying things on her counter. A pair of latex gloves. A Pez dispenser with an alien head on the top. A thing of floss. A black cylinder, maybe six inches long, that looked like a handle of some kind, but to what I had no idea. A few jacks. A bag of trail mix and a bag of what might have been weed for all I knew. A wallet that fell open to reveal a driver’s license—complete with Asa’s unsmiling face and the name “Randall Waxruby.”

“Randall Waxruby?” I said, then started to giggle. “Seriously?”

“Go home, Mattie. You’re drunk,” Asa said, giving me an amused sidelong glance as he continued to fish seemingly random junk out of the pockets on his thighs.

“Whose fault is that?” I mumbled. He set a bottle of Silly String on the counter next to the jacks. My eyebrows shot up. “You don’t seem like much of a jokester.”

“The things you don’t know about me could fill the vacuum of space,” he said as he removed a small bottle of baby oil from his back pocket and placed it next to the bag of dried greenery. “There,” he said to Mrs. Wong. “I think that’s it.”

“Pat you down,” she said, flexing her fingers.

“Wait,” I said. “If she touches you, won’t she be able to . . .”

But though he looked irritated, Asa raised his arms and let the old woman run her hands up his pant legs, his sides, and his back. “Want me to turn my head and cough?” he asked as she briskly felt around his groin.

“You will not hurt,” she whispered as she worked. “You give her what she want. You tell no one about this.”

Asa’s jaw tensed as she shoved her hand under the hem of his T-shirt to touch the bare skin at his waist. “You give her what she want,” she said a little louder.

Pinprick beads of sweat glistened at Asa’s temples. “Yeah. You got it,” he said in a tight, angry voice.

Mrs. Wong let him go, frowning, and pointed at the odd array of items that Asa had just pulled from his pockets. “You leave these things with me.”

“Everything better be here when I get back.” He leaned down, bracing his hands on his thighs so he could look Mrs. Wong in the eyes. “Touch a single damn thing and I’ll know.”

She slid her fingertip down his cheek, and he winced but didn’t pull away. “But you won’t care,” she said.

His eyes flared. “Oh, trust me. I
will
.”

Her hand dropped away, and Asa straightened and smiled. “She down in the office?”

Mrs. Wong nodded, looking startled. Asa patted the top of her head. “No worries, Mrs. Wong. I’m here to help. Come on, Mattie.”

He opened the door and I darted through, finding myself in a dank stairwell. Asa joined me and headed down the stairs. “Was she one of those manipulators?” I asked as I tried to keep pace. “Like Mrs. Lichtel?”

“Nothing gets past you, does it?”

“I didn’t feel a thing when she touched me. I didn’t know what she was doing.”

“That’s why the Knedas are so fucking dangerous. One handshake and they’ve got you.”

“But not you.”

“No, not me.”

“Because of what you are?” I asked. “A magic sensor?”

“That only helps me know what
they
are.”

“Then how did you—?”

“Later,” he said, wiping his sweaty face against the sleeve of his T-shirt. We’d reached a basement of sorts. He paused before the next door. “All you have to do is what you did with Don last night, okay? Open the vault and let the magic out. You don’t have to say a word.”

“You want me to be seen and not heard.”

“Hey, you’re getting the hang of this.” He turned toward the door.

“I don’t blame whoever broke your nose,” I snapped.

He bowed his head for a moment. “I’m sure you don’t,” he said, then pushed the door open.

We entered a brightly lit office with a desk in the corner, heaped with file folders. Two women sat together on a couch, holding hands. Asa stepped forward and gave a quick, curt bow to the two of them. One of the women, whose long black hair hung in a silky sheet down her back, stood up. “Thank you so much for coming,” she said, her voice high and lilting. “Did you bring it?”

Asa gestured at me. “She’s got it. This is Mattie. Mattie, this is Zou Peizhi. She goes by Zhi.”

Zhi turned to me. “As skilled as Asa is, I thought there was no way he could bring me what I needed without anyone knowing.” As she looked me over, I had the sudden urge to tug at my clothes or smooth my hair. “Zhong Lei tracks my movements and watches me very closely. His guards would know immediately if anyone was smuggling new magic into his territory. He has a sensor of his own, just like Asa.”

“Nothing like me,” Asa said, his voice flat.

She inclined her head in apparent acceptance of his correction, then gave me a breathtaking smile. “You must be a very strong reliquary. I used to know one. A faithful friend.” Her smile faded. “But after what Reza did to him, he’s never been quite—”

“Is that your conduit?” Asa interrupted, gesturing at the other woman. “You the conduit?” He stepped forward as the other woman got to her feet. She was wearing a pencil skirt and a delicate, strappy top. Her face was pale, and she bit her lip as she looked from me to Asa. In her hands was a paperweight, a glass disk with a small flower inside.

“The relic?” Asa wriggled his fingers until she handed it to him. He seemed full of sudden, jittery energy as he turned back to Zhi. “You ready to get this done?”

Zhi approached her conduit, speaking in what I assumed was Chinese. The woman responded in a halting, soft voice. Asa frowned as he watched them. “She new or something?”

Zhi bowed her head. “Hualing is not my usual conduit—”

“Yeah,” said Asa. “I thought it was Wu Renshu. I’ve worked with him before. He’s good. Reliable.”

“Lei sent him away because he thought . . .” Zhi clasped her hands in front of her and pressed her lips together. “There is a reason I need this sensing magic. I need to know which way the wind is blowing before it knocks down my house.”

Asa looked at the paperweight. “We’re here to provide, then.” He beckoned to me and pointed to the couch. “Mattie, you’re going to have to make sure you keep your hand on Hualing.” He eyed the woman, who was fidgeting with the hem of her skirt as she waited for me to sit down. “Make sure you’ve got a good grip on her, and don’t let go until you’re emptied out.”

I smiled at Hualing as I settled myself next to her. “I’m new, too,” I said to her, suspecting she could understand very little of what I was saying, but hoping the friendliness in my tone would help build her confidence. “We’re easy to underestimate, aren’t we?”