Reliquary (Reliquary Series Book 1) (18 page)

And with that, Asa took my hand and led me out the way we’d come. I spent the first few minutes of our walk sucking in the fresh air and trying to rid myself of the tingling feeling low in my belly. Asa seemed to be doing the same thing, but for him, it was probably to recover from the toll of being so close to that much concentrated magic. We hiked in silence and were almost back at our hotel by the time I realized holding his hand had started to feel like a natural thing. I tugged my fingers from his grip and wiped them on my shorts.

“So let me get this straight,” I said as I followed him to his room. “You spend most of your time traveling from one small town to the next, peddling magical doodads to out-of-the-way magic dens, when all the time you’re such a hot property that a mobster kidnaps your brother just to get your attention, and all you have to do to turn the head of the boss of Thailand is spend five minutes in a magic shop.”

“We don’t know for sure about that last one, but here’s hoping.”

“This job has to be better paying than your usual.”

He unlocked his door and pushed it wide, inviting me in. “Yeah, but I don’t often have a good reliquary to drag along for the ride. That limits my options on smuggling jobs, and that’s where the money is.”

I sat down on his bed, glancing out at the chaotic beauty of the city. “Frank was going to send you with a good reliquary. He probably keeps her on retainer.” I looked over his baggy cargo shorts and T-shirt. “Her clothes looked pretty expensive.”

Asa grunted, pulled a bag of dried kale from his duffel, and began to chow down. “Money’s nice, but it isn’t everything.”

“I thought money was important to you. Don’t you want to make as much as you can?”

Asa sat down on the floor, his long legs stretched in front of him. “Money can be freedom. It can be a shield and sword. It can be a fire when you get cold. Money equals the power to protect myself.” His eyes met mine. “When it stops equaling that, I stop wanting it.”

I bit my lip. All day, I’d been missing Ben so much, thinking about what it might be like to be here with him. His final plea to me had been circling through my head, and I’d been trying to find a way to raise this topic with Asa. But his comments about the cage had been pretty pointed. And now he was being very clear that he couldn’t be bought. I was running out of arguments.

“Something on your mind?” he asked, licking the tips of his fingers clean.

I sighed. Ben wanted me to talk about this with Asa. And I knew Asa loved his brother. But I also knew how deeply Asa had been hurt by what Ben had done, and asking Asa for more was complicated, just as Ben had said it was. Asa hadn’t come right out and said he wouldn’t work for a boss, but . . . “Why did you want that lady to tell Montri that you’re looking for a job?”

Asa opened his mouth to reply, but a knock at the door brought us both to our feet. “Yeah?” Asa called.

“Delivery for you, sir,” came a high, meek voice from the hallway.

Asa drew his baton but didn’t extend it. He took a few steps toward the door, closing his eyes like he was trying to concentrate, maybe trying to sense the presence of some new and dangerous magic that had found its way to us. But then he raised his head, peeked through the peephole, and opened the door.

A young woman wearing the hotel livery stood in the hallway with a vase of orchids, gold and purple, arranged in a circular sweep that looked too perfect to be real. Asa moved out of the way so she could bring it into the room and set it on the table near the windows. As soon as she was gone, Asa plucked a thick envelope from amid the buds and pulled out a note on creamy card stock that was lined with the same runes I had seen at Mistika.

Asa read the note, and then handed it to me.

Your honored presence is requested at my home tonight at nine o’clock for an evening of celebration and discussion of new ventures.

Below that was an address. There was no signature, but the monogram on the card stock was
SM
.

I looked up at Asa to find him grinning. “This is why,” he said. “We’re in.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The fancy car came for us a few minutes before nine, by which time I was properly liquored up and ready to roll. It had been a busy afternoon. Asa had called Frank and verified that the address on the card was indeed owned by a holding company that could be traced back to Montri. Then we’d gone shopping.

I wasn’t sure exactly how it had happened, but Asa had chosen my dress. It was white except for interwoven bands of black, dark red, and white across the bust. Though the dress was strapless, it fit perfectly, not too low-cut and ending on my upper thighs. I’d spent all of high school and college wearing cheerleading skirts and leotards in front of hundreds if not thousands of people, so I wasn’t self-conscious about my body. But I also wasn’t eager to expose my lady parts at the wrong moment and had bought myself a pair of lacy white boy shorts. With liberal application of a shimmery body lotion (and a good bit of vodka), I was feeling pretty damn sexy.

That would have been awesome, except I was sitting next to the wrong guy. After the last two days, waking up to a frustrating case of mistaken identity and having my unsated need heightened by a nasty Knedas magic–soaked Buddha presiding over a room full of sex toys, it was especially not cool. And the fact that this wrong guy happened to look unexpectedly and ridiculously hot was making everything extra confusing. Asa was wearing a crimson shirt that looked like it had been made for him—with the top few buttons undone—and a pair of honest-to-God suspenders. Black, of course. To match his patent leather shoes and his slim-fitting black slacks. I had no idea what to make of him, so I was trying not to look at him at all. I focused my attention on a golden palace by the river, shining under the purple night sky, all steep pyramids and sharp spires.

Asa looked over at me as our driver steered us toward the waterfront. “Why aren’t you talking a blue streak like normal? Do you need me to scratch your belly, girl?” His long fingers wiggled in the air a few inches from my stomach.

“Oh my God, don’t remind me.”

He shrugged. “Seemed to put you in a good mood before.”

“It certainly did put me in a mood,” I muttered, angry at myself. And at Asa. I wished I could call Ben right now. I really needed to hear his voice. “What are we walking into?”

“No idea.” Asa spread his arms across the back of the leather seat. “Feels nice to be wanted, though.”

I flinched away from him. “What? I don’t—”

“By Montri,” he said slowly, smirking.

“What am I supposed to do when we get there?”

“Whatever I tell you to.”

“Great.” I looked down at my pristine white heels. “I’ll shed these if I need to run.”

“Good plan.” He nudged my foot with his. “But they do look good.”

My toe scraped over the wire bristles that Asa had glued to the sole of the shoe, my protection against manipulation magic. I was starting to savor the discomfort. As I looked out the window, watching the wild, dirty, colorful city go by, I whispered, “What happens if we’re caught?”

“Why do you think I avoid telling you things? You can honestly say you have no idea what’s going on.”

I shuddered. “Wasn’t much help when that Strikon got hold of me.”

Asa reached over and took my hand. “We’re not going to be caught.” He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “Them or us, remember?”

I nodded.

“Do you trust me?”

I looked into his honey-brown eyes. They were a shade lighter than Ben’s, it turned out. I noticed it when I saw Ben again in Vegas. At the moment the distinction seemed important. “Sometimes.”

His head fell back against the seat. “That’s cheating. You do or you don’t.”

“You really want me to pick?”

He squeezed my hand. “It’s going to be us, Mattie. We’ll be okay. We’re going in there to scope it out. I’ll talk to Montri, and you’ll just be you.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“You want me to make it sound complicated?”

The car slowed as it pulled to a stop in front of a set of metal gates. A moment later they swung open. We entered a compound surrounding a high-rise on the shore of the river and joined a line of other shiny black cars queueing up to disgorge their human cargo. I squinted to see who was getting out of those cars, and relaxed a little when I saw a woman wearing a little black dress and a guy in a suit. Maybe we would blend. From what I could see, the party attendees looked like a pretty international crowd.

When our turn came, Asa slid out of the car and offered me his hand. He gave the attendant his invitation and tucked me against his side as we followed the crowd along a path right next to the water. I was close enough to him that I felt the change in his body instantly. A hard shiver coursed through him, like all his muscles had seized at once. “You okay?” I whispered.

He didn’t answer, but his grip on me tightened. I glanced up to see sweat breaking out at his temples. His eyes hardened. “It’s here,” he murmured against my hair.

“It? Like
it
it?”

Asa swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

“You can already tell?” Frank had said we’d need to be close because the relic would be packaged. I glanced around. “Is it out here? Close by?”

“No. Inside.”

“How can you tell the difference between it and an actual Strikon?”

He stared at the high-rise. “Relics are smaller. More concentrated. And this one . . .”

He shook his head, then stepped away from the line for the door, pulling out his phone. He punched in some sort of text, then rejoined me. But a few steps down the riverside path, he fumbled the phone as he went to put it back in his pocket, and it clattered to the walkway. As he moved to get it, his toe hit the device and it shot over the side of the path, disappearing into the black water with a tiny splash. “Well, shit,” he said, then tugged me along as people crowded behind us. “I’ll have to get a replacement later.”

I glanced frantically back at the water. Frank had given us the phone, and it had felt like a lifeline. My grip on Asa’s hand was steely. “This doesn’t feel like an auspicious start,” I said quietly.

“How about now?” he asked as we reached the entrance of the high-rise to find guards divesting guests of their phones and any other electronic devices they happened to be carrying.

“I think I need another shot.”

He tugged me closer and nudged my chin upward. “I’ll get us through this. It’s you and me. Got it?”

No. It was supposed to be me and
Ben
. I clamped my eyes shut and shook my head to clear my thoughts. Asa wasn’t talking about anything but getting through the evening anyway. “Got it.”

We reached the guards at the door. They didn’t bother me at all, because it was pretty obvious I had nowhere to carry a phone. They patted down Asa, though, and for once, he didn’t have a single thing in his pockets. He just held his arms up and stared steadily at the guard who was running his hands down Asa’s lean torso. From the way Asa’s jaw was clenched, I was wondering if the guard was a Strikon, or maybe a Knedas. It made me hurt for him.

The crowd, men and women dressed just a notch above club attire, conversed in a variety of languages. I picked up German, Spanish, lots of Thai, and several other languages I couldn’t identify at all, another reminder of how far I was from my little hometown on the shores of Lake Michigan.

We were funneled through an entryway and into a massive lounge that was open to the riverfront. I gasped—the interior walls of the place were absolutely lined with what appeared to be artifacts: shards of broken pottery framed and mounted, gilt boxes containing who knew what, little golden pots, and stout engraved figurines. I felt like I’d entered a museum, except the wide expanse of the space was occupied by comfy modern couches, chairs, and coffee tables. A warm breeze floated through from the river outside. The guests were all talking among themselves, many of them eyeing the fascinating objects on display. Waitresses patrolled with trays of fruity drinks and hors d’oeuvres. Asa snagged a small glass of red liquid for me, sniffed at it, and handed it over. “Fruit punch and rum.”

“Thanks.” I took a sip and reminded myself to relax, lest some Sensilo nearby pick up my tense vibe. “Do you know who these people are?”

Asa scanned the crowd. “Mostly business contacts, looks like.” His eyes narrowed. “A few naturals, but not many, except for the staff. These people know what’s up, though. They either buy from him or pay him for protection—oh.”

“What is it?”

A grim smile spread across Asa’s face. “I’ve got competition. Montri’s got a sensor.” His eyes flicked toward a hallway to my left. “That could make this tricky.”

“Tricky?” I let out a weak chuckle. If the sensor was anything like Tao back in Chicago’s Chinatown, he’d know if any magic came in or out. I glanced at all the possible escape routes, the hallways, the wide-open glass doorways leading to the outside space, the various doors. A guard was posted at each, some armed, some simply lounging against the walls with their arms folded, watching the guests. I was betting those were the Strikon. My heart beat a little faster, and Asa pushed my glass up to my lips. I drank half of its contents before looking up again.

“Now what? Are you going to—”

Asa put his hand on my arm as he looked across the room. “I think I’m up.”

I turned in the direction he was facing to see a gorgeous woman approaching us. Her long black hair was pulled up in an intricate style punctuated by orchids and gold ribbon, and her tall, slender body was encased in a skintight sheath of embroidered red silk, matched by the wet crimson sheen on her lips. Her predatory gaze was focused on Asa as she moved through the mingling crowd, which parted to let her through, many of the men and some of the women taking the opportunity to stare hungrily at her. When she reached us, she paused for a moment, staring into Asa’s eyes, and then, slowly and gracefully, brought her hands up and pressed them together, bowing her head until her chin touched her thumbs.

Asa smirked and pressed his own hands together, bowing his head slightly but never taking his eyes off the woman. I had to stomp down a strange, uneasy feeling that twisted in my stomach at the sight.

“Mr. Johnson,” she said in a cool British accent, using the name Asa had used to check into our hotel and suddenly making me realize we must have been followed back there after our stop at the magic shop. “I am Maew, Mr. Montri’s assistant. Thank you for accepting his invitation. He is wondering if you would like to share a private drink with him in his study before he greets the rest of his guests.”

She swept her hand, tipped with long ruby-red fingernails, toward a room that lay up a few steps from the lounge, where two young men flanked a thick wooden door carved with the now-familiar runes.

Asa pressed a cocktail napkin to his sweaty forehead. “Sounds good. Just let me get my girl comfortable. She’s shy around strangers.”

“Of course,” said Maew, giving me a sly smile. “I have already selected a companion to entertain her while you are indisposed. Ho-Jun?” She beckoned to someone behind us. “Come here and meet . . .”

“Katie,” Asa said, using my hotel check-in name.

I recited it in my head a few times—I didn’t know how Asa kept all his aliases straight, but between the drinks and the stress, I’d be lucky to remember my real name, let alone my fake one. “Katie Halsworth,” I said.

“Ms. Halsworth, I would like to introduce you to Ho-Jun.”

A man in gray slacks and a crisp white dress shirt reached our side. His tan skin had golden undertones. His killer cheekbones tapered to a narrow jaw, and his straight nose topped a soft, almost feminine mouth. But when he smiled, everything about him said pure man.

Asa squeezed my fingers. “Jacks, baby,” he whispered.

I pressed my toe hard onto the wire bristles in my shoe. “Thanks.” As soon as the pain zinged across my skin and up my leg, so did the threat. They’d already gotten someone to stay with me while Asa was in with the boss. I had no doubt it was Ho-Jun’s job to take care of me if Asa tried to pull anything. And not in a friendly way.

“Um,” I said. “Nice to meet you. But I’m fine, really, and wouldn’t want to—”

“Give us a second.” Asa touched my shoulder, and I tore my gaze away from my new companion. “You remember how we met?” he murmured, lowering his head until our faces were only a few inches apart.

“Yeah.” Though honestly, at the moment, with Asa in my space like that, my thoughts were starting to fray at the edges.

“You were fearless,” he whispered, so quietly that I knew the words were meant only for me.

“You said I was stupid.”

His lips curved into a half smile. “You knew what you wanted.” He leaned closer. “And I might have been
a sensor trying to do my job
, but I couldn’t take my eyes off you. Even when I should have been paying attention to other things.”

I blinked up at him, confusion seeping in as his eyes bored into mine. “Huh?”

His hand slid into my hair. He was so close that his nose touched mine. My hands rose to his chest, but I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to push him away or ball my hands in his shirt and pull him closer. “Stop distracting me, baby,” he said. “I’ve got work to do.”

And then he kissed me, a soft but commanding press of his mouth to mine. He pulled back quickly, a smug grin on his face. “See you in a bit.”

My fingers rose to my lips as I watched him turn and follow Maew toward Mr. Montri’s study. What the hell? Anger and betrayal flashed hot in my chest, but as Asa mounted the steps and I saw the little wet patch of sweat that had darkened a spot between his shoulder blades, it struck me.

He had played me again. And he never played without a reason.

Ho-Jun cleared his throat. “I know I am a poor substitute for Mr. Johnson,” he said in a slightly accented voice. “But I hope you will let me keep you company. Mr. Montri’s parties are always full of excellent diversions.”

Diversions. I drained my punch as I thought back to what Asa had just said to me.
Couldn’t take my eyes off you. Should have been paying attention to other things.
Was he telling me to create a distraction? I wiggled my big toe, brushing it back and forth over the bristles and trying not to wince as it abraded my skin. “Cool,” I said, offering Ho-Jun a bright smile. “I’m kind of a fish out of water here. I’ve never even been to Bangkok before.”