by Sarah Fine
“My grandpa. He worked as a reliquary for years. Jack was his partner. And they had a run-in with Arkady and Lishka—”
“Arkady’s wife. She was killed by Montri’s people a few years ago. Revenge—she’d broken one of Montri’s daughters. She was a Strikon with some serious juice.”
“Well, I guess they were quite a team in their day. They caught my grandpa and Jack at the border as they tried to smuggle something out. They were saved by Volodya’s sensor, apparently. A woman named Theresa.”
Asa blinked rapidly and pulled over to the side of the road. “What?” he whispered.
“Volodya’s sensor,” I said slowly. “Her name was Theresa, and she saved them. In return she asked them to help her smuggle the Sensilo relic right out from under Volodya—she was going to replace it with a fake. After the transaction, my grandpa waited for her, but he eventually had to get out. He never saw her again. He never knew what happened to her, and he carried the magic inside him until the day he died.”
Until the day Ben had caused his death.
“Why did she want the relic?” Asa’s face had paled, and his fingers were flexing over the wheel.
“Grandpa didn’t know. He knew she wanted to get out from under Volodya, though, and he figured she either wanted to sell it to set herself up or to hand it over to the Headsmen to get some kind of immunity or protection.”
“Did he tell you anything else about her?”
“No. Asa, are you okay? What’s wrong?”
He turned to me, his bruises standing out garishly on his pallid cheeks. “Maybe it’s a coincidence.”
“But?” My heart had picked up a cruel, hard rhythm that awakened the splinter of pain inside me.
He swallowed, as if he were afraid to speak his thought aloud. But after several long seconds, he did.
“My mother’s name was Theresa.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
We drove back to the camp in silence. Asa must have been reeling, and based on what I knew of him, he needed alone time to pull himself back together. I’m the opposite usually, though I had come to understand that some things are too overwhelming to talk through.
I wanted to take his hand or give him a hug, anything to offer him a little bit of comfort, but Asa was all sharp edges, and the way he’d grimaced when I put my hand on his shoulder . . . with the splinter inside me, touching him only added to the hurt. I wasn’t about to do it again.
Instead, I pulled out the bag of almonds, opened it, and slid it across the seat to him. I did the same with the strawberries. Asa reached over immediately and grabbed a handful of nuts, shoving them in his mouth as if he were starving. By the time we reached the thick forest surrounding the camp, he’d eaten an ungodly amount of almonds and at least two pints of strawberries, along with two carrots and a big hunk of the sprouted bread dipped in pesto. He groaned in pleasure as it hit his tongue, and the sound sent a tingling shiver straight through me. His enjoyment of his food made the ride almost bearable, because even with Asa’s careful pothole avoidance, each bump felt like a knife through the lung. My worry about Ben, the stolen relic, and the scary Russian seemed to have awakened the pain.
As we progressed down the winding dirt road that led through the woods to the camp clearing, we began to encounter people parking wherever they could find a shoulder. A steady trickle of men, women, couples, and families was trekking down the road past shabby signs nailed to trees. “Carnival Magia. Experience of a Lifetime.”
The way people gasped and pointed every time they saw one, I was guessing they were seeing something much more impressive.
“See that?” Asa pointed at a little mason jar hanging by a rope from a tree branch. “Pure juice right there.”
By the way he was sweating, I believed it. “How can you stand it, Asa?”
“You’ve got enough to worry about already.”
That didn’t stop me. Without Gracie to ground him, it was going to be that much harder for him to stay healthy. And now he didn’t even have his van to retreat to. “Did you have a lot of valuable stuff in your van?”
“Nothing that can’t be replaced, except for the relic.”
“Are you going to go after him?”
“Not until I get that splinter out of you and get Gracie back from the vet.”
“But by then, Zhong might get ahold of it, or some other mob boss might get it. I thought you wanted it. I know it’s worth millions.”
“You remember what I told you about money?”
“When it doesn’t represent freedom or safety, you don’t want it.”
He tapped the tip of his crooked nose. “It’s also not my only priority.”
I couldn’t imagine it was, what with Arkady the assassin prowling around, his discovery that his long-lost mother might have once belonged to a Russian mob boss and had long since disappeared, and the fact that his brother had stolen all his possessions and nearly killed his dog. “I’m sorry Ben did this.”
“Did you know?” He was looking straight ahead, but his voice had taken on an edge.
“I had no idea.” My only clue had been how determined he had looked as he had headed back to the silk tent this morning.
“You knew he wanted to end up with the relic.”
“Yeah. He kept saying he didn’t trust you, that you were only out for yourself.”
“And is that what you think?”
“I know you better than he does, Asa.”
“I know,” he whispered.
He pulled off the road once we reached the clearing, which was now a sea of parked cars and SUVs. “Let’s go set this transaction up. I need to get both my girls healthy again.”
He grabbed the remaining sacks of food and got out quickly, but I sat there for a second, absorbing what he’d just said, before I hopped out after him. We walked up the crowded lane past people staring at the space above the camp like Ben had the night before, in awe at the magnificent Carnival Magia. “Ugh,” I said as my damp denim capris chafed at me. “You may not have had valuables in your van, but I did.”
“Your wallet?”
“Underwear. I’ll never take it for granted again.”
Asa snorted, and for the first time in hours he really did smile, despite the dark circles under his eyes and the rivulets of sweat sliding down his neck. “Dammit, Mattie.”
I grinned. Making him smile felt like total triumph. I knew he must be hurting—all the naturals in this camp had their volumes turned up to eleven to please their customers, and Asa was trying to hold his own despite the bombardment.
“Aren’t we going back to the tent?” I asked as Asa passed the midway lane, which was packed with people peering into the booths, pointing at the “freaks” inside. Halfway down, a young guy in a University of Richmond hoodie tossed his phone into a booth that must have belonged to Burt, the Man Who’ll Eat Anything, because a moment later the guy yelled, “What the actual fuck, dude?”
Red-haired Terrence slid from between two booths, watching the guy intently as his friends laughed and slapped his back. When it looked like the guy was calming down, Terrence melted into the crowd again.
“I need to figure out what we’re gonna put this splinter in.” Asa sidestepped a group of people gathered around a plump young woman who was presiding over an old cotton candy machine. Judging by people’s reactions as they received its output—scrawny wisps of pink spun sugar that didn’t look like anything special—they were seeing some kind of fabulous confection. We also passed by an elderly couple accepting five dollars a pop for a single balloon on a string.
“Unbelievable,” I muttered, but it turned out it was just an appetizer. After Asa led me through the campers to the field on the other side, we reached a roped-off section of grass within which someone had set up several rows of folding chairs, two in each row. People were excitedly waiting their turn to sit on the chairs, and a woman with thick glasses and thinning shoulder-length brown hair stood just outside the ropes, raising her arms periodical
ly. When she did, the people in the chairs would hold on to the backs of the seats in front of them, their faces pulled tight and their bodies bumping in time, smiles on their faces that turned into screams. All of them threw their arms up and yowled in unison, then leaned abruptly first to one side and then the other.
“Behold, the roller coaster,” Asa said, his voice strained. “Goddammit. I can almost see it.” He cursed and rubbed at his face.
I hunched my shoulders around the slice of agony inside me. “If you hold my hand, I bet it’ll disappear.” The pain was enough to clear even the foggiest brain.
“By tomorrow, you’ll be having the time of your life. I’ll take you on the Tilt-A-Whirl.” He pointed across the field at a similar roped-off area with chairs arranged in clusters of four, and then headed along the perimeter of the campers until we reached a newish-looking RV the size of a city bus. When Asa knocked on the door, the guy with the big beard answered. “Hey, Jimmy,” Asa said. “Got a few minutes?”
Jimmy pushed the door wider, a stern look on his face. “I was waiting for you both to come back from town. How’s the puppy?”
“Alive,” Asa said. “Under observation. Vet’ll set her leg tomorrow morning.”
“Come on in. I’ve got lemonade.”
“I’d prefer to talk out here.”
Jimmy grinned and—I am not kidding—twirled the ends of his mustache, which had clearly been waxed. “Scared of me, Mr. Ward?”
“Nah. Respectful.”
I thought back to what Roberta had told me about Jimmy, the leader of the camp and manager of the carnival—he was a powerful Ekstazo, maybe like Frank Brindle. Able to influence people with a simple handshake. He didn’t seem bothered by Asa’s request, though. He stepped ponderously out of his luxury RV. “Would have thought you’d be happy to put a set of walls between yourself and our field of fantasy here.”
“Can’t say it feels so fantastic to me,” Asa said with a dry chuckle. “But I needed to have a word—and a clear head.”
“Fair enough.” Jimmy turned his twinkling blue eyes on me. “And here’s our little wounded bird. Feeling better?”
“Almost,” I replied.
“Mattie’s got a splinter.”
Jimmy’s bushy gray eyebrows rose. “You don’t say. I’m surprised, Ward. You don’t have a rep for sloppy work.”
Asa’s jaw clenched. “There were extenuating circumstances.”
“That’s kind of an understatement, actually,” I said.
Jimmy nodded and scratched his round belly. “I guess none of us are perfect. What do you need?”
“Something strong enough to hold it.”
“Any object should do, shouldn’t it?”
Asa bit the inside of his cheek. “Not for this.”
“You said it was a splinter.”
“It’s really more of an ice pick.” I rubbed my chest as said ice pick poked at my soft insides.
Jimmy frowned. “May I ask where you acquired this ice pick–size splinter?”
“It might be safer for you and yours if you didn’t,” Asa said.
“Ah.” Jimmy pursed his lips, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. “That might explain this. Betsy found it in her tent this morning and brought it straight to me. That’s why I wanted to talk to the two of you.”
Asa took the paper and unfolded it. He groaned in exasperation and handed it to me. My stomach dropped as I recognized Ben’s handwriting.
Mattie,
I know you’re probably thinking the worst of me right now, but I swear I’m not going to try to take the relic to Brindle. Your grandpa told you to take the relic to the Headsmen, and I’m going to find a way to do that. I’m going to give it to the authorities and prove my love to you once and for all. Please come back to me. We have our whole life in front of us. I would be so grateful to have a fresh start with you.
Love, Ben
“I’m going to reveal my ignorance here,” I said, looking up from the note and pushing down all the twisty feelings it had inspired—but not well enough, apparently, because the pain in my chest was like a wound torn open. “How easy is it to find a Headsman to hand something like this over to?”
Jimmy guffawed. “Well, when you want to find one, good luck. When you don’t? They always seem to show up.”
I looked up at Asa. “Can you call Keenan? I’m worried Ben’s in over his head.”
“Keenan?” Jimmy grunted. “Haven’t heard that name in a while. Thought he might have retired.”
“Nope. Just risen in the ranks.” Asa gave me a baleful look. “You’re worried about Ben, and you want me to call Keenan? Do you not remember that he was ready to shoot you just to get his hands on a relic?”
“Only because I was refusing to give it to him.”
Asa stared at me and then let out a strained laugh. “You are something else. You’ll forgive anyone anything.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Children,” Jimmy said loudly. “What I’d like to know is whether I can expect outsiders to come sniffing around my camp, and if so, how soon you will be taking your shady business elsewhere.”
“Our shady business?” I glared at the folding-chair roller coaster. The pain was sending my mood south in a hurry.
Asa took a half step in front of me as Jimmy’s eyes narrowed. “What she means is, as soon as Vernon helps us pull the splinter, we’re out of here. The show must go on.”
“That’s better.” Jimmy disappeared back into his RV for a moment and came out holding a rusty object, which he handed to Asa. “Give that a try. Hildy, God rest her beautiful soul—” Jimmy crossed himself and kissed his balled fist, right over a thick gold band on his ring finger. “She pulled off some of the heaviest transactions I’ve ever witnessed using that. Can hold just about anything.”
Asa opened his palm and stared down at the railroad spike, six inches of rusting iron. “Okay, then. We’ll use it. Thank you.”
“Repay me with your absence, friend,” Jimmy advised. He climbed back up into his RV and shut the door.
“He’s lovely,” I said.
“He’s responsible for a lot of people. Can’t really blame him for looking out for them. He did us a favor by even taking my call in the first place. All of them did.”
I looked down at the spike. “Who’s Hildy?”
“His wife. She was a reliquary, too. I suspect that’s why he agreed to help in the first place. He’s got a soft spot for your kind.”
“Did she die of magic?”
Asa shook his head. “Cancer. Jimmy kept her going as long as he could—used his own power and anyone else’s he could buy to ease her pain.”
“Oh my God,” I whispered. “That’s really sad.”
“Not as sad as it would have been without his magic.”
“Huh. I would have expected you to disapprove of it. Don’t you look down on using magic?”
“Just because I don’t use it myself doesn’t mean I judge other people for it.”
“You judged Ben.”
“I think there’s a difference between using magic to control your fiancée and get yourself off and using it to ease your dying wife’s pain. Don’t you?”
“Hard to argue with that.” Especially because my own pain had ratcheted up a few notches, making it hard to breathe.
“Then don’t,” he said curtly, stalking back toward the center of the carnival. “Let’s go find Vernon and get this done. Seems like we both have some big decisions to make afterward.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Vernon was kind of hard to find. As a conduit, he wasn’t responsible for putting on a show like the Knedas “freaks” and “ride” operators or the Sensilo fortune-teller. Instead, we found him wandering the field with a huge sack and a sharp stick, spearing discarded popcorn boxes and cotton-candy cones. Betsy had already told him about the splinter, and he agreed to meet us in the silk tent after the carnival closed at midnight.
/> Asa was not happy about having to wait that long to do the transaction, but Vernon reminded him that Strikon transactions could be pretty loud and that the silk tent was pulling double duty as a first aid station. Asa backed down with a surly nod of his head. I doubt he wanted to risk having Jimmy rescind our welcome. But by then, my magic sensor was sweating profusely and rubbing his temples like someone had taken a jackhammer to the inside of his skull. I had the same feeling inside my chest, and it was getting worse with each passing hour. Asa said removing the massive Sensilo relic from inside me might have dislodged the splintered Strikon magic and allowed it to rattle around, doing more damage than before.
That pretty much ruined my day. And on top of that, I could tell that even standing next to me was hurting Asa. Every time my pain increased, it was obvious that his did, too.
So I did what my mother would have done: I made him a kale-apple-strawberry smoothie in Roberta’s tiny blender and sent him back to town to visit Gracie. I couldn’t stand watching him hurt. He left readily and didn’t ask if I wanted to come. Probably because he was focused on Gracie, and maybe because he didn’t want to watch me hurting, either, especially when there was nothing he could do about it until after midnight. I wrapped my arms around myself as I watched the lights of the pickup disappear around a bend in the road.
The carnival was pretty much packed, so I wandered through the fields, trying to let the incredibly weird sight of people sitting in folding chairs and screaming like they were going sixty miles an hour through a vertical loop distract me from my discomfort. When that didn’t work, I headed for the midway.
I stopped and stared at Betsy sitting cross-legged on the floor of a prettily trimmed booth that looked like a gingerbread house. She was the Giraffe Woman. A painted picture on the side of her booth portrayed a dark-haired woman with a neck at least three feet long. And there Betsy was, small and white-haired with a slightly sagging and tattooed but otherwise totally normal neck, waving regally to her awestruck audience. I hadn’t even considered that she was a mind-twister like the others.