Reliquary (Reliquary Series Book 1)

by Sarah Fine

  “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 yo
u 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.”

  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.”
r />   “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?”