Relic

by Renee Collins

  It was a regular old pickle jar, but inside I could see a small object wrapped in a red handkerchief. Gibbs pushed the jar into my hands suddenly, startling me.

  “I will not touch it again. You want to see it, you see it.” He shook his head. “I do not want it there anymore, watching me from the roots of this tree. You take it. Take it from me. Please.”

  I frowned, twisting the jar at various angles. I certainly couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. “All right,” I said, shrugging. “We’ll take it off your hands.”

  “You will?”

  “Sure.”

  Adelaide eyed the jar warily. “Maybe we shouldn’t.”

  “Why not? Look at this thing. It’s no bigger than an acorn.”

  She shrugged, and I turned to Gibbs. “Thanks very much for all your help.”

  “You not tell boss?”

  “We swear it. Your secret is safe with us.”

  He nodded, but he didn’t look even a drop more relaxed.

  “Be careful with it,” he said, his voice low. “Take it to refinery and never look back.”

  I nodded, having no intention to do so. “We surely will. Thanks again.”

  We left the camp, but Gibbs stayed by the dead tree, staring at the hole in the earth.

  The jar sat on the pale grass beside the Salt Wash, sunlight reflecting off the water sparkling against the glass surface. Adelaide and I had hardly spoken since leaving Gibbs. But as we rested by the river for a minute, the subject couldn’t be avoided.

  “I’m going to open it,” I said.

  “I don’t know, Maggie.”

  “Why not? It could be important.”

  Not looking to her for approval, I grabbed the jar and twisted at the lid, but something jammed it in place. Pursing my lips, I twisted harder, then harder still. And finally, it popped open with a scrape.

  “Maggie, don’t!”

  “I want to see.”

  “Don’t touch it.”

  I snorted. “Why? You worried I’m going to feel cold and angry and dark inside?”

  “Well, that’s what Gibbs said.”

  “Obviously the man was a little unstable, Adelaide. He’s been trapped in a mine for a year. I bet he sees and hears and feels all kinds of things that aren’t real. Besides, this could be an important clue.”

  “I don’t see how. It’s pretty obvious those miners don’t know anything about Bolger or the town burnings.”

  “Even so.”

  I pulled on the handkerchief and it unrolled, leaving a small, dark stone the size of an almond at the bottom of the jar.

  “Not polished yet,” I said, examining it through the glass. “I wonder what it could be.”

  Suddenly, my pulse seemed louder in my ears. Everything but that dark piece blurred away around me, leaving only the strange relic and my heartbeat. And then, the faint sound of breathing, ancient and deep. As if the relic itself were alive.

  With hands that trembled ever so slightly, I tilted the jar toward my fingers. The relic slid along the glass side with a gentle clink. I could almost feel the heat of it on my palm. The ancient breath grew louder in my ears.

  And suddenly, Adelaide ripped the jar from my hands.

  “Hey!” I snapped, my arms tight at my sides. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  She twisted the lid back on firmly. “We don’t have time for this. I gotta get back before Connelly explodes.”

  I grimaced, my pulse still beating hard. And yet I knew she was right. We’d probably been gone two hours. Adelaide had feigned a nap, but Connelly could surely mount the stairs and pound on her door at any moment. And there could be someone pounding at my door as well. Esperanza, perhaps. She’d seemed on edge lately, like she was hiding something. I had the strangest feeling that she was spying for Connelly. It certainly wouldn’t surprise me.

  “Right,” I said. I stuffed the jar into my apron pocket. “Let’s hurry, then.”

  Sure enough, when I returned to the Hacienda, Esperanza was waiting in my suite. I did my best to hide the jar from her, but it made me awful uneasy.

  All that night and the next day, as I was whisked from one Hacienda amusement to the next, my mind stayed on that relic, now tucked deep in my bureau drawer.

  What was it? Did it really have strange powers over the emotions? Some relics could control the mind, like sphinx or siren, but they were rare and illegal in most countries. Was this one like them? If so, could it possibly have anything to do with the razings? The more I stewed over these questions, the more I had to know the answers.

  That evening, a group of traveling performers was set to entertain the Hacienda. All through supper, Ella had talked of nothing else but the beautiful puppets she’d seen in the performers’ wagon. Figuring she’d be happily occupied for a few hours, I took the chance to make a quick trip into Burning Mesa and headed straight to the relic refinery.

  Grace, the tall, sharp-eyed expert I recognized from when I occasionally dropped by the refinery in my free time, frowned as she took the piece in the palm of her hand. “Where’d you say you got this again?”

  “Traded with a miner. He got it in a trade, too. Back East, a few years ago.”

  “Curious.” She turned the relic a few times, examining it from all angles. “Well, tell you what. I’ll get this polished up so I can identify it better, and we’ll see if we can’t find out what this thing is.”

  When Grace brought the relic back from her steam-polish machine, I had to stifle a gasp. It was red. Deep red, with shadowy traces of black within the bone, like wisps of smoke. And it glowed faintly black.

  A red relic that glowed black? I’d read that description before. In the papers in Mr. Bolger’s suite.

  My thoughts raced like wild birds, faster than I could put in a cage.

  “Quite a puzzler, ain’t she?” Grace said, startling me back to reality.

  “You don’t know what it is?”

  She shook her head. “I can honestly say I’ve never seen anything like it in my ten years here at the refinery.”

  “Can you tell its power? Is it fire?”

  “Hard to say. Doesn’t look like it after my initial examination, but I’d have to run a few more serious tests to be sure. Sometimes, when a new relic is discovered, it takes years before we can realize its magical properties. Not saying this is a new relic, of course. That’s very rare. It’s probably just from another country. Europe, perhaps, or the Orient.”

  For some reason, I didn’t want to tell her that the relic had been found right here in the Alkalies. The words burned in my throat, but I swallowed them down. Such information could be downright dangerous in these times.

  Grace tapped her chin, then turned to the back rooms of the refinery. “Hey, Moon John. Can you come out here a sec?”

  I perked up. “Moon John’s here?”

  “Yes, ma’am. You’re in luck.”

  The wizened old man smiled warmly as he limped up to the counter where I stood. “Good evening, Maggie. How nice to see you. How have your studies at the Hacienda been coming?”

  “Fine,” I said, hoping none of my nerves showed. “Just fine.”

  Moon John nodded, but I could see a glint of doubt in his eyes.

  Grace held up my newly polished little relic. “In the meantime, why don’t you help us with an identification. We got us a real mystery here. Take a peek at that, and tell me if it’s not the strangest thing you ever saw.”

  Moon John’s aged body bent slowly to the lens. He pressed his eye to the scope and stayed there for a long time. So long, I started to wonder if he had dozed off. But then, slowly, he stood. He wore the same puzzlement Grace had, but an inscrutable intensity trembled in his eyes.

  I could scarcely breathe. “You know what it is?”

  He shook his head slowly.

  Grace sighed. “Aw, darn it.”

  Moon John’s gaze was fixed on me. “Perhaps we should keep it for the night. Just so I might look over my books and study
it better.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Grace said.

  But something in Moon John’s eyes set off a warning in my heart. And something about that red, black-glowing stone made me want to grab it and not let anyone else even touch it. I needed that relic. There was no way I’d allow them to keep it all night. Somehow, I knew I’d never see it again if I did.

  “Actually,” I said carefully, “the relic’s not all mine, see. It belongs to Señor Castilla. A gift from that sheik. Álvar let me borrow it for the day, to see if I could identify it. He’d be pretty worried if I didn’t bring it right back.”

  Grace frowned. “I thought you said you traded with a miner.”

  I froze in place. Moon John’s eyes shot to mine, now brimming with suspicion.

  “N-no,” I stammered. “I must have been confusing this for another.”

  “I see,” Grace said, eyeing me now like Moon John.

  A charged silence fell. Swallowing a hard gulp, I snatched the relic from beneath the gazing lens. “I’d better be off.”

  “You sure?” Grace asked. “I’m positive we can identify it if we had a little more time to—”

  “No. Thank you. I should take it back to Señor Castilla.”

  I backed toward the doors, but Moon John’s voice sliced through the room. “Maggie. Does this have anything to do with the gift I gave you?”

  I avoided turning to meet his gaze, though I could feel it on me. “No. It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

  His voice hardened slightly. “Maggie…”

  “Thanks again,” I said to Grace. “You all have a nice night.”

  My heart was pounding as I closed the door. I looked down at the strange, gorgeous relic in my palm. That was close. Too close. Moon John had better be careful with those greedy eyes. I slipped the relic back into the jar and tucked it in my apron pocket.

  I hopped back on my horse and rode down Main Street, positive that every passerby on the street was staring at me. That they somehow knew about the relic. A tickle crawled up the back of my neck. I was so preoccupied, I nearly collided with a carriage that had stopped in front of the Cooper Hotel.

  I scowled. “Hey—”

  A twitter of woman’s laughter rang on the air. Another laugh, and then a male voice all too familiar to me. “Thanks for the joyride, Adam,” he said to the driver.

  More laughter from both. And then, slowly, like it was happening in a dream, Landon stepped out of the carriage. He wore a drunken grin and had lipstick smudges on his cheek And on his arm: Dora.

  Her hands were hooked around Landon’s elbow. Her auburn hair looked mussed, her cheeks pink.

  Landon’s eyes clicked to mine. The smile slid from his face.

  I didn’t move.

  Dora followed Landon’s gaze to me, then back to him. Landon untwined her arm from his abruptly, and she looked as if she’d been slapped. Landon’s mouth opened to speak, but no words came out. Not that I gave him any time to find his tongue. I felt like the sky had crashed down on me, like the ground had collapsed beneath my feet. I had to get away as fast as my body could manage.

  My legs finally complied, and I kicked my horse to move. Landon ran after me, sounding frustrated. “Maggie, wait a minute!”

  I didn’t. I lashed the reins and rode away into the darkness, the stallion galloping in the darkening twilight. His hard-beating hooves pounding in my head, like the pounding of my broken heart.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Late that night, after the swank dinner and mindless chatter, I sat alone at my dressing desk, staring at my reflection in the mirror. A fine mess I’d gotten myself into. Now I’d lost Landon forever. And for what? Because I couldn’t let myself admit that he was right?

  Meanwhile, I had Sheriff Leander and Moon John mad at me, Yahn had lost hope, and my last-chance theory that Emerson Bolger was burning the towns seemed more confusing than ever. I’d managed to ruin everything I’d set my hand to. And I couldn’t think of any way to make it right. I was starting to realize that there wasn’t a relic on earth that could get me out of this mess.

  Or was there?

  Almost as if it were acting on its own, my hand tugged open the bureau drawer and slipped into the soft underclothes. The feel of the cool, smooth pickle jar sent a chill through me. I pulled it out and set it on the desk in front of me. The sight of the relic with its deep red hue filled me with a strange power.

  I spilled the gem-like stone onto the wood of my desk; my fingers hesitated for only a moment before scooping it up. Sitting in my palm, it almost felt alive. As before, my pulse filled my ears with slow, firm beats. And then the breathing, so deep and faint, like a distant wind.

  “What are you?” I whispered to the relic.

  It seemed strange that Gibbs had been so afraid of it. I didn’t feel any cold or anger. In fact, I was drawn to the relic. Surely I had something wonderful in my hands, something worthy of more than hiding away in a pickle jar. A piece this special should be displayed for all to see.

  There were many ways to wear relics. Some people had them embedded into clothes, some wore them on rings. Our phony kraken relic had been set on a chain, like an amulet. Frowning, I rummaged through the wooden box of jewelry Álvar had seen placed in my room. The only thing that could possibly work was a thin silver chain. Maybe if I took it to the refinery they’d drill a hole to string the chain through. Of course, then I’d have to face Moon John and his probing, greedy looks again.

  As I studied the chain and the relic, they both became hot as a branding iron. I winced, and they clattered to the desktop, but they didn’t stop moving. The relic had begun to change, to bend ever so slightly to the chain. Wrapping itself around it. Making itself into an amulet. I picked it back up, watching in breathless amazement as it settled into its new shape. It must have been the magic, sensing my will to make it a proper, wearable piece, though I’d never heard of a relic that could do such a thing. Within a minute, the piece hung sturdily from the chain. My lips pulled into a smile as I hooked the clasp behind my neck.

  The relic lay just between my breasts, warm against my echoing heartbeat. I stroked it slowly, staring at my reflection in the mirror. The sight of it, so powerful and beautiful against my bare skin, filled my insides with a tight, fierce fire.

  Let Landon see me this way, and he’d never so much as look at that cheap whore Dora again.

  I swept to my wardrobe and flung open the doors. The row of dresses hung in quiet splendor, waiting for me, and I examined each one. The occasion called for something as sensual and powerful as my new accessory. I pushed the dresses past me, one by one, until I came to the most vulgar of them all: a sleek black satin. The bodice laced tightly in a corset with a neckline that plunged deep, and it hugged the curves of my body as I pulled it on. Exactly what I wanted.

  I stood in front of the mirror. The dress would have made even Adelaide blush. I laughed a little and swept my dark hair freely over my shoulders. Then, pulling my new velvet cloak around me, I slipped out into the hallway.

  The empty, dark mansion didn’t stall me in the slightest. The knowledge that Mr. Connelly’s spies could hear me or see me seemed laughable. He was an old fool. An idiot watchdog for a more powerful man.

  My own agonizing and fretting over the past few days seemed laughable as well. Why had I wasted so much time trying to talk to people? If I wanted something, all I had to do was ride out and take it.

  With a smile, I brought Álvar’s sky steed out from her fancy stable. The animal took me across the moon-bathed desert with breathtaking speed, only adding to the trembling feeling of power that coursed through me.

  Burning Mesa was mostly deserted, as one would imagine in the middle of the night. I rode right down the center of the street with my back straight and chin jutted out until I reached my destination: the Cooper Hotel. With a slap, I sent the sky steed galloping back to the Hacienda. I would be staying here from now on.

  The concierge sat dozin
g behind the counter. I breezed past him without so much as a blink, choosing what I wanted from the wall of hanging keys behind his head. I knew the room I needed. I’d heard Bobby mention it to Adelaide once. I knew where to find Landon.

  My heart started to beat loud and strong within me as I walked through the wallpapered hallway. The wood door marked 134 stood out like a beacon from the others. Smiling, I slipped the key into the latch. It clicked with a snap, and I pushed open the door.

  Landon sat up with a start, blinking sleep from his eyes. “Who’s there?”

  The lamp on the nightstand behind him still carried a dim glow. The longer I looked at it, the more the light beamed out, until it was a blast of white. Landon shielded his eyes with his arm.

  “Good evening, Landon,” I said, stepping into the center of his small room.

  “Maggie?”

  “Of course. Who’d you expect, Dora? I’m glad to see she didn’t stay.”

  He rubbed his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to pay a little call. Any crime in that?”

  He seemed more conscious now. “I thought you were mad at me.”

  “I was.” With a smile, I pulled the string of my cloak; it dropped to a velvet arc at my feet. “But I’ve decided to forgive you.”

  Landon’s eyes widened at the sight of me in the dress. I laughed and sat beside him on his bed. “You like it?”

  He swallowed hard. “Yes.”

  “I thought you might.”

  A tingling silence filled the air, and then I grabbed Landon by the collar of his pajamas.

  “If you like it so much, why don’t you put your hands on me?”

  He sounded shocked. “Maggie, I—”

  I didn’t give him time to finish. Instead, I pressed my lips to his and drank deeply. Landon hesitated for a moment but then surrendered to the desire I knew boiled inside him. His arms hooked around me. I climbed onto his lap, straddling him with my legs. His hot breath flashed my cheek as he kissed me hungrily.