Mosaic

by Fine, Sarah

  I frowned. “What?”

  “Keenan wants us to get the Essentialis Magia pages, too. They might contain information about how to find the original Knedas relic.”

  “But Jack . . .” I looked in the direction Volodya had gone. “He’s already struggling, but he’s doing this for a bunch of good reasons.”

  “Do you want to get Asa back or not?”

  “I do. But so does Volodya.”

  “Don’t tell me you feel sorry for the guy. He might be helping you now, Mattie, but you can’t forget what he is.”

  “I know,” I murmured.

  “Then you need to take full advantage of this situation. Volodya is weak. He knows it. So does everyone else. Keeping these pages won’t save him.”

  But helping his son might. “That’s not the only thing he cares about.”

  “So again I’ll ask—do you want Asa back? Because our firepower is probably the only thing that’s gonna ensure it happens. Volodya can’t outwit or outplay Frank Brindle. When he brings his people to the game, serious shit is going to go down. I saw Volodya’s crew as I walked in. They look like a bunch of strays. How are they gonna stop people like Brindle, Reza, Asa? Or anyone else Brindle brings in?”

  “What if we just went to Volodya and told him what Keenan wants?”

  Jack snorted. “Volodya’s too proud. It would also blow my cover.”

  “But he might—”

  “Mattie. Trust me. No boss is going to cooperate with the Headsmen. It’s just part of their code.” He took in the doubting look on my face. “Look—you need us. And if you want us, you’re gonna play by our rules. Don’t get all soft on the old man. He’s already dead in the water. And trust me, he’s earned all the pain he’s got coming. Let him play his part.”

  My heart squeezed. Now I fight for something more than my wealth, more than my empire. The look on Volodya’s face had been hopeful and proud. He was fighting for redemption. For his stolen family.

  But I was fighting for Asa. First and foremost. “Okay,” I murmured. “I’ll play by your rules.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  I shivered a little as I walked into the antiseptic space that served as Volodya’s juicing operation. It was a white-tiled room with rows of hospital beds and reclining chairs, each with a metal stand next to it, upon which was positioned a rectangular panel strung with a tangle of tubing. Plasma machines. Theresa was sitting on a reclining chair, staring at the wall as a portly man removed a needle from her arm and bandaged her up. But when he reached for the clear bag of plasma now hanging from the machine, her hand closed over his forearm. “It’s mine, Dr. Teplov.”

  “But—”

  “It’s mine,” she said, showing her teeth. “Go whine to Volodya if you have a problem with me. He and I have an agreement. Trust me—he will not be happy if you break it.”

  Dr. Teplov put his hands up and waddled into a back room. I walked forward as Theresa winced and rolled down her sleeve over the bandage. “I’m surprised that you were willing to shed even a drop of your blood here,” I said.

  She looked over at me. “Sometimes it’s more useful on the outside.” She glanced over at the plasma and swung her legs to the floor. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

  “I’ve spent the last five days getting ready.” I knew every inch of the auction venue. Every side hallway and stairway and exit. I knew the schedule. I knew the players. “Asa’s on the guest list.”

  “I know. Volodya showed me. Brindle is bringing Reza as well.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t imagine how Asa can be close to him.”

  She sighed. “Mattie, he probably has Ekstazo juice running through his veins twenty-four/seven. It’s likely he’s numb to all of it.” She met my eyes. “And to everything.”

  I looked away. “I know.”

  “But because of the rules allowing only three people for every potential buyer, at least you know that it’s only Asa, Reza, and Brindle. It’ll be the best chance any of us will have to get him back.”

  “And there are plenty of other bosses there to keep them busy.”

  “Plenty of bosses to try to get ahold of you, if they figure out what you’ve got on board.” Theresa stood up and walked over to the plasma machine, where she disconnected the bag of clear fluid from its tubing. “You have to protect yourself.”

  “I have plenty of bodyguards,” I said, rolling my eyes. Sambor and Masha were both Ekstazos, capable of rendering nearly any attacker all loose and giddy in a matter of seconds. The only problem was that they were so wrapped up in their own relationship drama that they weren’t always at their most attentive. Ilya was a relatively powerful Knedas, but he was also irritable and distracted if he couldn’t smoke a cigarette every fifteen minutes. Olga couldn’t speak English and seemed in her own world half the time. Only Daniil and Zoya seemed on the ball, but both of them were jumpy about what they were about to face—so much so that Daniil seemed to have temporarily sidelined his plans for revenge in favor of making sure his boss’s empire survived the week.

  “They do have serious juice,” said Theresa. “They just don’t always know what to do with it.” She glanced at my chest. “You should take that off,” she said quietly.

  I looked down at the tiny vial of sand and magic. “Oh.” I’d been wearing it nonstop, and now it just felt like a part of me. “I guess I should.”

  “It’s probably how he tracked you in New York.”

  My hand closed around it. “I was stupid not to think about that.” I couldn’t make myself lift the thin chain over my head, though. “I’ll put it away later.”

  She gave me a pitying look. “You might have been better off marrying my other son.”

  I blinked at her. “Wow.”

  She shrugged. “We are not easy to love. And it isn’t easy for us to love. Not in this world. Maybe not in any world.”

  “Just because you sense magic?”

  “It changes how you think, Mattie. It shapes who you are. Imagine living in a world that hurts you every day, that pries away your sanity. It’s like . . . being allergic to air, in a way. There’s no way you can avoid it. There’s no way you can protect yourself from it completely.”

  “I can’t know what it feels like, not really, but I do understand that, Theresa.”

  She nodded. “Life becomes about survival, though. Love is a luxury. And sometimes it hurts too much to endure.”

  “You’re talking about yourself. But I’m not magical. It doesn’t hurt Asa to be with me.” I shook off memories of this past spring, when the Strikon splinter inside me had caused us both such agony. “Not when I’m whole, that is.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” she murmured. “But when you learn to be wary of all pain, all pleasure, it’s difficult to trust yourself with either. You learn to avoid all of it.”

  Daeng, the twisted sensor who’d tried to kill me and Asa in Atlanta, had said something similar—that he and Asa could never really trust themselves when it came to pleasure. “Right now, all I care about is freeing him and then helping him get healthy again.”

  “That’s good,” she said. “And maybe it will be all right.”

  She sounded so doubtful that my fists clenched. “You survived for a lot longer than he has,” I said, unable to contain the frustration in my tone. “You were with Volodya for years. Asa’s been with Brindle for less than a month.”

  Her honey-brown eyes were full of some unreadable emotion. “Volodya showed me the surveillance photos. I saw the collar they put on Asa. It probably has probes embedded in his skin, Mattie. Providing a constant drip of Ekstazo magic. Maybe a constant infusion of Knedas as well. Whatever they need him to do and believe.”

  “So we’ll need to get that off him.”

  “If we can. Some of them have kill switches. Fail-safes to prevent unauthorized removal.”

  “What the heck does that mean?”

  “It might do more damage than good to simply pull it off, and that’s kind of the p
oint.”

  My stomach turned. “It’s so cruel,” I whispered.

  “He’s a commodity,” she said sadly. “We all are.”

  “You survived it, though. And you managed to get away.”

  “For me it was different.” She gave me a regretful smile. “Only my heart held me back. But even then, my need to survive won out.”

  “What will you do when this is over?”

  She wrapped her arms around her middle. “Run.”

  “Is it hard, being back?”

  “It’s murder,” she whispered. “And magic. Both at the same time.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “No one ever has. And in the end we will probably kill each other. But not before we rescue our son.” She took the bag of plasma over to a table covered in vials and syringes, where she drew a small amount of liquid from the bag and injected it into a little test tube, which she sealed up. Next, she slipped the tube into a gray sleeve, closed the top, and brought it back to me. “This is for you. If you keep it in the sleeve, it’s almost undetectable.”

  I let her lay the gift on my outstretched palm. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

  “Just keep it on hand in case of emergencies,” she said. “Hold the outside if you need to sense. Open it up if you need someone else to.”

  “Thanks.”

  “It’s all I can give you. I’ll be watching as the event happens, but you won’t see me. Volodya has an earpiece for you so that you can hear my voice and relay my observations to the security team. I’ll stay until everyone’s in, and then I need to get away from here.”

  “Because it’s too painful?”

  She nodded. “And because I need to stay dead. I don’t want to be scooped up. It will be hard enough to escape Volodya one more time. I don’t want to be hunted by all the other bosses, too.” She chuckled. “Volodya is actually paranoid about this. In his own twisted way, he wants to keep me safe.”

  “Are you worried he’ll be so focused on protecting you that he’ll forget everything else?”

  “Sometimes his emotions get the best of him,” she said. “And sometimes others’ do as well. But he won’t be visible much, either. He presents a fairly tempting target for Knedas ambush. A weak boss with a massive collection of valuable relics and artifacts . . . He needs to focus his resources on protecting you, not himself and not me.”

  I fought off the feeling of loneliness that had been eating at me for days, then straightened my shoulders. “Okay, that’s fine. I’ll relay your observations, and I’ll deal with whatever happens.”

  “We’ll know more about what Brindle might be planning after tonight. But we have some idea when he’ll try to take the pages.”

  “Daniil said that was what we were meeting about this afternoon.”

  “Get going then,” she said, turning away.

  I put my hand out to stop her. “I’m grateful that you came back, Theresa. I saw how scared you were of Volodya discovering that Asa was his son and how terrified you were about seeing him again. I know it took a lot of courage to show up like you did.”

  She gave me a pained smile. “I never protected Asa like I should have,” she said in a strained voice. “I didn’t know how. And now . . . I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do everything I could to save him. No matter what it costs. And I know you will, too.” She leaned forward, her eyes shining with sudden tears. “That means getting him away from his father, Mattie. And probably from me, too. Our love could destroy him. Promise me you’ll take him away from this place. Promise me you will care for him.”

  “No matter what it costs,” I said quietly. “No matter what.”

  “Brindle and his entourage are staying at the National,” Zoya announced as we gathered outside the entrance of a skyscraper across the river from Tower 2000. “He’ll be here tomorrow afternoon.” She gestured up at the massive building looming above us. “And this is where we’ll do our thing.”

  The financial center of Moscow was considered an utter business failure, apparently, but as I looked up at the reflective surface of the double helix–shaped building, it looked pretty nice to me. Through his connections with local politicians and businesspeople, Volodya had marked out his territory. He might have been fading on the international scene, but he was still extraordinarily powerful within Moscow, and the location of the auction was meant to show it.

  Daniil swept his arm toward eight men who were casually dressed in jeans and leather jackets that barely concealed the weapons bulging at their hips and calves. “This group will manage security at the door. Each player must present the invitation, which will be coded to their retinas.” One of the armed men pulled a handheld scanner from his coat and waved it at us. “We have other scanners in the auction room itself and at the entrance to the vault where the artifacts will be stored.”

  We followed Daniil through the entrance of the tower. Another two tough guys were inside near a table, with a long, flat case. Daniil opened it, revealing a few dozen silver cuffs. “Each of you will wear one of these.” He started handing them out. “They won’t protect you from everything, but most Knedas and Ekstazo magic will be disrupted. Not the most comfortable thing to wear, but better to have a clear head, yes?”

  He raised his eyebrows as he handed me one, and I nodded. These were exactly what the Headsmen wore, and Jack looked smug as he watched Daniil passing them out. I wondered if these were a plant—and if they’d stop working as the Headsmen raided the facility. Jack himself didn’t take one—no need. I turned the cuff over in my hand, eyeing the little nodes that studded the inside of it.

  Daniil continued. “Apart from Mr. Winchester, the only ones who won’t wear them are Sambor, Masha, Ilya, Olga, Zoya, and myself. We need to be ready to use our own magic, which is much harder when you’re being zapped every thirty seconds.” Daniil’s shoulders were straight and his steps were crisp, almost military, as he marched toward a set of double doors. It was so clear that he was trying to fill his father’s shoes as Volodya’s right hand—and he probably badly needed the distraction from his grief. “Tomorrow night will be the cocktail party and viewing, just a preview to give all the potential buyers a look at the items that will be auctioned the next day. We want them all to have a chance to explore this space.” He gave me a grim smile. “It’s when they’ll have a chance to plan and scheme. And we’ll be watching.” He led us through the doors and into a ballroom, where numerous glass cases were being arranged down the center of the room and around the perimeter of the space.

  At the very back of the room was a raised dais, upon which another glass display case was being placed. “Is that where the pages will be?” I asked.

  Daniil nodded. “And through there is the exit that leads to an excellent escape route.” He pointed to a door just behind the display case. Through the window set into its surface, I could see a long hallway lined with doors.

  “Bullshit,” Jack muttered.

  Daniil grinned. “You see something different, Mr. Winchester?”

  “Unless there’s another door in that room I’m looking at, I’m thinking what you’ve got there is a holding cell.”

  “It’s a glamour?” I asked. When Daniil nodded, I shook my head. “You’re counting on all these guests not seeing through it?”

  Ilya muttered something to Olga, who clucked her tongue and chuckled before making a comment in Russian. “She says it would take a lot more than your little bracelet for you to see the truth,” he translated.

  “Yeah, but there are ways to see through glamours without these cuffs,” I said, holding mine up. “People in pain wouldn’t be fooled.”

  Sambor and Masha stepped forward. “We’re here to make sure everyone is feeling very nice,” Sambor said. “Especially anyone who approaches this door.”

  “I’ll be able to sense their intentions,” said Zoya. “We work together.”

  “And Mattie, if anyone tries to grab you, all you must do is make it back there, all right?
” said Daniil. “The room is the safest in the building once its security measures are triggered, and we’ll be watching it at all times.”

  “Why would they try to grab her?” asked Sambor.

  “Mattie has . . . knowledge. And Brindle is always very curious.”

  I glanced at Jack. The plan sounded okay, but far from foolproof. “So tomorrow you’ll get a sense of who wants to steal what, and you’re showing them a false escape route. If they plan to get out that way, with me or with any of the artifacts, they end up running into a trap.”

  “Exactly,” said Daniil. “Meanwhile, we have people at the National. They will determine where Frank Brindle is keeping this mosaic panel the boss wants.”

  “It’s going to be guarded,” said Jack.

  “And tomorrow we’ll figure out how,” said Ilya, fluttering his nicotine-stained fingers. “While you all are having your cocktails, I’ll be at the hotel with the housecleaning staff.”

  Daniil walked forward and handed me an earpiece. “The sensor will convey information to you using this, Mattie. All you have to do is let someone know what she’s saying.”

  “Who is this sensor, exactly?” asked Masha. “Why is this American the only one who talks to her? Why haven’t we met her?”

  “Because that is the way Volodya wants it,” Daniil said, his jaw hard.

  Sambor and Masha gave each other a look, then turned their suspicious gazes on me.

  Jack shifted and took half a step in front of me. “Are we done here?”

  “Photographs of the known players are in the surveillance-camera room, out the door and to the left,” said Daniil. “Memorize their faces. Focus particular attention on Frank Brindle and his two agents. The sensor—Asa Ward—they are likely to use him as the thief, and he is also the individual Volodya wants to apprehend. But from all the intelligence we have on him, it will not be easy.” His jaw clenched, his eyes glittering with hatred.

  I nodded, eager to keep the conversation going. “You have to be very careful of concealed weapons with him.”