Mosaic
Page 8
She marched toward one of the grim buildings. “Remember—stay close.”
Because apparently I was invisible if I did. And as we walked through the doors of the building and into a depressing lobby with a flickering fluorescent and garbage piled in the corners, I could see that she was right. The few folks we passed looked right through me.
Theresa slipped her hand into her pocket as we hiked up several flights of stairs, passing scruffy-looking residents on the way, most of whom smelled of stale cigarette smoke, old sweat, and booze. When we reached the floor she wanted, she peeked through the door and scanned the hallway, then motioned for me to follow. Once I was through, she pulled out yet another cube.
“What does that one make people see?”
“It doesn’t.” She reached a door and knocked, then set the cube next to the threshold. “It senses.”
“But you can already sense any natural nearby, can’t you?”
“It doesn’t sense magic. It senses intentions.”
I was staring down at the cube when the door opened to reveal a busty middle-aged woman in a stained housecoat, with a scarf wrapped around her head, which was covered in tiny curlers. Her penciled-on ebony eyebrows rose to the middle of her forehead when she saw the bewigged Theresa standing before her, and her brown-eyed gaze darted to me immediately after. She began to jabber at Theresa in Russian, waving her arms and backing into her apartment.
Theresa peeled off her glasses and strode confidently into the room. She pulled one of the vials full of white powder from her pocket and dangled it from her fingers, shaking it gently. The woman’s demeanor changed instantly. Her tense expression relaxed into a wide grin that revealed her yellow teeth, and she beckoned us past a sloppy bedroom and into another room the size of a closet, in which there were two chairs.
“Ludmilla’s a conduit,” said Theresa. “She used to whore for Volodya, who also used her for a lot of his transactions. But she developed a little addiction and got desperate. He caught her stealing and tossed her out.”
I glanced at the vial of powder between Theresa’s gloved fingers. “But I thought conduits were only affected by magic during a transaction?”
She gave me a hard look. “It’s not magic. It’s heroin.”
“We’re handing out deadly drugs to junkies?”
“We’re doing whatever we have to. Take a seat.”
Ludmilla was staring greedily at the vial, practically salivating. I couldn’t help but think Asa would be disgusted by this. But it wasn’t like I was about to walk away and leave him to his fate.
I sat next to Ludmilla. Theresa produced a fourth cube, one identical to the three she’d pulled out before. “And what’s that one?”
“The relic, of course. It’s strong enough to hold what you’ve got in there.”
I shifted on my seat, once again feeling the terrible ache of missing Asa, so much so that tears pricked my eyes. Here I was: squalid Russian housing project, drug-addicted conduit, and his bewigged mother, who was turning out to be one of the hardest people I’d ever met. I stared at my lap as Theresa handed the cube to Ludmilla and gave her instructions in what sounded like perfect Russian. My clammy palms slid along my thighs. I tried to coach myself—this time would be different, and I wouldn’t react to this magic like I had before. It’s not like there were any guys around anyway. This would be fine.
Theresa looked down at me. “Do your thing whenever you’re ready.” She leaned against the wall and folded her arms.
It was so not Asa that my heart squeezed. He always knew what I needed. He always cared enough to give it to me. I let out a shaky breath. And now I would do what he needed. I reached out and took Ludmilla’s moist hand.
Then I let the magic go. The desire flooded my body, making my chest heave and my nipples harden. Ludmilla’s hand tightened in mine and she moaned. Asa’s face hovered in my mind, the shadowed sight of him looking up at me as he knelt before me, my leg draped over his shoulder, his mouth hot against my tender skin. My head fell back as the fantasy grabbed hold, as it awakened every inch of my exhausted body.
A sharp poke in the arm brought me to the surface. I raised my head and looked around. Ludmilla was gone. Theresa stood in the doorway. Her honey-brown eyes were cold. “Do whatever you need to do. You have five minutes.”
I swallowed, my cheeks burning. “I—”
She held up her hand. “You were just moaning his name. I don’t need you to tell me any more than that.”
“Oh,” I said, my voice cracking.
“Five minutes,” she repeated, slightly more gently. Then her tone turned flinty again. “But when you’re through, you will walk out of this room and harden the hell up. You understand me?”
“Wait a second. Just because I was affected by the magic—”
“That’s not what I’m talking about. You’re all weepy and whiny and pathetic and wounded, and that’s the last thing my son needs.” Her nostrils flared, and she leaned forward. “He needs you to be hard. He needs you to be merciless. He needs you focused, strong, clever, and as tightly closed off as that vault you carry inside you. Do you understand me?”
“Yeah,” I whispered, hastily swiping at a tear on my cheek.
“Good.” She looked down at her watch. “Five minutes.” The door slammed, leaving me alone in the tiny room, inhaling the scent of Ludmilla—cloying perfume mixed with the funk of boiled potatoes. I leaned my head back against the wall and closed my eyes, once more aware of the throbbing low in my belly. Asa’s face rose in my mind again, and his body, hard and ready. This fantasy wasn’t a memory, but a wish. His hands closed around my wrists and pinned them to the bed, and I felt his weight on me, his heat inside me. He gave me his razor-edged smile, one that made my entire self cry out for him.
My fingers sank between my legs as I felt him start to move.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I sat at the wooden table, staring at the metal cube in the center. My head was caught in a vise of pain, and my mouth was a desert. I had been awake for well over twenty-four hours. We were in yet another hiding spot of Theresa’s, this one a drab apartment about twenty miles outside the city.
“I need to sleep,” I said, rubbing at my eyes.
“Then this is the perfect time to work. If you can do this when you’re completely thrashed, you’ll be able to do it anytime. And that’s exactly what you need.”
“Shouldn’t we start easy and work our way up?”
“Do you think Asa has time for that?”
I rested my face in my hands. She was relentless. “Go ahead, then.”
“Think of him.”
His crooked face, his wicked grin rose up, and my chest throbbed.
I heard the crack as the pain raced up my arm, delivered by the thin whip that she’d been carrying coiled around her wrist. When I whimpered, she leaned into my line of sight. “Stop being pathetic.”
“I didn’t say anything!”
She pointed at the cube in the middle of the table. “Emotion sensing. And not nearly as sensitive as Volodya.”
“You didn’t even tell me what to do,” I said, my voice rising.
“I wanted to see if you had even the slightest ability to manage this on your own.” I’d clearly failed. “Now. Why do you want to save Asa?”
Before I had the chance to open my mouth to answer, she’d cracked me across the forearm again. Two red welts stood out sharp on my freckled skin. “Cut it out!”
“No, Mattie. You cut it out. Volodya is a man who has no respect for life, no respect for love, no respect for anything except strength. And you’re weak.” She snapped the whip across my arm again.
“Ow!” I drew my arm against my chest.
She laughed, all bitterness. “Why do you want to trade this magic for Asa’s freedom?”
“Because he won’t survive if he’s in a cage.”
Crack! “Try again.”
“Because I want him back!” I need him.
Crack! This tim
e the whip landed across my shoulder blades, the pain barely muted even though I was clothed. I cried out and arched my back, as if that would protect me. “Stop it!”
“Apparently you need some motivation other than Asa’s safety.”
“What the hell, lady?”
Her sweat-sheened face was right in front of mine. “He’s gone now. He can’t help you.”
“As if I needed that reminder.”
She whipped me again, this time across my ribs, and I screamed. “Weak,” she snarled. “You’re sniveling with your desperation to get him back. If Volodya senses that, you will not walk away alive.”
“Stop telling me what I’m doing wrong, and tell me what to do,” I shouted.
“Stop loving him,” she yelled. She jabbed her finger at my chest. “Take whatever feelings you have for him and stomp them into nothing. Forget his face. Forget the sound of his voice. Remember only that you have a mission to complete.”
I hunched forward. “I can try. But . . .” My feelings for Asa had deep roots. They were wrapped around my heart like ivy. Tearing them loose would make me bleed. “It doesn’t really work like that for me. I’m not a ‘shut it down’ kind of person.”
My head jerked up at a motion in my periphery—Theresa had drawn back to whip me again. Fury driving me, I lunged forward and grabbed the cube on the table, then held it pressed tight to my chest. I wasn’t completely sure how to harness the power inside relics, but I’d had some hands-on experience with the original Sensilo relic. Before Theresa could stop me, I focused on her, bolting up from my seat as my chair crashed to the floor behind me. “When Asa was small, he had nightmares,” I snapped. “He was feeling magic around him, but he didn’t know what it was. You know what he told me he needed from you?”
“We’re not talking about me—”
“He wanted you to tell him it was okay,” I said, protectiveness welling up as I remembered his pain, how alone he’d felt. “That was all that little boy wanted. For his mom to tell him it was okay.”
Theresa’s sorrow and regret swelled against me, pushing like a hand against my breastbone. Theresa grimaced and folded her arms over her chest. I gave her a tight smile. “Not so easy when it comes to love, is it?”
“Not when you’re not ready for it,” she admitted, then sniffled and looked away. “I couldn’t tell him it was okay. I wouldn’t lie to him.” Her intense sadness fluttered against my body through the relic, allowing me to sense it but not absorb it.
“He knows that, Theresa. It’s never been okay for him.” I was surprised at how calm I sounded.
She tilted her head. “What’s happening inside you right now?”
I looked down at my own hands, clutching the emotion-sensing relic as her grief subsided. “I don’t know. I guess I just . . . I want to shield him. Protect him. He’d do the same for me if he were here.”
She held out her hand and wiggled her gloved fingers impatiently. After a moment of hesitation, I placed the cube on her palm. Her eyes met mine. “That’s something we can work with,” she said softly. Her fingers closed hard around the cube. “Now—do it again.”
I jolted awake to a sound so wretched that it made me tremble. My chest heaving, I slid out of the musty bed but kept the thin blanket wrapped around me.
In the room down the hall, there was a muffled thump. “I’ll do it,” Theresa wailed. “I’ll do it. I’ll do it. Just please don’t—” She screamed.
My heart hammering, I grabbed the only thing in the room that could be used as a weapon—a broom that had been left propped in the corner. With it clutched in my shaking hands, I peeked into the hallway. No lights were on, but there was enough light coming through the windows from the streetlamps that I could see.
“I’ll do anything you want,” she said, sobbing. “Anything you want. You know I love you. You feel it.”
I crept down the hallway, listening for another person’s voice but hearing only hers. When I reached her room, I poked my head around the corner. She was on her bed, writhing. She was all alone, and completely asleep.
“I’m sorry,” she said in a broken voice. “I’ll never do it again. But don’t make me wear it. Please.”
“Theresa?” I asked quietly.
She arched, and her face tilted toward the window. Her expression was so full of agony that I rushed forward. “Theresa! Wake up.” I dropped the broom and shook her shoulder.
She wrenched away from me with another cry, and her foot jabbed me square in the chest. I stumbled backward until I hit the wall. I regained my balance to find Asa’s mother crouching on her rumpled bed, panting and sweating like she’d just run a marathon, her brown eyes glittering with horror.
“You were having a nightmare,” I said, my hands up to defend myself in case she attacked me.
She regarded me for several long seconds, and then fell forward onto her hands and knees, her head hanging. “Did I hurt you?”
“No. I’m fine. Are you okay?”
She shook her head. “I told you. If Volodya has you, you will never be whole again.” She lowered her face to the sheets, gathering them around her head while her body heaved with silent sobs.
Hesitantly, I edged toward her. “You were dreaming about him?” Morbid curiosity trailed through my thoughts as I sat down on the end of her bed. “About how he hurt you.”
“Every night,” she mumbled, her shoulders shaking. “And every night he did the opposite, too.” She drew her arms out from the sheets, and for the first time I saw the scars around her forearms and wrists, rows of silvery circles.
My stomach turned. “Arkady told me Volodya loved you.” He’d made it sound as if the man had been broken when Theresa had left him. “I don’t understand—”
She raised her head, the lines around her mouth and eyes deep. “This is how Volodya loves,” she whispered, holding up her arms to give me a closer look. “He loves exquisitely, and completely, until he owns every drop of pleasure, every ounce of pain. He twists and kisses and hurts and heals until there is nothing you can hide. Until he breaks you.”
I pointed to her scars. “And he gave you those?”
“These are from the cuffs. His own invention. Agony and ecstasy, sometimes both at once.” She ran her fingertips over the scars. “He made me wear them. He even had a little remote that allowed him to trigger the release of magic into my system. So he always knew what I would be feeling, even when I wasn’t with him, even after I learned to hide my emotions from him. It took me years to figure out how to unlock them. Taking them off nearly killed me, but I couldn’t be a prisoner any longer.”
“How did you survive it?” Because whatever Theresa had gone through, she’d managed to function as a sensor in a boss’s lair for nearly two decades.
Her eyes met mine. “I told you—I didn’t,” she said in a flat voice. “He ate my heart and soul. This shell is all that’s left.” And then she pushed off the bed and trudged past me. A moment later the bathroom door closed. I went back to my room, nerves jangling, knowing sleep was out of my reach. In the morning, I was going to seek an audience with Volodya himself. I was going to offer him a deal—the relic for Asa.
And I was going to pray that Asa would still have his soul when I found him.
“Do it again,” Theresa said, leaning over the table. The emotion-sensing cube was on her palm. “I don’t want to feel the tiniest twinge from you.”
I took a deep breath, focusing. I’d had this feeling so many times. Fierce and hard and heavy. It was the steel in my muscles when I needed to fight for Asa, like the night Daeng had shot him in Thailand. It was the power in my blood when I needed to sacrifice for him, like the time I’d faced Reza and taken the full measure of his pain magic, just to give Asa time to do what he needed to do. Now the bars around my heart held my love safe inside instead of refusing to let it out.
Good thing you’re brave as hell and stronger than anyone I’ve ever met, Asa had said to me. He’d believed it. He’d trusted me.
Theresa looked down at the relic and nodded. “Hopefully it will be enough. I have heard from the priests that Volodya is desperate for capital, and the magic in that Ekstazo relic is worth a great deal of money.” She sighed. “But so is my son.”
I bowed my head as the terror and fear inside me beat against my shield of determination. “He’s not going to trade Asa for that relic. He could use Asa to steal it back, or others that are just as valuable.” I said it slowly, focused on keeping my own energy level on doing what was necessary.
Theresa set the relic on the table. “No, he probably won’t. But at the very least, to string you along, he will let you see him. He will want to sense whether it cracks you, and you must make very sure it doesn’t. Because then you will never get Asa back.”
I swallowed. “Honestly, I don’t know . . .”
“Stay hard,” Theresa said, her voice as biting as her whip. “Remember that you are the wall between Asa and everything that hurts him. You must not crumble.”
I closed my eyes. “I won’t.”
“Mattie, if we know where Volodya is keeping him, who is guarding him, and what condition he’s in, then we can make a plan to get him out. All the better if we can lure the pair of them out of the stronghold. This is only the beginning.”
“What’s keeping Volodya from killing me?” I asked. “I won’t have magic inside me. I have nothing he wants.”
“If you’re there acting as an agent from another boss, Volodya won’t touch you. Not right then, at least, when you’re in his official headquarters.”
“But I’m not acting as an agent of another boss.”
She smiled. “Yes, you are. I have many contacts, though none of them know who I really am. Last night after you went to bed, I reached out, and I got a message through. Botwright was thrilled to hear that her magic is still in the wind, and eager to have it back, but she was willing to deal. Because she is most eager to stick it to Volodya. She is waiting to hear of the outcome of this meeting, but in the meantime has dispatched an agent to come retrieve the magic.”