Mosaic

by Sarah Fine

  “Myron?”

  “Yes, I think that’s the name I was given.”

  My hope grew. “He did say that she was interested in hiring Asa.”

  Theresa nodded. “See? You can go in there knowing you have the strength of the London boss behind you.”

  “All right. Let’s get this done.” I stood up and reached for my coat. Theresa had lent me some of her clothes, just a pair of khaki pants and a plain shirt, which were a little long through the sleeves and legs but otherwise fit okay. I pushed down the excitement and fear that were gnawing on my calm. If all went well, I’d be seeing Asa soon.

  Theresa and I set out, her in her lead suit, wearing her old-man glamour, while I slipped along invisibly in her wake. She took me as far as she was willing to go, and I didn’t argue when she peeled off. No good-bye, no good luck, no thank you for trying to save my son. I could almost see the smoke trail she left behind.

  I didn’t take it personally. After witnessing her nightmares the night before, after taking a good look at those scars, I couldn’t stomach the thought of Volodya getting hold of her again. I still wasn’t sure I actually liked the woman, but it was so obvious that whatever he’d done to her in the past, the memories had never let her go. I couldn’t blame her for needing to stay distant and safe, physically at least.

  I walked along the street toward the city center, keeping my hand in my pocket, wrapped around the sensing relic that was projecting my intention to meet with Volodya outward for his agents to pick up. The boss’s lair was located in Moscow City, the supposed financial center of the city. But Theresa had told me it was a disaster of planning and unjustified hope, a cluster of dark, half-empty skyscrapers.

  Volodya had nestled himself deep in the bowels of this urban monster in 2001, around the time the first building was officially completed, and had made it his. His lair sat on the opposite bank of the Moscow River—the same one I’d thought I’d plunged into thanks to Theresa’s glamour—connected to the rest of Moscow City via a pedestrian bridge that Volodya controlled.

  To get there, I tromped along a wide avenue. I couldn’t read the street signs, so I was following landmarks Theresa had given me, waiting for my escort to arrive.

  And arrive they did, slipping quietly out of a corner café to walk on either side of me. Just two young men, smoking cigarettes and talking back and forth over my head before one of them said, in thickly accented English, “And what makes you think the Volodya will meet with you?”

  “I have something he wants very badly,” I said calmly. Theresa was going to hold the magic until after I’d met with the boss, just in case Myron was in a double-crossing mood. If, by some miracle, Volodya was willing to let Asa go, we were just going to hand it over to Volodya quickly and disappear before Myron arrived. Because Botwright didn’t actually know who’d contacted her—Theresa’s offer had run through numerous intermediaries, both human and technological—she was unlikely to come directly after us.

  “And what do you have that he wants?” inquired the guy on my other side.

  “The magic that was stolen from him on the bridge.”

  I glanced over to see the first young man pull his phone from his pocket. It really was that easy. A few minutes later, after a muttered, anxious-sounding conversation with whoever was on the other end of the line, he turned to me and said, “He will see you.” He looked down at me with a mixture of puzzlement and what might have been awe.

  The escorts walked beside me for the next few blocks, until we reached a square containing a massive statue of a sword-wielding man on horseback. And just beyond him lay a wide brick sidewalk leading directly to a tall, round-walled building with a blue mirrored facade. Tower 2000. Volodya’s lair. One of the escorts put out his hand. “The relic you carry. Hand it over.”

  I pulled it out of my pocket—just a plastic subway card—and gave it to him.

  The other guy held out a cell phone, running it up and down a few inches away from my body. “She has nothing else.”

  They opened the doors to let me into the building.

  I lifted my chin and strode inside, then followed one of my escorts onto an elevator while the other headed back outside. Instead of pushing a button for one of the top floors, the guy pushed one for a lower floor—apparently the building had several underground levels. Figures, I thought. Monsters live underground.

  The doors slid open to reveal what appeared to be a cement bunker. “You’ll go through there,” one of my escorts said, pointing to a reinforced steel door.

  I glanced to either side of me, surprised. The wide lobby was furnished only with metal tables and chairs and a few threadbare couches. Water stains spotted the ceiling, and paint peeled from the walls. There were a half-dozen people in the room, black clad and sharp eyed, some of them playing cards at one of the tables. I guessed they were probably Volodya’s security team, but they were young, and all of them gave off the same on-edge vibe that Pavel, Elena, and Grigory had when they picked me up. They clearly weren’t surprised by my arrival. None of them moved.

  My toes curled into the wire bristles I had insisted Theresa help me fit into my boots. She used other methods to resist Knedas magic, but when I told her this was how Asa did it, she smiled approvingly and found what I needed. Now I was almost wincing from the pain.

  One of the cardplayers, a blond woman, must have been able to sense my discomfort—or my intention to fight any Knedas magic that came my way. “We will not try to influence you,” she called. “We only act on Volodya’s orders.”

  When we reached the metal door, I looked over my shoulder at the escort who had brought me this far. “Are you coming?”

  He shook his head. “He only sees people alone.”

  “But aren’t you supposed to protect him?”

  He looked baffled. “From you? Do you know the Volodya?”

  I tried not to cringe. “I just figured he’d have bodyguards or advisers or something.”

  “Our master makes his own decisions. We only carry them out.” He gave me a brittle smile. “Because if we do not, it is bad.” He exchanged nervous glances with the blonde at the table, and their expressions served only to crank the fear inside me a little tighter. I focused on that and not the feelings I was trying to shield as my young escort’s phone buzzed.

  He flinched but then straightened, clearly trying to look authoritative. “The Volodya is ready for you.”

  I swallowed hard as the steel door opened, hoping I was ready for him.

  CHAPTER NINE

  I walked on plush carpet into a dimly lit room. It was cavernous and yet startling in its silence. And as the door clanked shut behind me, the quiet became close. Suffocating.

  My heartbeat was loud in my ears as I took a few more steps into the space, blinking as I tried to adjust to the darkness. The only source of light was a small artificial fireplace set into the far wall, fake flames undulating orange and yellow and red. Along the walls there were a few spindly-legged wooden side tables, upon which sat some carved animal figurines and other random objects, including a broken clay pot and a stack of dog-eared books. A pair of crossed swords, lethal blades thick and curved, was the only wall decoration. But my gaze skated over all of that, seeking the true danger.

  Then a tiny flame flared to life in a corner of the room, in a dark nook blocked from the scant light of the fireplace. It went out quickly, leaving only the fleeting amber glow from the tip of a cigarette. Behind it lurked a dense shadow in the almost-total darkness, a lean silhouette behind swirls of smoke.

  “Welcome,” said the shadow.

  “Thank you for seeing me,” I said, forcing myself to take a few measured steps closer. I squinted into the darkness, trying to make out his features. But as he took another drag on his cigarette, all I could make out of Volodya were long fingers and the gray glint of his eyes.

  “You are afraid.” His voice was completely calm. Accented and rough. Seductive, even. Which only made it scarier.

&nbs
p; “Of course I am,” I admitted. “I’m unarmed, I’m in a boss’s heavily guarded headquarters, and I don’t want to die. I’m not stupid.” Theresa had told me that nothing on earth could keep Volodya from sensing some of my emotions, so I might as well own up to them immediately.

  “But it is worth it for you to be here. You are determined.”

  “Obviously.”

  He scoffed, sounding vaguely amused. “And you are prepared.”

  “Because I respect you.”

  “Charming,” he said.

  I took a big step forward but was still maybe fifteen feet from him. The distance and shadows were playing with me. All I could picture was a giant spider watching me from its web. I needed to see Volodya’s face, to know I was dealing with a person and not a monster. So I held out my hand, thinking he would emerge from the darkness to shake it. “Nice to meet you,” I offered.

  “Oh, you don’t want to do that, little girl.”

  My hand dropped to my side, and I wiped my clammy palm on my pants. “I’m here to make a deal.”

  For a moment, he simply regarded me while he took another long drag. Then he abruptly mashed out the cigarette and shot to his feet. “You dare to steal something from me,” he shouted, so loud it made me jump. “And now you demand I pay for it?”

  He was still hidden in the shadows, but I could see the way he moved, smooth and coiled, looking like he was about to strike.

  “N-not me—Botwright!” Fighting the temptation to run back to the door and beg to be let out, I told him the story of what had happened on the bridge, reminding myself that since Theresa was the one who had contacted the English boss, she was sort of acting on Botwright’s behalf anyway. I wasn’t lying. “She wasn’t willing to let you show up and steal it away from her territory without showing you she could do it, too. But she wants to negotiate.”

  His laugh was hard-edged but somehow rueful. “Conniving vixen that she is.” He slowly sank back into the chair he’d been sitting in, and my heart started to beat again.

  “Look, I’m just the middlewoman here. I’m just stating her terms.”

  “Poor little reliquary. You would like me to believe that, wouldn’t you?”

  “I’m not asking for pity,” I said calmly.

  “Perhaps because you have heard I never offer it.”

  Frustration pulsed inside me. “Look, I know you’re probably savoring my fear and all that, but maybe we could multitask? I’m here to discuss business.”

  Volodya chuckled, a dry rustle in the darkness. “You intrigue me.”

  “I’m flattered.”

  “No you’re not.”

  Great. More cat-and-mouse games.

  “Oh, that’s delicious. Contempt and anger and terror entwined. So potent.” He shifted in his chair. “You know, I hear you are a very powerful reliquary.” He gestured at my body, long fingers slipping in and out of the shadows. “And it would appear deception is in your DNA. Most people would never suspect such a soft exterior concealed a core of iron. But I . . . I can feel it.”

  I didn’t know whether he was sensing my reliquary ability or my determination to protect the man I loved—but I seized on it. “That’s what I’m told. It’s a vault.”

  “And conceals many secrets, not all of them magical. How delicious it would be to uncover them all.”

  I put out my hand, as if that were going to stop him. “That’s not really why we’re here today, right? Besides, mystery has got to be kind of fun, especially for a man who is impossible to fool.”

  “Now you flatter me. And how I wish that were true.” For a moment, he bowed his head, seeming to shrink before my eyes. Then he threw his shoulders back, a predator once again. “But as you say, mystery can be pleasurable. Let us discuss your purpose here. Sit down.” He pointed toward a pair of club chairs near one of the side tables but didn’t rise to take one.

  Not wanting to offend him—and feeling glad that he wasn’t moving any closer—I sat down, remaining on the edge of my seat.

  He lit another cigarette, and for a moment I caught a glimpse of hollow cheeks and a long nose before he sank into darkness again. “Now,” he said, exhaling a puff of smoke. “You are carrying magic that belongs to me. I want it back.”

  “And I’d like to give it to you. But I’m not carrying it anymore.”

  He went very still. “This is the truth.”

  “One of Botwright’s agents helped me off-load it after she kidnapped me on the bridge. She has it. But she’s open to a trade.”

  “Assuming I don’t simply track this agent down and bleed her to death while I savor her pain, what would she like in return?”

  The protective shield over my love turned steely. “Asa Ward.”

  Ash slipped from the tip of Volodya’s cigarette and landed on his pant leg, but he didn’t move to brush it off. “The thief,” he said quietly.

  “Botwright knows you took him in London. She was about to engage his services on a retrieval mission, and although the price is steep, she’s willing to give you your magic back if you release him.”

  “She was going to engage Mr. Ward’s services?” He chuckled, bitter and sharp. “This sounds unlikely to me, from what I have heard of him. Which is not much, I admit, though his name has come to my attention on a few occasions over the last several years.”

  His voice had turned hard. Cruel. I wondered if he knew that Asa was the one who’d run over Arkady in Virginia. Had Volodya decided to get revenge for that as well?

  “I guess he’s made a name for himself,” I said quickly. “I’ve worked with him a few times, obviously. He’s good, but this magic you’re seeking—I’ve worked with it, too. It’s amazing.”

  “Ah, what do you Americans call this? The sales pitch,” he said.

  “Again, I’m just the messenger.”

  “You think it is a good trade. The thief for my magic.”

  “I think it’s a great deal for you. Your brothel business could crush any competitors. You’d have customers lining up outside, begging you to take their money. I’ve carried that magic.” I gave him a knowing smile. “I know what it can do.”

  “Do you now?” he murmured. After several beats of agonizing silence, he continued. “Very well, then. You may tell Botwright that I accept her offer.”

  “Really?” I sounded too relieved and clamped my lips shut.

  Volodya slowly rose from his chair, but he didn’t step into the light. “You bring me this magic. Tonight. And I will give you what you want.”

  I thought back to what Theresa had said about trying to get Asa on neutral ground. “Um . . . no offense, but I think Botwright—and I—would feel more comfortable if we did our exchange in a place that isn’t your heavily guarded stronghold. It’s just fair, you know?”

  I tried not to fidget as the silence stretched. How badly did he want his stolen magic? Suddenly I was glad I didn’t have it inside me, glad he had no reason to tie me down and take it by force. If it hadn’t been for Theresa, that’s probably what would have happened next. But instead—

  “Very well. Tell Botwright that I will personally deliver Mr. Ward to my suite at the Savoy. You will bring my magic, and I will let Mr. Ward leave with you.”

  “Can I see him now, before I leave to get the magic?” I asked. “She wants to know he’s . . . whole.”

  Volodya waved me toward the door, pale smoke billowing from the shadows as he exhaled. “The thief is completely intact. But unfortunately, he is not here in the city. My people took him straight to a safe house in Yaroslavl. I can have him returned to Moscow tonight. I have no doubt he will be relieved to know someone finds him of some value.” His words simultaneously raised my hope and sent a chill down my spine, as did the way he was watching my reaction to them.

  “Um, okay. What time?”

  “Let’s say eleven. I have one condition, however.”

  “Which is?”

  “You deliver the magic. And you do so alone.”

  There
was something suggestive in his tone that made my stomach clench. But I was so eager to keep him happy—and to take a step closer to freeing Asa—that I pushed past it. “I can do that.”

  Now that he’d agreed to leave this creepy hidey-hole of his, even if he had no intention of letting me leave with Asa, Theresa and I could make a plan. We had the element of surprise. I would have Asa back tonight. My happiness was beating against the shield like a battering ram, drowning out my more protective thoughts. I needed to get out of there. My steps quickened as I headed to the door.

  “See you tonight, dear,” he called after me. “I am eager to have my magic back. Just as eager as you are to have Mr. Ward.”

  I paused just as I reached the metal door. “Botwright, you mean. Botwright is eager to have him.”

  His chuckle was like a cold fingertip drawn down my spine. “As you say. Tell the staff at the Savoy that you have a meeting with me. They will know what to do.”

  “Mention your name. Got it.” Then I turned and burst through the metal door without a backward glance, fighting to hide the grin that was trying to force its way onto my face. I exited the hallway to find one of the escorts waiting, his phone to his ear.

  “Da,” he said before ending the call and looking at me. “You are free to go.”

  He took me up the elevator and held the front door of Tower 2000 open for me. I stepped into the frigid midmorning air, my heart exploding with joy.

  I wasn’t stupid. I knew so many things could go wrong. But hope had me in its teeth, and so did love.

  With any luck, in about twelve hours, Asa and I would be together again.

  CHAPTER TEN

  I screamed as the flames billowed around me, licking blistering streaks along my arms and stomach, as the searing air invaded my lungs. I couldn’t conquer the terror.