Mosaic

by Sarah Fine

  He glared at Asa’s silhouette as it slid over the fence and jumped to the ground on the other side, where it staggered away. “Was he the one?”

  I swallowed and looked away. “No.”

  “Liar,” Daniil said softly. “At least now I know who to kill.”

  “You can’t.”

  “Because he is who we are trying to save? He is the one, isn’t he? Asa Ward. I know his face.”

  Probably because he resembled his father. “He’s not in his right mind. He’s under Brindle’s control.” I climbed back into the train and limped toward Daniil. “And we need to get to the airport and under Volodya’s protection right the hell now.”

  Daniil chuckled. “I don’t think he’s coming back. Did you see how sensitive he was to my magic?”

  I nodded. “It won’t stop him, though.”

  “Why? What aren’t you telling me?”

  I put my hand over my heart. “Apparently that mosaic they took from us is useless without what I’m carrying. Asa said I have the key and Brindle wants it back.”

  I reached up and banged on the door of the driver’s cab twice. The doors closed, and the train jerked into motion again. I leaned against the wall and watched Asa’s silhouette become one with the darkness.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Daniil and I touched down in Moscow late the next night, though it felt much earlier. I had caught a few hours of sleep on the flight, but was awakened a few times by jolts of agony as Daniil relived seeing Kira’s body in his nightmares. I found myself wishing I was an Ekstazo, that I could ease his pain with a simple touch. But I knew it wasn’t as simple as that. His heart had been shattered. It was obvious he had truly loved her, and his grief was black and bitter and deep. When he was awake, he stared straight ahead, his fists clenching and unclenching, and I just knew he was picturing making Asa scream.

  I honestly couldn’t blame him.

  However they were controlling Asa, they’d done an amazing job. There had been no hesitation as he tried to capture me, no humanity in his voice, and no warmth in his gaze—no eye contact at all, actually. He was the perfect soldier. Except . . . he was slower. Unsteady. And I was willing to bet that before they’d gotten him caged, he’d done something desperate. There were those wounds on his arms. And now the bandage around his throat. What had he done? Had he tried to kill himself? The thought nearly took me out. But it only made me more determined.

  I needed every ounce of that determination once we got back to Volodya’s headquarters.

  We were greeted at the entrance of Tower 2000 by a slender young woman with fine blond hair and heavy eyeliner, the same one who’d sensed my intentions the first time I’d entered Volodya’s lair. She was wringing her hands as she approached us. She started to speak in Russian, but Daniil waved his hand, wearily. “English, Zoya. For the reliquary.” He turned to me. “Mattie, this is my sister, Zoya.”

  She acknowledged me with a curt nod before turning back to my Strikon partner. “He wants to see you first, Daniil.”

  I relaxed a little, because this was what I wanted—Daniil to bring me back into the fold. But Daniil frowned at her. “What’s wrong?”

  “The Volodya is having one of his dark times.”

  Daniil paled. “How bad?”

  “Oksana was screaming for nearly an hour before he let her go,” she said in a choked voice. “I just took her back to her room. She’s . . .”

  My stomach clenched. “She’s what? What did he do to her?”

  Daniil said, “When our Volodya is in one of his dark moods, he does some rather dark things.”

  “Darker than usual?” My hand strayed to my throat. The bruises had faded, but my memory hadn’t.

  Daniil looked pained as he nodded. “He uses some of his relics to induce extreme emotional states, which he feeds off of.”

  Zoya looked vaguely sick. “It is not good, but no one can stop him. And after, he is soothed. For a short time, at least.”

  I thought back to Theresa’s nightmares, how she screamed for Volodya and begged him to stop, all the while telling him she loved him. “How often does he have these dark moods?”

  Daniil and Zoya gave each other a look. “It happened when our father was taken by the Headsmen,” Daniil said. “Before that, not for a very long time. But it used to happen much more, after Aunt Ther—” He seemed to catch himself. “After the sensor disappeared.”

  I wondered if Volodya had forbidden his people to speak Theresa’s name.

  Zoya glanced toward the elevator. “When I was a little girl I learned to fear him.”

  “I don’t blame you,” I muttered. “He’s kind of a sicko.”

  Zoya let out a nervous giggle completely absent of humor. “Daniil, please go before he chooses another of us to torture.”

  “Lead the way,” Daniil said grimly. “He won’t hurt me. Never has. But he can feed off my pain if it makes him happy. Perhaps that will be enough for him.”

  While Daniil had his audience with the boss, I paced the bunker and prayed he was putting in a good word for me, maybe mentioning how nice I’d been, how I’d helped pull him together and get him back home. The other agents had mostly cleared out, and the few who were present looked spooked and resentful, like maybe they’d drawn the short straws. They gave me a wide berth. I waited to hear Daniil screaming, but only silence emanated from Volodya’s cave.

  After what seemed like an eternity, Daniil emerged, looking like he’d been crying. His face was red and his hair damp with sweat. “I told him about everything that happened to us,” he said. “Now he wants to hear it from you.”

  As I walked down the hall, I counted my steps and thought of all the places I’d been in the last week. I pinned the details in my mind. When I opened the door to Volodya’s chamber, heavy warmth rolled outward. The artificial fire was turned on high, giving off a heat I easily felt as I walked toward the shadowed figure in the dark corner nook. The air reeked of sweat and suffering.

  “You wanted to see me,” I said, keeping my voice level.

  “We had a deal,” he replied, his voice dry and rustling. “You have failed me.”

  “I did the best I could. And I came back to keep trying. We can—”

  “Daniil likes you. He trusts you. He wanted to protect you. But I felt his doubt, even when he could not. He admitted to me that after the theft of my mosaic, you were gone for three days.” He slowly leaned out of the inky blackness, and the glow of the fire revealed the sheen of sweat on his face. His nostrils quivered.

  He was probably sensing my fear.

  “I laid low,” I said. “Kira and Pavel were dead, and I was afraid Brindle’s people might be after me, too.”

  “Truth.” Volodya’s eyes narrowed. “And lie.”

  “Okay, I knew they would be after me.”

  He rose to his feet. “Half truth. Which means it is also a half lie.” He began to walk toward me. “But then again, you’re a liar, aren’t you?”

  I took an involuntary step back. “In that I lie sometimes? Doesn’t everybody?”

  “Your fear is pungent. Alive.” As he said it, he bared his teeth, looking more than ever like a wolf.

  “I don’t know what you want me to say! I’m sorry the plan didn’t work, but I know a way we can still get hold of the mosaic.”

  He let out a dry chuckle that made me shiver with its familiarity. I immediately focused on the fire, on counting the bricks in the mantelpiece, but Volodya was too sensitive. “More of that,” he said in a low, shaky voice. “Do that again.”

  I blinked at him. “Do what?”

  “You know very well what I mean,” he snapped. “I want to feel that again. Do it or I’ll make you regret your defiance.”

  The viciousness in his tone made my stomach turn. “Please. Let’s make a new plan.”

  He grimaced and shook his head. “No, not that. It’s boring.”

  “Planning?”

  “No, your feelings. I want the longing of a moment
ago,” he said, raising his voice. “Give it to me.” He rubbed his chest. “I want to feel it here.” He bowed his head.

  I stared at him, caught between terror and—

  “Pity me and I will hurt you,” he warned.

  “I don’t pity . . .” My voice trailed off as he drew near, as I spied his predatory walk, the grace of his movements. It was the way Asa had moved before Brindle.

  Volodya groaned. “Yes, there it is again. What is that? It’s exquisite.”

  I staggered back, my panic rising.

  He opened his eyes. “Give that feeling to me, or I will hurt you.” His body was trembling with tension. “Now,” he roared.

  I had both hands up and was halfway to the door when he advanced on me. “Stop it! Please! Don’t you want to talk about what happened in New York?”

  “I know what happened in New York! You failed.” His eyes were alight with rage and madness, and his voice echoed in the stifling chamber. “Frank Brindle has my panel, because the thief gave it to him. Brindle will use it to obtain the Knedas relic and unite as many of the originals as he can. Because of you there will be war, on me in particular, because I possess the most pages of the original tome.” His fists clenched, and spittle flew from his mouth as he shouted, “It will be bloody and protracted and in the end, Brindle may win, but I will burn down the world to stop him!”

  I shuddered at the carnivorous look on his face. “People will die. Not just the two of you.”

  “This is war, little girl. Death is its currency.” He took a sudden, deep breath, and his hands relaxed. A shrill, unhinged laugh bubbled up from inside him. “But ah, who can say they have truly lived until they have been on the brink of death? Do you have any idea how exquisite that sensation is? The moment someone who is about to die realizes how very alive they are, the moment they resolve to fight to stay that way, no matter how futile. There is nothing so electric. Not love or loyalty, not hatred or rage.” He lunged forward and grabbed my shoulders, then pressed me to the wall. “Have you felt it? Can you imagine?” He pressed his cheek to mine and inhaled deeply while I clamped my lips shut over a scream. “Would you like to experience it right now?” he murmured.

  “I-I’m on your s-side,” I stammered. “I came here to help you get back what you lost.”

  His hands were bruising me. “What your thief took, you mean,” he snarled. “He murdered Pavel and Kira. He gave my panel to Brindle.” He shook me a little, my head rapping against the concrete wall. “When I catch him, he will know what it is to struggle for life as it is drained from him drop by drop. And I will savor every moment, including the one when he finally realizes he has lost the battle.”

  “Asa’s being controlled! This wasn’t his fault—”

  Volodya tensed. “There it is again,” he whispered. “You are lying to protect him. You’re trying to hide things from me. You will fail at this, too.”

  “I’m trying to help you get what you want!” I needed to convince him to do what I wanted, but he was so scattered and dangerous that I could barely keep my thoughts in line. “Look—there’s something you missed. It changes everything.”

  “Something about Asa Ward.”

  Yes. “No. It’s the mosaic. It’s not what you think it is! Let me go and I’ll tell you its secret.”

  He shoved away from me. “I’ll know if you’re lying.”

  I sucked in a deep breath. “The key you’re looking for, the one that’s going to help translate the pages. It’s not written beneath the mosaic. It was magic.”

  He peered at me. “The panel was a relic?”

  I pinned my hope on the glint of sanity and reason in his eyes. “I think that magic is somehow the actual key, though I’m not sure how. But Brindle wants it.” I touched my chest. “And I have it.”

  His gaze fell to my chest, where my fingertip hovered over my heart. “It is inside you.”

  I nodded. “I don’t even know what kind of magic it is. Usually I can tell, but when this entered me . . . it just felt old. And powerful.” I shook off the uncomfortable memory, how it had felt like being buried alive, dirt filling my mouth.

  Volodya’s eyes glittered. “So Brindle only has half of what he wants.”

  “And he’ll come after the rest. He knows I have the magic. Asa figured it out. We can use his greed to get you the mosaic.” My hope soared as Volodya looked thoughtful.

  So much better than crazy.

  But then he said, very quietly, “You expect me to make a deal with you. Again. You think that I will be charmed by you. Or fooled.” He pulled out his phone and sent a text while I watched. “You do not understand who I am.”

  A moment later, the door to his lair opened, and Daniil poked his head in. “Boss?”

  “Daniil, have Zoya bring Jack Winchester to me. I have a job for him.”

  Daniil nodded and began to withdraw, but Volodya put up a hand. “I’m not finished. Take Mattie to our juicing room.”

  Daniil’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”

  “Yeah, what?” I asked.

  Volodya’s eyes narrowed. He glared at me while speaking to Daniil. “Once you have her there, strap her to one of the tables. And then I want you to hurt her. Hurt her until she is too weak to fight.”

  I took several steps back, but then realized I was moving closer to Daniil. “Wait—I’m carrying valuable magic!”

  “You are,” said Volodya. “And I’m going to take it from you.”

  “But it’s old and fragile! You have to put it back in its original vessel.”

  “Ah, but I do not have the original vessel,” Volodya roared, his face turning monstrous. “Because your thief stole it!”

  “We can get it back!” I put my hands out. “Just listen to me! Hold an auction. Pretend you’re cashing out of the original-relic race and sell your pages. Brindle and his people will come, not just to get the pages, but to get me.”

  Volodya shook his head. “Not you. The magic.”

  “The magic is safe inside me—and harder to steal!”

  “You give yourself too much credit.”

  “Asa tried to get me twice already, and he didn’t succeed. I can fight back. A relic can’t. Besides, you don’t even know if this magic will go into another relic.”

  “Right now I just want to feel your pain,” he growled. “Daniil.”

  “But—” Daniil began.

  “Now. Or you will take her place.”

  Fear flashed across Daniil’s features. “Yes, boss,” he murmured.

  The pain was a hard throb, battering my bones and making the floor look like a tempting destination. “You’re going to regret this,” I said in a strangled voice. “If you’d just think for a minute—” I groaned and fell to one knee as Daniil drew closer.

  “I am sorry,” Daniil whispered as he bent down and dragged me up from the floor. His touch sharpened the pain, like a hundred scalpels sliding across my skin. I screamed.

  Volodya sighed. “Yes. More of that.” I could barely hear him through the buzz of panic and white noise in my ears, but his next words only worsened the pain. “Asa Ward will feel this agony as well. I know how sensitive he’ll be. I know it very well. He’ll scream, too, when I catch him. Take comfort in knowing you share the same end.”

  I began to struggle, unwilling to surrender as Daniil began to haul me out of the room. Volodya started to laugh. “And there it is! That exquisite struggle. That fight for life.” He shuddered, seemingly in ecstasy as he watched me writhe.

  “Don’t do this,” I begged. “You’re only hurting yourself.”

  “That is all I’ve ever done,” Volodya said, following us as he scraped his fingernails along the walls. He looked both sick and savagely happy. “You have no idea what it’s like to have this gift. This curse. To sense every emotion, to breathe them in. You have no idea how it feels, when you can’t tell your own anger and love from someone else’s. You cannot possibly understand.”

  “You’re insane,” I said, panting t
hrough the agony as Daniil reached the door.

  “Yes,” Volodya replied. “I should think that is obvious. Daniil, let me know when you are truly ready to get to work.”

  So this was just a preview? My head was on fire with pain, and my body felt like it was being slowly torn apart. Daniil was nearly as bad as Reza, who had only had me in his grip for a few minutes. I kicked and flailed, trying desperately to get free.

  “Please, stop,” Daniil said, his tone full of desperation. “Don’t make this harder.”

  He moved to open the door—but it burst inward, knocking him back. He lost his grip on me, and I hit the floor at Volodya’s feet.

  Theresa strode into the room, a gun leveled at Volodya’s head and another pointed at Daniil. Her gaze was so intense, so focused, that I forgot Volodya until he whimpered. I turned to see him gaping at Theresa, all the blood drained from his face.

  “Are you a ghost?” he said, his voice breaking.

  “Most definitely.” She took another step into the room, and before the door swung shut, I caught a glimpse of Zoya and a few others lying on the ground outside, twitching, probably in the grip of some magical mojo Theresa had thrown down. She’d picked the perfect time—nearly everyone else had fled Volodya’s craziness. “I knew you would do this. As soon as Mattie let me know what had happened, I knew.”

  “You’re working with the reliquary. I should have known.”

  “Maybe you should have, or maybe Mattie is stronger than either of us believed.” Theresa gritted her teeth. “Call off your boy or I’ll shoot him.”

  “Stop.” One word from Volodya, and all the pain faded quickly.

  “Get out,” Theresa said to Daniil. “Go help your associates out there.”

  Daniil blinked at her and turned to Volodya, who nodded and said, “Tell no one. Do nothing. Wait for me.”

  “Do anything else and I’ll put a bullet in your Volodya’s brain,” she snapped.

  “Aunt Theresa?” Daniil asked as he inched toward the door. He suddenly sounded years younger.

  For a moment, Theresa looked startled. Her eyes darted to Daniil’s face. “Daniil?”