Mosaic

by Sarah Fine

  “He’ll be searched at the door.”

  “Whatever he’s carrying will not be that obvious.”

  “We’ll take everything,” Daniil promised. “That is our right as hosts.” He gave the retina-scanner dude a look, and the guy stood up straighter.

  “We’ll make sure he’s emptied out,” the guy said, his deep voice and thick accent making him sound particularly menacing.

  We began to shuffle in the direction of the surveillance room, but Jack poked my arm and inclined his head in the opposite direction. “What’s up?” I asked quietly as the others headed for the room.

  “Keenan’s surveilling the National, along with the Savoy and two others where bosses and their entourages have reservations. If anyone tries to nab you, we need to know immediately,” he said in a low voice. “Because this operation isn’t giving me a lot of confidence.”

  “Well, hopefully it won’t give Brindle confidence in us, either, right? We want him to think taking the pages will be easy.”

  He gave me an edgy look. “We’re more concerned about what he thinks about taking you. Especially because he’ll have both Reza Tavana and Asa with him.”

  “I promise not to go wandering off on my own—don’t worry. But what’s Keenan’s plan here?”

  Jack glanced at the display cases. “If Volodya corners Asa in that room, there will be a raid on your signal.” He slipped a phone into my pocket. “Text to the one number programmed in. We’ll get to him while he’s contained, and we’re expecting him to have the pages. So we take both.”

  “And if Volodya doesn’t corner Asa?”

  “It’s gonna be up to you and me to track him. I don’t think it’ll be hard.” His deep-brown eyes searched my face. “Because he’s gonna come after you.” He reached forward, quick and deft, and pressed something flat to my cuff. It was silver and blended in with the metal. “Just keep that on.”

  “Great. I love being shocked.”

  “Better than being controlled.”

  I winced as I thought of that awful collar around Asa’s neck. “Okay,” I said quietly. “Let’s get this done.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  I shifted my weight to try to ease some of the discomfort in my feet. Zoya and I had gone shopping for our outfits for the event, and I’d thought I’d chosen practical shoes. Once again, I’d misjudged. Still, I knew I looked good in my retro form-fitting dress and the flowy jacket that covered my silver cuff.

  “Here comes Botwright’s crew,” Theresa said in my ear.

  I turned for the door to see a tiny woman with white hair walk through. She couldn’t have topped five feet in her heels, and she moved in a cautious, birdlike manner toward the retinal scanner. Myron Forester was at her side, towering over her, his dark hair slicked back, wearing a slim blue suit complete with a patterned tie and a sapphire tie tack. Another man, this one blond, stood at her other side.

  “Botwright is Strikon,” Theresa said. “The brunet and the blond are both Knedas.” She cursed. “And the brunet is putting out some ridiculous vibes right now.” She made a gagging noise.

  I glanced at Volodya, who was standing amid his bodyguards, holding court with each potential buyer. Myron would be within six feet of him in less than a minute.

  “I’m thinking about it, too,” Theresa murmured in my ear. “Get Zoya to move closer. If he’s trying to get people to lower their guard to enable an assassination attempt, she could sense it. But she has to touch him.”

  I quickly walked over to where Zoya was standing with her brother. “Can you get over there and shake the brown-haired guy’s hand? Just be ready—he’s Knedas and apparently strong.”

  Zoya’s blue eyes traveled to Myron, and she arched an eyebrow. “Nice.” She smiled and headed over, squeezing the lightning bolt pendant hanging from her necklace.

  “It’s Strikon,” Daniil said. “Mine. It’ll keep her head clear.”

  Myron remained one step behind his boss as the woman marched forward and offered Volodya her hand. Volodya took it carefully in his and then slowly bent and kissed it. Botwright looked somewhat shocked—she was a Strikon, and probably not too many people were willing to lay their lips on her skin. She gave him a faint smile as he raised his head. “So sorry about our misunderstanding around the holidays,” she said in a posh English accent.

  “All in the past,” he said generously. “You made things more interesting for this old man.”

  She patted his arm. “Far from old.”

  “Well, I certainly don’t feel that way when I’m in your presence.”

  “That motherfucking flirt,” Theresa said in my ear.

  Then Myron straightened his tie and pressed forward to shake Volodya’s hand. Zoya smoothly intercepted, however, and slipped her palm over his. “I’m Volodya’s niece,” she said. Technically, this was untrue, but since she was the daughter of Arkady, it made sense. “You are?”

  He gave her a polite smile and looked down at their joined hands like he knew exactly what she was up to. “Myron Forester.”

  She looked over at me and gave me a nod, then stepped aside and allowed him to shake Volodya’s hand. I guessed he didn’t have any bad intentions after all.

  “Maybe he’s just insecure,” Theresa said. “Sometimes, when they get nervous, naturals just kind of . . . leak.”

  I was still watching Myron warily. He didn’t look nervous. I hadn’t forgiven him for what had happened the night Asa was taken, even if he’d only done what Asa had wanted. And when he looked my way, his sheepish smile told me he hadn’t forgotten that night, either. I stood my ground as he accompanied his boss into the auction room.

  “Mattie, you may want to get in here so you’re out of sight,” Theresa said quickly. “Brindle, Reza, and Asa just got out of their car. Here they come.”

  Theresa had stationed herself in the surveillance room just behind where Volodya was standing. She was separated from us only by the wall and the door. My heart hammering, I skirted past Volodya, and a muscle-bound bodyguard quickly opened the door to let me into the darkened room full of video screens.

  Theresa stood in front of one, sweat running down her face like raindrops, her eyes fixed on one of the screens. “There he is,” she murmured.

  I turned toward the monitor. Asa walked next to Reza, a few steps behind Brindle. His face was impassive. He wore a suit like all the men, but as before, the collar of his shirt seemed too large for his neck. Like something lay just underneath the fabric. As they walked through the doors and into the frisking and scanning area, Frank said something to one of the guards, gesturing at Asa’s neck.

  “He’s telling the guard it’s medically necessary,” Theresa grumbled as the guard waved his scanner around Asa’s throat. Next Asa placidly raised his arms to let one of the commandos check him for weapons. He calmly turned out his pockets, and I held my breath, waiting for the improvised tools and toys he always had.

  But there was nothing in there. He took off his jacket and turned around, not objecting to being the focus of security. By now, Reza was standing off to the side, smirking. He said something to Asa, but I couldn’t read his lips.

  “They were ready for you,” Theresa translated.

  Asa didn’t respond. As he turned around, though, his brow furrowed and he stared off to the side.

  “What’s he looking at?” I asked.

  Theresa grasped my arm. “This room,” she whispered.

  “Is it you or me that he’s sensing?”

  “Probably me.”

  I swallowed and nodded, taking in the puzzled expression on his face, the first emotion I’d seen from him since he’d been taken. “He recognizes your magic, but he doesn’t know it’s you.”

  “Are you sure?” She sounded almost frightened.

  “I’m sure. He looks just as confused by it now as he did that night in Prague.”

  “Look at Volodya,” she said, her voice breaking.

  Frank Brindle was stepping up to shake Volodya’
s hand while the bodyguards closed in, but the Russian boss seemed as if he were in another world. He was staring at his son with a look I can describe only as longing. Zoya, still standing at his side, looked up at him in confusion, probably feeling some possessive intention.

  “Snap out of it,” Theresa hissed, glaring at the screen. “Wake up.”

  I lunged for the door, opened it a crack while making sure to stay out of sight, and beckoned Zoya over. “Get Volodya to focus,” I said quickly, then pulled the door shut with a snap.

  By the time I made it back over to the screens, Volodya was shaking hands, first with Brindle, then with Reza, then with Asa, who barely looked at him—he was staring at the wall of our surveillance room again. Theresa’s bloodshot eyes were riveted on the two men, but when she saw me watching her, she turned away. “See? It’s fine,” she said, her voice trembling. “Asa does not realize who he is.”

  “Once they’re inside, I’m going to go circulate,” I said, eager to give her some time to pull herself together. “I can’t hide forever.”

  Theresa nodded as she mopped her face with a towel. She’d brought a stack into the room with her, knowing it would be a tough afternoon.

  “Are you going to be all right?” I asked.

  “Par for the course,” she said with a strained laugh. “I’m used to it.”

  I squeezed her arm. “I’ll see you later.”

  She looked down at my fingers as they slid off her sleeve. “Be careful.”

  As soon as Brindle and his little entourage disappeared, I exited the surveillance room. Volodya was pale but appeared composed for the moment. I didn’t try to catch his eye as I passed—I didn’t want to see the pain I knew would be there. I had plenty of my own to manage at the moment.

  I strode through one of the side doors into the ballroom. All the potential buyers were assembled—nearly twenty bosses from all over the world, with varying levels of power and influence, along with two agents for each boss. Over fifty people, plus all of Volodya’s staff, both natural and normal. Although waiters were circulating with vodka, champagne, and caviar, most people were clustered around the display cases.

  Volodya’s collection was truly impressive—and it was Theresa who had helped him acquire it. All their years together were stretched out and under glass, memories for sale. Each object had a plaque explaining where it was acquired and what it was. Many were ancient pieces, either covered with runes or possessing old magic. At the back of the room on the dais were the pages, in their special carrying cases that kept them from being exposed to the air. I leaned over, squinting. The pages looked kind of blurry.

  “It’s to keep anyone who actually manages to smuggle in a camera from being able to get a clear image.”

  I turned to find Myron standing next to me. “Makes sense. I guess it would take a lot of the value out of the pages if pictures of them existed.” I glanced at one of the surveillance cameras mounted over the glass case in front of me.

  “He’s not trying to influence you, Mattie,” Theresa’s voice said in my ear. “I’m not sure why he was so nervous before, but he’s toned it way down.” She paused for a moment. “Way, way down,” she added, sounding puzzled.

  I looked Myron over. He did seem a lot more relaxed now—he’d removed his tie, and the top button of his shirt was undone. I gestured at his open collar. “You’re not a tie guy?”

  He smiled and patted his pocket. “Can’t stand them. Feels like a noose. Just don’t tell Madam. She likes us to look like gentlemen.” He inclined his head toward Botwright, who was engaged in an intense discussion with Elina Garza, the boss of Spain, an olive-skinned, ebony-haired woman wearing a black pantsuit that fit her voluptuous figure like a second skin. Her two agents, who appeared to be twins, both tall and lean with dark hair and chiseled features, hovered behind her, eyeing passersby with wary suspicion. Theresa had told me that one could sense intentions, like Zoya, and the other could sense magic. “She’s trying to negotiate an alliance with Garza because Frank Brindle has been making inroads on the continent, in both the relic-trade and protection business.”

  I watched Botwright for a moment. She carried herself with easy confidence, but she was the tiniest person in the room, weighing maybe ninety pounds with all her jewelry on. “Doesn’t she need you over there protecting her?”

  He laughed. “She’s just as poisonous as Reza Tavana. Few people are willing to cross her. Even Volodya is cautious when she’s standing right in front of him, despite his agents’ big words in London.”

  I smiled. I didn’t know the woman, but I liked the idea of her power not coming from her size or her muscles.

  “Have you seen him?” Myron asked, interrupting my thoughts. He nodded toward Asa, who was standing at Brindle’s side as the boss talked with Reza over a display case holding a few mosaic panels that looked a little like the magical one they’d stolen.

  “Yeah.”

  “He doesn’t look bad off.”

  I gritted my teeth. “Seriously?”

  “He hasn’t tried to get away from Brindle, has he?”

  “Are you just trying to keep yourself from feeling guilty about that night at Harrods?”

  “Perhaps they’re making it worth his while. Brindle is known for paying his employees well—”

  “And now we’re done.” I put my hands up, unable to stomach another moment at his side. And when he didn’t back off, I simply walked away, ending up in front of a case containing several shards of pottery, laid out like a puzzle. I noticed a few of the sensors in the room had raised their heads and looked in my direction. I tried to calm down by mentally reconstructing whatever the broken pieces had once been.

  “I knew you were here,” Asa said quietly.

  I focused on the glass and saw his reflection. He was standing right behind me. “I wasn’t hiding.”

  “You were before.”

  “You can’t sense me.”

  He shook his head. “But I can smell you. When you opened the door to the surveillance room.”

  I let out a shaky breath as his voice came back to me from the past. God, Mattie. Why do you always smell so fucking good? I bowed my head. “So here we are. About to try to kidnap me?”

  “Not the time.”

  I turned around and looked up at him, then instantly regretted it. He looked terrible and wonderful all at the same time. It seemed like he’d lost weight, which made me angry as heck, because he hadn’t had much to lose in the first place. His cheeks had gone from hollow to gaunt, and the circles under his eyes were brutally dark. He had changed so much. But he was still Asa. Crooked nose and honey-brown eyes and short, dark hair that wanted to be curly if only he’d let it grow a bit. “So why’d you come over here?”

  He blinked, looking a little startled, his focus always just a few inches to the left or right of my face. “No reason.”

  “You never do anything without a reason, Asa.”

  His nostrils flared. “You’re wearing a shock cuff. And an earpiece. Who are you talking to—the sensor in the surveillance room?”

  Now it was my turn to look startled. “You can draw your own conclusions.”

  He smirked. “How about I conclude that you and this entire operation are woefully underprepared for what’s about to happen?”

  “I’m sure you’d like to think that.”

  The cruel smile dropped away. “Don’t fight me when I come for you, Mattie. I won’t enjoy hurting you.”

  I ventured just a tad closer, longing eating me up. “Then don’t hurt me at all.”

  “I’ll do what I have to. I’ve learned that pain is the one thing that nobody can completely resist or withstand.”

  I glared up at him. “And I’ve learned that I can tolerate a hell of a lot of it without cracking.”

  “I know,” he said quietly.

  “A few weeks ago you would have stepped between me and anything that tried to hurt me.”

  His expression turned blank. “That’s gone now
, Mattie.”

  “I know it’s in there. You love me.”

  “You’re an idiot if you’re clinging to that.” His fingers rose toward his collar but dropped to his side again, and he sighed, his eyes falling shut.

  I wondered if he’d just gotten an infusion of Ekstazo magic, and it sent a hot wave of anger rolling along my limbs. “You never wanted to be like this, Asa. I could help you get free.”

  “Too late for that. There’s nothing left.” He said it so matter-of-factly. “And no matter what you say or what you do, the magic in your vault is coming out. Fight and you might not survive. Cooperate and you will.”

  “Nice to know you care.”

  “I don’t. Brindle wants to use you as his reliquary.”

  His words stung, but I was already hollow inside. “I don’t know if you’re trying to scare me just to make your job easier, but it’s not going to work.” I lifted my chin, defiance filling the pit of my grief. “And you might be coming after me, but I’m coming after you, too.”

  “Pointless.”

  “It will never be pointless.”

  “I don’t feel anything for you,” he said slowly. “Let me go, Mattie. I’m gone anyway.”

  “I. Don’t. Care.” I poked his chest, my fury and determination bursting forth. “I’m coming after you, Asa Ward,” I whispered, “because you are worth it. Because you deserve freedom. And because you deserve my love even if you can’t love me back anymore. You think being mean to me is going to stop me? You think you can bully me into backing down?” I narrowed my eyes. “You’ve forgotten who I really am, then. So go ahead. Do your worst. But I’ll be ready. And I’m going to win.”

  Asa’s gaze began to slowly travel up my body, almost reaching my eyes. But then a hand snaked over his shoulder and squeezed. “Everything all right here?” Reza asked.

  Asa shrugged him off quickly. “Mattie just said something really funny.”

  Reza smiled at me, and my head began to throb. “Yes, she is amusing, isn’t she?”

  “I need to take a piss.” Asa stalked away.

  “Trying to get him back?” Reza asked, bringing a glass of champagne to his perfectly shaped lips.