Splinter (Reliquary Series Book 2)

by Sarah Fine

“But—”

  His fingers tightened while he laid his other hand over the wooden box. “It’s best this way. Too much power, too dangerous if it falls into the wrong hands. I didn’t want to endanger my family by trying to off-load it, no matter how much money was involved. It’s going to die with me. You understand?”

  Whether I did or not, it was too late. Grandpa was so frail, and I knew from experience that the magic inside him was huge and brutal. “Yeah,” I said.

  A sudden knock startled me, and I spun around to see Ben in the doorway. “Hey.” He took a hesitant step toward us. “Is this a bad time?”

  “No,” I said—at the same time Grandpa said, “Yes.”

  “Oh,” said Ben, looking crestfallen.

  Grandpa set the carved wooden box back on the shelf and stared stonily out the window. “Wanda’s going to be here any minute to get me cleaned up. She’s never late.”

  I sandwiched Grandpa’s hand between my own. “Can’t you give him a chance to make amends?” I whispered.

  Grandpa crimped his lips.

  “It would mean the world to me if you’d give us your blessing before the wedding,” said Ben, coming forward to lay his hands on my shoulders. “I know I messed up, sir, but I’ve spent the last nine months trying to fix it.”

  “If you say so,” Grandpa muttered.

  “Can I come back in a day or two to talk to you, man to man?” Ben asked. “Please.”

  Grandpa gave me a long, hard stare, and I looked back at him, silently pleading. He rolled his eyes. “Never could resist that face,” he said, his lips twitching into a begrudging smile. “I guess I can find room in my busy schedule.”

  Ben grinned, and then, very slowly and deliberately, leaned forward and offered Grandpa his hand to shake. I held my breath—the last time Ben had touched Grandpa, the old man had realized Ben had been using magic. He’d recognized Ben as an addict even before I knew what magic was. But today, Ben and Grandpa shook, and . . . Grandpa looked down at their clasped hands, and then nodded. “Okay, then.”

  I kissed Grandpa on the forehead and smiled as Ben slid his arm around my waist, so grateful to have yet another confirmation that Ben was clean. Especially because of what I’d just learned about Grandpa: magic was killing him. Slowly. Painfully. It was deadly, and I needed to stay as far away from it as I could, for the rest of my life.

  Looking back, it’s a little funny how naive I was. I actually thought I had a choice.

  CHAPTER THREE

  After leaving Grandpa we drove to the clinic. I was happy they’d seemed to have made up, but I could tell Ben was thinking about something, because he was chewing the inside of his cheek. Finally, he asked, “Do you ever miss that world?”

  “What world?”

  “Magic.”

  “Why would you ask me that?”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “Just thinking about it. I mean, it’s part of your history, maybe even part of your heritage, you know? Your grandpa could tell I was using the night of the engagement party. I knew it as soon as I saw the look on his face.”

  “And yet you denied having secrets only a few hours later.”

  “I was scared of losing you, Mattie. I still am.” He leaned his head back against the headrest. “The ironic thing is that I’d decided to tell you the next day. If Reza Tavana hadn’t shown up, things would have gone differently.”

  I snorted, even as a chill went down my spine as I remembered Frank Brindle’s Strikon assassin. “And after all that, you’d actually ask me if I miss it?”

  Ben sighed as we pulled up behind the clinic. “Crazy, right? But remember that Brindle put me up in a pretty swank hotel suite after that. I got a sense of how much money some of his staff made.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  He crossed his arms over his broad chest and stared out the windshield at the building. “I’ve been working my ass off the last nine months. You know that.”

  I touched his knee. “And I’m really proud of you.”

  “I’m not sure we’re going to make it, though, Mattie.”

  “What?” I whispered.

  He ran his hands through his hair. “I’ve been getting up in the middle of the night and running the numbers, hoping they’ll somehow magically shift in my favor. But there’s a balloon payment due to the contractor in less than a month, and my credit is shot because of the mess I made last summer. I can’t get a loan.”

  “I’m sure my parents could—”

  “I don’t want their charity,” he snapped.

  “But my parents love you—”

  “I’ve pushed them to the limit, and you know it. They might have believed the whole mistaken-identity kidnapping lie we told them, but that doesn’t excuse the lien on the clinic and the fact that I’d been spending all our money on my addiction. They may not know it was an addiction to magic, but does that matter? And if I go crawling to them now . . .”

  “So what’s the alternative? We can’t lose this place, Ben! This is our future.” My heart had picked up a nasty stabbing rhythm that was making it hard to breathe. “I love this clinic,” I said lamely. “It’s been a bright spot for me these last few months.”

  Ben turned his face away. “I wanted to be that bright spot.”

  “You’re part of it! But the clinic and the animals make me feel . . . well, normal. And I haven’t felt very normal since we got back.”

  “I know. And I know it’s my fault, which is why I hadn’t wanted to tell you how bad the situation has gotten. I wanted to protect you from it.” He reached over and took my hand. “Then I realized I was underestimating you. You’re a strong woman, Mattie, even when you’re struggling. And you’re going to be my wife, which means I have to be honest with you. I almost lost you before because I was trying to protect you from the truth, and I won’t risk it again.”

  “What do you want to do, then?”

  He blew out a long breath. “What if . . .” His voice trailed off, then he cursed and flung the door open. “Never mind.”

  I grabbed his arm and tugged him back. “Tell me.”

  “This isn’t fair to even ask, Mattie. But Brindle told me how valuable a good reliquary’s skills are. Even one job would make us enough money to handle this balloon payment and then some.”

  A cold tingling sensation crept up across my chest and collarbones. “Even if I thought I could, Ben, I don’t know anyone in that world. Not anymore. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

  “But you would consider it, if it could be arranged?”

  My eyes burned with tears as I let go of his hands and sat back in my seat. “There has to be another way.” I shut my eyes, remembering the pain, the blood, the bullets, and the death that accompanied the last job in my brief career as a reliquary. The only thing that had gotten me through it was Asa.

  And he was long gone.

  “There has to be something else we can do,” I said, more firmly this time. “We can brainstorm. We’ll figure it out.” I smiled, though it was pretty shaky. “Together.”

  “We’ll figure it out,” he murmured, then tilted his head, his gaze sliding over my face. “I love you, Mattie.” He leaned forward, and I met him in the middle, my smile solidifying as our lips touched. “And I’d better get in there. Got myself a whole slate of Saturday appointments to see.”

  “I’ll join you in a minute,” I murmured, waving him toward the back door of the clinic.

  He grinned and headed inside, and I hunched over the searing pain in my chest.

  Come with me, Mattie, Asa whispered. We can figure this out. Together.

  “I made the right decision.” I panted, waiting for the attack to subside. “And I’m making the right decision now.”

  When the agony faded, I stumbled out of the car and went inside.

  Ben didn’t mention our finances over the next few days, but that didn’t mean I forgot about it. Quite the contrary—I spent every waking moment trying to find a fix. I investigated whether my own credit rat
ing was good enough to secure a loan. Pathetically, it turned out that because I’d let my parents shoulder the big financial burdens for me over the past few years, I would need a cosigner to get that kind of money—and Ben had specifically forbidden me to mention it to Mom and Dad. I looked into bankruptcy and all types of financing, but none of it looked hopeful. Still, I compiled all my findings in a little folder, hoping to present it to Ben by the next weekend.

  On Wednesday, Ben announced that he was going over to my parents’ house to see Grandpa in the afternoon after his morning appointments. “I’m going to try to clear the air with him,” he said, looking adorably nervous.

  “You made a start last weekend,” I said. “And he might be a grumpy old man, but he knows this is important. And I know that you’ll win him over.”

  “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

  “Oh, I’ll come with you. I’ve been awful about going to visit him over the last few months.” I struggled to maintain my smile as the ever-present shard of pain in my chest twisted.

  Ben shoved his hands into the pockets of his khakis. “I was kind of picturing talking to him alone.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll just hang out with my mom until you’re done.”

  He gave me a tight smile. “Okay.”

  “You’re really nervous, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah.” He pulled me close. “It feels like there’s a whole lot riding on this. Part of me wants to avoid it, but I’m sure this is the right thing.”

  I laughed. “I think Grandpa would get a kick out of knowing you’re practically shaking in your boots.”

  “Well, let’s not tell him until after I convince him I’m a good guy, all right?”

  “My lips are sealed.”

  Hand in hand, we headed for the car, and in only ten minutes we were at my parents’. As we pulled up, I noticed an unfamiliar car in the driveway with Illinois plates.

  “I wonder who that is?” I muttered as we climbed the porch steps.

  “Look who’s here!” my mother said as she pulled the door open. She had her auburn hair pulled back and a smear of flour on her blouse. “Grandpa’s in a bit of a mood—apparently Wanda’s sick today. They sent a new girl over, though.”

  We walked through the entryway to find the fill-in nurse standing in the hallway, her arms folded over her middle. Her scrubs were a size too big on her petite frame, and by the edgy look on her face, I suddenly wondered if she was brand-new to the job. “Is everything all right, Debbie?” Mom asked her. “Do you need anything?”

  Debbie smiled at Ben as he moved to stand next to me. “I think I’m good. I was just waiting for Mr. Carver to wake up from his nap, but he’s up now.”

  Ben squeezed my arm. “Maybe I should take advantage of the moment and go talk to him?”

  “I just have to check his vitals and . . . yeah, stuff like that,” said Debbie. “You won’t be in the way.”

  “Tell him I’ll be in after you two have a chance to talk,” I said as they walked down the hall together. “And good luck!”

  Ben gave me a tense smile over his shoulder and disappeared into the library. I followed my mom back into the kitchen, where she had a whole assembly line set up—dozens of vanilla cupcakes, bags full of different shades of frosting, and four kinds of sprinkles. “It’s a fund-raiser for the Sheboygan County Cancer Care Fund,” Mom explained. “Want to give me a hand?”

  “Sure, why not?” I washed my hands in the sink and grabbed a bag of frosting. Heaven knows my mom had saved my butt about a thousand times when I’d taken on big fund-raising projects for school—some payback was warranted.

  “You look better today,” Mom said as she lined up cupcakes for me to frost. “I mean, you’re always my beautiful girl, but—”

  “It’s okay, Mom. I know what you’re saying. But I’m on the mend. I promise. By May fifteenth, I’ll be back to normal.”

  “Really?” Her eyes had glazed over with tears. “Oh, honey. I’m so glad to hear you say that. I’ve been so worried.” She bowed her head and stifled a sob, and I put down my frosting bag and rushed over to her. She wrapped me in a tight hug, her arms shaking.

  “Mom, I had no idea,” I said, my throat getting tight. “You always seemed so—”

  “I know I always wear my happy face,” she said, her voice thick with tears, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t constantly fret about my baby girl. Your dad is the same way. We just want you to be happy and healthy, Mattie, no matter what it takes.”

  She leaned back and took me by the shoulders. Her eye makeup had smudged, creating dark flecks and blotches beneath her eyes. “Are you happy, baby?”

  I blinked at her. “What? Yeah, of course. I just had some stuff to work through.”

  “Really?” Her face crumpled. “Because I’ve hated to see you suffering, not knowing how to help—”

  “You have helped, Mom! Without you and Dad this wedding would have happened at Bob’s Sip ’N’ Bowl.”

  She let out a sniffly laugh. “That’s not what I meant. I know you and Ben have been together awhile . . . I just want you to know that . . . it’s okay to change your mind.”

  “Whoa.” I pulled out of her grasp. “Is this about his money problems?”

  “Well, your dad was pretty upset about that. But—” She paused as a loud thunk came from the library. “Is everything okay?” she called down the hallway.

  “Oh, yeah,” answered Ben. “Just me, being clumsy.” His voice was unsteady—I wondered if the conversation wasn’t going as well as he’d hoped.

  “He really wanted Grandpa to be happy for us,” I said.

  “Your grandpa loves you. You’ve always been special to him. When he called us to say he was sick, he admitted to your dad that he wanted to spend his last days here, and to have a closer relationship with you.”

  Probably because he suspected I was a reliquary, too. “That’s why I’m here. I shouldn’t have avoided him before.” I smiled as I looked down the hall. “He’s a pretty fascinating old dude.”

  She laughed, and it was a relief that the bright note had returned to her voice. She looked down at her mascara-smeared paper towel. “Oh, gosh, I should go to the powder room and freshen up before anyone sees me like this!”

  “Yes, heaven forbid they realize Kat Carver cries sometimes!”

  She gave me an exasperated look and disappeared into the bathroom in the hallway. I smiled and walked back to the kitchen island, where I picked up my pastry bag full of violet frosting.

  A strangled scream made me drop it, and I turned toward the sound of heavy footsteps. “Call 911, Mattie,” shouted Ben as he came into view, his hair wild and his eyes frantic.

  My mom came bursting out of the bathroom just as I grabbed for the phone, my heart ramming so hard against my chest that it felt as if an ice pick were being hammered through my rib cage.

  “Is it Grandpa?” she asked, grabbing the phone from my sweat-slick hand.

  But Ben had already run back down the hall to the library, so I followed at a jog, my palms sliding over the wall as I tried to stay steady. The sound of choked sobs reached me an instant before I burst into the library.

  Debbie the nurse was curled up on the floor next to Grandpa’s bed, crying so hard that it sounded like her lungs were trying to turn themselves inside out. Ben had his hands in his hair, staring down at her and Grandpa like he didn’t know what to do. Behind me, I could hear my mom on the phone with 911, her voice quavering as she tried to tell them to send an ambulance.

  Almost deafened by a sudden roaring in my ears, slowed by my trembling legs, I stepped around Ben and the wailing nurse to look at my grandpa.

  He lay on his back in his bed, his mouth slack, his eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling, his bony chest completely still.

  “Is he—” Ben started.

  “Dead,” I whispered as I sank to my knees, barely able to breathe. “Grandpa’s gone.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  He had a do-not-resusc
itate order, but we ended up needing the ambulance anyway—to transport poor Debbie to the ER for a psychiatric evaluation. According to Ben, when Grandpa went into cardiac arrest, practically midsentence, Debbie completely lost her cool, falling apart instead of taking action to save him. Ben didn’t know what to do, either, because he was afraid of hurting the fragile old man by doing CPR. It ended up not mattering. He was dead pretty much instantly, his weary, magic-worn heart simply sputtering to a stop.

  And a week later, the day after the funeral, I stood in the hallway and prepared myself to enter the room where he’d died. The past few days had been veiled in grief, which I’d felt as a physical pain, the ever-present knife in my chest twisting mercilessly every time I remembered something I wished I had said, every time I thought of all the time I’d wasted.

  My parents had done all the work of arranging his memorial, so I volunteered to go through his things. I had a promise to keep. The original Sensilo magic, a power that would allow its user to sense feelings, bodily sensations, intentions, and even magic itself, was extinct. It had died with my grandpa. I had no idea what that actually meant for the magical world, whether it would affect people like Asa who possessed this type of magic, whether they’d notice it was gone. And now I didn’t really have anyone to ask, because my grandpa was gone, too. But the relic that had once housed it—the gold-plated guts from the original sorcerer—had to be taken to the Headsmen. It was the last thing he’d ever asked me to do for him, and there was no way I was going to let him down.

  Steeling myself, I marched into the library. His bed was still there, stripped of its sheets and pillows. Next to it were the built-in bookshelves my dad had cleared to make way for the few possessions Grandpa had brought with him from Arizona, including the small, locked wooden box. It sat forlorn amid a few John le Carré paperbacks. I traced my finger over the carved designs on the box’s lid. He’d told me he’d gotten it in Thailand, and the ornate elephant’s head, tusks entwined with a pattern of leaves and flowers, reminded me of the ornate objects I’d seen when I was there. The wood was a rich golden brown, and I wondered if Grandpa had run his hands over the design, if the magic inside him had called out for what I suspected lay within. I touched the tiny padlock over the latch, wondering where the key was. But as I pulled on the little lock, I realized it was broken. Heart pounding, I flipped the lid open.