Wicked And Wilde: Immortal Vegas, Book 4

by Jenn Stark

  I blew out a breath. “Setting aside the fact that he’s a nine-hundred-year-old warlock and I’m not, then no. It shouldn’t be difficult. At least not if I’d been with him when he opened that portal—which I wasn’t. Or if I knew my way around the place—which I don’t. Or if I had any, excuse the pun, shot in Hell of finding a tiny little amulet in the midst of however many circles of undying misery that place is up to now.” I spread my hands. “As much as I want your money, I can’t take this commission. I’ll never be able to find the thing.”

  Soo’s lips flattened into a thin line. “Fortunately, you are wrong.”

  She stood, and her steps made no sound as she moved to her desk, practically floating with the same grace the geishas had displayed. In contrast, I seemed excessively loud simply sitting in my chair. She placed the remote on the corner of the desk and laid a hand on the ornate inlaid box that sat next to her reading lamp. At her touch, the box’s lid popped open. Then she pulled something free.

  “There were two jade amulets in our family,” Soo said, turning back to me. In one hand, she held the remote again. In the other, she held the same jade amulet that had been depicted on the screen. It was the size of her palm, threaded with a red-and-gold silken cord that fell gracefully through her fingers. I could sense the artifact’s age clear across the room. “My grandmother held this one as well. It is the last of its kind. It will help you find its twin, serving as an unerring tracking device.”

  She walked toward me as my eyes bugged out of my head. “You can’t seriously want me to take your family heirloom into Hell,” I said. “That’s insanity.” I backed up in my chair as she reached me, but there was only so much give to the upholstery. She held out the amulet like she was giving up her newborn baby, and I took it, fully expecting to toss the thing right back to her.

  Electricity jolted through me, plastering me to the seat cushion. My jaw dropped as Soo’s lips curved into a hard smile.

  “It recognizes and amplifies your power, as it has done throughout time for the worthy. You are the right seeker to find its twin.”

  “But you’ve got this one already.” I waved the thing at her. “Why do you need the other?”

  She stiffened. “I do not react to it the way you do. It is not attuned to me.” She spoke as if the words were being forced out of her. “Not even the most advanced technoceuticals have augmented my abilities enough to allow me to activate that amulet. When I was caught in Las Vegas a few weeks ago and experienced the effects of the pulse of power that the Magician set loose on the city, I thought perhaps things would be different. They were not. My grandmother’s amulet does not recognize me. My mother’s, though…”

  Soo stared at me, and I saw the fervency in her eyes. Saw it and sensed its danger. Magic was an addiction to those who didn’t come by it naturally. Even to those who did, it could become a goal unto itself, sought for its own value rather than the value it could bring its wielders. This was why the dark practitioners continued to sink to lower and lower depths. They would do anything to enhance their magic, regardless of the cost.

  “I touched my mother’s amulet once, before she died,” she whispered. “She was sleeping, beaten half to death before Gamon had deigned to make an appearance. Her captors had taken me to her squalid cell. I don’t know why. To remind me of their strength, simple human decency, I don’t know. But I crept up to my mother and hugged her, my fingers lying across the pendant for the first time.”

  She straightened at the memory. “That jolt of electricity you feel—I felt it. It was true and pure, and it gave me strength. That strength has carried me for decades. I know it exists, waiting for me. And I will finally have it back. With the two amulets reunited, our family, our house, will be purified. Sanctified once more, the stain of Gamon’s foul curse gone from us forever.”

  The tone of her voice made me uneasy. It was too intense, too feral. “That’s a lot to ask of an amulet,” I said. “Especially one you haven’t seen in thirty years.”

  Soo smirked. “You are not yet convinced of the value in helping me. Allow me to deepen your understanding.” She turned back to the screen. With another click of her remote, the image flickered on to a digital map of the seven continents, with heat signatures flaring at several points marking major cities.

  “What you are seeing here are the locations of the most prominent dark practitioners currently active in the arcane black market. I cannot tell you which of them have devolved into the harvesting and sale of human body parts. I can’t tell you where Gamon is located, either, but he has dramatically increased his power since my mother’s death. He is arguably the face of the dark practitioners, for all that he has no face.”

  I blinked at her. “No…face.”

  “Masked or in shadow.” She waved a hand before her nose. “My best agents have not gotten close, and I haven’t been willing to betray myself by going at Gamon directly. He may be the head of the dark practitioners, but he’s not the primary offender. His colleagues’ experiments are horrific enough. And where the experiments are, the money is. This…” She pointed the remote. “Is the money.”

  I stared at the screen. “How did you get this data?”

  “I have been tracking the behavior of the dark mages for years, never interfering. My alliances and partnerships allow me to continue that illusion of noninterference.”

  “Alliances, right,” I said. “Like your alliance with the Kyoto geishas?”

  She shrugged. “My house knows no boundaries. Where there is a shared goal, any number of relationships are made possible.” Soo’s smile was arctic as she gestured to the monitor with pride. “I can do much behind a veil that I would not dare do in the open. Not until I am ready.” She shifted her glance to me. “With the return of my amulet, I will be ready.”

  “Ready for what, specifically? Or do I not want to know?”

  Her expression turned arch. “I should think you would want to know, given your own involvement in the war on magic.” She smirked. “Limited though it may be.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s going to stay limited. I know my place.” Still, I couldn’t resist the draw of more information. I stood, moving closer to the monitor, trying to take it all in. “You don’t know which one of these dots is Gamon?”

  “No. His followers are little better than a cult, and to be accepted into their number is to be marked for eternity as his servant. No one has ever captured one of his guards alive, nor is there any profit in doing so. Slaves are a different story.”

  She refocused on me. “At each of these locations, both children and adults are being held against their will. Some for the sex and slave trade, some for their psychic attributes. Some for both. Once you return with the amulet, this information is yours. You will be able to find the victims easily.”

  “Right.” I narrowed my eyes, trying to memorize all I was seeing. “How do I know this is accurate?”

  “You can send your agents to any location to scout them out. Any or all.” She directed the red pointer beam of the remote onto the screen. “This location is directly outside Paris. Our intelligence indicates it is poorly guarded.”

  Paris? I had friends in Paris. Father Jerome, more precisely—the elderly priest responsible for shepherding so many rescued Connected children to safe houses in France and soon Germany. He could check this location out. He could save those children.

  If only I could do any of what Soo wanted.

  “Look,” I said. “I like the sound of—all of this. I do. But we’re still talking about Hell. Even if I can get in, I—”

  “You can get in. It will take some ingenuity on your part, but you can do it.” Soo turned again to the screen and clicked a button. A long, slender gold key on a purple velvet cushion gleamed up at us, the gold wrought in baroque swirls and twists and flourishes.

  I tilted my head. “I’ve seen that before.”

  “You have.” She nodded. “It was in a case at the Rarity Gold Show last month in Las Vegas—one of the
pieces I fully intended to purchase before I was unfortunately distracted. Now it along with most of the other contents of that event is in police custody, under the jurisdiction of your country’s Homeland Security.”

  Homeland Security…great. I hid my grimace. I’m sure the Las Vegas Metro Police and one Detective Brody Rooks would have absolutely no problem with me borrowing a priceless artifact from the evidence locker.

  Soo was watching my face. “You won’t have to steal it.”

  I blinked at her. “I won’t?”

  “Not exactly. I’ve taken the liberty of creating a replica. You’ll simply need to…exchange the piece.” Her lips twisted. “Surely not too much of a challenge for someone with your rarified skills.”

  As I worked out the logistics of that new development, Soo kept speaking. “In addition, I will funnel a quarter million US dollars’ worth of artifacts to you, for use as you see fit. Artifacts obtained and hidden by a certain organization we both know well. Artifacts which now, very unfortunately, have been left unprotected by the organization’s recent, regrettable upheaval. Very tragic.”

  I tried and failed to narrow my eyes, which had widened to saucerlike proportions. She was talking about SANCTUS, the quasi-religious, quasi-military, most definitely fully batshit organization responsible for turning up the heat on the war on magic. An organization that had as its core mission the complete obliteration of all things arcane on this earth.

  Still…

  “What kind of artifacts?” I asked.

  Soo’s expression turned calculating. “I could pay you straight cash, I know. That’s your pattern, and cash is what the community will expect I will give you. But I hate to part with money when there are other resources at my disposal. Resources that have limited value to me but much greater value in the hands of someone with the skills to appreciate them.” She eyed me. “Especially someone I could consider an ally in the war, if and when that is required.”

  This was getting a little tedious. “Not gonna happen. You guys can play capture the flag all you want. All I care about is trying to limit the collateral damage you’re causing.”

  “Working from the sidelines,” she scoffed. “From the shadows. When you could do so much more—be so much more.”

  “I’m pretty good with the shadows, actually. Since that’s where the victims usually end up. And to operate best there, I’m not sure artifacts are going to get the job done.” Money. I wanted money. Money to funnel to Father Jerome. Money to feed and clothe and above all protect Connected children ongoing. Not artifacts, which would yet need to be sold to new clients, be they the Arcana Council or other members of the arcane black market. “I don’t have a lot of time to waste setting up private auctions.”

  “You misunderstand. I don’t expect you to sell the artifacts. I expect you to use them.” Her tone was challenging. “They could be a turning point in this war you are so determinedly avoiding.”

  A turning point? Now I did narrow my eyes. “Those sound like pretty impressive artifacts. You’ll give me all that for getting your pendant back?”

  Soo laid the remote on the table and turned to me. “I would give anything to destroy Gamon,” she said. “He is a sorcerer without honor, and the mark he left on my family was intended to defile us for generations. He made sure of that.” With a ruthless tug, she pulled up one of the long, loose sleeves of her silk jacket and held out her arm. A jagged glyph snaked cruelly up her arm.

  “My identifier.” She almost snarled the word. “During my time in his slave trade. So that all would know who owned me. If he’d had an opportunity to sell me, there would be more of them. But Gamon’s would always have had primacy of place.” She tugged the sleeve down again. “Slave tattoos are not new. But the tattoo of a dark sorcerer cannot be covered nor removed. Its stain sinks into your very bones. With this mark, my family would have been forever claimed as his.”

  My mind flashed to the children in Father Jerome’s care. Most of them had not been impressed into the slave trade, but some of them had, surely. Did they possess similar marks?

  Something else in Soo’s words distracted me. “Would have,” I said. “You said would have. You escaped Gamon, so he no longer owns you, right?”

  “There are some things you cannot fully escape,” she replied dourly. “I have learned that to my detriment. My house will not be safe until I recover the amulet. It alone can purify me and my family.” She refocused on me. “Will you take the job?”

  I grimaced. Soo was hitting me at my weakest point, the intersection of avarice, outrage, and obligation. She was clearly manipulating me, and I shouldn’t be willing to be manipulated, not at any price. I should take the time to analyze every angle. To work out an endgame, an exit plan, a fail-safe. I should rethink, reconsider, and get back to Soo next week.

  Then again, I was never known for self-restraint.

  I bit.

  Chapter Four

  Annika Soo was above all a mistress of appearances. I returned to Vegas the next day not on a commercial flight, nor on one of the Arcana Council’s private jets, but in Soo’s own chartered plane. The craft was met at the airport by a sleek limo—also ordered by Soo. The limo driver greeted me at the bottom of the Jetway, squinting into the afternoon sun, then flashed credentials that got me past customs and security without so much as an eyelash flutter.

  Anyone paying attention would know that Soo had hired me for a job of major proportions. Clearly, discretion wasn’t a requirement for the position. Also clearly, Soo was gaining something important by letting it be known that she’d hired me. Most of which I wouldn’t ordinarily care about, but I couldn’t help feel a little edgy. What was Soo’s game? Why did she want to flaunt our business arrangement?

  The drive went quickly enough…right up until the point we cruised right by the Palazzo, my current home in Vegas.

  “Hey!” I said, sitting upright. “That’s where I…”

  “It’s so good to have you back, Sara Wilde.”

  My quiet Chinese chauffeur was gone. Now staring at me in the rearview mirror was Aleksander Kreios, the Devil of the Arcana Council. Though he wore the requisite black-and-white uniform, his long blond hair remained the same as when I’d seen him last, swept back from his sun-kissed face. His green eyes danced with amusement. The Devil loved nothing better than to catch me by surprise with his penchant for illusions, but in this case, I didn’t mind.

  “I wondered how we got through customs so easily.”

  “The least I can do.” He smiled. “I trust you had a good journey?”

  “An educational one.” I scooted forward on my seat as we slowed in traffic. Since Kreios was here, I needed answers. “Armaeus has already entered the portal, right? Because everyone seems to know that he’s been knocking on Hell’s doors, which seems a little careless.”

  “There was no need to keep his journey a secret.”

  Something in the Devil’s voice sounded ever so slightly off. “Uh-huh. Meaning there was a need to advertise it?” A lot of that seemed to be going around. “Why all the saber rattling?”

  Kreios shrugged. “The salient point is, Armaeus entered the portal two days ago. However, he’s reached out to Eshe but once since then, despite their intention to remain in frequent contact. That…is concerning.”

  “Eshe.” I tried to keep my voice neutral, but my irritation over the Magician choosing to commune with the insufferable High Priestess of the Arcana Council instead of me trumped any concern I had for the guy at the moment. “Why her?”

  “She was here, she was unoccupied, and she’s the former Oracle of Delphi. You might say her mind is uniquely suited to the task of receiving garbled messages from the underworld.”

  “Oh, so now it’s the underworld?” I rolled my eyes. “I thought Hell was simply some sort of alternate dimension, like Atlantis.”

  “It is an alternate dimension,” Kreios said. “It’s nothing like Atlantis, however. Its rules are quite different, as are its challeng
es.”

  Challenges? “Details, please. What makes it different from Atlantis?”

  “Ease of access, for one. Armaeus is presently able to enter Hell bodily, as are you. Any properly equipped mortal may enter a portal at will. Once you’re inside, however, getting out is trickier.”

  I frowned. “So it’s like an IKEA store?”

  “In a manner of speaking. There are many entry points into the domain, but its planes and valleys, walls and doors do not remain static. To get out, you must remain true to your original purpose in entering, and not stray.”

  “Um, you’re really making a case for this being the biblical Hell, just so you know.”

  He shrugged. “The bits and pieces recorded about the dimension in music, art, and literature are all culled from a single place, yes. But Hell is a location of many faces. It can be quite beautiful or quite hideous. It is a place where all your greatest dreams and most dreaded nightmares can find form and substance.”

  “Yet people keep going there. On purpose.”

  “You have agreed to do so for Annika Soo, have you not?”

  My lips settled into a tight line. “That’s for a job.”

  “And you’re the first person to ever be assigned a job in Hell? I suspect not.” Kreios waved lazily at the crowd outside our car. “Who among these people wouldn’t be tempted to retrieve a loved one or a needed soul, or to interview a lost friend for the location of some earth-bound treasure? Who among them wouldn’t give much for a moment of power unlike anything they had ever experienced before? The temptation is great, and people are weak. You among most know that well.”

  “Okay, so tell me this. Why did the Hierophant go in and never come out?”

  Kreios paused, and it was all I could do not to break my arm patting myself on the back. The Devil had a very handy hang-up about always speaking the truth, and the truth had been in short supply on this particular topic up to now. Armaeus certainly had not been forthcoming. All he’d say on the matter was that the Hierophant would balance out the Emperor, the newest Council member come home to roost. The Emperor, Viktor Dal, was as dark as they came. That meant the Hierophant would express an equal and opposite energy. Made sense, I supposed, since the Hierophant was the Archangel Michael.