Wicked And Wilde: Immortal Vegas, Book 4

by Jenn Stark

  “War. They spoke of war as well. But when is this—what war?”

  “When Atlantis was destroyed. The eve of its destruction, in fact,” the Magician said, sounding awed. “Thousands of years before Christ. But the war they speak of will take age upon age to truly play out.” As he spoke, the windows flickered in front of us, and different scenes flashed to life, most of them dire—brawls, torture, flat-out warfare. A march of Templar soldiers fighting for their lives on a storm-swept parapet. Inquisitors haranguing hapless victims, endless prisoners in oubliettes, and the robed and pious staring out in fury, fear, and confusion, aghast at the parade of nonbelievers before them.

  “It has existed ever since,” Armaeus said. “The Council has had a ringside seat to all of it.”

  “A seat, but not a hand,” I said. “You watch, but you don’t work to stop it.” My comments were made without heat, but the truth of them struck me anew. The Council had known war was coming. Had known and had done nothing to stop it. Not from its very inception.

  Armaeus didn’t answer and instead pulled me back against him, the strength of his arms blending with the horrors of what I was seeing before me.

  For once, I took no comfort from Armaeus’s touch. No comfort and no panic either. Because he was separate from me, apart.

  The war on magic was not “on magic” at all, I saw, over and over. It was a war of Connecteds fighting for survival, year upon year, age upon age. It was not a war of the Council, but of mortals.

  And only mortals died.

  Chapter Nine

  The request of the dark mages didn’t come at sunrise the following morning. It came at ten. But it was still far too early when Nikki’s ringtone blasted through the main living area of my junior suite.

  “Kill me and get it over with,” she groaned, fumbling for the device. The task was rendered much more difficult by the two large cucumber slices pressed over her eyes. She sat in a cocoon of pink terry cloth, her feet in a small inflatable tub of hot water and something salty smelling, her left hand ensconced in a purple mitt while her right connected with the phone.

  Only then did she clumsily brush off one cucumber round and peer at the screen. Then she handed the phone to me. “It’s for you. Call a number, ask for Bob.”

  I scowled. “Bob? Which one was Bob?”

  “No clue.”

  As Nikki sank back against the couch cushions, I took the phone from her and angled it out of the sunlight. I knew eventually I’d have to find a real place to live, but I was having an exceptionally hard time giving up my suite at the Palazzo, from its half-dozen TVs to its gravity-defying showerheads to its beds with enough pillows on them for a family of sixteen. The coffeemaker even worked.

  I shuffled back toward a steaming mug of joe as I read “Bob’s” message. It was succinct. “Job ready. Call Bob,” and a number. Feeling lucky, I keyed in the digits, picking up my mug as a ward against whatever crazy was coming my way.

  The call connected on the first ring. A man answered with a gruff, “Who is it?”

  “Sara,” I managed, glancing over at Nikki. She’d removed her second cucumber slice and was watching me with organically moistened eyes. “Is, uh, Bob there?”

  Nikki made a face, and I tried not to snicker. Not ten hours ago, I’d held a shattered teenager in my arms, promising to combat an enemy I didn’t understand. Three hours ago, I’d woken up in a cold sweat, convinced the Council was planning to let all Connecteds die and we were being led into a trap as they eagerly watched. But this morning, the sun was up, the day was glorious, and my best friend in the world was wearing vegetables. Life was a balance.

  The man on the phone either missed my mood or disregarded it. “You’ll be receiving a text to this phone with a photo of the relic we seek. It’s lightweight enough and small enough to stow in a pocket. You deliver it to anyone else, we’ll know. It won’t go well for you.”

  “I don’t work that way,” I snapped. “You contract with me, the relic is yours. If I don’t find it, you’ll be the first to know. Where is this thing, specifically? Any idea?”

  Bob paused, then continued as if someone had poked him in the ribs. “All the legends say it’s by the River Styx, or whatever body of water is required to cross into the main section of Hell. It should have arrived to your phone by now. See for yourself.”

  “Hang on.” I pulled the phone down from my ear and scanned the disk-and-spindle image that had been sent to Nikki via text. It certainly appeared to be small. A black plumb-bob of carved stone and a string attaching it to a thick metal disk. “What is it?”

  “A compass, or what passed as a compass in Greco-Roman times.”

  When Bob wasn’t more forthcoming, I prompted. “And what does this compass point out, exactly? I’m not going to grab it if it’s going to cause me problems.”

  “It shouldn’t. The compass was said to point to wellsprings of magic. It was lost at sea in the fourth century AD, the whole ship going down.”

  I squinted at the hunk of rock and string. “So, a really effective compass.”

  “Point being, legends hold it’s near the Styx. If you find it, there’s additional information in it for you.” He paused. “The bodies. Those aren’t our doing. We’ll know who’s to blame by the time you get back.”

  “Fair enough.” I put the phone back to my ear. “If I find a river, I’ll keep an eye out for the compass. If I secure it, it’s yours. If it causes me trouble, information alone won’t cut it. I can be reasonable, though. Which means your max outlay will be fifty grand.”

  Bob started to grouse, but I cut him off. “No negotiation. If you guys knew this thing was down there all along and you could have gotten it out yourselves, you would have. I’m doing you a solid, and you know it.”

  “Fifty thousand, then,” Bob agreed. “We have ways of knowing if you lie about the difficulties.”

  “I usually don’t have to lie. See you…” I hesitated. “Soon.”

  Bob disconnected before I did, and I tossed the phone back to Nikki. She caught it, then leaned down to free her feet from the goo they were planted in.

  “What is that stuff?” I asked.

  “Special concoction I found in Lake Tahoe. You try walking around in platform stilettos all day, see what it does to your feet.”

  “I’ll pass.” I waited while Nikki thumbed to the text screen, her brows lifting in exaggerated arcs as she viewed the compass.

  “I assume it’s cooler than it looks? Because it looks like something out of a Cracker Jack box.”

  “According to Bob, it’s a compass designed to find magical wellsprings.”

  “Well, if Bob says so…” she said dubiously. She frowned. “He said it’s by the River Styx?”

  “Or whatever passes for that in Hell these days, yep.” I glanced at the clock. “When is Kreios coming for us?”

  We both tensed, expecting the Devil to poof into existence at his very name. The suite remained conspicuously immortal-free.

  Nikki shrugged. “Barring a change of plans, we meet him at the private airstrip at noon.” She smiled. “He told me to pack a swimsuit.”

  “I didn’t get that memo.”

  She grinned. “One of us has to work, child.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be my tether back to the real world?”

  “I can tether you equally well from a pool as from a library—or whatever it is we’re going to. Have you checked out the place Armaeus used as a portal? The Clementinum. It’s so balls-out beautiful, it’ll make your head spin. It can’t be real. It just can’t.”

  It was, of course.

  The flight to Prague was shorter than I would have expected, or maybe that was a function of the dread that continued to expand in my chest the closer I got to Hell. I found myself checking and rechecking the key I’d lifted from the LVMPD evidence locker—a key that had delighted Kreios so much he’d been beaming ever since. Beyond his enthusiasm, the Devil had also proved to be an able tour guide through the an
cient city, and we reached the famed library as morning broke over the city of Prague.

  Inside the Clementinum was even more spectacular. Trying not to gape and failing miserably, Nikki and I stood in the center of the main reading room, unsure where to stare first. Ornate globes spun in wooden bases all down the center aisle. The ceilings, floors, and every bit of open walls were covered in rich paints, textiles, or stone—all of it baroque, all of it magnificent. The ceiling alone could captivate a viewer for days, its richness of detail as unnerving as a physical force.

  But all that faded behind the sheer mass of books in the place. Tomes lined the room from floor to ceiling, curved around walls, along passageways, and were stacked upon tables and stretched along floors. I’d never seen so many books in my life, certainly not in one place.

  We’d spent the first twenty minutes of our visit simply drifting through the main room under the watchful eye of the docent, but now we’d gathered next to the largest globe.

  “It’s a book, isn’t it,” I said, my voice as dour as I felt. “He freaking pulled out some kind of book and vanished into Hell. And we have to figure out what book.”

  “This isn’t an episode of The Librarians, right?” Nikki stared heavenward, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. “Because I’m totally feeling that vibe.”

  “No on both counts, I’m afraid.” The Devil’s smile was smug as I glanced at him. “But specifically how Armaeus entered Hell is immaterial. What is important is how you enter it, Sara. What works for one mortal is in no way indicative of what will work for another.”

  I scowled. “So we’re going to have to guess? Pull out random books, spin a few of these globes, and see what happens?”

  “You are going to have to guess. Nikki cannot touch anything unless she is the one going through, which she is not.” Kreios raised a hand when Nikki brightened. “No. Your role here is as the seer, not the seen. You have abilities that Sara does not, and we’re all better served with you here.”

  Nikki geared up to argue. “But—”

  “It will also give me the opportunity to show you around the city. It is one of my favorite Old World haunts, and much better enjoyed with a companion.”

  “Oh.” A little of the starch faded from Nikki’s expression, and she regarded the Devil with renewed interest. “Well, when you put it that way.”

  “Don’t mind me,” I said. “I’m going to be over here, searching for a portal to Hell while you guys make dinner plans.”

  “Before you do that, a moment.” Kreios regarded me with an odd cant to his expression, enough to hold me in place. “There are things you should be aware of about this dimension.”

  “Which you could have told me about already, and you waited until now?”

  His lips lifted into a half smile. “Some knowledge is best absorbed over time. You know that departing Hell is not a simple prospect, but it can be done, of course. You must be willing to leave everything you see there behind, no matter how alluring.”

  A new seed of dread poked awake within me. This sounded like the dark mages’ warning. “So it’s not that you can’t leave, it’s that you end up not wanting to?”

  “Perhaps. Or perhaps you will see that which you most want to believe to be true, as well as what is true, as well as what is patently false. All three might appear at once, each a reasonable choice. With discernment, you can determine what is real and what is your imagining.”

  The seed blossomed into a fully formed dreadfruit tree. “I’m a little weak in the discernment department, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  “You must remain true not merely to your course, but to logic, not wishful thinking. You will appear to have the ability to right past wrongs, seek forgiveness, speak to those long since passed. Despite your every inclination, you must resist these temptations. They will tie you to the world of illusions, and not to reality.”

  “Stop me if you’ve heard this one already.” Nikki humphed a short breath and folded her arms over her chest. “The road to Hell is paved with good intentions. It’s a frickin’ Candy Land of clichés.”

  “Clichés are such for a reason.” Kreios nodded.

  “Got it,” I said, with a confidence I didn’t feel. “Anything else?”

  “Don’t stay long. Over the past fifteen hours while we’ve been traveling, your Detective Rooks has been receiving word of additional drug incursions in Las Vegas, some of which are tied to Annika Soo.”

  “Gamon again.” My stomach twisted as I remembered the long, sinuous tattoo etched into Soo’s and Rutya’s arms. “He’s luring her there as much as he was trying to pin me down. You have to warn her.”

  At his blank stare, I bristled. “It’s not interfering, Kreios. It’s simple human compassion.”

  His smile was silky. “And yet, I am not quite human, am I, Sara Wilde?”

  I blinked at his words. I’d…heard those words, somewhere before. Somewhere recent. Somewhere important.

  “I’ll do it.” Nikki held out her hand. “Give me your phone. Someone in her operation will take your call, and I’ll tell her to stay put in Shanghai.” She hesitated and shot Kreios a questioning glance. “I assume Siri doesn’t work in Hell, right?”

  “Nothing electronic will pass through, no. Armaeus attempted to take modern tools with him, as well as those crafted in ancient times. He reported to Eshe that anything crafted later than the time of Christ stayed behind. He nodded to me. “Your jewelry should remain intact, your clothing. Not your gun.”

  I nodded. I’d suspected as much when we’d left our weapons locked in the hotel safe. “What about my cards?”

  “Not as such, but I thought about that.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a long necklace with a silver-and-gold-embroidered pouch at its end, about the size of a credit card. He weighed the pouch in his hand, then tossed it to me. “This contains seventy-two chips, each with the imprint of a card. The entire effect, however, is that of a necklace. It should work.”

  “It better.” The pouch necklace was curiously light, and I slung it around my neck, tucking it under my tank top. It hung lower than the pendant Soo had given me, but the two necklaces felt curiously right together. After giving up my phone and my more standard Tarot deck—but not my key—I moved down the long walls, surprised that none of the titles of the books were in English, and then ashamed that I was surprised. But, seriously, Armaeus couldn’t find an entry point into Hell stateside? There had to be multiple options. Why here?

  I lifted a hand to drift along the tomes, stopping shy of touching them. They were gorgeous, in the main, richly preserved and thick, redolent of leather and spice. There was an entire section devoted to maps, and I smiled to think of how many times man’s understanding of the world had changed, carefully written down to preserve what little we knew at any given time. The next section was equally easy to decipher but had me slowing down. I glanced to see Nikki and Kreios deep in conversation over one of the globes, then shifted my gaze back.

  These were bibles. Thick, thin, enormous, and pocket-sized, the library held a veritable treasury of bibles from almost every tongue—including English. I pulled out a small volume and tensed, but the gates of Hell didn’t swing open in front of me. There wasn’t so much as a charcoal-singed breeze. Instead, I flipped the book over in my hand—

  “Gloves, please.”

  I nearly jumped out of my skin at the little man who appeared at my side, hunched over but thick torsoed, with long arms and meaty paws. He held up a pair of cheap white cotton gloves.

  “What?”

  “Gloves. For the books.” He waved the gloves at me, and I took them, noting that he had gloved hands as well. He held out his hand for the bible and waited for me to pull on the gloves before handing it back. He nodded his thanks and retreated, heading for the Devil and Nikki. He seemed a decent enough docent, and I glanced down to the sacred book.

  It felt odd to hold a bible with gloved hands, but I opened it and leafed through its gilt-edged
pages, realizing that I was holding a Gutenberg edition. It was a little awe-inspiring to imagine this being mass-produced at the dawn of the age of the printing press—solely for the purpose of spreading knowledge of the Christian faith far and wide.

  I replaced it in the shelves and pulled a second, then a third, but there was nary a hint of fiery inferno lurking behind the wall. I frowned and glanced around, the gloves suddenly too tight on my hands. I worked off the left and held it, scanning the room for the librarian watchdog. He was nowhere to be seen, so I tucked the glove into my hoodie pocket. Nikki and Kreios were at the far end of the chamber. I crossed the open space to the nearest globe.

  It was small and golden, nestled in a carved wooden base, with whisper-thin indents of the countries and oceans apparent on its surface. It looked more like a lawn ornament than a globe, so I moved to the next, and the next after that, gradually working my way back toward Nikki and Kreios. At length, Nikki noticed me and grinned.

  “Great, huh?” She lifted her hands, and I could see the white gloves. “Old guy about had a fit trying to get the first pair on until he had to give up and go for larger. I think he was afraid of hurting my feelings.”

  I smiled. “Find anything?”

  “Nope,” she said as I drifted my gloved fingers along the globe in front of me. This one was richly detailed. Its marker said it had been created in the twelfth century—when the earth remained a wild and untrammeled place. This was the world that existed when Armaeus was first mortal, I realized, and I rolled the globe back and forth, tracking the path between France and Egypt. How long must it have taken to travel back then, I wondered, and what would you have seen along the way?

  A zip of electricity sparked beneath my gloved fingers, and I quieted my hand, my finger pads resting on a land mass in the Middle East. This was centuries before anything like the modern state of Israel had come into being, yet that was the location, roughly, beneath my hand. “Sheol,” the girl Rutya had said, using the Hebrew word commonly associated with Hell. Had that been some kind of clue?