Mosaic

  I looked back and forth between Jack and Asa. Jack turned his head to me. “Don’t you dare, girl,” he said between wheezy breaths. “Don’t you dare.”

  “Jack . . .”

  “No!” he shouted, his voice breaking.

  “Mattie,” said Asa. “Don’t waste my time.”

  “I can’t,” I said, sniffling. “I’m not going to give it up.”

  Asa lowered his weapon and shot Jack in the thigh. My wail drowned out the rest of the noise, the squeak of metal as Jack’s chair fell back, the shuffle of the goons’ shoes as they rushed forward and yanked him back up, the patter of blood droplets on my table as he was jerked back into place. I didn’t know which was more horrifying—that Jack was in so much pain or that Asa was causing it without even blinking.

  “Asa, please,” I begged. “Don’t do this.”

  “Your choice, Mattie.”

  “Mattie, you give up this magic, you destroy us all. Only a matter of time,” Jack said, cursing and groaning. “I’d rather die.”

  “I can’t, Jack,” I said, stifling a sob. “I can’t watch this anymore.”

  “This is delicious,” whispered Reza.

  A shudder ran through Asa’s body, but he remained silent.

  Jack’s deep-brown eyes met mine. “If you respect me, you will. Be strong for me, Mattie. And if you can’t be strong, close your eyes.”

  I let out a shuddery breath and stared at him as my own tears fell. Asa moved forward and once again pressed his gun to Jack’s forehead. “One more chance, Mattie. One more chance.”

  Jack gave me a sidelong glance without moving his head. His full lips curved into a gentle smile. And then he closed his eyes.

  The shot echoed sharply. This time I didn’t scream. I merely sagged back onto my table and closed my eyes.

  I was all alone again. It was up to me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  When I opened my eyes, the henchmen were gone, and so was Jack’s body. Asa stood over me, sweating and dead eyed, and Reza hovered next to him, looking refreshed and eager for the next act.

  “I’ll go get our conduit,” Reza said quietly, his mouth twitching—it looked like he was trying to conceal a grin.

  He disappeared from Asa’s side, and I stared up at the man I had once loved. He looked down at me, focusing his gaze on my shoulder instead of my eyes. “I told you I was gone,” he said. “Now you know it’s true.”

  I let my tears speak for me, keeping my true thoughts to myself. Hope wasn’t something I relinquished easily. It never had been.

  With a scrape of metal against concrete, Reza pushed the door to the storage room open. By his side was a little boy, maybe six or seven, skinny and scared looking. “Here he is. Mattie, this is Peyta. We picked him especially for you.”

  Horror twisted inside me. “You can’t be serious. He’s a child.”

  “Exactly,” said Asa. “And I have three more just like him at the ready. So don’t think I won’t do to him what I just did to Jack.”

  “Asa, he’s a baby!” I shouted, my voice breaking.

  “Bring him over,” Asa said.

  Peyta whimpered as Reza wrapped his fingers around the back of the boy’s neck and pushed him toward me. “This won’t hurt if the nice lady cooperates,” he said, then laughed as he turned his gaze to Asa. “I don’t think he understands a word I’m saying.”

  Asa held up his weapon. “He doesn’t have to. It’s all up to Mattie, and how many lives she wants on her conscience tonight.”

  Reza brought the pale boy over to the table. The kid looked sick, terror making him pliant. My eyes met Peyta’s, and his filled with sudden tears. Asa grabbed his arm and began to tie it to mine. The boy’s skin was clammy and cool. At the feel of it, a low sob escaped me.

  Reza’s cruel fingers caressed my cheek, sending a current of heavy agony along the length of my body. “Do you remember the day we met? Our conversation about wine?” His dark eyes glittered. “You didn’t have much appreciation for it then, but perhaps now . . .” He reached forward and grabbed Peyta’s hair, wrenching his head up so that the child’s face was only a foot from mine. “Pain is much like wine, Mattie. Full of nuance. I’ve been a student of it all my life.”

  “And you enjoyed every minute of it, I’m sure,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “I didn’t choose to be born with this gift. Why would I apologize for embracing what I am? Too few people do it, in my opinion. Eh, Asa?”

  Asa was staring at the back of Peyta’s head. “We have a transaction to complete.”

  “Then I will make sure Mattie knows what is at stake.” Reza looked down at me, his expression almost loving. “You think you know pain now, Mattie. You think, because you can endure bodily suffering, that you understand what it means to hurt.”

  I tore my gaze from Peyta’s to glare mutinously at Reza. He had no idea.

  “Physical pain has a delightful bouquet, to be sure. One in which I revel. There’s the acidic tang that comes with a sudden, sharp cut, the earthy note of bone-deep agony, the sweetness that accompanies muscles torn fiber by fiber. But none, my lovely, none is as satisfying as the full flavor of a completely broken heart, one so shattered that it can never be repaired. It coats the tongue and fills the belly. It leaves me wanting nothing but the next taste of it. And tonight, you’re going to give me that.”

  Hatred made it hard to breathe. “Someday, dude, you are going to get a taste of your own medicine.”

  “Oh, but you’ve already given me that. Remember?”

  “My only regret is that I didn’t finish the job,” I spat out.

  “Hold on to that, Mattie,” he said. “Know that you might have been able to stop me, if only you’d been strong enough to hold on. Instead, here I am, with Asa at my side, and together we’re going to take you apart.”

  Asa let out an exasperated sigh. “Your supervillain monologuing won’t work on her. Let’s just get this done.”

  Reza looked up slowly. “Is she like you, then? Only action matters?” Asa flinched as Reza focused on him, and I knew that the Strikon had just temporarily broken through whatever haze of Ekstazo and Knedas magic was running through Asa’s veins. “Do you remember the night I broke you, my friend? Do you treasure those memories like I do? I’ve never experienced anything quite so pure. So perhaps you’re right. No talk, just action. After all, you did beg, in the end.”

  My stomach turned as I remembered Asa telling me that pain was the one thing that no one could resist forever. The idea of him falling apart as Reza tortured him, the idea of his surrender, hurt more than everything else. My entire body trembled with grief as Asa stifled a groan.

  “Remember that?” Reza asked, his voice as gentle as a lover’s. “And how about this?”

  Asa convulsed, looking like he was about to puke.

  “Should I offer her some of that, Asa? Would it help?”

  Asa’s fingers gripped the table and his lip curled, but he looked like he was about to sink to the floor. “Yeah,” he whispered. “It definitely would.”

  “Have it your way,” Reza said, his tone sliding toward boredom as he lowered his head over mine. As he did, a terrible burning sensation exploded in my chest, and I cried out. It felt like he’d clawed his fingernails along my lungs and poured acid into the cuts. Peyta began to cry, his little body shuddering, his fear passing through our joined arms. The little boy was a stranger to me, but he was a child, an innocent. And these evil men were branding his mind with memories he’d never be able to shake—assuming he lived through the night.

  Because they were going to kill him if I didn’t cooperate. They would hurt me and force him to watch, and if I didn’t surrender, they would shoot him and force me to watch. I knew Asa would do it. He’d shown no compassion, no hesitation. He’d shot Jack just to hurt him, and then he’d killed him in front of me. He’d just said he had a line of little conduits in addition to Peyta. Children. He’d chosen children just to get to me. And he?
??d just told Reza to torture me. Maybe he craved my pain as much as Reza did.

  And it was wearing me down. “It’s okay,” I tried to say to Peyta, even as agony wrung the words from me in gasps.

  “He can’t understand you, Mattie,” crooned Reza. “He can only see your pain. He knows that he’s next. And if you thought Asa made Jack suffer, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

  Despair filled me up. I could endure physical pain. I knew I could. But I couldn’t watch as they hurt this child. Reza’s magic blazed through me, the pain making it hard to sort my thoughts, but one truth rose through the red sea of hurt—it was time for my final gamble. And if this didn’t work, I would know I had done all I could do while still holding on to my soul.

  “Okay,” I sobbed. “Okay. I’ll give up the magic. Just don’t hurt him.”

  The pain evaporated, and my eyes blinked open. Asa put his hand on the little boy’s back. “I knew you’d make the right choice.”

  “I have one condition.”

  “No,” Asa said.

  “Hear her out,” Reza said amiably.

  “Look at me,” I whispered. “I’ll tell you when you look at me.”

  Asa’s jaw clenched. “You’re wasting time.”

  “If you want me to do this, I need you. One last time.”

  Asa’s mouth opened, probably to refuse, but Reza leaned forward. “Do what it takes to get this magic,” Reza said. “That’s why you’re here. That’s your mission.”

  Asa glared at him. “If that’s how you want to do it.” His lips were barely moving.

  “Look at me,” I murmured. “Look at me, sir.”

  Asa’s gaze snapped to mine, our eyes meeting for the first time since the night he was taken. It felt like an earthquake inside me, shaking me to my core. For a moment, I felt myself recoil, the bars slamming down over my heart, trying to protect it from this final surrender. But then I reminded myself what was at stake, and I gave myself up to the feeling. “I’m yours, sir. You’re in charge.”

  Something shifted behind Asa’s honey-brown eyes, subtle but unmistakable. As if there were a thread connecting us, Asa drew closer, leaning down between me and Peyta.

  “You know what I need,” I said, not even trying to control the tremulous sound of my voice. “You always do. And you’ve got me. Don’t you?”

  He swallowed and blinked sweat out of his eyes. “‘Don’t you’ what?”

  Hope surged inside me. “Don’t you, sir? You’re the only one who can help me. You’ve always been the only one.” A tear slid from my eye. “And you always will be.”

  His fingers slid along my skin before closing around my throat. Unlike his father’s, though, Asa’s hands were gentle. “You’re mine.” He was so close that the tip of his crooked nose skimmed along my cheek. “Say it.”

  Reza cleared his throat. “Asa, I didn’t mean—”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Asa snapped. “Do you want this done or not?” His tone softened as he returned all his attention to me. “You’re gonna let this go for me, baby. It’s time to let it go.”

  The caress of his voice was rapidly undoing me. More powerful than any drug. But I forced myself to stay focused. “I’m scared.”

  Asa moved so that he was the only thing I could see. “I’ve got you, and I won’t ever let go.”

  I stared up at him. This . . . this was what Reza had been talking about, even though he hadn’t known it. The agony was waiting to embrace me—giving myself to Asa like this would break me forever. But I had no other choice, because it was the final card I had to play before I folded. “I love you, sir. I’m yours.”

  I don’t know what I’d hoped for. A kiss. A tremor. A smile. Something. Anything. But instead, Asa simply stared so deep into my eyes that I felt naked before him, unable to hide a single thing.

  There. I had done it. Laid my best weapon down. There was no more fight left in me. “I’m ready,” I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut.

  I heard the squeak and clatter of the mosaic being set on the table, of Asa pressing Peyta’s trembling hand on top of it.

  “Give it up to me, baby,” Asa said, his lips brushing my temple as he spoke into my ear. His scent filled my nose, and my body reacted on pure instinct. My vault opened, and the ancient magic rushed out of me, paralyzing me, crushing me beneath its earthy weight, enclosing me in a grave of millennia. I didn’t fight it. Unlike the first time, when the magic rushed into me unexpected and frantic, this time, I felt each strand of it, each brush of its power against my consciousness. Runes appeared, then melted into letters I recognized. Words I recognized. I strained to commit them to memory, but they fluttered past like a flock of birds taking flight, all fleeing in different directions. I tried to catch them—death of the great . . . never again . . . if ever the four . . . goodness and all humanity . . .

  The phrases spun in my consciousness so fast that they blurred and overlapped, multiplying and splintering the more I fought to close my hands around them. And then it all disappeared in strobing flashes, and I sank into irresistible darkness.

  Peyta’s frail arm twitched against mine, and my eyes snapped open in time to allow me to witness the last of the ancient magic pouring from him into the panel. I knew the moment it had, because he sank down, exhausted and limp, no longer in its relentless grip. I wondered if he’d seen the same things I had, if instead of English, the runes had translated themselves into Russian for him. If he’d understood any of it.

  “It’s done,” Asa said sharply, making me flinch. He untied the boy’s arm, took him by the shoulders, and turned him around, briefly grasping Peyta’s hands as he stared into his eyes. Slowly, he spoke in Russian to the kid, carefully enunciating every word. The boy shivered and nodded. Asa spun the boy to face the door. “Get him out of here.”

  “What did you tell him?” Reza asked.

  “That he’d see his mom soon. Isn’t that what every little boy wants to hear?” The bitterness in Asa’s voice was impossible to miss.

  Reza chuckled and then guided the kid to the door. At the last moment, Peyta turned around and found Asa’s gaze. Asa pressed his lips together and nodded.

  I froze, wondering if I had imagined the familiar look on his face. Asa leaned over me as Reza pushed the kid through the door. “You let me in.”

  “I told you I couldn’t give up,” I said weakly.

  “Did you think it would help?”

  “I had to try.”

  His expression was dead as ever as he raised his head. He drew one hand out of a bulging pocket, perhaps where he had a hit of Ekstazo magic hidden away, and gripped the panel as Reza returned. The Strikon held out his arms. “Excellent work, my friend. I’ll take that to Frank.”

  “Nah. I’d like to do the honors,” said Asa.

  Reza chuckled and stepped back. “I suppose you’ve earned it. What about Mattie?”

  “She can watch. She needs to understand who’s in charge.”

  “I love it,” said Reza, who untied the ropes around my ankles and wrists with a deft hand as Asa stood by, holding the ancient panel slightly away from his lean, sweat-soaked body. He swayed in place, looking sick and weak even though I knew he was still incredibly dangerous. His pockets had used to hold improvised weapons, but now I wondered if they just contained the Ekstazo relics that held him together. The collar was obviously powerful, but maybe it wasn’t enough. Asa had once told me that he’d needed more and more to stay afloat.

  And I guessed, when compared to the power of that addiction, my love hadn’t stood a chance.

  I sat up and rubbed my wrists, then swiped at my face with my sleeve, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of seeing me defeated. “Now what?” I asked. “Frank gets to do his victory dance, and then . . . ?”

  Reza leaned in, a wicked smile pulling at his mouth. “Then, Mattie, he gives you to me. And I break you.”

  My hand pressed to my thigh, and I felt the reassuring lump of the vial. Maybe I hadn’t played my last card ye
t. “Jeez. You guys are nothing if not predictable.”

  Asa mumbled something under his breath. “What?” Reza asked.

  “Nothing.” Asa headed for the door to the main hangar, the panel clutched in his grip.

  We emerged to find things as we had left them, Frank at one end of the cavernous space, now hard at work on a cherry cheesecake. In the center of the hangar was the private plane. And on the other side of it were about a dozen henchmen. They were using wooden crates as both card tables and chairs, sneaking sips of vodka from bottles hidden within them. Crouched in a corner, his eyes wide and wary, was Peyta. He held something cradled against his chest, maybe a small stuffed animal.

  Frank saw us coming, Asa leading the way with the panel in hand. Frank’s pitted face glowed with triumph. “Ah, my boy. We knew you could convince Mattie to give up the goods. Women’s hearts are such tender, fragile things.”

  Asa glanced around, looking jittery and unsteady. “Are they getting the plane ready?”

  Frank nodded. “It has just been refueled. We’ll leave within the hour.”

  Asa’s jaw clenched, and his fingers spasmed around the panel as he shuffled toward Frank, whose smile wavered. “Are you feeling all right, my friend?”

  Asa stopped where he was and swayed again. “Stop it. I’m fine.”

  Frank must have been turning his pleasure vibes on Asa. I could almost feel them from here, a seductive brush against my skin, draining some of the fear and defeat. Enough, in fact, to make me more aware of Asa. One of his pockets was unbuttoned, and the little action figure he’d set on the safe earlier was hanging out, like he’d jammed it in there hastily. Could I get hold of it? Maybe between it and Theresa’s magic, I had a chance. I upped my pace, trying to get closer even as Reza put a hand on my arm.

  I tore it out of his grip. “I’m not trying to get away.” Except that was exactly my plan. I knew I probably wasn’t going to get far, but if my alternative was spending quality one-on-one time with Reza until he’d cracked my mind and spilled my thoughts out for all to see, until he’d stolen my dignity and spirit, well then. It didn’t seem like a hard choice. At that point I couldn’t blame Asa for trying to hurt himself. I understood it completely.