Aces Wilde: Immortal Vegas, Book 5 (18 page)

“Fair enough. Outcome is the Five of Wands. Could be a fight, or the fifth exit, or—”

“You know it’s a fight, hon. A fight where we’re betrayed. My favorite kind.”

“Clarifying.” I pulled two more cards out of the deck, flipping them upright: Hierophant and Death.

Nikki took another pull on her beer. “I’m glad you’re the card reader and I’m the muscle.”

“This feels like a location clarifier,” I said, dropping the Hierophant between the first two. “We’re going to a religious site, and there are statues dedicated to Buddha in there. So the statues are where we should focus.”

“And this American GI was, what, a Buddhist? Drawn to the elbow of Cambodia as his personal mecca?”

“Who knows. Angkor Wat started out Hindu focused, but it’s been Buddhist since the mid-1500s. That’s a few hundred years after the Honjo Masamune was created.” I shook my head. “I don’t know the connection. Maybe there isn’t one, maybe the guy simply paid more attention to the ley line configurations. They all converge beneath the temple.”

“Maybe. All that matters is you think the thing is here.” She flapped her hand over the cards. “And that we have enough lead time to get the hell back to the plane before the rest of
that
happens. What’s Death mean in context here?”

“Probably not actual death, since the Tower is with it.”

“Thank heavens for small favors.”

I shrugged. “Change, something that takes us completely by surprise. That’s what we’re looking at, I think. Something that changes everything.”

Our food arrived, and conversation halted enough for us to sample the delicacies that Siem Reap’s Pub Street had to offer. Throughout the meal, though, Nikki’s gaze kept casually sweeping the crowd, and I didn’t miss how her hand strayed to her waist every time the door to the small bar opened.

I grimaced and downed another sip of beer. I was used to entering dangerous situations, thrived on it, in fact. I was used to ending up places I sometimes needed to exit equally quickly. But it was a different sensation to be walking around with a target on my back. Some of that was because of the House of Swords, admittedly. But how much would change even if I gave up that commission? Could I go back to the shadows at this point, even if I wanted to?

I looked over at Nikki, whose gift of Sight extended only to what her clients saw—or believed they saw. An excellent skill to have in her former role of cop, but not as useful now, when I truly needed to divine the future.

“You ready?”

“About as much as you are,” she cracked, but she pushed back from the bar, throwing down a few bills on the counter. “Pretty sure that’ll guarantee us a seat when we come back,” she said, and the confidence in her tone bolstered my flagging spirits.

We headed back to our hotel, ostensibly to sleep for the rest of the night. Instead, a half an hour later in the middle of another rainstorm, we padded down the backstairs. The car Kreios had secured for us was small and nondescript, and Nikki folded herself into it with a curse.

“He did this on purpose,” she grumbled. “He’s thinking about me in this roller skate right now, laughing his exceptionally fine ass off.”

“It’s twenty minutes, and take heart. If the cards hold true, we’re probably not going to be driving back tonight.”

“That’s great, Sara.” She rolled her eyes. “You just keep the troops smiling, and it’ll all be okay.”

The downpour made the travel slow going, even in the dead of night—because nothing was really dead in Siem Reap, ever. People traveled on foot, on bike and motorbike in addition to cars, as numb to the rain as if it were a passing cloud of gnats. We dumped the car about two blocks from the temple and trekked the rest of the way on foot, pausing at an overhang to peer across the moat to the temple proper.

“I guess no one would really notice if we showed up wet,” Nikki observed, and I grimaced.

“Whatever is living in that moat, we do not want to have it crawling into us,” I said. “The back access road to the temple will take too long too. Kreios tapped into local data, and it’s a barricaded nightmare right now. So that means we go over the bridge to pray at the temple doors with everyone else. And we stay there. We’re die-hard pilgrims come to watch the sunrise celebration, and I bet we won’t even be the first in line.”

We weren’t. Tourists sat huddled under makeshift rain shelters, their spirits bright and cheery despite the sweeping rain. The beach of Angkor Wat’s opening to the temple grounds extended for several hundred feet in both directions, and trees hung over the high wall. It wasn’t too much of a stretch for two soaked Americans to wander over to the edge of the tree line, looking for shelter.

We sat there another half an hour, until yet more tourists arrived, these singing drunkenly as they careened back and forth across the bridge.

“That’ll do for distraction,” said Nikki, and I nodded.

“Remember, the walls might have razor wire. So look for the biggest trees you can find.”

“I just spent three hundred dollars on a full body wax,” she retorted. “Ain’t nothing going to gash open these legs if I have anything to say about it.”

She moved off, melting backward into the trees as I watched the beach for five minutes longer. By the time I reached her on the other side of the wall (thankfully there’d been no razor wire), Nikki had holstered her gun for easier movement.

We set out, reaching the main temple area with surprising speed. It was approaching three a.m., and the place glowed with a skeletal lighting system, not enough to worry about. Still, up on the actual steps to the Bakan Sanctuary, the lights were everywhere. Only one of us would probably be able to slip up there unseen, and it wasn’t the one who topped six foot four without heels.

“I need you on the ground until I get back,” I said. “If all hell breaks loose, get out.”

“Aye, aye,” Nikki said, squinting at the light show. “Figured they’d dim the lights more with the rain.”

“I think this
is
the dim version.”

Nikki hunkered into the lee of the steps as I pulled a pair of climbing gloves out of my pants and slicked them on. The rain had kicked up in force, and the thunder had taken to rolling in ten-second rumbles, interspersed with bright pops of lightning. I timed my surges to fall as the bright static from the lightning faded, and made it up the steep stairs half running, half climbing—and half lying flat on my stomach, gasping for breath. Even the description of “stairs” was a kindness. These steps were more like a rock wall at a gym, despite sporting more regular handholds. By the time I pulled myself up to the central tower’s opening, my arms were wobbling from exertion, and I flattened to the stone surface as a lightning bolt split the night sky.

“I get it, I get it,” I muttered, squinting into the tower’s central chamber with the aid of the heavenly light show. There were several statues of Buddha within, and I hopped the short fence to enter the monument, carefully avoiding the piles of ornamental offerings in tribute to the silent forms.

Four Buddhas stood at each of the cardinal points of the room, along with one in the center, the Maitreya Buddha. I looked at the feet of the four exterior statues, nodding as I confirmed they were bolted to the floor. None of the signs of reconstruction touched the statues’ feet.

“Where’d you put the sword, soldier boy,” I muttered, thinking back to the cards. The Buddhas all had similar poses, but I’d pulled the Hierophant card at the bar, symbolic of all things religious, yes—but also something more. The central Buddha had his hand in the air, as if passing on a benediction. That exactly matched the Hierophant.

Still, there was simply no way the sword was buried beneath or inside these Buddhas. The pit these statues currently rested on had been excavated and filled back in, everything of value carefully removed. A sword would have been found if it’d been buried in that gravel at any time over the past seventy years. I moved more closely to the central statue, brushing past the others.

The outer Buddhas towered over me and serenely watched my progress. I focused again on the Maitreya. It was virtually impossible to see the line where the head had been reattached after the original statues had been literally defaced by vandals. Had the sword somehow been placed inside while the statues had been undergoing construction? It was impossible to know, and either way—I wouldn’t have the tools to unearth the thing.

Scowling, I reached inside my shirt for the cards, even as another rush of lightning illuminated the temple room. The shadows jumped, and I jumped along with them, yanking the card free and flipping it upright.

The Ace of Swords.

Helpful to know I was on the right track, but I scowled at the card, looking for hidden clues. The sword was held aloft over a rocky mountain range, a crown and garland surmounting it. The hand floated in the air, and I looked from it to the hand above me, Buddha giving his benediction.

Lightning cracked again, and I looked up farther.

The dome of the Bakan Sanctuary had been gilded with several layers of silver, gold, and other precious metals through the years, too high and too awkward for vandals to easily reach, only recently uncovered through careful restoration. The ceiling was covered in bas-relief carvings that glistened through that precious covering, heaven represented through the original Hindu artwork of a throng of warriors paying honor to Vishnu. The warriors carried swords, arrows, and knives, and as I scanned the elegant artistry, another lightning strike cracked through the sky, hitting the top of the temple.

Electrical sparks showered down all around me, and the lights blinked out.

But not before I saw it.

Chapter Sixteen

A long, slender sword stuck out near the bottom of the ridged dome, adding an extra bump that didn’t match the other four arcs. Its scabbard reached out a scant inch farther than the other ridges, gleaming with the same metallic sheen as the rest of the gilded dome. I would bet my teeth that scabbard was lined in lead too. That might not have been done purposefully, but it had served to hide the sword better than anything else could have all these long years. After all, the dome was lined with metal—what was one more shard of steel?

Muttering an apology as the rain pounded down from above, I pulled myself up the Maitreya Buddha until I stood balanced, one foot on his shoulder and the other on his head. An outburst far below me on the grounds of Angkor Wat galvanized me to action, and at the next clap of thunder, I leapt, grabbing the edge of the sword—

And I hung there in midair, my feet pumping.

“C’mon,” I gritted out, inching my way up the sword. I had a grip born of strength and desperation, but I couldn’t miraculously put on weight. The sword refused to budge no matter how much I jiggled it.

“Dollface, where—sweet Jesus what’re you doing?” Nikki’s voice boomed across the small space and I glared down at her. “They’ve got the whole cavalry coming up these stairs in another five minutes. There’s some sort of electrical fire on the roof. Get down from there!”

“The sword!” I gasped. “Grab my feet.”

Muttering a curse, Nikki holstered her gun and ran forward, but her long arms were still too short to reach me.

“The Buddha,” I managed. By then I could hear the rush of men on the steep stairs behind me, guards or priests moving up for reasons I didn’t want to consider—whether for a fire on the roof or because they’d seen trespassers inside the dome.

Within the next fifteen seconds, Nikki had hauled herself up to the broad head of the Buddha. “Sorry, big guy,” she muttered as she stepped on the crown of his head, one foot wedged onto his shoulder. Then she scowled at me. “Girl, you better have a tight hold and padded elbows, because this is going to hurt like a bitch.”

“Just go already—”

Nikki hurtled herself off the Buddha and crashed into me, the sword giving way with a crack that sounded far too loud. Then both of us were dropping through the air. I hit the floor of the sanctuary so hard, my head bounced. I groaned, seeing nothing but stars.

“Buck up, Buttercup. We gotta skinny.”

It was too late, though. A trio of cloaked monks cleared the entrance of the dome, chattering in outraged Cambodian. As Nikki stood, they waved long rods that looked like they would hurt a lot, but the men hauling themselves up behind them had guns. Those would hurt more.

“Out! Out! No trespassing!” the monks shouted, first in English, then French. I scanned the floor wildly for anything broken other than my body, but my vision was still processing double. The Buddhas appeared fine, still benevolently holding court, but another crack of lightning sent more sparks flying.

“Sorry! Sorry, heard it was a hell of a view,” Nikki said, her hands up, her gun mercifully hidden beneath her knotted jacket. “That storm is something, isn’t it?”

Another roll of thunder made everyone wince, and I cradled the sword close to my body. No way would I be able to run out of the temple without anyone noticing me or it, but I couldn’t swallow the thing. The Honjo Masamune blade shivered in my hands as if possessed of a holy fire, but it was every inch a real sword.

My mind flashed to the Ten of Swords just as another bolt of lightning struck halfway down the temple, setting off new fires. “I’m stuck!” I cried, and when I staggered to my feet, the scabbarded sword was wedged between my arm and my side as if I’d been poked through. “Get it out, get it out—”

Not giving anyone a chance to do what I was begging for, I ran straight through the monks and into the startled guards, pulling one of them with me as I hurtled over the edge of the stairs. We both tumbled down, the sword immediately flying free of my grip. I righted myself and lurched after the weapon, half falling down the next several steps until I reached the blade.

By now, more men were rushing both up the stairs and down, and with Nikki clattering down behind me hollering that I’d been killed, I grabbed for the sword. It slid away from me, bounced sideways off the monument, then tumbled downward toward the stone floor of the courtyard. Without any other choice—I jumped after it.