Aces Wilde: Immortal Vegas, Book 5 (8 page)

I really didn’t want to hear this. I even more didn’t want to see him as he spoke such words, their truth etched in every angle and plane of his face. But I couldn’t look away. I’d known Armaeus had changed in Hell, but looking at him now, it was as if he was a different person entirely. Gone was the smug self-assurance, the mild-mannered certainty that he was righteously correct in all his actions. In its place was an almost feral outrage that defied anyone to stand in his way—including and especially, me.

“But she did not really die, it would seem,” he continued scathingly. “Not in the manner she should have, the manner that would have taken her from this place and moved her to the next plane of existence, for her to live and love as she was intended to. No. Her spirit would not loose its hold on this earth, and for that she was consigned to the plane closest to our own, where mortals go to live out their regrets—their
regrets
, Miss Wilde. That is what I found when I finally deigned to enter a plane I could have breached at any time in the last thousand years. A woman mired in the regret of a life she no longer held, all for the love of me.”

I don’t know where the words came from that welled out of me. I didn’t summon them. I didn’t want them. But that didn’t stop them from boiling forth to spew at Armaeus in a scalding wash of pain.

“You’re not the only one who suffered in Hell, Armaeus. You say that place was built for regrets? I regret ever setting foot in it, ever seeing what I was forced to see, forced to feel, forced to hope—”

Once again Armaeus’s nearly preternatural awareness sharpened. His gaze raked over me so ferociously that I barely got my mental barriers set in time to avoid the blast of his attack as he reached out tentacles of ripping power, pounding into my skull.

“Get out—no!” I gasped, clasping my hands to my head. “You have no right—get out!”

“Make me, Miss Wilde.”
Though my mind was beset with a howling wind, I could still hear Armaeus’s words slip silkily over the top of the storm, as insidious as the magic he blasted at me.
“That’s twice you have wanted to betray something buried deep within you, so deep I cannot reach it. And I want to reach it. I want to know. You say you will do anything for money; then I will pay you. What is it you saw in Hell that gives you such pause? What is it that grips your entire energy with fury and despair whenever you rake over it, like a nail from the Holy Cross? I will pay you whatever you desire if you will tell me this—”

“No,”
I seethed, wrenching back from him, though he made no move to restrain me. “Get your bony ass out of my mind—now!”

Without thinking, without even feeling, I pulled my hands away from my head and thrust them out, as if I was hurling a medicine ball out of my skull. The movement lit me on fire from my center up and out, and the world around me was suddenly too white—too bright—a fury of crackling energy blowing up between Armaeus and myself.

I yanked my hands back just as quickly, and the illusion shorted out, leaving nothing but singed air in its wake.

Singed air and a very feral-looking Armaeus. The Magician’s touch was no longer on my mind, nowhere close to me, in fact. It was as if my brain now floated behind vaulted doors and bulletproof glass, and I stood taller for it, my shoulders lighter, my eyes clearer.

“What…” I said flatly, “was that?”

“That,” Armaeus purred with a positively opulent interest that had never boded well for me, “was magic, Miss Wilde.”

“Bullshit.”

He took a step toward the side, as if he intended to circle me, the newest orangutan at the zoo. “Not the magic of illusion, or the psychic skill of a Connected able to astral travel or dimension hop. That was not a magic born of your mind. It was born of your heart, your sacral center. The magic of a Magician, some would say.”

“So your magic returned back to you.”

“I don’t think so.” Deep, fathomless speculation gleamed in his eyes. “Mortal sorcerers borrow magic from other entities—demons, the djinn, angels, there are a thousand sources they claim to channel. You pulled that burst of power from within yourself. Do you still think your role in the war on magic is one of bloodshed? To lead a syndicate known more for its executions and technoceutical drug deals than for the furthering of magic’s place in the world?”

Back to this again. But at least this complaint I could handle. Especially without the Magician’s infernal touch on me.

“This war you speak of is not the Council’s war alone, Armaeus. It’s a mortal war as well.” My words sounded too loud, and I tried to modulate them, but I couldn’t seem to control my voice. Or my hands and feet for that matter. I visibly trembled, and backed away from the Magician toward the house, only dimly aware that he paced toward me like a hungry leopard. “And as it turns out, I’m mortal. I’m also in a position to help. And I can help. I’m strong enough for that.”

“There is no doubt that you are,” Armaeus murmured, his eerie dark eyes glittering. “How are you feeling, Miss Wilde?”

“Fine.” I took another few steps back, entering the house again. Its cool confines should have been soothing, but they were suddenly too close, too thick. As if the air was too tight against my skin, my skin too tight against my bones—

“Are you sure?” Armaeus’s expression was entirely too aware. “The use of magic—especially when it is not merely channeled power—can have a significant effect on a person. One that is difficult to ignore.”

“I’m solid.” I turned, the front door of the house once more in my sight. I needed out of here, away from Armaeus, away from Paris. I needed time, space, breath. The heat that was pooling in my body, surging higher with each of Armaeus’s words, might be an unfortunate aftereffect of whatever I’d pulled out of my brain…but it was simply an aftereffect, and one I could manage.

Really.

Armaeus had somehow gotten around me, and I stopped short as I realized he now stood at the front door. But to my surprise, he wasn’t blocking me. Instead, he reached for the door and held it open, inviting me to pass.

“You remain, as ever, an enigma, Miss Wilde,” he murmured as I finally moved past him. His words seemed to arrow straight into my core, and how I managed to keep walking was a bit of a trick, what with everything south of my navel threatening to dissolve into a puddle of need. “And I look forward to exploring your newfound abilities more deeply when next we meet.”

I turned back to him. “Not going to happen,” I said, and there was still the weird thing with my voice—too loud, too full. “At this point, I’d rather set myself on fire than let you touch me.”

The Magician’s smile, if anything, only deepened. “It would appear you’re going to do both.”

Chapter Seven

I’d texted Nikki Dawes the moment I hit US airspace, so I wasn’t surprised she was waiting for me at the front doors of McCarran International Airport. Chauffeuring me around was one of the many ways Nikki earned her undisclosed monthly stipend from the Arcana Council, and she totally owned the position.

What did surprise me, however, was that she wasn’t alone.

A white-haired Asian woman stood next to Nikki, and though they were clearly together, they couldn’t have looked more different. Nikki had eschewed her normal chauffeur uniform for what could only be termed “bohemian chic.” Her six-foot-four frame was draped in a poet-sleeved snow-white crocheted tunic that ended just above her jean shorts, and miles above the calf-high multi-fabric cowboy boots that adorned her size-thirteen feet. Her long auburn hair was stick straight today, topped with a man’s fedora above oversized aviator sunglasses. Over Nikki’s shoulder was slung a hobo bag that looked like she’d wrestled it off an actual hobo, and her wrists and fingers, ears and neck sported enough turquoise to open her own mall kiosk.

Beside her, the much older Asian woman held herself perfectly straight in her cream linen suit and elegant pumps. She’d focused on me the moment I’d entered the wide corridor that birthed the next generation of tourists into Sin City. Her eyes were a fathomless black, and her gaze only sharpened as I approached. She was petite—barely coming up to Nikki’s bicep—and she appeared dressed for an international law conference, down to the expensive leather briefcase.

In contrast to the two of them, I probably looked like yesterday’s lunch bag. Which would have been fine with me, since I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten. My little face-off with the Magician had healed up my hands nicely but hadn’t quite rid me of my need for food.

“Dollface!” When Nikki smiled, her entire face lit up like a neon WELCOME sign, and the icy fist I’d clamped around my guts the entire way to Vegas unkinked a notch. Then she was striding forward, engulfing me in her arms and turning me around.

“Nikki!” I managed. “I’ve only been gone a week.”

“I’ve lived through a typical week with you. It’s like a lifetime in other people’s worlds.” She swung me toward the woman in cream. “This is Madam Peng—Jiao to her besties. She showed up this morning at Eat and wouldn’t leave, so we communed over shrimp and grits. She’s one of Soo’s people, which I guess are your people now.”

Nikki’s voice could have held a note of accusation in it, but didn’t. I hadn’t had much time to process the events of the past few days before Armaeus had offered Simon and me the rush job in Israel, and I hadn’t debriefed her on Annika’s unexpected legacy to me. I’d barely debriefed myself.

“You two talked?” I asked.

“Nikki was gracious enough to bring me up to speed on your travels,” Jiao said. Her face was eerily unlined for someone with such bright white hair, and her eyes were coal black. But her smile was open and authentic, and I found myself warming to her for no reason. “Madam Soo would not have wanted you to journey so far without protection, however.” Her gaze scanned the airport behind me. “Going forward, you’ll need to accept additional security. Especially given the events of this past week. Your role with the organization is precious.”

I hitched my messenger bag higher on my shoulder and considered her. “You called in Nigel Friedman, didn’t you? He and I aren’t the best of friends, you should know. But I appreciated his help.”

Jiao bowed. “Mr. Friedman was the closest option for assistance,” she said, though it felt like there was more to that story. Nigel, for his part, hadn’t tried to reach out to me after putting me on Soo’s plane, so maybe he
had
simply been in the area. But still…

“You call on him a lot?” I asked.

Jiao patted her bag. “There are many arrangements Madam Soo made during her tenure as head of the House of Swords. If you have time for a quiet conversation, there is much we should discuss.” She unlatched the top of the bag, and I saw two thick folders of papers inside. Papers I had a sinking feeling I was supposed to read.

“Sure.” I glanced at Nikki, but she’d pulled out her cell phone and was tapping furiously on it as she glanced at Jiao over her aviators.

“Jiao here said she’s been in Vegas since Tuesday,” Nikki said. “Lucky break that she found me when you were heading into town, yeah?”

I didn’t miss the cautionary riffle in Nikki’s words this time. Sadly, I was too tired to process it. “Right.” I knuckled the grit out of my eyes, savoring the fact that my palms were no longer sliced up. The Magician could seriously chafe my chaps, but he beat Neosporin any day. “Look, my body is nowhere near on Vegas hours. If you guys can stomach another cup of coffee, I could use some—”

“Drop! Stay down!”

Nikki barked her words forcefully enough that her command intersected with my lizard brain. Without thinking, I collapsed to the floor like a sack of flour, just as something bright and white went skittering across the gleaming tile, smacking into the nearest trash can.

A knife? As chaos erupted around me I crab-scrabbled for the thing, making like a pill bug once I got it. Yep—long, thin, and made of Soo’s signature white metal. Christ on a crutch, Jiao had thrown one of my own House’s blades at me. I hadn’t even had a job interview!

Four feet away from me, Jiao and Nikki were throwing punches at each other like a Boho MMA expo. Nikki might not know Krav Maga, but her days with the Chicago PD hadn’t been so long ago that she didn’t know how to defend herself. I moved to scramble upright, then remembered the second half of Nikki’s command to stay down at the same moment a familiar voice barked from the front doors.

“Freeze! Police!”

What the…?
My brain seized up as Las Vegas Metro Police Detective Brody Rooks strode forward, his worn loafers slapping against the tile in an angry but controlled cadence. Jiao bounced away from Nikki and allowed Brody to pull her around roughly without seeming to lose a fraction of her poise.

“My apologies, Miss Dawes. The test needed to be made,” Jiao said as she nodded first at a bristling Nikki, then down at my own slack jaw and crouching body. “You are more prepared than we expected, Madam Wilde, and for that I am only grateful.”

Nikki grabbed Jiao’s bag from where Jiao had dropped it, her eyes remaining flat as Brody started barking.

“You have the right to remain silent,” the detective said, signaling to two other uniformed cops to hustle up beside us. By now we’d drawn a small crowd. The apparent danger had passed, but my hopes for an egg sandwich seemed to be dwindling. Brody handed Jiao off to one of the uniforms, then turned to Nikki—scowling at her as she pawed through the contents of Jiao’s bag. “Nikki, that’s police evidence.”

She pulled out the thick files and handed the bag over to him. “Then it’s a good thing you’re here to ensure chain of custody. Look inside for anything else you need, like maybe the baby Beretta in the front pocket.”

I turned on her. “A
Beretta
? She was going to shoot me?”

Nikki scowled. “Honestly, I have no idea. These files looked legit, but I’ve never seen the woman, you hadn’t prepped me, and something was twistier than a fish on a hook about her from the get-go.” She stared after Jiao as the police officers escorted her to a waiting cop car. “Still, she totally pulled every punch after the first, as if she really was testing me out. Maybe she’s one of Soo’s people, maybe she isn’t. Either way, she set us up. And that’s not cool.”