Wilde Card: Immortal Vegas, Book 2 (4 page)

And then there was this blasted headache.

“I can help you with that.”

I riveted my gaze on him. “Help me with what? I didn’t say anything.”

He sent me a withering glance. “Please. I don’t need to read your mind to know you’re in pain. I didn’t realize it was so extreme, however.” He paused. “Perhaps it’s time we employed another Finder.”

Hold the phone. “What are you talking about?”

“Nigel Friedman, I believe, was interested in working with us. You remember him, don’t you? He proved quite resourceful in Rio de Janeiero, what, fifteen months ago?” Armaeus flashed his teeth in a predatory smile. “I suspect he could have use for a quarter million dollars for one week’s work.”

“A
quarter million
? You’re about to pay out that kind of scratch and you didn’t tell me earlier?” I stared at him, struggling further upright. “I had to fight off a
corpse
three days ago, Armaeus, for way less money. You could have said something.”

“I had no idea you were planning to leave the city.”

“Well, I’m back in the city.”

“And how long do you plan to stay this time? Or have you already begun preparations to run once again?”

I tiptoed right around that shard of broken glass, though I could sense the trap of his machinations closing around me. “C’mon. I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to. Everything. You can’t say I haven’t.”

“And you’ve been compensated handsomely for your work. But this job is different. The rules are different.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Different in what way?”

“We will be going after SANCTUS directly.”

“I like that kind of difference.”

“Perhaps, but a rogue employee has limited charm in this scenario. If you want this next assignment for the Council, there is no room for improvisation. I need you to be strong, and I need you to follow orders.”

“Check and check.”

His smile was grim, almost sad. ”And I need you to cease your panicked resistance long enough for me to touch your mind, should I need to do so. As I need to now.

Chapter Three

I stared back at Armaeus, willing the completely unreasonable dread his words caused to compartmentalize itself.

I couldn’t let him crawl inside my brain. I couldn’t. From his very first attempt to Vulcan mind-meld me to the time I’d tried to get extremely up close and personal with him in bed—an attempt I’d made exactly once—an insurmountable wall of noise and fear had practically leveled me. It was as if the touch of his mind on my inner thoughts triggered an all-out war.

“Or maybe I simply don’t get into a situation that would require you to touch my mind. How ’bout that? You tell me what to do, I do it. Easy peasy.” I punched down my fear, ordering myself to chill out. If he wanted to crawl around in my thoughts, why shouldn’t I let him? Especially if it meant I could snare
two hundred and fifty thousand dollars
for a week’s worth of work? I could toe a whole lot of line for that kind of green.

And yet…

The faintest smile creased Armaeus’s lips, as if he knew exactly the kind of battle I was waging internally. But I knew he didn’t. He couldn’t. He was used to getting an all-brain access pass to everyone he met. No way had he ever experienced giving up that kind of control himself.

“Your fear is quite unfounded,” he said, almost conversationally. “I’ve never sought to harm you. I seek to help you reach your fullest potential.”

“Yeah, well, right now you’re sounding way too creepy overlord. Trust me, I’m good for anything that shuts down SANCTUS. In case you missed the important part of Jerome’s call, the refugee situation is out of control over there. He’s out of room, and more children are coming in by the day. I know that money won’t solve that problem, not for long. But gutting SANCTUS will. So let’s talk.”

Finally, the Magician nodded. “Very well. One of the most important events of the season is starting this week in the city. There’s something we need from it, something you are well positioned to get us.”

“Mr. Olympia?” I frowned at him, deliberately misunderstanding. “I didn’t think you guys were in the market for pumped-up boy toys. Then again, I haven’t met everyone on the Council.”

Armaeus’s lips tightened. “Not Mr. Olympia. The Rarity.”

“Ahhh, the Rarity.” Out of sheer perversion, I clamped down on my thoughts, reveling in the spurt of power it gave me. It was childish, but so was I. The upshot, however, was that even as I claimed not to have heard anything about the most celebrated ancient gold and rare jewels show in the western hemisphere, Armaeus didn’t know if I was joking…or if I was just that ignorant.

Another beat, and he decided he couldn’t take the risk. “The Rarity typically draws investors, collectors, and arcane artifact marketers for four days of trading, selling, and alliance building. This year, it will also do something more. Something most of the attendees won’t notice. Something the Council will need to manage carefully, restricting its knowledge to a highly select group of people within the city. And no—spare me your quip.”

I grinned. “But it’s a really good one.”

“I have no doubt. You do know what I’m talking about, I assume?”

His exasperation was a balm to my shattered nerves. “Yeah, I’ve been to the Rarity before. Never in Vegas, though. They held it in Dubai last year. Really cut down on the riffraff.”

In truth, the old gold show wasn’t typically super useful to me in my line of work. The sellers were usually there for networking and publicity, not trying to sell stuff so much as form the kind of connections that would pay off down the line. So everyone tended to be on their best behavior. On the buyer side of the house, the collectors ranged from the curious to the shrewd, most of them loaded to the gills with money to spend—but in the market for artifacts with unassailable provenance. Not really my cup of tea. “I’m sure you got a catalog,” I said, shrugging one shoulder. “Why don’t you simply order what you want?”

“This year, the action will be much more dynamic. Several new vendors have recently joined the convention, with booths in the public sector and VIP suites off the floor.”

“Vendors like who?”

“The Mercaults. The Fourniers. The Kuznof Family.” He rattled off a laundry list of Who’s Who in the arcane black market, and I straightened—as much as anyone could straighten while sitting in a cream puff.

“Those people are
legitimately
trying to buy and sell stuff at the Rarity this year? Why? That’s totally not their crowd.”

“They would not have been invited to attend otherwise. They are also interested in the same collection we are, a set of unique artifacts which purport to give their bearers highly specialized abilities.”

“News flash, Armaeus. That’s every magical artifact ever created.”

He continued as if I hadn’t spoken. He did that. “I need you to acquire these particular artifacts—quietly—and bring them to me for study. If they’re judged to be of no merit, you’ll then return them to the Rarity, with no one the wiser.”

“And if they’re judged otherwise?”

“Then the Council will utilize them to help address the power of SANCTUS.”

“‘Address’ as in blowing SANCTUS up, I hope.” I didn’t wait for him to respond. “
This
is the job you thought Nigel could do in my place? Don’t think I haven’t forgotten that.”

“Mr. Friedman has shown a remarkable ability to follow instructions.”

“He’s shown a remarkable lack of creativity, you mean.” I lifted my brows. “So who else is after these toys? Maybe I could get a bidding war going, if you really are set on someone else being your Finder.”

Armaeus’s eyes turned a shade cooler. “I would advise against it.”

“Just thinking out loud, you know, examining the angles.”

“The job, as I said,
can
be yours. However, utmost discretion is required on this assignment. We want nothing traced to the Council, especially given our proximity to the convention site.”

“Why not?”

“If we are to take action against SANCTUS, any action, it must be with the utmost secrecy. The goal of the Council is balance.”

“I’m sorry, did you miss the part where SANCTUS is
hunting down and killing the Connected
—especially kids?”

“We don’t know if they’re behind this newest surge of attacks. Heretofore, those crimes have been laid at the feet of the dark practitioners.”

“Practitioners who have been funded by SANCTUS, which my little trips around the world for Eshe have proven to anyone with eyeballs to see. They’re stamping out magic faster than we can get people out of their way, Armaeus. Worse, they think they’re on a mission from God. That’s not something you need to
balance
, that’s something you need to end.”

A smile flickered over his lips. “As I believe I mentioned, the ultimate goal of this assignment is to enable us to confront SANCTUS. Using the artifacts you will help us obtain.”

“What am I missing here? Why the whole business with this show?” I waved around his palatial office. “You’ve gotten your hands on every trinket worth coveting for the past nine hundred years. And you wouldn’t sell any of it to save your own mother. None of you collector types would. So who exactly are the people pawning off these goodies, and why don’t you deal with them directly?”

“The owners of these items have long held themselves out of the fray of arcane commerce. But word of SANCTUS’s campaign against the Connected has begun to draw notice among the upper level of practitioners, both dark and light. Demand is higher than it has ever been. Those with items of interest sense the unique economic climate and are finally ready to entertain bids.”

“Finally?” I narrowed my eyes. “Exactly how long have you been after these—what are they, actually?”

“Egyptian scroll cases. Anywhere from four to eight inches long, two inches in diameter, wrought of gold. This particular set has been missing since the Napoleonic era.” Armaeus gave me this information with deceptive nonchalance. I’d been around enough artifact junkies to know the signs when they thought they were onto a big score. Armaeus’s eyes were overbright, his hands doing that reflexive twitching thing. Somewhere in South America, an entire colony of butterflies was spontaneously combusting. But over scroll cases?

“Lot of scroll cases in the world,” I said evenly. “What’s so special about these?”

Armaeus didn’t hesitate. “The person who reads the words contained within these cases will, temporarily, wield the language of gods.”

“Sure they will.” I rubbed my jaw. “What gods are we talking about, specifically? Because that’s a pretty wide swath.”

“All of them.” His lifted hand forestalled my next question. “In a sense, for the time that the language’s essence consumes you, you become a god. In the hands of the knowledgeable practitioner, every thought would become reality, every Connected would be swayed by his or her words, and every demigod, demon, angel, or spirit could be called up and bent to the will of the summoner.”

I thought about that. “I could see how that would be handy. I can also see why I wouldn’t be selling such items at a public auction.”

“It would appear the seller, Jarvis Fuggeren, wishes the pieces to be sold in the open. With witnesses. No private showings, no backroom deals.”

Jarvis Fuggeren? That was a name I didn’t know. And I would have remembered it if I’d run across it. “Okay, but how could any amount of cash counterbalance the voice of God? Seems kind of shortsighted.”

“If it is a voice you cannot use yourself…”

My eyes widened. No wonder I hadn’t heard of the guy. “He’s not Connected? But still—that’s kind of a heavy responsibility, isn’t it? Keeping that kind of trinketry out of the hands of the dark practitioners can’t be a fun job.”

“Even in the hands of the light, they are a danger. While locked in a private collection, they were no concern. Now, however…”

I blew out a breath. “Everyone and their brother is going to want those cases, if they really do what you say. When does this circus come to town? I want to check out the convention center. Or wherever the event will be held.”

Armaeus tilted his head, considering me. “The Rarity will be hosted at the MGM Grand, in its conference facilities.”

“That’s not one of your casinos.”

“Not at present.”

“But that’s where I’m going?”

His lips twitched. “Not at present. I would prefer you to acquire the scroll cases at their current location.”

I liked the sound of that. “Which is?”

“A warehouse at McCarran International Airport. Today, if you would. I will send—”

“I can go alone, Armaeus. I don’t need a babysitter.”

He paused just long enough for me to realize my error, and I beamed at him, full-frontal toady. “I mean, of course, Mr. Bertrand. Send along whoever you would like, Mr. Bertrand. I’ll follow your orders to the letter. And I can start right away.” I turned toward the door. Something bright and blue caught my eye—and I finally remembered what I’d wanted to find here.

“But first…” I moved back to the wall, scanning quickly. Gleaming artifacts from every corner of the world greeted me, along with piles of rich fabrics and chunks of misshapen rock whose very insignificance probably meant they held the power of the universe within their knobby forms. I paused on a bit of gold fabric stitched with red silken threads, clearly some cutaway from a flag or standard.

None of Armaeus’s treasures featured little placards. He should fix that.

“That piece is Scots, Miss Wilde. The Fairy Flag.” I bristled, but he continued with a thread of impatience. “I don’t need to read your mind for something so simple. Was that what you were seeking when you came here today? Since it wasn’t the Mongolian crown?”

“No.” I gave up, pivoting back to him. “I, ah…I thought for sure you had some dragon kind of thing here.”

“A dragon?” His voice was cool, mildly amused. “Really?”

“Like this.” I fished in my jacket pocket, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. Not trusting my tossing skills, I stalked back over to Armaeus’s desk, then leaned over to smooth out the small sheet. It was a receipt from a bar at Charles de Gaulle airport, but it’d been the one scrap of paper I’d had when the image had flooded through my memory, crisp and sure. “This part’s in red,” I said, jabbing a finger. “The dragon—that’s a dragon, by the way—is blue. I saw a symbol like that on the plane you sent for Kreios and me in Rome. And I’m pretty sure I’ve seen it
here
, before. What is it?”