Born To Be Wilde: Immortal Vegas, Book 3 (14 page)

I glanced to the door, noting that Mercault’s bodyguards had taken up their positions in front of it. To block people from coming in? Or to block me from leaving?

I shifted my gaze to Mercault again. “Five hundred thousand. And no guarantees that what I find will be useful.”

His gaze never wavered. “You saved my life. And will save my business, if this is successful. Five hundred thousand is more than a balanced trade.”

“Okay, then.” I was nervous. Greedy, but nervous. “This could get ugly, though. This kind of travel is hard on a body. Hard as in I could spew all over you.”

“I stood in the blood of my own deputy less than two weeks ago. I assure you that even if you explode in front of me, I will be unmoved.”

“Not super comforting, but okay.” I blew out a breath. “What am I looking for, specifically? You want me to see Soo’s location and who she’s with?”

I reached into my jacket and withdrew my deck, then shuffled the cards aimlessly as I stood, getting a feel for them. This was my second-favorite deck, traditional cards with stylized coloring but retaining all the symbols of the Rider-Waite deck that I’d used so frequently to find the missing.

“Her location, her compatriots. I suspect she is harboring agents of SANCTUS in her domain. I would know that as well.”

“Yeah, well. Agents of SANCTUS aren’t doing so well, I’ve heard.”

“Your modesty is unnecessary.” Mercault smiled. “I’m well aware of your role in damaging their operation. Do you not know the impact of your actions?”

At my confused glance, he gestured to one of his men, who stepped forward and powered the large computer screen to life. A green-on-black map of the world flashed briefly to life, then zoomed in to Europe. Large expanding dots with ties to other dots bloomed in several locations throughout Eastern and Western Europe. “Before the burst of psychic energy, this was the general reach of SANCTUS. Rome, Istanbul, Budapest…Shanghai.”

“Shanghai. Didn’t know that one.”

Mercault nodded. “Soo’s headquarters have long been located in the historical district of that city. Now, look what happens in the days leading up to the pulse. Here.” The man beside him hit another key, and the Vatican City stronghold winked out, while Istanbul bulged and small outposts blossomed in Paris and Amsterdam. “And more importantly, here.”

Istanbul disappeared. My eyes widened. “That’s where they were hiding? The Hagia Sofia?”

“Not within the walls of the cathedral itself, but in a nearby palatial estate. They didn’t die, mind you. They merely—dispersed. Rapidly. We can account for some of them traveling to Shanghai, hence my interest. The rest…” He shrugged. “Are in the wind. Not for long, I suspect.”

“Some of them are Connected now, or think they are. Those with more developed abilities, like you, got ramped up. That’s going to set them back.”

He nodded. “We’ve been tracking all known operatives, but the augmentation of their abilities has made traditional tracking somewhat problematic. We think the major players didn’t run to Paris or Amsterdam—too close, too obvious. We think they went to Shanghai.”

I frowned. “But what could Soo be thinking? She’s a Connected. She knows what SANCTUS’s end game is. They want to destroy all magic. By definition, that means her too.”

“Annika Soo has always been able to control an end game. It does not stop her from making money along the way.” Mercault gestured to my cards. “You will use those?”

“I don’t usually work this way. This may not work at all. You’ve got to know that going in.”

“I will wire half the amount to your usual account for making the attempt. If you have information that I can use to help undermine Soo’s next attempt to move in on my trade, I will wire the second half.”

Mercault always did know the direct line to my heart. That didn’t make my stomach any less queasy about the thought of attempting an astral travel jump without the Council’s protection. Then again, they weren’t here. And Mercault was a loyal client with money to burn. I nodded.

“Wire the money.”

As Mercault nodded to the man opposite him, who busied himself at the computer keyboard, I angled my chair closer to the table. If I collapsed, I didn’t want to fall that far. I shuffled the cards a few more rounds, then spread them in a wide, sweeping arc across the table, my mind slowing down, my heart slowing down, the breath coming more easily between my lips. It was always this way when I was able to truly sink into the cards, this feeling of rightness. A sudden pang of pain flared along my right wrist, but I ignored it. Blue’s tat would take time to heal, but I wasn’t jumping to Atlantis on this trip. I wasn’t going anywhere at all, not really. The shortest stroll around the garden, nothing more.

I pulled three cards from the deck in quick succession and flipped them over. Nine of Pents, Hierophant, Five of Wands. And in that moment, my stomach tightened for reasons that had nothing to do with the body-scrambling hop we were about to do.

With a knowing that could not be denied, I’d identified where Annika Soo was. I knew who was with her, and I knew what I was about to walk into.

I turned back to Mercault. “Here’s what I need you to say.”

The trance started a lot rockier than usual, no surprise. Mercault was Connected, but he was nowhere near the High Priestess’s level, and he was saying the words for the first time. With his aid, I dropped into my mind in fits and starts, eventually reaching the place where my limbs extended outward and my body became diffuse in my own perception, angling out of the luxurious room at the Bellagio and up, up, soaring past the tallest spire of the Magician’s lair. If Armaeus saw me through one of the million and one windows in his fortress, he didn’t wave.

My breath seemed constricted, too tight, and I wondered idly at the pain as I soared west to the edge of the US and beyond, arching over the wide Pacific. Everything else felt right, and my vision wasn’t impaired—I saw the world flowing beneath me as if it was a combination of a hundred different images, the bird’s-eye view of dozens of satellites constantly shifting in time with my own gaze. The islands dotting the ocean came up to me in sharp relief, and then there was the cataclysm of Japan, and the teeming masses of mainland China beyond.

I angled down sharply to Shanghai, fighting with my own breath. I sounded gaspy, and refocused on my purpose. Annika Soo’s domain was currently located in the Waldorf Astoria on the Bund. Like syndicate bosses of old, she commanded an entire floor in the elegant hotel, along with the elaborate solarium she’d had built for quiet contemplation. Most people didn’t know about the solarium, but that was where she would be. The Nine of Pents showed a woman alone in her garden, enjoying the fruits of her labor. The fact that Soo hadn’t labored directly for anything she was likely enjoying was well beside the point.

I arrowed down into the smog surrounding Shanghai, and then I really did have problems breathing. I could hear Mercault muttering something in French, but I paid him no mind. He’d done the job he needed to do by launching me into this trance. Until I got out, he’d be little more than a recorder.

“She’s here, atrium. Alone.” I saw Annika almost immediately. She knelt before a small altar, apparently in prayer. She wasn’t going anywhere right away, so I faded back through the beautiful rooms of her suite at the hotel. Opulence greeted me at every turn. Rich wood inlays, marble, gold. Thick carpeting over inlaid floors, rich paintings on every inch of open wall. Other than the artwork, which had an Old World Asian feel, and the clientele, who were also predominantly Asian, I could as easily have been in New York, not Shanghai. Especially when I got to the main suite of guest rooms on Soo’s private floor.

The head of SANCTUS, Cardinal Rene Ventre, lay in an enormous bed, his face slack, his body loose. He was sleeping, but he didn’t look to be enjoying it. Tubes ran from his nose and mouth to a medical cart at his side, and surrounding the bed were more monitors and keyboards amid the fancy overstuffed chairs and thick carpet. It might as well have been the world’s most comfortable hospital room. A small force of medical-looking people stood beside him, grim but focused. On the screen, the cardinal’s vital readings appeared to be steady. His mind might have been fried, but Ventre’s ventricles were doing just fine.

I murmured his location and status to Mercault, who started cursing in French. Since I didn’t know the language, I kept going.

In the antechamber, more of SANCTUS’s men were collected. They looked shell-shocked. Skittish, edgy. One of them paced the floor. Another stood with his arms behind his back, staring down at a schematic. I didn’t know his face, but I described him to Mercault as best as I was able. He looked like a leader. Or whatever passed as a leader while Ventre lay in state in the next room.

Something shimmered in the energy field surrounding me, and I turned. It was as if I’d been tapped on the shoulder. Which shouldn’t be—

Pain blasted through me so hard, I thought I was going to black out. I whirled, and Annika Soo stood before me, clad all in white, her dark hair ruthlessly pulled back from her head. In her hands was a white sword, its blade stained crimson. Which proved an exact match for the blood staining the carpet at my feet. Except my feet weren’t visible—none of me was. Supposedly.

Based on the reaction of the men around us, it was clear that
they
couldn’t see me at least. Only my blood gushing out of a long, wicked gash, streaming onto the carpet. Soo hadn’t intended to kill me, then. Merely wing me for the benefit of her men. I wasn’t in the mood to appreciate the finer points of this distinction.

I turned, reflexively gripping my left arm with my right hand to stop the crimson flow from my wound. My right wrist spasmed as it came into contact with my own blood, and heat swamped me, somehow taking the pain away and replacing it with sharp, clear focus.

Annika was circling me now, ignoring the concerned shouts of the men around her. Suddenly, then, it wasn’t only Annika I faced. Six other white ninjas flowed out around Annika, all of them with their eyes on me.

Note to self: I am not invisible to ninjas.

Annika started spitting at me in a language that I had no chance of understanding, and irritation flashed over her features as she switched to English. “What are you doing here? Who sent you?”

It wasn’t a bad question, but I had a few of my own. “Why are you harboring SANCTUS? You know what they’re doing to the community.”

My arm seemed to be done bleeding for the moment, so I dropped my hands to the side. I had no weapon, and I hadn’t exactly been practicing swordplay. Something else to add to the to-do list.

“You’re allying with filth,” I continued. “It’s a poor decision, Annika.”

“I ally with no one.” She held up her sword, but unlike every kung fu movie ever made, she didn’t approach me alone. Nor did her men and women surge forward in a choreographed attack of ones or twos.

Instead…they all converged on me at once.

Rude.

As panic shot through me, I felt the very heavy weight of a Glock pistol pressed into my hand. Mercault was screaming, and I brought the weapon around, not to shoot it, but to complete a roundhouse punch, coldcocking the man closest to me. The unexpected move sent him back into his fellow, and I squeezed off two quick shots then, spraying in their direction as the SANCTUS operatives shouted in alarm and ducked out of the way, heading for the doors. I whirled and shot again in a battering spray, getting a wall behind my back.

The should-be-dead ninjas, however, didn’t fall down or sprout blood on their cloud-white gis. They disappeared, leaving nothing but their swords behind.

“That’s cheating!” I scrambled forward, barely able to scrape up one of the blades in time before the other four were on me. Using the sword as a blocking tool and not remotely as a weapon, I screamed bloody murder and charged the ninjas with my gun pumping bullets, waving the sword more to distract and confuse than to actually display any weapons skill.

Poof-poof-poof.
One after the other, they all disappeared, except Annika, who stood watching me with a smirk on her face. “You’re wounded.”

“Were those guys even real?” I snapped. “Did I just get pincushioned by illusions?”

She didn’t drop her sword. I held Mercault’s gun trained on her. She could probably throw the blade faster than I could shoot, but I wasn’t about to test that theory.

“I have many tools at my disposal,” she bit out. “The others are wrong about me. I am stronger than they think. I am stronger than
any
of you think.”

“Hey, I’ve no interest in a pissing war with you, so back it down.” I steadied my gun on her. “You trafficking children too? Pinching artifacts not enough?”

She straightened. “You’re a fool. SANCTUS is broken, and I will help them mend. In so doing, I will consume them.”

“They’re on a mission from God, Annika. They’re not going to give that up. Not even for you.”

She arched a perfect brow. “That depends entirely on what god they come to believe in more fervently.” Her gaze raked over me and lingered on my gun for a long moment. Too long. I didn’t bother glancing down, but I had a feeling I was using Mercault’s personal firearm, which, knowing Mercault, he’d modified in a highly distinctive way. A way that Annika Soo clearly recognized.

I wasn’t wrong.

“I have no quarrel with you, but you also should have a better care in the alliances you strike.” Her expression hardened. “Mercault!” she shouted, as if I was simply an extended Bluetooth. “I will not give up my advantage. But you
will
give up yours.”

Then she rushed me, sword high, expression fierce.

I braced myself for her attack. This…was going to hurt.

Chapter Eleven

I still had Soo’s sword sticking out of my left shoulder when I came back to consciousness in a rush, tipped back in the chair being braced by one of Mercault’s musclemen. “That’s new,” I gasped.

Mercault stared at me for a long moment, ashen faced, before exploding into a flurry of French. Three of his people rushed me and pulled the sword from my shoulder, immediately applying pressure to the wound. It was my left shoulder, the same arm that had gotten gashed earlier in the trance. I closed my eyes as equal parts pain and nausea swamped me.