Page 15 of All Out of Flux (Stolen Hearts #3)

15

LEO

R ain pattered on the windshield, a slow drizzle, a steady drive. Max kept his car’s pace speedy and safe. It didn’t often get wet out on the streets of Dos Lunas. Vera’s voice streamed in through the speakers, sharp and hissing. I could clearly visualize her seething on the other end of the line.

“This is so unlike the two of you,” she snapped. “And that’s just it. There are two of you to begin with. Shouldn’t that mean a smaller chance of mucking it all up?”

I shrank into my carseat in spite of the fact that Vera couldn’t possibly see us. I heard the implication in her words, that two finders in the mix also doubled the chance of screwing a job up.

Good thing she didn’t mention how we’d run into difficulties back with the Aqueous Elixir as well, losing not just one, but both of the precious potions.

“I wish I could explain it,” Max said, one hand on the wheel, the other mussing at his hair in annoyance. “The statuette literally slipped out of my grasp. Literally, Vera.”

She gave a derisive sniff, somehow combining the noise with a haughty harrumph. “Well, it hardly matters now. We’re all out of a paycheck. You wasted your energy, and I wasted my time coordinating this job. Go ahead and meet the client as requested. Tell them yourself how you managed to misplace the statuette.”

“Sorry, Vera,” I said, leaning close to the dashboard to speak directly into the phone. “We’re on our way, Vera.”

“Honestly,” she muttered, “see if the Amethyst Spider ever has to deal with these shenanigans. Or the Emerald Spider, God forbid. She’d have their heads on spikes.”

The muttering trailed off, blending with the background chatter of her home bar until she finally hung up. I squinted at Max, who was too focused on driving to squint back, but I knew we were on the same page.

“You know she said all that on purpose,” I said, “leaving us on the line like that. Man, Vera’s extra pissed. And what’s all that about the Emerald Spider and heads on spikes?”

“Never mind that right now. Vera’s our best bet for a spider. I really don’t want to lose her as our primary employer, and besides, I — wait a minute. This can’t be the right place.”

Max’s car rolled to a gentle stop. The map on his phone suggested that we’d arrived at our destination — this was where we were supposed to meet the client.

“But it’s just a parking lot,” I said, peering out the window in bewilderment. “An empty one, too.”

It was the back parking lot of the Dos Lunas Dome, to be more precise. Think the Hollywood Bowl, or any other major concert venue, only not quite as major. And not quite a venue, either, at least that night. We were the only car in sight, no concert or special event at the Dome, both the building and the parking lot in glistening wet darkness apart from a couple of lampposts.

Max tapped at his phone, checking and double checking both the map and Vera’s messages.

“This is ridiculous,” he said. “There’s no one here.”

I pointed through the windshield, my skin rippling with sudden goosebumps. “Unless you count that guy.”

I specified “that guy” only because I recognize the confident stance of the figure standing several paces away from our car, his telltale mask radiant and blazing white in the headlights. It was our good friend, the nameless Masque.

“This asshole,” I muttered. “And here I was just thinking how nice it was that we hadn’t seen him in a while.”

Max cleared his throat. “Actually, we saw him at Habibi the night we went there. Well, I did, at least.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Not that I’m boiling mad about it or anything, but is there some reason you didn’t tell me about this?”

“Didn’t seem important at the time, but it sounds like the same old mysterious Masque shit. He’s trying to catch you conjuring one of your dragons again, I bet.”

I rolled my eyes. “Same old shit is right. But we both know he won’t be catching me dabbling with dragons any time soon. Oh, look at this jerk beckoning like we’re supposed to be all excited to see him. Looking all pompous and trying to be mysterious. Hold your horses. Jerk.”

Max unlocked the car doors. “You don’t suppose he’s actually our client, do you? What the hell? Conflict of interest, much?”

And Max was right, too. A special armistice meant that the Masques generally looked the other way when it came to business among finders and spiders. But to actually seek out our services? Something smelled fishy here.

“Mr. Brillante,” the Masque called out. I could already sense Max cringing, but at least no one was around to hear he wasn’t being called by his preferred name. This Masque really was a piece of work.

“And Mr. Alcantara, too. So lovely to see you both.”

Max grumbled under his breath. I grunted back in agreement. Why wouldn’t we be seen together? We were supposed to be partners, after all.

I glowered as we approached the Masque, my hand held up to protect my hair from the rain. Not enough of it to matter and get us very drenched, but that still depended on how long this jerk was planning to keep us out in the elements making small talk. Forever, knowing him.

“Cut the crap, Masque guy,” I said. A little too loud, maybe, but Max and I were careful to keep our distance. “What’s up with you ordering special deliveries from spiders and finders? Aren’t you supposed to keep everything above board? Wrong app, buddy. Try again.”

The Masque laughed. “This is why I like the two of you so much. It’s the banter. You’re always offering some form of entertainment.”

Max scoffed. “And congratulations on having a smart mouth yourself. You’re obviously our client. Couldn’t you have arranged to meet us somewhere with an actual roof? I’m getting soaked through over here.”

“Correct. I am, indeed, the client.” The Masque turned his hands up and shrugged. “But what’s this? It appears that neither of you are in possession of the very object I’d requested through your lovely spider. Where is the statuette, gentlemen?”

I threw Max a quick glance. We hadn’t worked out this part yet, but we had to keep our story straight. He gave me a small nod, permission to begin.

“So we lost it,” I said. Honesty, my mom used to say, was the best policy.

“I lost it,” Max said, thumping his chest and taking one long step forward. Annoying how he could be so hot stealing the limelight and trying to be the hero, that stupid wet hair clinging to his forehead, the dewy black of his leather jacket. It reassured me, how I knew I’d be safe at his side — or standing a couple of paces behind him, as was the case.

“I take full responsibility,” Max continued, getting hotter and hotter. “I know we’ve had our differences, but I don’t want this to reflect poorly on Leon as a finder. The spider network should know that I fumbled the bag, not him.”

Huh. Was there some review system for finders and spiders that I didn’t know about? If I found out I had anything less than a five-star rating, I’d be livid. Which, okay, maybe that was somewhat undeserved, but still.

“We lost it together,” I said, stepping up to Max’s side, nodding firmly when he frowned at me. “We’re partners in this, so we share the responsibility. We lost the statuette.”

The Masque reached for his coat’s inside pocket, then pulled out something sandy beige, something about the size of a water bottle. The sight of it made my nostrils flare.

“You mean this statuette?”

I turned my face to the sky and groaned, the cold droplets of rain on my cheeks not quite enough to douse my anger. The wet clap of skin on skin meant that Max felt the same, slapping himself in the forehead.

“Of course it was you,” Max growled. “Who else would go through all the effort of hiring us to procure something and then just steal it back?”

“What’s the fucking point, even?” I wiped away the rain from my forehead, pulling on the dripping tangles and snarls of my hair. “What are you trying to prove? Let me guess. Something to do with me and my dragons, am I right?”

The Masque clasped the statuette in both hands, the top half of his mask lifting slightly as the bottom half of his face broke into a tauntingly perfect smile.

“Putting in a request for a nondescript statuette was only the first step. I knew that the trail would lead you to Gustavo Brillante one way or another. The man wouldn’t dream of hurting his dear, sweet nephew — not in any debilitating sense, at least. Knowing your skills, I knew you would complete your mission successfully. I’d only hoped that the danger Gustavo put you in would have been enough to goad you into using your dragons, Mr. Alcantara.”

I raised the middle finger of one hand, then the index finger of the other, pointing at his face, wishing I could punch straight through his mask. “You’re a fucking asshole, you know that? We could have gotten into some real shit back there. The Quartz Spider is still at large.”

“Wait,” Max said. “Is that what this has all been about? Distracting us with this stupid little side quest of yours so that we wouldn’t be prepared when the Quartz Spider inevitably tried to blindside us?”

The Masque chuckled. “Guilty as charged. Your encounter with Gustavo was a smaller, if somewhat unsuccessful test. But being forced to face a time mage? I was so sure you would call the dragons out.”

I threw my arms out just in time to restrain Max as he lunged for the Masque.

“You put us in danger. You put Leon in danger. I should knock your head off. Show yourself, you coward. Show me your face so I can dream about killing you with my bare hands.”

This time the Masque’s smile was purely humorless. For a moment he stood there, a grinning tiger. Then he waved one hand across his face, dismissing his mask. It crumbled into powder, dissolving in the rain.

“But you wouldn’t hurt an innocent shopkeeper, would you?” asked the slight man from Habibi, the one with the glasses and the waistcoat and the pocket watch.

“Just?” Max said, his muscles slackening, the fight going out of him. “It was you all along? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“You betrayed us, you fucking twink. Is that even your real face, or just one of your secret identities? Pick a different one. This one sucks.”

The Masque flinched, this boy named Just. The bob of the lump in his throat as he swallowed, the twitch in his eyebrows — this was the real him, all right. A Masque revealing his true face? There he was gloating about exposing us to Tío Gustavo and the time mage when he was the real danger all along. He didn’t care that we knew what he truly looked like because one way or another, this was going to end tonight. Whether with us dead or arrested, who could really say?

“I knew it was worth making you suffer,” Just said, pointedly ignoring my mockery. “To string you along on that wild goose chase. And now the statuette has brought you here to me. This thing is worthless otherwise.”

“Hard disagree,” I said, rolling up my sleeves. “It’ll be perfect for breaking your teeth in.”

Just — the Masque — this weirdo with his hidden agendas and alter egos, he threw his head back and laughed. “That’s right. Let the anger take over you. Let it flow through your blood. Open all the channels in your body. Let the dragons come screaming through.”

It was my turn to ignore him. I couldn’t roast him with Tiamat’s fire, but I was still perfectly capable of roasting him in other ways.

“What kind of a goofy-ass name is Just, anyway? If it’s short for Justin, why not just say you’re Justin?”

His mouth tightened, his lips forming a flat, angry line. Aha. Another soft spot.

“So it’s not Justin, then?” Max said, adding fuel to the fire. He muttered a single word under his breath — “Penetrate” — then separated his hands to reveal a wicked pair of crystalline daggers.

“If you must know,” the Masque shouted, going red in the face, “it’s short for Justice.”

And we were so ready for the big boss fight, too. Max and I doubled over in laughter. He slapped his thigh. I clutched my stomach, pointing, laughing even harder when the Masque stamped his foot in annoyance.

“What kind of a name is Justice?” I said, wiping away my tears. “What happens if you go up through the court system? Could you ever become Justice Justice? Chief Justice — ”

“Stop!” Max choked out. “It’s too stupid, don’t say it.”

“That was what my family wanted for me,” Justice shouted. “We come from a long line of enforcers, and — and I think it’s a perfectly appropriate first name.”

“For anyone else but you,” I said, forcing myself to straighten back up. “You come from a long line of narcs and snitches.”

That did it. Just’s lips drew back, his teeth as bright as the mask he’d dismissed.

“What I come from is a dynasty of illusionists. The images I can conjure would blow your mind. And they have, in fact.”

Okay, I definitely didn’t expect to drag that out of him with our bullying. Good to get any kind of confirmation, knowing how this Masque in particular had used trickery against us in the past. The way he began or ended our meetings, for example, being all flashy by turning invisible, leaving only his mask as a taunting Cheshire smile.

But he’d said that last part with a semblance of a sneer in his voice. He wasn’t just talking about teleportation and theatrical tricks. Max placed his hand defensively on my chest, physically covering me. He could sense that something was coming, too.

“Tío Gustavo denied ever sending any of his goons after us at the parking lot in Habibi. The Quartz Spider denied killing anyone there. And Justice — you were at the club, too. As Just, and then as a Masque.”

My jaw fell. “That was all an illusion? All three of those goons, them freezing in a time spell, them disintegrating? We ran and panicked for nothing. That’s fucked up, Just. You’re sick. Why even go to those lengths?”

“To mess with your heads, of course. To cast the blame on the Quartz Spider, to infect you with fear and keep you on your toes. Is this doing it for you, gentlemen? Is it satisfying as finders to be spoon-fed all this information you couldn’t manage to figure out yourselves?”

All this elaborate bullshit just to put us in danger, just to coax me into using the dragons and fall into his trap. And here we were, two against one. No backup from any other Masques, as if Just knew he could take us on his own. Or maybe he wanted all the glory to himself. The arrogance, the audacity. It made my insides itch. I clenched my fists, gritted my teeth. The last thing I wanted — the thing Justice wanted the most — was to let the dragons out.

“This isn’t worth it,” I told Max. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

“I agree. All this trouble just to get my hair wet.” We started back toward Max’s car. “See you around, Just. The next time we see you, I’m putting a fist through your mouth.”

Justice chuckled. “I do so hate to repeat myself, but I so enjoy all the entertainment you two bring me. Such an amusing claim to make, because you’re not going anywhere.”

Thunder clapped, or perhaps it was just the magic emanating from his hands. From their hands. With the explosion of sound came a sudden flash of light, and instead of just Justice, there were twelve copies of him arranged in a ring around us. Each wore the same smug expression, and each held a copy of the stolen statuette.

We were surrounded. Trapped. Only — were we actually stuck there? Eleven of these figures were only illusions, weren’t they? Then again, the false time anomaly back at the parking lot, the dying Brillante goons — it had all seemed so real. Their skin and flesh flaying in ribbons, their skeletons crumbling to dust. There was no denying the power of the mind, both its ability to create magical manipulation as well as its susceptibility to those same tricks.

Crystal daggers flashed and zinged, launched from Max’s hands. I whirled to follow their flight, watching as the crystalline slivers passed through two of the illusory Masques, harmlessly piercing their faces and shattering on the asphalt as they fell. Two down, or at least identified, ten more to go.

And then the Masque laughed, this time louder, another burst of magic erupting from his fingers as he clapped his hands. The entire ring of twelve men spun around us, a dizzying ride at a carnival, a nauseating trip through a hall of mirrors.

“You’re a clown,” I shouted at the closest projection, its wavering body quickly replaced by the next. “That’s all you are, you know that? You’re a fool.”

“Watch out,” said a voice by my ear — Just’s voice. Two strong hands shoved me hard in the back. I stumbled forward, winded, finding myself closer to the center of the circle. Max toppled toward me himself, the victim of a similar attack. My head ached as the visions spun faster and faster, the ring tightening into a smaller circle. A zoetrope, the heart of a kaleidoscope.

I clutched my chest, my insides churning. “Why are you even still holding that stupid statuette? You said so yourself. It’s worth nothing.”

All twelve copies of Justice laughed. “Because it makes you so angry. Haven’t you figured it out yet? Give it up, Alcantara. Unleash the dragons. Show me your true nature.” He leered as he lifted the statuette, its many copies blurring into a beige-brown streak. “Look at this thing that’s tormented you this whole while. It’s barely even magical. Whatever power it contained was spent long ago. It’s worthless.”

“Not quite,” said a fourth voice.

The spinning stopped. The twelve images of Justice were grinning, but all stood perfectly still, as if the ride had come to an abrupt stop. Paused. Frozen in time.

“Max,” I muttered, only just recovering from the effects of the illusion, already fearful of what was coming next. He reached for my hand, the two of us leaning against each other for support.

And there he was. The Quartz Spider stepped out of the darkness and into the ring of Masques. This time Brendan Shum had made no effort to conceal his face, perhaps for the same reason that Justice was so eager to reveal his own.

This was where it ended.

“I’ll take that,” Brendan said, approaching one of the Justices, selecting correctly as he plucked the statuette from his grasp.

This thing was supposed to be worthless, wasn’t it? An old artifact with long dormant magic, only as good as a mundane piece of decorative art.

A wreath of white fire bathed Brendan’s hand, spreading across the statuette. He finished muttering the words of a swift, quiet spell, then clenched his fingers to the sound of shattering stone. With a single crushing motion, he’d pulverized the relic.

Dust streamed in opposite directions, the destroyed statuette as fine as powder. As sand. Oh, God. We’d delivered the quickening sand right into his grasp. Two glass bottles floated out of his pockets, the emptied phials that once contained the Aqueous Elixirs.

Sand streamed in through their mouths, just in time for the necks to join together with a glassy click. The completed shape spun in the air above his hand, a familiar and horrifying sight.

It was an hourglass.