Chapter 18

It took me a couple of seconds to fully absorb who and what I was looking at. Faustus Trivium. The very artifact dealer we were here to steal from. The one whose reputation was nasty enough to make Vera nervous. The guy who was hosting a "stolen magic" auction for the city's criminals tonight.

Yeah, him.

I reached out and completed the handshake. "I'm Kit."

Should I have used a fake name? Probably, but I was channeling most of my brainpower elsewhere at the moment.

Faustus's strange smile widened. This guy didn't resemble a single "thuggish criminal" stereotype. He looked more like a combination of Skrillex, Tilda Swinton, and a box of Wheat Thins.

He pulled out the chair across from me. "Mind if I sit?"

I shrugged, and he delicately set himself down on the chair, crossing one leg over the other and folding his hands in his lap.

"I own this place," he told me, still wearing that grin.

Great info, except I already knew that. Why had he stopped to talk to me? Did he suspect something? My mind raced through the possibilities, which wasn't good. A racing mind tuckers out a hell of a lot faster than the non-racing variety, and I had a halluci-bomb to maintain.

"That must keep you busy," I replied, unable to come up with anything more intelligent.

"Occasionally. But I have other interests that take up more of my time."

"Oh?"

"I'm a collector. I collect things."

I was aware of that too, but I feigned ignorance. "Like what? Antiques?"

His triangle smile got colder and the edges got harder. "Don't be cute, Kit. I know what you are."

My blood chilled, and I forced a slow breath through my nostrils. I couldn't panic. Not yet. "What do you mean?"

"You're a mythic." He reached into the collar of his turtleneck and withdrew a gaudy gold chain. Dangling off it was a diamond-encrusted compass that couldn't possibly point north. "I won this artifact in a game of poker a few years ago. It alerts me when another mythic is in its presence, and it detected you the moment you set foot in my restaurant. You must have a powerful mythic essence about you."

"Oh, thank you." I flashed a charming smile that I hoped hid my relief. I'd set off his magical metal detector and he was coming over to check me out. That was all. He was clueless otherwise. Praise Cthulhu.

"So, what are you?" he quizzed. "What class?"

Wow. Just asking me outright? Rude.

There were five classes of magic. Spiritalis, which comprised the nature-loving, fae-worshipping witches and druids. Arcana, which included sorcerers like Lienna, as well as potion-specialist alchemists and healers. Demonica, which was made up of lunatics who thought hellish monsters made great pets. Elementaria, which consisted of element-wielding mages like my wonderful ex-cellmate.

And last but not least, Psychica. We were the mythics with abilities that weren't classical magic powers but weird brain powers, like telekinesis, telepathy, divination, dream manipulation… and whatever extra-freaky thing I was.

"But we only just met," I evaded, batting my eyelashes coyly. "At least wait for our second date before asking personal questions."

His smile didn't shift in the slightest. He was like an alien trying to imitate humans, and no one was buying it. At least, I wasn't.

"I myself am Elementaria," he informed me. "A tempemage."

I couldn't remember what a tempemage was, but I didn't let on.

"Psychica," I revealed reluctantly, keeping it vague. "So is that what you collect? Artifacts?"

"Amongst other things. You must be very powerful, Kit, or very rare to give off such a strong signal to the compass… I was all the way back in my office when you came in and you still set it off. That's unusual."

"Maybe it just knew how badly I needed this coffee."

He tucked the necklace back into his turtleneck. "So, what are you? Color me curious."

I would color him creepily persistent. I grabbed my coffee mug for the first time and took a sip. Yup. It tasted as bad as it smelled. Did they mix it with cat litter or something?

"Like I said, Faustus," I replied calmly, as though my taste buds hadn't gone into a full civil revolt. "I don't put out on a first date."

"I have a fine nose for mythical abilities." He made a sweeping gesture toward the group of grimy dudes on the opposite side of the room. "All my associates possess unique or powerful abilities. I guess you could say I've collected them as well."

There were no two ways about it—that was a super weird thing to say.

"Fascinating," I said flatly.

Faustus made a noise that might've been a laugh but resembled something closer to a pigeon being flattened by a truck. "I like to befriend mythics of all types. I find it keeps my social life more interesting. We could be good friends, Kit. I'm sure I could be useful in some way to a mythic like you."

My eyes narrowed. Hmm. Was he laboring under the assumption that I was here because I wanted something from him? That could work in my favor.

Saving my own ass was my top priority, but I hadn't forgotten about Quentin and his ambitions. The whole point of Blue Smoke was to steal an artifact, and if my former pal planned to complete that theft, I'd like to know what nasty magic I would thusly need to avoid.

And on the off chance I did find out some juicy details, maybe I would drop an anonymous email to one [emailprotected]—or whatever Lienna's email was. She could do a quick turnaround on her career after my embarrassing escape, and Quentin would get what was coming to him for screwing with Maggie's emotions. With one well-aimed stone, I'd take care of two birds that had been pecking at my conscience for days.

Daring to shift more of my brainpower away from the halluci-bomb, I focused on Faustus. "Let's circle back to artifacts. You don't merely collect them. You're a dealer."

The corners of his smile drove deeper into his cheeks. "Are you in need of an artifact, Kit? Or do you have something to sell?"

"That depends. Any dive bar owner can call himself a dealer and peddle dime-a-dozen rain detectors, but I'm looking for a higher caliber of vendor."

Was a rain detector even a thing? I had no idea, but it sounded legit.

"I assure you I am the premier dealer in the Eastside. You might find flashier trinkets at a Yamada auction, but my wares are far more unique. Exceptional. Rare, even."

A premier dealer, eh? I flicked a glance around the disgusting dining room. Somehow, I doubted that.

"I have some… information that would be of interest to you." I arched my eyebrows. "But I've gotta be honest here, Faustus. I suspect it's above your pay grade."

His triangular mouth reversed direction. "I doubt that, Kit. What sort of information?"

"Artifact related, obviously." I flashed a toothy grin. "I'm assuming you're familiar with Cerberus?"

His eyes widened. "You know about… I see. Impressive, Kit."

"I'm often underestimated," I replied flippantly, even though I had no idea what he meant. Lots of people knew about the security guild, so that couldn't be what had impressed him.

"Certainly, certainly. I haven't been able to uncover much—though not for a lack of connections on my part. According to the rumors, not even Cerberus has a lead on the thief."

A chill washed over me, and I hastily checked myself. I couldn't lose focus on the halluci-bomb.

Faustus's unblinking stare clung eerily to my face. "I've been watching the market for five weeks now, but the artifact has yet to appear. And with the scarcity of intelligence on the heist, I admit I have doubts that you know something of significant value about it."

"Maybe the artifact isn't on the market because the thieves are sitting on their prize," I bluffed, keeping it vague. "It isn't something you'd casually offer up for auction, after all."

"But what else would they do with it? Not use it, surely."

"You never know." I canted my head. "Do you think it's as powerful as they say?"

"Likely even more so," Faustus sniffed. "We can't know the true extent of its amplification properties, but considering the security Cerberus had applied to it, in the right hands, its power would be quite magnificent."

Amplificationproperties? I did not like the sound of that.

Sitting forward, I looked into his creeptastic eyes and took a shot in the dark. "I heard it's ideal for amplifying psychic powers."

"As have I." A spark lit those eyes. "Would you like to amplify your powers tenfold, Kit? Or, as Cerberus claims, twentyfold?"

The chill in my blood had reached subzero.

"No," I muttered distractedly, fighting to drag my focus off my burgeoning dread and back to the halluci-bomb. "But I know someone who would."

"A psychic?"

"The worst kind."

"Hmm."

As Faustus's geometric smile bloomed anew, I decided it was well past time to make like an amoeba and split. Where was Vera? The fuel in my psychic tank was dwindling—not helped by that healthy dose of "oh shit" fear.

"Before we proceed further, Kit, shall we discuss your abilities?" he asked with a sharp edge—one that warned me it was my turn to be forthcoming. "I'm afraid I can't broker a deal until I know."

So as to ensure I wasn't psychically gifted at deception—which I was, though not in the way he was worried about.

"My abilities," I hedged, delaying for every possible second as my gaze darted to the kitchen door.

Faustus waited several patient moments, his tolerance fading along with his pleasant expression.

I lifted my mug to my mouth and pretended to take a long sip. "They don't have a name."

And that's all it took to revive The Smile. "Fascinating! If you are the first in a new order, why, that would be an exciting discovery."

"Yeah." I could feel my grasp on the invisi-bomb slipping as worry dug its persistent tendrils in my thoughts. "Exciting."

"So? Describe your powers, Kit. I'm something of an expert in classifications."

Across the dining room, the kitchen door swung open. The orangutan lumbered out—and Vera slipped through on his heels, her backpack bulging with items she hadn't carried in with her.

Yes! Now all we had to do was make our escape.

I snapped my attention back to Faustus. "It's difficult to describe."

Vera wound between tables, her movement slow and cautious. She couldn't see herself, making navigation difficult. I knew she couldn't go any faster, but I needed her to hurry. My brain was getting foggy, like I'd just woken up from a deep sleep—a warning sign that I was maxing out my mental stamina.

"I could demonstrate," I drawled slowly, suppressing a flinch when Vera's backpack grazed a chair, "but that tends to freak people out."

Faustus was nearly drooling on the tabletop. Geez. This was inching into verbal foreplay, and I wanted to hang up the figurative phone.

"You can go ahead and demonstrate," he breathed. "I assure you my nerves are more than sufficient for any display of power."

"Yours might be, but what about your collector's editions over there?"

As Faustus glanced at the manly posse in the corner, Vera passed by, waving at me as she headed for the door. She couldn't open it on her own. I needed to end my conversation with Faustus ASAP.

Before my foggy mind could come up with a conversation ender, he turned back to face me. A sharp-edged frown had replaced his smile, and his hand drifted to his chest. He pressed his palm against his sweater—where his mythic-detecting compass was hidden.

Oh. Oh shit.

Faustus's birdlike eyes darted around the room, moving back and forth across Vera. She'd frozen a dozen paces from the door, and her expression blanked as a vision of the future hit her.

"How odd," Faustus murmured, tugging on the chain around his neck. The diamond-encrusted artifact appeared from beneath his shirt. He studied it, probably wondering why he could detect a new presence. Maybe he was realizing that the reason he'd sensed my arrival so strongly wasn't because I was a super-mythic, but because I hadn't entered alone.

Vera's eyelids fluttered and emotion returned to her face—a mouth-popping expression of horror. And I knew the future was about to get ugly.

Which gave me about two minutes to change it.

"A mythic presence," Faustus mused. "Extremely close, but I don't see another mythic." His stare fixed on me. "I do not suppose you have any idea as to why that would be, do you, Kit?"

"No idea at all."

Vera stared at me, half a dozen tables between us. Her face was ashen and I knew what she was about to do. After all, it's what I'd do in her shoes.

She bolted for the door.

I gathered my fraying concentration, preparing to disguise the opening of the door—not because I wanted to save her while she ditched me, but because her being out of the way would increase my chances of escaping alive.

But when I tried to add a new projection on top of the invisibility halluci-bomb, my exhausted brain and waning power imploded inside my skull.

I sagged into my chair, the room spinning and the floor rocking like I was back on Vera's boat.

The table jerked as Faustus shot to his feet. A shout rang out, followed by a raucous clatter of chairs and stomping feet, then a crash.

My vision steadied as Vera tripped over a chair that had flown into her path. As she hit the floor, she slid backward on her stomach, dragged by an invisible force.

The goon squad was on their feet, and a six-and-a-half-foot beast the approximate weight of a buffalo was making a Darth Vader claw as he telekinetically dragged Vera away from the door. Blythe was the scariest telekinetic I'd ever met, but at three times her mass, this guy could give her a run for her money.

A face appeared in my vision. Faustus leaned over me, his triangular smile back—but completely different from before. Menace oozed from his every geometrical line.

"Interesting, Kit. I see you brought a friend." His gaze turned to Vera. "I'll deal with her before we return to our discussion of your most fascinating powers."