When dinner was over, Mae found an urchin happy to carry a message (for a price) to an Eastern Alliance cargo plane that was currently docking at the local airstrip. The RUNA had almost no regular interaction with this region, so their travel was being conducted through their sister country’s resources. The EA’s trade planes weren’t glamorous, but they did the job. Their mission accomplished, Justin was more than happy to endure an uncomfortable flight if it meant getting back to civilization.
Once they were back in Justin’s room, Mae relaxed her guard—slightly—and finally launched into the questions that had apparently been burning within her since the ceremony.
“What did that mean?” she asked, as soon as the door closed behind them. She double-checked the lock and then sat in one of the chairs, crossing her arms over her chest. “What El Diable said? All I understood was electi. Which I’m guessing means ‘elect.’ ”
Justin nodded and took his own chair, promptly pouring rum. He’d had enough time of his own to process the weird goings-on and also welcomed a moment with her that wasn’t antagonistic. “Cave bellum electi. ‘Beware the war of the elect.’ ”
“Which is?”
He downed the shot. No need in holding back now that he was off-duty. “I’m not really sure.”
“Geraki said the gods are playing a game,” she reminded him. “A war is kind of an upgrade.”
It was the second time Geraki had been brought up today, and
Justin didn’t want to expound on him. Mae knew Geraki was a prophet deeply involved with a religious group that had eluded the Gemman government’s attempts to uncover it. What she didn’t realize was that Odin was the god Geraki served, nor did she have any idea just how much time Justin had—reluctantly—begun spending with him, as part of the deal to learn Odin’s ways. Mae thought Geraki was just a contact for clandestine information, and Justin preferred she keep believing that.
“Maybe it’s all perception,” he suggested. “Maybe they’re playing a game with us—and a war with each other.”
Mae pondered this a few moments. “Why did she—or he—tell me that then? I’m not involved in any of this.”
Justin couldn’t help a smile at that. “Aren’t you, Mae? Look where you are.”
“That’s not what I mean. I’m not tied to anything specifically—no god. No ravens.”
I wouldn’t mind being tied to her, said Horatio.
“Perhaps. But you were conceived as part of a sacrifice to a Celtic death goddess,” he reminded her.
Her face showed that wasn’t something she liked having brought up. “I broke free of her.”
“You’re still one of the elect, whether you want to be or not. And gods are interested in you.” He hesitated a moment. “That was the other thing El Diable said. Inveni tuum deum. ‘Find your god.’ ”
“I don’t want a god,” she said, in an uncharacteristic moment of petulance. “I don’t want to be one of the elect.”
The elect. Those humans marked as special who had the potential to be strong servants for the gods that were scrambling to regain power and footing in the world. Justin hadn’t wanted to be one either, but there was no point in crying over what had already happened. The only thing to do was move forward and find a way to survive. He knew Mae well enough to understand she realized this too. She was pragmatic. She was used to being proactive. The problem was, theirs was a situation that didn’t lend itself well to decisive options.
As the night wore on, they settled in for what was a typical routine for them: both reading, him in bed and her at rigid attention in a chair.
Praetorians never slept, thanks to their implants, and she’d spend the night ever-watchful. Justin didn’t sleep simply because his mind had trouble spinning down, so he popped one of his favorite sedatives and made himself comfortable reading reports on the upcoming cases
Internal Security’s sub-department—Sect and Cult Investigation, or SCI—had dredged up for him. The day’s heat had settled down but still required the window left open, which now welcomed mosquitos instead of flies. This, at least, was something they could combat, having preemptively brought small repellant devices from the RUNA that did an effective job of keeping the mosquitos out.
Justin read his caseload with bleary eyes, occasionally daring glances at Mae. Although the tension in her body promised readiness for any threat, her focus was on her ego as she read what Justin suspected was a novel. The heat and sweat had made escaping tendrils of her blond hair curl up along her cheek and neck. His fingers itched with the need to brush them back from her face and touch that flawless skin . . . then he remembered that any further romantic dealings with her would inextricably bind him to Odin forever. It was kind of a buzzkill.
“Goddamn!” he exclaimed, sitting upright. Mae nearly jumped three feet in the air at his outburst. He’d seen something move out of the corner of his eye and at first wrote it off as one of the daring moths that would occasionally fly in. But no, the ugly little beast crawling in underneath their door was a large, black beetle. A very large black beetle. Wordlessly, he pointed.
Mae, gun drawn and aimed, scoffed. “That?” she demanded.
“Hey, that’s a big ass bug,” he said, feeling slightly sheepish.
“Surprised me, that’s all.”
“Well, rest easy, your lordship. I’ll take care of it.” She strode over and smashed the beetle with a booted foot. When she removed it, they were treated with the sight of a mushy black mess . . . which then suddenly reassembled itself and continued crawling forward. Mae’s smugness faded. “What the hell?”
Before she could do anything else, the beetle suddenly spit a small dab of green ooze onto the wooden floor—ooze that briefly smoked, seeped into the wood, and left a scorch mark behind. Mae quickly stepped on the bug again, only to have the resurrection repeated.
“Mae, look!”
Two more beetles were coming in under the door. Then three.
Mae, in what would have been comical were the situation not so freakish, rapidly kept stepping on them over and over, with no effect.
They continued to advance, spitting the acidic goo. When two more came in, Justin donned his shoes and joined her.
“What are they?” she demanded, going so far as to grind one into the floor with her toe. It was as ineffectual as everything else.
“Do you seriously think I know?”
“You’re the expert in all things that aren’t from this world!”
“Well, then, you know as much as I do. They aren’t from this world. Shit!”
There were about a dozen in the room now, with more coming. In the onslaught, some of the ooze got on Justin’s shoes. Although the slime didn’t penetrate to the foot, the leather definitely took damage. A sickening image of the beetles crawling up his body seized him. He and Mae, now having difficulty keeping up with the bugs, backed up and both jumped on the bed. Like a dutiful army, the little black soldiers began marching up the post.
Your wisdom would be appreciated now, Justin informed the ravens.
Use the knife, said Horatio.
What knife?
The only one you guys have.
Justin glanced around as he helped Mae kick off members of the black tide. “Knife,” he said aloud. “What knife?”
“My knife?” she asked.
His eyes lit on her boot, where he could barely make out a gleam of metal from within. “Yes! Use the knife on them.”
She frowned but didn’t argue as she withdrew it from its hidden sheath. The knife was as much art as it was weapon, a beautiful piece of craftsmanship whose handle was wrapped in amber. Mae traded it for the gun in her right hand and, after a brief assessment, jumped off the bed. Since the beetles were swarming it now, there was a fair expanse of open floor available. Justin wasn’t thrilled at being on lone duty but continued trying to play keep away, even managing to expel a fair number of them by lifting and shaking the covers. He didn’t have to defend long, though, because the bugs soon turned in the opposite direction and advanced on Mae.
She’s the one they’re here for, he realized.
Well-spotted, responded Horatio dryly.
But Mae was ready, plunging the knife down with the remarkable speed and accuracy born of her implant, excessive training, and natural talent. The dagger’s blade struck a beetle right in the middle of its carapace. The small creature shattered into black fragments . . . which stayed where they were. Driven by her success, Mae went after the others, her blade making contact each time it struck. No misses.
Keeping ahead of them was difficult, and Justin leapt off to help her, kicking them back as best as he could so that she had a chance to take out new targets. He lost track of time as they played their game of keep-away until, at last, they both paused and saw that nothing else was moving. Mae still held her knife poised, eyes sweeping the room for several more seconds until she finally returned the knife to its boot.
Justin kicked at piles of black debris covering the floor. “You don’t think they’d give us a broom, do you?”
She shook her head in exasperation. “Around here, that might be—look!”
Mae pointed toward the door, and Justin was just in time to catch a blur of black movement disappearing underneath. With that remarkable speed, Mae sprinted over and flung the door open to the hall. Justin joined her and watched as one lone beetle made its retreat from them.
The knife was in Mae’s hand again, but he caught hold of her arm before she could act.
“Wait,” he said. “Don’t you want to know where it’s going?”
Their eyes met as the suggestion hung in the air. They were few and far between, but in moments like these, there was no animosity. A fierce solidarity burned between them, one that united them in single purpose and understanding. No matter what other drama existed around them, Mae was the only person who really “got” what was going on, and ultimately, that meant far more to Justin than the inconvenience of enduring all the slings and arrows of working together.
Without another word, they set off down the hall, following their insect guide. It moved at a pretty good clip, but they still had to pace themselves to let it stay ahead of them. There were a few more people in the inn’s common area, but no one who gave them much notice.
Justin supposed around here, one more bug wasn’t worth paying attention to.
And sadly, he thought, this isn’t even the weirdest thing I’ve ever done.
Not by a long shot, agreed Horatio.
Darkness had fallen on the streets outside, though there was still enough light from the hodgepodge mix of electric and gas sources to illuminate the road and the beetle’s path.
Justin found himself thinking of Panama as they walked. He’d grown to despise that province in the almost four years of exile he’d spent there after filing a report claiming the existence of supernatural forces, but the more he traveled in other provincial areas, the more he began to appreciate it. Panama’s streets would’ve been full of revelers this time of night, along with the ubiquitous gangs that strutted around and vied for dominance. If you had no conflict with them, you could actually move about fairly safely after dark, since they were far more interested in each other. Here, the quiet streets had a more sinister edge.
Regular citizens were inside and getting ready for sleep. Many of those who were out had more nefarious goals and were searching for easy prey.
Maybe it was because they seemed to have purpose that Justin and Mae were left alone. It wasn’t until they’d walked almost ten minutes that a shout up ahead made Mae stop in her tracks, grab Justin, and pull him over to a building’s side. She put herself between him and the movement ahead, her gun out without him having seen her draw it. The scent of her apple blossom perfume drifted over him, a bizarre contrast to the scene at hand.
The conflict on the streets had nothing to do with them, however, or any other unsuspecting tourist. It was between two local men, shouting and pacing around each other as each dared the other to make a move. Friends and curious spectators hovered nearby, eager for a fight. From what Justin could make out, the dispute seemed to be over a woman.
One man finally landed a punch on the other, igniting the tinderbox. The two went at each other, even dropping and rolling to the ground. Bystanders cheered, while wiser ones tried to pull the two men apart. The whole altercation lasted barely a minute, but Mae wouldn’t budge until the kicking and screaming combatants and most of the audience had left the scene.
Unfortunately, the beetle had also left the scene.
Mae swore in Finnish, but Justin had already realized they were in familiar territory. “I think I know where it went,” he said, pointing.
She lifted her eyes to follow the gesture, and he heard her catch her breath when she saw Mama Orane’s house.
“Well, why not?” Justin asked. “Makes sense that a supernatural attack would come from our known supernatural source around here.”
They walked a little further down the block and then came to a halt directly across from the house. Mae narrowed her eyes as she studied it, her hand still tense on the gun. Lights burned inside the windows, and a bodyguard paced outside.
“But why?” she asked. “If they’d wanted us dead, why not try it while we were there? They certainly had the manpower.”
“You,” Justin corrected. “You’re the one those things were after.
She couldn’t tell what I was. As for why—”
“You!”
The bodyguard had noticed them and came jogging across the street, his automatic weapon bouncing almost comically at his side.