“I’m sorry,” he told her. “There was no match in the registry.”
“What do you mean there was no match?” demanded Justin.
“Every living Gemman is in the registry! Was there something wrong with the sample? Didn’t it run long enough?”
The doctor shook his head. “No, everything was done properly. It just seems your assailant wasn’t a Gemman citizen.”
“The registry keeps DNA samples of people here on visas,” insisted Justin. “Check those.”
“We did,” said the doctor. “But not all those on visas are logged.
And it’s possible it could’ve been a fugitive, someone not legally in the country, as rare as that is.”
Justin, who’d been so calm throughout all of this, had finally reached his breaking point. “You made a mistake! Run the damn test again, and find the son of a bitch who—”
“No,” said Mae, standing up and taking his arm. “There’s no need. Thank you.”
“If you want,” said the doctor, “we can do a peripheral test and attempt to find any close genetic relatives, but that takes more time and gets more difficult to—”
“No,” repeated Mae. “We’re done. Let’s go.”
She practically had to drag Justin out to keep him from going back. “Mae, there’s a mistake,” he reiterated, once they were standing outside the hospital’s entrance.
“Is there?” she asked. “Justin, think. Whoever did that to me had the ability to change their f**king appearance! Do you think they’d then carelessly let themselves be ID’d by a hospital’s genetic test?
There’s no telling how far their god’s power extends.” Another thought occurred to her, one that nearly made her sway on her feet. “That, or there was no match to a human in the registry . . . because he wasn’t human.”
“They do a standard DNA map,” Justin said, calming down again.
“If he wasn’t human, it would show.”
Mae wasn’t sure of that, and it only increased that sickening feeling of violation. But Justin did agree with her that whatever god had done this had apparently helped cover up his or her servant’s tracks.
Justin nobly vowed that they’d still get answers, no matter the cost, but Mae felt disillusioned and doubtful.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I just want a shower . . . but I . . . I don’t want to go back there. Back to my place.”
“Well,” said Justin, “that I can fix.”
They took the purple line out to his place, where they found the rest of his household asleep, save for one of the rotating praetorians keeping watch that night. It was someone from a different cohort, a friend of Dag’s, and his presence reminded Mae of her own weakness tonight. She sent the guy home, telling him she was taking over the watch and that he should go find a Saturday night party. He accepted gladly.
Justin gave her full access to the bathroom adjacent to his bedroom, which had a shower nearly twice the size of hers. She stayed in it for almost forty minutes, scalding and scrubbing every part of her body. When she emerged into the steaming bathroom, she found he’d quietly slipped in his best shot at a change of clothes for her: a plain men’s cotton T-shirt and drawstring pajama pants. She changed into them and stepped out to the bedroom, finding him reading in bed in a similar ensemble. Rather than feel amused at the match, however, she felt a small pang in her heart. He usually preferred sleeping in boxers, and she had a feeling the extra clothing was a kindness on his part, in case seeing him half-naked freaked her out. The sad part was, it wasn’t a bad assumption. She knew this was the real Justin, but the memories of the earlier phantom were hard to shake.
But she surprised both of them by slipping into bed with him.
She’d been afraid of his touch all night, but now, she suddenly found herself in need of warm, human contact. She rested her head on his chest, and after several moments, he tentatively placed an arm over her back. They lay like that for a long time until Justin finally broke the silence.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
He swallowed. “This is my fault. If I’d been brave enough earlier, if I hadn’t turned you away, if I’d stayed with you instead of going to the party—”
“Justin,” she interrupted. “This is in no way your fault. Not in the least.”
“I’ve all but served this god in every way already. I should’ve taken the plunge and made it official. I could’ve at least finally gotten something I wanted that way.” Justin smoothed the hair away from her face, again using great caution and gentleness. “That’s what it was, you know. The cost for being able to have you is becoming his priest and swearing my loyalty to him. But I don’t care anymore. It’s worth it for you, Mae.”
His words struck her profoundly, especially after her earlier revelation and disgust with Freya. “No,” Mae said at last. “I don’t think it is. You were right about everything—about how they mess up your lives and how there’s always a cost. You were right to keep away and not bind yourself. I understand that now and am glad you did what you did—or rather, didn’t do. Keeping yourself free of them is what matters.”
“Right now,” said Justin, his voice cracking slightly. “You are the only thing that matters, Mae.” He lightly brushed his lips over her brow, and she tipped her head back, offering him her lips. He hesitated and then accepted, kissing her with the precision and emotion that had so been missing with his doppelganger. He kept the kiss short and sweet, which was exactly right. It was all Mae was capable of right now, and he knew that because he knew her.
And as he fell asleep next to her, Mae knew that even if she had been ready to jump into sex again, she wouldn’t have. She couldn’t, not knowing what she knew. The last piece of his erratic history fell into place, and she truly was glad he hadn’t given in and bound himself to that god’s service. She had had living proof tonight of the chaos and destruction the gods brought to mortal lives. The goddess who’d promised her such glory hadn’t been able to protect her. There was no higher calling to be found in divine service. Mae knew that now and worried that Justin possibly didn’t. She didn’t want him enslaved to a god because of her. It was better for both of them to be free of divine entanglements, but that was easier said than done.
After an hour mulling it over, however, Mae thought she might have a solution. She slipped out of his arms, careful not to wake him, and left the bed. He’d left the lights on for her, and she stood at his doorway for a few seconds, memorizing his features in this rare moment of peace before turning the lights off. Once outside his house, she used her ego to call for a hired car. It was too late and too complicated to navigate public transportation to where she needed to go. As she waited for the car, she tipped her head back and gazed at the sky, as lightning played across dark clouds ushering in a summer storm.
By the time the car dropped her off at her destination far outside of town, a full downpour was in effect, soaking her when she sprinted from the car to the massive house she sought. A surprised butler let her in, leaving her to drip in the foyer. At first, he refused to do anything for her, but after identifying herself and insisting on the urgency of the matter, she finally convinced him to wake the man they both answered to.
General Gan came down the spiral staircase ten minutes later, wearing a quilted velvet robe and the exhausted expression of one woken unexpectedly in the middle of the night. His eyebrows rose as he looked her over in her soaked state, and she didn’t need his next words to know he was thinking of the night she’d walked through the rain to enlist with him.
“Praetorian,” he said congenially. “You really need to start carrying an umbrella.”
Mae straightened and greeted him with a rigid salute, mustering as much dignity now in soaked men’s pajamas as she had in a pink party dress. “General,” she returned. “I apologize for the late hour . . . but I’ve come to ask a favor.”
CHAPTER 27
Word Choice
Justin wasn’t surprised to find Mae gone when he woke. She didn’t need to sleep, and he wasn’t self-centered enough to believe that his own charms were great enough to keep her lying by his side all night.
She’s in the kitchen, said Horatio. It was the first he’d spoken in a while. The ravens had been unusually quiet throughout the recent drama, which Justin found surprising. Yesterday’s events had certainly seemed like they’d provide plenty of material for commentary.
But concern for the ravens vanished from his mind as he left his room and strode down the hallway. He was still deeply upset about what had happened to Mae, still deeply guilty for what he saw as his role in it. At the same time, he felt resigned and filled with hope. The barriers between him and her were finally down, and no matter what it took, he was resolved to track down the bastard who’d—
Justin, and his thoughts, came to a screeching halt as he rounded the corner and entered the kitchen. Mae was there, as Horatio had said . . .. . . and she was in uniform.
In all their time together, Justin had never seen her in praetorian black, and he was startled by the effect. Once, when she’d been temporarily banned from the uniform, she’d spoken of the power it imparted. He could see it now. There was something about the uniform, with its mandarin collar and form-fitting black material, that seemed to wrap her in shadows, excellently conveying the fear and regality the praetorians strove for. She stood up straight against the wall, arms crossed, with her hair wound neatly back into a French braid. There was a fierceness to her beauty, and he decided then that she couldn’t have looked any more like a Valkyrie had she been in armor and a winged helmet.
“I feel underdressed,” he joked, heading for the coffee pot.
Tessa, sitting with Cynthia and Quentin at the table, blurted out, “Mae’s leaving.”
For a moment, he assumed she meant leaving for the day, but an assessment of the family’s somber faces set an alarm off in him that something wasn’t right. “Going where?” he asked, forcefully keeping his tone light.
“I’ve been reassigned,” Mae said. She was doing that thing she excelled at, so perfectly keeping any emotions or other contextual clues from her face and voice . . . which was, in itself, a warning sign. “I’m leaving within the hour. I can’t give the exact location, but I’ll be joining some other praetorians in the borderlands.”
“After what just happened in Arcadia? There’s no way they’d move you to active duty! Go talk to Gan. He’ll fix this.”
“I did talk to Gan,” she explained. “That’s how this happened.”
He stared at her in disbelief, as the truth of what she wasn’t explicitly saying hit him. “Then go talk to him again!” Justin exclaimed. “Make it un-happen. This is a fool’s errand, born out of a hasty emotional response and not letting yourself properly recover!” He regretted his words as soon as he said them, seeing lines of anger begin to crack her calm façade.
“Fool’s errand?” she asked. “This is an important job our country’s asking me to do! Ordering me to do. It’s not something I can just go ask to get out of!”
“You should’ve never asked to get into it!”
“Enough!” Cynthia abruptly stood up and shot meaningful looks at a wide-eyed Tessa and Quentin. “If you’re going to continue this conversation, then do it outside.”
“Gladly,” snapped Justin. He gestured grandly toward the front door. “After you.”
Mae stalked off without a word, and he turned to follow. As he did, Cynthia grabbed his hand.
“Justin,” she hissed. “If she really is being deployed somewhere, then there’s a chance you might never see her again. Think very, very carefully about what you’re about to say.”
He jerked his hand back. “I know what I’m doing.”
Outside, he found Mae waiting in the front yard and the world misty from last night’s rain. “What the hell happened?” he demanded.
“Where did this come from?”
“Where do you think?” she returned, struggling to get her calm back. “I realized last night that I can’t stay here, so I went to Gan directly to override Internal Security’s request to keep me assigned to you.”
“You think running away is going to change what happened? That toting a big gun around will somehow heal you?”
“I’m not ‘running away.’ I told you, I’m serving my country as they need me.”
“They don’t need you specifically,” he countered. “They need bodies to send to the border to fight for them. Get Gan to pull you back.”
Mae’s face filled with outrage. “Why do you think it’s that easy to pull me back? And why do you think so little of my job? Didn’t you pay attention to the way they live in Arcadia? All these privileges and freedoms you enjoy here are because of the military—because of those bodies out there fighting for you!”
“I think very highly of your job,” he insisted. “It’s the rest of your motives I question.”
“I can’t stay attached to IS forever. That’s not the kind of work I enlisted for.”
His attempts at self-control unraveled. “You enlisted to be killed?
If you really wanted to get out of IS, then why aren’t you being assigned with the rest of your cohort here in Vancouver? Why aren’t you doing monument duty with Val and Dag? Why are you going out to active combat in the borderlands? Why do you want to go out to active combat in the borderlands?”