Gameboard of the Gods (Age of X, #1)(140)

She could just be better than you, Horatio said.

I know. I could easily bring her in as a person of interest, but that’d unearth a lot about Mae, not to mention implicate her mother in illegal activity.

They didn’t really seem to get along, the raven reminded him.

It was true, but if there was some other way he could get what he needed to know, he’d try that first—if there was enough time. An internal struggle obviously raged through Mae. She was probably starting to accept that there were too many coincidences surrounding her life, but getting on board with this still had to be a shock to her system. She swallowed.

“There might be. There’s this man who—”

Justin’s ego rang. Irritated at the interruption, he started to silence the call when he saw the display showing a blocked number in Mexico. “Send call to the screen,” he told it. He answered and found Callista Xie glaring at Mae and him.

“Where,” she demanded, “did you get it?”

“Get what?” asked Mae. Seeing Callista snapped her out of her malaise and put her back in tough pr?torian mode.

Justin already knew what Callista was referring to. Before his ill-fated trip to the casino, he’d sent the picture of Mae’s necklace off to the authorities in the respective castes. On impulse, he’d also sent a copy to Callista.

“A couple of my genetically perfect castals had it,” he said, leaving Mae’s name out of this for now. “Does it mean anything to you?”

“It’s the symbol of the servants of the Morrigan.”

Immediately, Justin sifted through his mental files of gods and mythology. “Celtic,” he said. He felt a sinking sensation in his stomach. “She fights with warriors in battle and appears to people before death….”

Mae gave him an incredulous look. “You knew there was a goddess like that and didn’t make the connection?”

“That applies to a hundred gods around the world,” he shot back. “I didn’t know which one it was. Death and battle are pervasive themes in the human experience.” He turned back to a scowling Callista. “She’s tied to other things too.”

“Silver and moonlight?” suggested Mae wryly. “And crows?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “And cows too, weirdly. Some also theorized she was a triple goddess and would’ve possessed other attributes through her different aspects.”

“Not in the beliefs of her recent followers,” said Callista. “They were—are—focused on her darker parts. They prefer power over enlightenment.”

“How do you know so much?” asked Mae suspiciously.

“Because Amarantha is a warrior goddess, and I make it my business to know about rivals.”

“I thought Amarantha was a goddess of magic.”

“She’s both.” Impatient, Callista fixed her dark gaze on Justin. “You have to stop the Morrigan. Her people will kill again.”

“I know they will! What do you think I’m trying to do here?” he asked. “If you know so much, where are they?”

Callista looked sheepish. “I don’t know. On a Celtic grant probably.”

“Very helpful,” he grumbled.

One thing that made plebeians scornful of patricians was that at times it was really hard to define a genetic profile for an ethnic group. Sometimes the genes were telling. Often, castes went by phenotype, which could make things messy when a nationality could have any number of features. The Celtic castes were all over the place on their true ancestral appearances. Some argued for a light-haired, fair-skinned presence while others insisted the Celtic people had migrated from Iberia and had darker looks. The competing Irish castes—the Erinians and Hibernians—were particularly dysfunctional. Half the time, the traits a caste selected for seemed arbitrary. The Welsh caste had split the difference in accepted Celtic traits, and most citizens had pale skin, black hair, and dark blue or brown eyes. There were also two “meta” Celtic castes, which embraced multiple nationalities, much as the Nordics allowed all the Scandinavian regions and Finland.

The bottom line was that there were any number of Celtic grants this cult could be hiding in. Picking up his ego, Justin told it to bring up any servitor records of the Morrigan. It pulled up an investigation and subsequent license denial from twenty-six years ago—which made sense if that was when the genetically engineered castals had stopped being created. Their last location had been a plebeian city, which only complicated things.

“They didn’t stay shut down,” Callista told him. “They disappeared from my people too, but we get enough hints now and then to know they’re still practicing.”

“Yeah, it’s been a little more extensive than ‘hints.’ We can probably assume it’s a light-haired caste, based on the description of the guy who visited the victims.” Inspiration suddenly struck Justin. “Hang on,” he told Callista. He issued a series of commands to the screen.

It divided into two images, one of which was Callista’s face. The other half displayed a map of the land grants in the Great Plains region of the country. Red dots in each grant marked the patrician victims, while green dots displayed the other living eights and nines in their respective castes. Yellow dots outside the borders indicated the plebeian deaths.

“You’ve got a lot more plebeians there than patricians,” Callista observed. “Even counting the living ones.”