Gameboard of the Gods (Age of X, #1)(36)

“Yeah,” he said, finally releasing her. “Believe me, I’m fully aware of how weird it is.”

“You didn’t answer my question about why you left.”

“Because I can’t tell you, Cyn.” He could guess her next question. “I’m serious—it’s a security thing. And I can’t tell you why I’m back. But I’m going to get things in order right away. Your name’s going to go on everything I’ve got, all my accounts. You won’t be screwed over again.”

Her eyebrows knit together. “Are you leaving again?”

Justin wished he knew. Francis certainly seemed to think the RUNA couldn’t get on without Justin, but Magnus had been right about Justin’s value possibly decreasing if he found the video’s modification. And of course, if he didn’t find anything in four weeks, it would all be for nothing. Nonetheless, Justin mustered a smile for his sister and topped off his glass. “Of course not.”

Inside his head, he heard Horatio tsk. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.





[page]CHAPTER 9





THE DEADLY WARRIORS THAT KEEP US SAFE





Pr?torians didn’t sleep, but Mae felt mentally exhausted as she rode the train back into the city. Her brief visit to the March household had been both comical and heartbreaking, and she couldn’t even imagine what else would unfold there tonight.

Their family drama was squashed by the much larger issue weighing on Mae: Justin himself. Her stomach still sank each time she thought of that terrible moment when she’d walked into Cornelia’s hotel suite and realized her breathtaking, exotic lover was a guy who got inside other people’s heads for a living and made an art of seducing women. It had taken every bit of self-control she possessed to stay calm and pay attention to the briefing.

She’d almost hoped he might convince her that last night had meant something, but all he’d done at the ministry was reaffirm everything Cornelia had said about his arrogance and callous treatment of women. Mae wanted to think she’d transcended her Nordic upbringing, but she knew she hadn’t entirely shaken that sense of superiority her family had instilled. She’d been adored and led to believe she was special. She knew now that it wasn’t true, that it was just patrician arrogance. But enough men still fawned over her that she’d grown used to it and was therefore blindsided at being used by one of them. Too many people had tried to use her for various reasons in her life, and she thought she’d learned to spot them. Apparently not.

He was so convincing, she thought wistfully. Underneath all his charms, she’d been so sure she’d seen pain in him and even a legitimate sense of understanding for her own melancholy. But was it legitimate? Or was it an act? Mae no longer knew. All she knew was that her pride had been hurt and that it had felt good putting on the fa?ade of a haughty Nordic debutante to hurt him back. And yet, even in the middle of arguing with him, her body had been so, so aware of his. Anger could flip to passion in a heartbeat.

It was a weakness. The best course now was to write him and that night off. She had an assignment—an unorthodox, bizarre assignment far from the field of battle—that they both needed to focus on now.

There was certainly more to the murders than the sensational news coverage had led her to believe. And she couldn’t ignore the feeling that there was more to it still. There’d been something big and unspoken hovering between Justin, Cornelia, and Francis. But what else could there be? Strange or not, the facts of the mission itself had been cut-and-dried. The potentially ritualistic nature of the murders required intervention from the servitors’ office, which would be able to examine things with a more global and religious-focused lens. And if there was a zealous murderer running around, increased security was absolutely necessary, thus explaining her presence.

They certainly seemed to have a high opinion of Justin’s skills—well, Francis Kyle did, at least. The guy had looked like he’d wanted Justin’s autograph. She almost couldn’t blame him. Justin’s reaction to the video and his analysis of the murder stats had been fascinating. There’d been no womanizing addict there. He’d been so intent, so completely consumed by just this brief introduction to the case, that she’d found it easy to believe he was the star servitor Francis and even reluctant Cornelia had claimed.

Mae’s ruminations were interrupted when she reached her stop in the theater district. Here, the night was brilliant and alive, a far cry from sedated suburbia. Streetlamps and bright screens painted everything with flickering, colored light outside, chasing away the evening’s darkness. Even on a weeknight, this area stayed busy with theatergoers and those seeking nightlife in the many restaurants and clubs. Mae navigated through the crowds and crossed the street on a sky bridge a few blocks away, which led her to a bar whose window screen proclaimed that lavender martinis were on special tonight.

She had tried to act like she was conducting important business on her ego earlier, but really, she’d been arranging a bar meet-up. Her eyes easily adjusted as she entered the dark establishment, which had no overhead lights. All the illumination came from purple neon underneath the tables and bar’s edge. It cast a ghostly glow on the trendy customers as they sat at high glass-topped tables, chatting among themselves while also scoping out newcomers. It was one of those see-and-be-seen places. Watching the bartenders scurry and make drinks reminded her of Panama and the antiquated drink machine. They’d been popular in the RUNA once, but “real people” were in vogue now.