Gameboard of the Gods (Age of X, #1)(46)



After three of the crime scenes, he told her they were putting the other two on hold until Leo could come along with them. The people they talked to weren’t giving them any leads; they needed to examine the technical side for new evidence. Although Leo had made no progress on the video, Justin was certain his friend could figure out how the victims’ surveillance had been disabled. Leo couldn’t join them right away, meaning it was time to start checking out suspect religious groups, something Mae had been looking forward to.

They left Vancouver for an overnight trip to the Midwest, to visit a group whose goddess had connections to the moon and silver. Before they went to that church, however, Justin made a side trip to another sect in the same town.

“Favor to Cornelia,” he explained when their hired car dropped them off. “Right around the corner from our church. It’s just a standard license renewal—should be a breeze. They’re a pretty small and benign group. Still, you’ll get to see that this job isn’t all glamour and stone-wielding mobs.”

They stood outside of a small but pretty building that had all sorts of flourishes. Arched stained glass windows. Gold-painted trim around the windows and doors. Lacy wooden embellishment along the gables. An ornate sign above the door read TEMPLE OF THE LADY OF THE BOOK, MADISON BLUFF, TWENTY-FIRST WARD.

Justin came to a stop on the sidewalk leading up to it and gave the building a once-over. “Well maintained,” he said with a frown. “Much better than their last inspection. Good maintenance means money. Money means support.”

The door opened as they approached, and a middle-aged plebeian man with thinning hair stepped outside. He looked nervous but gave them a polite smile. “Welcome. I’m Claude Diaz, the priest of Our Lady here. You must be Dr. March?”

“Yes.” Justin introduced Mae and then waved his ego over the license beside the door. The square’s screen displayed the RUNA’s seal in green, along with a date and scrawled signature below it. When the ego passed over the screen, a holographic image of the seal appeared in the air, verifying the temple’s license.

Claude urged them inside. “Please come in. I’m so eager for you to see our sacred space and answer any questions you might have.”

Mae hadn’t been in very many places of worship. She’d been to Church of Humanity services, of course, but those didn’t count. Every once in a while, someone in the Nordic caste would try to bring back a Scandinavian religion. Those that didn’t fail right away usually only lingered on with scant numbers. Mae’s mother had once taken her to a temple when visiting a friend in the Pan-Celt land grant, and Mae remembered it being a terrifying experience for her six-year-old self. The chanting priests had worn hoods and masks, and images of their fearsome goddess had seemed to look at Mae from every part of the room. She didn’t remember the cult’s name but hoped it had been shut down by now.

Between that memory and what she’d seen of provincial religious practices, Mae was content to stay away from all of it and completely supported the RUNA’s stance against religion. People who got caught up in the groupthink of these superstitions were easy to lead into dangerous behaviors, as the Decline had shown. The only thing Mae put her faith in was her country.

This temple bore no resemblance to the one in her nightmares. The space was warm and inviting, smelling of wood, beeswax, and roses. Rows of well-oiled wooden benches faced forward, and shelves of archaic paper books lined the sides of the room. At the front of the room, looking over everything, stood a statue of a woman in flowing robes who held a book in one hand and a lit candle in the other. Incense smoked at her feet.

As Mae studied the sculpture, a weird sense of disorientation swept over her. The statue shifted in her eyes. A sword replaced the candle, and she held flowers where the book had been. An amber necklace hung around the goddess’s neck, and on her head, a crown made of tiny sparkling stars bathed her in brilliance. Mae had never seen anything so beautiful, and she didn’t even realize it had called her forward until she stood right in front of the statue. The intensity reminded her of that darkness that descended on her in battle, only now she felt a warmth and exhilaration spread through her, making her feel light and radiant.

Justin came to stand beside her. “So what do you—”

He stopped when he saw her face. His expression transformed with wonder, and his breath caught. The world sparked between them. Somehow, he could see that glory burning through her, and he was spellbound. For a moment, she could see herself in his eyes, vibrant with beauty and life. And then, something even more remarkable happened: She could sense a power surrounding him as well. It had a different feel—ancient and wise, rather than sensual and earthy—but its nature was the same as hers. She’d never seen such a thing in any other person.

Suddenly, that icy darkness Mae knew so well slapped her in the face. The radiance burning through her faltered, and she felt the darkness’s familiar hands resting heavily on her shoulders, trying to block her from the statue’s power. The two forces fought against each other, the statue’s warmth calling to Mae as the darkness crushed it. She felt like she was being ripped in two until at last the darkness won. The light and life vanished. Above her, the Lady of the Book stared blankly ahead, a stony scholar once more.

Victorious in its conquest, the darkness lifted, leaving Mae dizzy. She staggered a few steps and started to fall. Justin caught hold of her hand to steady her. She started to lean into him and then suddenly jerked away. “Don’t touch me!” she exclaimed.

Richelle Mead's Books