Gameboard of the Gods (Age of X, #1)(54)

She turned away, angling her body so that her back was to him. Tense, she waited for more, but it never came. When she finally dared a look back, he was gone. The bartender strolled over.

“Refill?”

She shook her head and left for a wall near a back exit. It gave her a good vantage of the dance floor but kept her away from most of the crowd—not that it stopped her from getting hit on. She should’ve left. There was no reason for her to be here. She didn’t even know why she’d come. Yet, something in her couldn’t abandon Justin, especially now that he was in the throes of drugs and alcohol. Not that he seemed to need much help. Each time she caught a glimpse of him, he was talking to a different woman, his face alight and full of that oozing charisma. He seemed to be on top of his game as the night went on, confident and in control, even after a trip to the bar for another drink and vial. It made his earlier proposition that much more insulting. Disgust filled her, and she welcomed it. It was easier to deal with than attraction.

Blinking out of her own troubled thoughts, she focused back on the dance floor. She couldn’t see Justin, but she could make out a few people standing around, looking at something on the floor. One of the gathered people shifted slightly away from whatever they all were watching, and Mae caught a glimpse of the jacket Justin had been wearing earlier. Her adrenaline spiked. She sprinted over to the gathered people, none of whom seemed in any particular hurry to act or move. Her stomach lurched as her worst fears were realized. It was Justin, sprawled on the floor, eyelids barely open as his breathing came fast and shallow. Alive—for now. As she quickly knelt down beside him, she wondered just how much trouble she’d get into if he died.





[page]CHAPTER 13





TWO PERCENT





Justin opened his eyes and promptly closed them again—the light hurt too much. He waited a few moments and then decided to try again, this time using his hand to shade his eyes. Even that small amount of motion was uncomfortable. The muscles in his body felt limp and sore. The view above him revealed nothing, as that’s where the light source was, and only made him close his eyes again. With great effort, he tried to shift his body over and look to the side. He was on some kind of hard, uncomfortable bed, and his body complained against it accordingly.

Still keeping his eyes shaded, he blinked rapidly and tried to bring the room into focus around him. The walls gleamed dully in an inoffensive shade of taupe, and a large dark square hung nearby, which he assumed was a window. There was someone standing near it, appearing only as a shadowy figure. That figure approached, and he could start to discern more tangible features: lean body, golden hair. His Valkyrie.

“Hey,” he said, surprised when his own voice had difficulty coming out. There was a strange taste in his mouth. “What’s new?”

“You’re an idiot.” His angry Valkyrie.

“That’s not really new.” She stood in focus now. Her face looked strained, and most of her hair had fallen out of its ponytail. “What happened?” Then, before she could reply: “A bad trip?”

She nodded. “What were you thinking? You could’ve killed yourself!”

“Hey, it was good stuff. Really good.” It had been. In addition to making him feel like he was made of that spun-sugar stuff that kids ate at the Anchorage summer market, it had also distorted his vision so that everything around him was edged in color. Glittering people, ringed in brightly hued auras, left trails of colored light when they moved.

She didn’t answer, still keeping her face void of expression, and he somehow felt their relationship had just regressed about two years. At the same time, he had the startling sense that she’d actually been worried about him.

“I had no idea my job would involve protecting you from yourself,” she added. “How can someone so smart be so stupid?”

Excellent question, said Magnus.

How could he be so stupid? Well, it was easy because it was hard for him to say no. When it came to the pleasures of life, he had a tendency to think that if one was good, ten were better.

“I don’t care how futile the mission seems right now,” she continued angrily. “You want to fix things? You want to stay in the country? Then go solve this case! Don’t go drown yourself in drugs and self-pity!”

Her words brought back the dismal state of the mission, Cornelia’s threats, and Callista’s disappearance. That was more than enough to make someone seek blissful oblivion, that and—

“Have you ever not wanted to think?”

Her hard expression turned puzzled. “What?”

He shifted from her and stared up at the ceiling. “I think a lot, Mae. I see a lot. And my brain’s always analyzing every detail, over and over and over. This case. Me staying in the RUNA. That church. You.” He sighed. “I can’t shut my brain off. It’s like a hamster wheel. It’s why I take stuff to sleep.”

“I thought you took stuff to sleep because you loaded up on stimulants in the morning.” Her contempt was nearly tangible, but rather than summon his knee-jerk reaction to castal airs, it made him feel…unworthy.

Did I do anything I shouldn’t have? he asked the ravens.

Overdosing? suggested Horatio.

You know what I mean.

You propositioned her, replied the raven.