Gameboard of the Gods (Age of X, #1)(55)

Did I? Justin didn’t remember that. He remembered very little past dosing with the gates of paradise. From his current state, he must’ve done it more than once. How’d it go? I mean, I know the result, seeing as I’m in this bed instead of hers.

You were very eloquent, said Horatio. A real poet. I would’ve gone home with you.

You offered her the crown, said Magnus much more seriously.

A sinking feeling welled up in Justin’s stomach. He was used to doing all sorts of stupid behaviors following a high, but it had never occurred to him that he could’ve accidentally stumbled into the very thing he wanted to avoid. Now that he was somewhat clearheaded, and in the path of that condescending gaze that stung so much, it was easy to resist her. It was a relief that she was still in full possession of her hatred and plebeian disdain.

“If I ever hit on you again,” he said, “you have my permission to punch me.”

That, she hadn’t expected. “Why on earth would you say that?”

Because if I sleep with you again, I’ll be bound into the service of an unknown god.

“Because you’ve made your Nordic-nine preferences perfectly clear. And I need to respect that.”

He hadn’t thought much about the last comment and simply wanted to keep her away. He wasn’t trying to be noble. Instead, something unexpected flashed over her face.

You just improved two percent in her view, noted Horatio. That’s the first personal comment you’ve made that doesn’t make you come across as an *. The raven sounded pleased, but of course he would. He and his counterpart wanted a reconciliation.

Magnus wasn’t so optimistic. It’s going to take more than your fixing that damage to get her again. I told you before, gods follow her. One goddess in particular. You need to help Mae break free, for her own good. You saw how she gets seized in battle.

The darkness, admitted Justin. He’d seen it, an almost tangible shadow that surrounded her when she fought.

It happens because gods can’t communicate with her in the normal way.

What way is that?

Dreams.

Why not? asked Justin.

You tell me, said Magnus.

Justin immediately realized the answer. Because she doesn’t sleep.

You are smart, Horatio said. Too bad you’re so stupid.

Just be careful, Magnus warned him. The deity that follows her might start getting suspicious of others. You can deny it, but there’s power in you that’s detectable by some. She certainly wasn’t pleased by that usurpation back in the temple.

It took Justin a moment to catch on, then he recalled how Mae had shone and become larger-than-life while standing by the statue of that goddess. She’d been wreathed by a power as intense as the battle-driven one, only it had been warm and seductive and full of life, rather than dark and terrible.

What happened? he asked.

Another god tried to seize Mae from the dark one, said Magnus.

The Lady of the Book? Justin had a hard time imagining a scholarly goddess going after Mae.

No, just some enterprising deity who tried to take advantage of the situation. Gods sometimes weaken in the territory of other ones.

Mae peered at Justin. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He realized he’d been staring as he mulled things over. Quickly, he groped for something. “Don’t tell Cyn about this.”

“Why would I?”

“You guys are chummy. Especially after she made you pancakes the other day. You ate twice your weight in them.” After a number of shared meals with Mae, he’d discovered pr?torians required a lot of food to maintain that superhuman metabolism.

“They were good pancakes,” admitted Mae. “And she made a lot. She always makes a lot of everything.”

He smiled. “You know why? It’s overcompensation.”

“For what?”

He hesitated before answering. In trying to avoid a topic Mae didn’t want to discuss, he’d strayed into one he hadn’t wanted to bring up. There were days he could assess people’s life stories with a glance, but he preferred to keep his to himself. And yet, as he met her eyes—a bewitching balance of blue and green today—he felt a strange ache in him that made it hard for him not to talk. Maybe she hated him. Maybe she thought he was weak and manipulative. But suddenly, he wanted her to understand this part of him.

“Do you want to know how a brilliant, murderer-catching servitor got his start? In the dusty stalls of the Anchorage Summer Market. Cyn and I used to earn our keep by doing what you figure I do best: scamming people.”

Mae started. “I don’t think that.”

“Don’t you?” He gave her a knowing look, and she averted her eyes, proving his point. “You think every word that comes out of my mouth is an attempt to reel people in. And that’s okay, because half the time it’s true. The Nordics ever have carnivals or fairs?”

“Of course.”

“You know those guessing games they do? Age, weight, stuff like that? That’s what we did. Can’t you picture it?” He held out his hands, warming to his story. “Two adorable kids—because we were, you know, even then—dazzling tourists with the ability to figure out things no one should be able to know. Cyn was really good at weights. She’s got an eye for that kind of thing—it’s her genius and totally underutilized mathematical prowess. Me? It was people’s stories. The ages. Where they’re from. I memorized accents. Pair that with a few seemingly innocent childlike questions, and I could find out practically anything.”