Gameboard of the Gods aox-1

by Richelle Mead

  “We’re bounty hunters now?” asked Justin. That wasn’t something he’d foreseen.

  Francis’s voice was stern. “I wouldn’t say that. You’re a servant of the truth, one who will do what it takes to uncover that truth. We need to know what’s happening, and you, Dr. March, will find out. You will have increased access and influence, as well as whatever other powers you need. You don’t have a new title, but, well…” He stood up and shook Justin’s hand. “Congratulations. I’d say you’ve received a promotion. The likes of which none of us have ever seen. I hope you’re ready for what’s to come.”

  “Me too,” murmured Justin.

  There it was, his jackpot. Since returning from Panama, he’d lived in fear of what would happen to him. He’d been pretty sure no one would have any use for him if he didn’t solve the murders, but even his future if he was successful had been unclear. After all, he was a servitor who believed in gods and the supernatural. That didn’t happen. It couldn’t happen. But the more he’d thought about it, especially after the temple, the more he’d realized his past meant something to them. Francis had been especially obsessed with it, and as Justin began to see more and more signs of forces stirring in the world, he’d come to believe a few different things.

  One was that SCI wasn’t going to get rid of him, not once he solved that case. It didn’t matter how tainted his past was. Enough people knew of his involvement, and they couldn’t make someone so high-profile disappear again. Justin had realized that if he turned in a proper report, with no mention of supernatural powers, no one would question it. He would have his old job back and return to comfortable run-of-the-mill licenses and inspections.

  But even before Geraki’s news, it had occurred to Justin that SCI had a problem that wasn’t going to go away. They were going to have to deal with it, and who better than someone who was open-minded about what was truly happening in the world and who had an excellent track record? They needed someone like him, but they probably would’ve left him alone if he’d turned a blind eye to the supernatural in his report. In committing to what he’d seen, he had opened himself up for new opportunities—opportunities out of the public eye that would come along with the power and influence he’d indeed been offered.

  Did he want to get involved with more of this stuff? That was the big question. He wouldn’t have minded an ordinary life, but in taking on this one, he could create extraordinary lives for his family. A man who wielded the power Internal Security had given him could get a provincial girl into a private school that could appreciate her talents. He could do what someone had done for him. He could do equally monumental things for Cynthia and Quentin, when the time came. The only problem was that Justin didn’t know what this would mean for him.

  They sent Mae away after that in order to go over the logistics and bureaucracy of the new position. Although she’d be tied to it, she was still technically on loan from the military and not directly involved with Internal Security’s inner workings. Justin was acutely aware of her absence, particularly since she was now in the very small circle of people who could really understand what he was going through.

  He sent her a message afterward, asking to talk, and she sent one back saying she was busy with some friendly canne sparring, but that he was welcome to join her afterward. She sent him directions to the facility she was playing at, a large operation that offered training and competition for various martial arts. The front desk directed him to the small practice court she was on. He’d never been in any place like it and felt conspicuous in his suit among the handful of other spectators.

  But it was worth it to see this bizarre sport. It was very much like what Val and Dag had described: stick fencing, with a few acrobatic moves thrown in. Mae and her opponent wore regulation clothing, rather than the party wear she and Porfirio had apparently fought in. Even in the lightly padded clothing and face mask, she was easy to spot, not just from the shape of her body but also the way she moved, with grace and speed born from natural and implant-induced abilities. It was mesmerizing, and most important, there was no divine glamour trailing her.

  She won each of her matches, and when she and her opponent unmasked, Justin saw she’d fought against a chagrined-looking man. They shook hands, and as Mae turned to leave and allow the next combatants to take the ring, she spotted Justin and joined him on his bench. Her hair was pulled into a sloppy ponytail, and the T-shirt she revealed underneath her jacket was damp with sweat. Still, she looked happy and bright.

  “The only people I can get to play these days are men who think they can take out a woman, even one who’s a prætorian.” She grinned. “They never do.”

  “You want to celebrate your victory with a drink?” he asked.

  Her eyes weighed him a few moments, the smile fading into her neutral expression. “There’s a divey little place around the corner that serves food too—if you can bring yourself to step inside.”

  “Hey, I’ve been in my share of dives.”

  Although, when they entered, he saw his clothing was even more out of place than it had been in the arena. This was very much a blue-collar establishment, and casually dressed people drank cheap liquor and played darts and pool. They found a corner table, and Mae ordered half the menu, needing to refuel after the frantic way the implant drove her body.

  “What’s up?” she asked. “New developments after I left?”

  “New developments before then.”

  He told her about his bizarre meeting with Geraki, tying some of it to the SCI debriefing. Naturally, Justin was careful to edit out the parts pertaining to her, like how the two of them were supposed to run off together in some divine union and his own particular wheelings and dealings with Geraki’s god. Here, in a bar full of laughter and clinking glasses, mystical forces seemed far away.

  “Do you think it’s true?” she asked between bites of her hamburger. “That there really is some great godly showdown coming?” She wasn’t at ease with the idea of gods in the world, but she accepted them now. Not being possessed by one probably helped a little.

  Justin tapped his glass of bourbon. “I kind of do. I don’t know how or why, but I do. I just wish I knew what to expect.”

  She nodded. It was a rare side of her, this unkempt Mae, eating junk food. She was still dazzling, and it was hard not to remember how her lips and skin felt. He had to remind himself of the danger she represented. Another night with her would thrust him squarely into this game. That, and he was having difficulty forgetting the way she’d killed Emil. He recalled Dominic’s words, that she was a prætorian first and a patrician second—more than that, she was the predator he’d been warned about. Justin could see it in the way she tensed at the breaking of a glass at the bar and the way her eyes assessed every single person who entered, even as she smiled and bantered.

  And yet…in that moment, there was peace between them. A rapport and naturalness he couldn’t remember sharing with a woman. Most conversations with his last serious girlfriend from five years ago had degenerated into “Where is this relationship going?” He knew he had to push that aside and do what he’d come to do.

  “Mae…there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

  She instantly grew wary.

  “I…wasn’t entirely honest about Lucian. There are old rivalries between us, and I kind of exaggerated things.” Each word was agonizing. “He’s actually a really good guy, and you should give him a chance.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. Lucian wasn’t that bad. Justin just didn’t want to give her up.

  Clearly, this was the last thing she’d expected. “You…you want me to go out with Lucian?”

  “Maybe not go out with, exactly,” he said. “But you know, at least talk to him. That fund-raiser thing he wrote about is actually a pretty good idea. Just get to know him in a way that isn’t going to attract a media circus. Besides, how often do you get to go to black-tie political fund-raisers?” Justin smiled so that he wouldn’t grit his teeth. “Hell, I’ll even
go like he asked and help deliver you to him.”

  Too late, Justin realized that was the worst thing he could have said to a woman who’d spent her life feeling like she was someone’s possession. Deliver you to him. Her face confirmed it. There was no more shock. There was nothing at all—except, perhaps, a fleeting gleam of disappointment in her eyes.

  He was taken aback. Was it possible that somewhere, after everything he’d put her through, she still wanted him? Justin ignored that and focused on what mattered: He’d fulfilled his promise to Geraki.

  “Well, thanks for the advice,” she said stiffly. “Maybe I’ll go. Maybe I can salvage that mauve dress.”

  He couldn’t tell if she knew what a blow that was to him. Instead, he tried to recover his faltering smile. “Great. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled. You want another round?” He didn’t expect her to stop hating him. But maybe he could get her to hate him a little less.

  “I have things I should do.” They both knew she was lying.

  “One drink,” he beseeched. “I didn’t give you all my insight on what SCI’s doing.”

  After several agonizing moments, she nodded, not looking that enthused. “Sure.”

  Justin scooped up the empty glasses. As he waited at the bar for his refills, he looked up at a screen showing—of course—Lucian giving some speech in San Francisco, going on about his great unknown age. Justin had felt a headache coming on since they arrived at the bar, and this only made it worse.

  “Goddamned politicians,” a voice said. “You can’t trust any of those government types.”

  Justin glanced over and saw a steel-haired businessman sitting at the bar with a glass of wine. With all the emphasis on national security and loyalty that surrounded Justin, he kind of liked the occasional conspiracy theorist. “I am a government type.”

  The man studied Justin, and the light just barely reflected off of what was a very, very good artificial eye. It was nearly indistinguishable from the real one, and judging from the guy’s expensive suit, he had money to throw around. He even had a cluster of little white flowers on his lapel. Aside from Justin, he was the best-dressed person in the bar.

  “Is that so?” The man chuckled. “Should I be worried then about what we aren’t being told? What this Age of X is really going to entail for humankind?”

  It was a good question. “Well, Senator Darling says it’s going to be bright and wonderful. He seems to know.”

  “Of course he does,” the man said with a snort. “Guys your age always think you know everything. Believe me, there’s always more to learn.”

  “Not true. I’m a big believer in the pursuit of knowledge.”

  The man looked over to where Mae sat alone. “I’d like to get to know more about her. You’re with her, right? Girlfriend? Wife?”

  “Neither. In fact…she doesn’t really like me right now.”

  “Lucky for me.” The man knocked back his wine and stood up. “I’m going to go talk to her.”

  Incredibly, the guy made good on his word and walked over to Mae. Strangers’ advances were second nature to her, and she looked up at him with a polite smile. She even seemed to thank him when he brazenly took the flowers from his jacket and tucked them behind her ear. He gave her a nod of farewell and walked away.

  Justin returned with the drinks. “Did he ask you out?”

  “Him?” She laughed, which was nice after the earlier animosity. “No, but he laid it on kind of thick. He could be you in thirty years. Started waxing poetic about how my beauty will live forever in thought and memory and how these were a paltry offering.” She pulled the star-shaped white flowers out of her hair and examined them. “They smell good.”

  “Stephanotis,” he said, pulling up his mental encyclopedia without thinking. “From the Greek word for ‘crown.’…”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Stephanotis? Wasn’t that the flower you told me about in Windsor?”

  Justin nearly dropped his glass. He scanned the room frantically, searching for the man. No luck. “Be right back.” He hurried up to the bar and waved to get the cute young bartender’s attention. She was knocking back what looked like aspirin, something Justin wouldn’t have minded since his own headache still pulsed at the back of his skull.

  “You probably can’t tell me this…but do you know that guy’s name? When he scanned his ego?”

  She hesitated about the breach of privacy and then groaned. “He didn’t scan it. I asked him, but he started asking me if I played chess, and I forgot. My boss’ll kill me. That was our most expensive wine!”

  But Justin was already walking away. “I have to leave,” he told Mae.

  “Why?” She looked him over, and her concern for him was real. “What’s wrong?”

  Justin swallowed. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just…well, the bartender’s getting off her shift soon and asked me to go out. I can’t turn that down.” He put on what he hoped was a smug, bastardly smile.

  This time, Mae’s thoughts were perfectly obvious. She was floored that after asking her for another drink, he was about to ditch her for a woman he’d just met.

  “I see. Well, far be it from me to stand in your way.” She stood up, rigid and formal. “Thanks for the drink. I’ll meet you at SCI tomorrow.” And without a backward glance, she strode out of the bar, the air freezing around her.

  Justin stared after her, feeling forlorn.

  Wallow later, said Horatio. Do you want your answers or not?

  Justin did. He had to know. He had to finally know. He scooped up the flowers and headed out. Back at the house, he found the usual buzz of activity as his family welcomed him home. He ignored them all and went straight to his office, slamming the door behind him.

  “I need a search,” Justin said to his screen before he even reached his chair. “I need all references to the phrase ‘thought and memory.’”

  The screen complied with frustrating detail, far too many hits to begin to parse. He drummed his fingers against the desk.

  “Filter the search by religious and mythological contexts.”

  That narrowed the list considerably. In fact, the only results left pertained to one subject. He brought up the first hit, which was a basic encyclopedic entry:

  In Norse mythology, the god Odin (Wodan in German contexts) is accompanied by two ravens, Huginn (Thought) and Muninn (Memory), who advise him and report what they learn about the world.

  Justin felt mildly ill. He was familiar with stories of Odin, who frequently appeared with other Norse gods when Nordic and Scandinavian castes decided to attempt some revivalist religion. Odin was a major enough god that every servitor had a working knowledge of him. Justin had always thought he did as well, but apparently, he’d been lacking a particularly important detail about the god’s choice of companions, a detail that certain invisible birds could’ve helpfully enlightened him about.

  “Give me a full compilation about the Norse god Odin,” ordered Justin. “Attributes, primary sources, and general folklore.”

  The screen complied, and with every line he read, Justin felt as though the world was starting to crumble beneath him.

  Odin, or “All Father,” is a Norse god of the Æsir associated with wisdom, cunning, knowledge, war and battle, magic, and death. He is usually accepted as the king of the Norse gods.

  Odin made many sacrifices for his wisdom. He gave up his eye in order to drink from Mimisbrunnr, the well of wisdom. He also hung himself from the world tree Yggdrasil in order to master the runes, which impart insight into the present and future.

  “I need an image of the runes.” Justin already knew what he’d see.

  The screen displayed a set of symbols, each labeled with a name. Most were nonsensical, save for one he knew very well since he saw it on his own skin every day. He asked the screen to identify it: Ansuz—a rune with disputed meanings that is generally associated with the Æsir gods, particularly Odin. Near it, Justin saw algiz, the protective rune the ravens had taught him.

  On
and on it went, and Justin saw pieces of his life play out before him. He read everything he could find, and after a while, he started reading the same information over and over. His eyesight grew bleary, and he was about to finally call it a day when one line caught his eye:

  Odin is also accompanied by two wolves, Geri and Freki.

  “Clear the search,” he told the screen. “And call Demetrius Devereaux.”

  Geraki answered after only a couple of seconds, and Justin wondered if he’d been waiting for the call like some eager teenage girl.

  “Did you get a guy with a glass eye to come mess with me and start dropping flowers and hints about the ravens?”

  “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. I must not be smart enough to keep up with your razor-sharp brain.”

  Throwing something at the screen wasn’t going to improve this situation, so Justin took a deep breath and tried to backtrack. “A man talked to me at a bar today. He had one eye and went off about the pursuit of knowledge. He gave me the same crap you do about Mae being so awesome, and then he went and talked to her about ‘thought and memory’ and gave her something only I knew about. Did you set it up?” Justin demanded. “Did you get someone to do this?”

  Geraki looked completely dumbfounded, which would have been enjoyable under different circumstances. Understanding suddenly hit. His eyes widened in awe, and his cheeks flushed.

  “He appeared to you! How? Why? You’ve done nothing but show disrespect, while I serve faithfully, but you’re the one he comes to in the flesh?” A moment later, Geraki closed his eyes and looked pained. “I shouldn’t have said that. I have no right to question my god’s actions. I’m only here to listen to his voice.”

  “You can say his name now,” said Justin bitterly. “Odin.”

  Geraki opened his eyes. “You know his name?”

  “Yeah, it took like five seconds with a stream search. Why would a Norse god come after me? Why not someone like Mae? You said they gravitate to people with the same heritage.”