by SM Reine
“God could do it,” Lincoln said.
“Sure,” Ofelia said. “Have you seen NKF around lately?” The question wasn’t as casual as it sounded. The coals of her eyes were burning tunnels through his skull. In their depths, he could almost see Inanna’s sun-baked face glaring back at him.
He looked away first. “No.” Not exactly a lie.
Lincoln inhaled the rest of his burger. He didn’t realize how hungry he’d gotten. All this time eating corn-based government rations had left him starved for actual substance, and heart disease aside, greasy red meat had hit the spot.
When he reached for the last burger, Ofelia claimed it first, fries and all. She didn’t look even slightly guilty.
“Let me see if I get this straight,” Lincoln said, sitting back with his arms folded. “So, Sophie either got attacked or ate a mushroom. Then she hopped on her falhófnir and went to the Winter Court instead of Falias.” Falias was the only city in the Summer Court, and the seat of Titania and Oberon.
Sophie nodded. “We did not leave Titania on good terms. I had no desire to be arrested—only rescued.”
It was such a Sophie thing to do. She’d decided that she needed to be rescued, so she’d mounted a powerful, magical beast to ride halfway across the deadly Middle Worlds. She’d probably had to avoid death a half-dozen times along the way.
“Why’d you come looking for me?” Lincoln asked.
“I still don’t know where my guardians are, and you are the only person who will protect me like they would.”
His eyes narrowed. “Will I?”
Titania wasn’t the only person Sophie had left on bad terms, after all.
“I suspect that you will,” Sophie said. “You’re not a man who leaves a woman defenseless.”
Lincoln couldn’t bring himself to respond. He took another bite of french fries and nodded.
He’d protect Sophie Keyes all right. He’d protect her for exactly as long as it took to find her guardians or vanquish her enemies—whatever came first. And then he’d put the strange, lovely, infuriating woman far into his past.
Chapter 4
Javi’s hunting collective occupied a house in old Sparks, not far from the abandoned movie theater in Victorian Square. The house used to be used as a dojo; they’d knocked down a couple bedroom walls to make an exercise space big enough, leaving two bedrooms for five men. The lights were still on when Lincoln got back from the Little Nugget. Everyone was home and awake.
Spencer gave a low whistle when the women entered. “What’s going on here?”
“These are my associates, Ofelia and Sophie,” Lincoln said.
“I’ll be out of your hair in a minute,” Ophelia said. She had only planned to escort Sophie to Lincoln’s house for safekeeping, and she was already looking antsy to leave. “Where should I drop Sophie’s bags?”
“My bunk’s in the room on the right,” Lincoln said. He shared the room with Spencer, while the other three guys were in the bedroom next to it. “You mind letting Sophie have the room for a night? Just until I figure out what to do with her.”
“She can stay as long as she can put up with the smell,” Spencer said.
Sophie gave a laugh. “I’ve lived with men before. It won’t trouble me.” Her blinks were growing slower, her head heavy.
Lincoln took the bags from Ofelia and put them next to the weapons trunk in his bedroom. Spencer only ducked in long enough to grab his toothbrush then backed out, leaving Sophie and Lincoln alone in moonlight.
“The bottom’s mine, but I don’t got clean sheets for you,” he said. “My mama would be awful disappointed for the filth I’m putting a guest in.”
“I didn’t sleep for nigh unto three days to reach Ofelia, riding on adrenaline and fear,” Sophie said. “You could give me a bed of nails and I’d know no difference at this point.” She sank onto the edge of the bed with a sigh. She shut her eyes, tipped her head back against the rail. “I didn’t come to you just for protection.”
He’d figured. “Talk about it tomorrow?”
Sophie mumbled.
Li popped his head into the room. He must have just come out of the dojo; his tee was plastered to his back by sweat. He was a young guy, early twenties, about five-eight and a hundred eighty pounds, all muscle. “I heard we’ve got a houseguest. Hi! I’m Li! If you need anything—anything at all—you just let me know, all right? Ask anyone for Li.”
Sophie didn’t seem to hear. She’d sunk back against the mattress, still hugging one of her tote bags, and her eyes were shut.
Lincoln elbowed Li out of the room, closing the door. The other household residents had appeared too, but Esteban and Javi were engaged with Ofelia. They didn’t have a clue there was royalty among them. Esteban was excitedly showing her their liquor collection, and Ofelia laughed loudly at some joke Lincoln didn’t hear, her head thrown back.
“Two for two,” Li said. “Nice job, Marshall.”
“Ofelia’s leaving, and you’re not going anywhere near Sophie,” Lincoln said in a low voice. “You didn’t see either of them. You got it?”
Li sobered quickly. “This isn’t a party, huh?”
“No. It’s work.” Lincoln caught his reflection in the blade of a bastard sword hanging on the wall. He scrubbed the day-old scruff on his chin, watched the lines bracketing his mouth deepen as he frowned. He didn’t even look like someone who knew what house parties were, much less organized them. “Can I trust you to be discreet?”
“If it’s work, yeah, of course,” Li said. “I’ll be good.”
He sounded like he meant it.
And he probably did. The five of them had been occupying the house for almost two months. They didn’t have much conflict. The only food in the fridge were those nasty corn-based rations, which nobody felt the need to fight over. All their good weapons were issued by the OPA and intended for them to share. They didn’t fight over money either. If the guys weren’t beating each other’s asses in the dojo, they were usually sleeping or working, and it made for a quiet house.
Lincoln still wasn’t about to leave Sophie there for long. He wasn’t sure what the price tag on the one and only Historian might look like, but he didn’t want one of the other vigilantes getting curious.
At the moment, nobody knew who Sophie was, and Ofelia was edging for the door.
“Walk me out,” the queen told Lincoln, extending her hand toward him.
Li whistled naughtily. Ofelia laughed and flipped him off.
Lincoln stepped outside with the queen. Their house had an enclosed porch with exercise equipment scattered around. It was dark enough inside that the lightless street outside looked gray under the waxing moon. A single car drove past. The muffled voices of the men inside rose in laughter again, fading as they moved back into the dojo.
Ofelia’s glamour was beginning to fray. The air felt cold beside her. “The cathedral is gone,” she said. “The one from Falias. It vanished weeks ago—not long after you did.” Her eyes were much more intelligent than her brother’s, and it was uncomfortable to bear the brunt of her piercing gaze.
“Are you suggesting that I stole the cathedral?” Lincoln asked.
“That would be crazy, wouldn’t it?” Ofelia asked. “This is a crazy world. The Summer Court’s going mad without the cathedral. People are wondering if Titania is who she says—the chosen prophet of God. Fear of God may have been the only thing that prevented the Ard from attacking Falias, too.”
“Sounds like a shitty situation for Titania.” And also, like it wasn’t Lincoln’s problem. The Summer Court hadn’t been friendly hosts during his visit. He wouldn’t call them enemies, but he also doubted they’d piss on him if he caught fire.
“Should I help them?” Ofelia asked. “Should I try to save Titania from this mess of her making?”
“I think what you mean to ask is if I spoke to God inside the cathedral.”
“Did you?” Ophelia asked.
Cold or not, it felt too stuffy in th
e patio. Lincoln propped the door open with his foot to inhale the cool nighttime breeze. Sage and the tang of late-summer blooms floated on the air. If he thought that he smelled myrrh, that might have only been his imagination—not Inanna waiting invisibly at his shoulder.
He hadn’t smelled myrrh in the cathedral. He’d smelled whiskey, roasting meat, and apples, like an autumn barbecue.
Lincoln had stepped into the cathedral twice at this point, once while it was in the Summer Court, and once on Earth. Both times had been similarly uninformative. And both times, he’d left with the distinct feeling that he wasn’t done yet. That he would be back soon.
“I can’t tell you if I saw anyone in the cathedral,” Lincoln said. “I’m not sure myself.”
“What did you see?” Ofelia asked.
“I don’t know.” Lincoln wished that he knew. Nightmares of the Genesis Void had cartwheeled into dreams of his lifetime in the cathedral. Every night, he tried to pierce the haze—tried to see things he hadn’t been able to see within Falias. He always failed. “It looked like it was filled with a bright fog. I felt like someone was in there, but couldn’t see a face, didn’t hear a voice. I was just…there.”
She balled her hand into a fist, long nails digging into her palm. Her flesh had cooled to a blue-tinged shine. “I thought you had my answers.”
“I don’t,” he said. “Not yet. But I’ll tell you this: I don’t think Titania lied about talking to God. I think that she’s experienced the same thing I did in there and doesn’t have a damn clue what to say about it.”
“Perhaps it’s so, and if I choose to believe that, it may delay war between us,” Ofelia said.
Lincoln startled. “War? Is it that bad?”
“That’s up to Titania.” The last of her glamour peeled away, tugged by a breeze. She was revealed in a flurry of raven feathers. Buxom, towering, shimmering. Her knuckles were dotted with sharpened gemstones. “I wish I knew why God won’t bring the cathedral to speak to me, but it’s not your fault. You saved my brother. I owe you for that.”
She extended her hand toward him. Ophelia cradled a tiny crystalline pyramid—a four-sided dice. When she dropped it into Lincoln’s palm, the tips of his fingers chilled.
“Roll it when you want to see me again.” Ophelia’s fingernails trailed down his sleeve, scraping the canvas of his jacket lightly. “When I respond to that, I will give you anything in my power.” She dragged her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes flicking down Lincoln’s body. “Anything at all.”
A cold wind gusted through. The patio door rattled. Raven feathers cycloned and fell.
The Queen of the Winter Court was gone.
Lincoln reentered the house to find his roommates gathered in the kitchen—the closest thing to a communal area that they had. It was weird seeing them all out at once. “There a problem?”
“Good question. Is the girl okay?” Spencer asked, nodding toward the door beyond which Sophie was sleeping.
Lincoln let out a breath, hands resting on his belt. Not far from the hunting knife in his pocket. “Why?”
“We’ve got a right to know who’s sleeping under our roof,” Javi said.
The mood in the room was tense—too tense. They didn’t know Sophie like he did. All of them had been around in this strange world long enough to know the most innocent-looking creatures could prove the deadliest.
Considering the way Li kept looking at the bedroom, maybe it was good for them to be a little afraid of her.
“She won’t be here long, and I’ll keep her on a short leash, but give her space to be sure,” Lincoln said. “And don’t let yourself get caught alone with her.”
“What would she do?” Javi asked.
Knowing Sophie, she’d probably lecture them about ancient mythology or how terrible the police were. Maybe both. “You don’t wanna know. I wish that I didn’t know. Give her space.” He emphasized that, made it sound ominous. Like she might eat their eyeballs out of their skulls.
Assenting nods from all around.
“Did the other one leave?” Esteban peered through the curtains to the patio.
“Ofelia’s long gone,” Lincoln said. But she’d left him with an uncomfortable erection that wasn’t going down. At least this one was the natural type that came from talking to a woman with magically appealing cleavage at eye-level, not the kind that came from succubi.
“Damn. I wanted to invite her to wrestle.” Esteban grabbed his katana off the coffee table—the spot where he usually forgot his sword, and where he never remembered he’d left it. Lincoln had shoved it to the floor a dozen times just to make space to put his feet up. “I’ll be in the dojo if anyone wants me.” He headed out, sword swinging at his side.
“I’m always ready to punch your teeth out!” Li bounced after him, wrapping his fists afresh.
“Not me. I’m blasted from going after Ba-Set Mal,” Spencer said. He stretched out. “I’ll sleep on the couch here, if Marshall thinks we’re safe to sleep. Or should we rotate watch?”
Lincoln shook his head. Something was after Sophie, and it very well might attack that night. But how would a cluster of shifters fight off some kind of cosmic threat? If it distorted perception and time, strength alone would be useless. “There’s no way anyone knows this woman is here. We’ll be fine tonight.” A reassuring lie.
Javi slapped his knees. Stood up kinda hunched over, like his back was hurting him. “All right. Then I’m gonna sleep. Got an early job tomorrow.”
“Another bounty?” Lincoln asked.
“Volunteer crew,” he said. “Cleaning up the UNR campus. They’re gonna open the dorms to refugees soon.” He flexed a bicep, which didn’t look real impressive. The strength in shifters wasn’t muscular. “Think you’ll have time to come?”
Lincoln wouldn’t have wasted his time on unpaid work even if he could have. “Got plans.”
“Not your flight?” Javi said. He’d given Lincoln a ride to the airport last week to buy the ticket to Las Vegas, so he knew which flight Lincoln was scheduled to take. “Isn’t that your girlfriend in there? The one you were looking for?”
“Sophie’s not anything to me,” Lincoln said curtly. “And that trip to find my girlfriend is postponed now. Can’t afford two tickets.”
“Shame,” Javi said. He followed Li and Esteban out. There were already sounds of fighting from the dojo, since it never took Li much time to get into the action.
Spencer shifted on the sofa, sticking his jacket under his head for extra cushioning against the exposed plywood arm. “It is a shame. You almost smiled when you got that money from Agent Sparrow. It’s the only time I’ve seen you looking almost happy.”
“Good night,” Lincoln said. It was the only thing to say. There was nothing worth explaining.
The idea of going to Las Vegas to look for Elise Kavanagh—the Godslayer—hadn’t made him happy. Nothing about Elise made him happy. Never had. Never would.
But when he slid down to sit on the patchy carpet in front of Sophie’s door, he was surprised to feel heavy with disappointment.
Lincoln had wanted to go to Las Vegas. He’d been looking forward to finding Elise.
He took the dagger out of his boot. It was pearlescent pink in this lighting, wickedly spiraled from hilt to cruel tip. He’d spent a little of his bounty money to buy a piece of ebony and borrowed a neighbor’s tools to carve its hilt under the watchful eye of Inanna.
He sat in front of the door all night, spinning the dagger in his fingers to watch the light distort over its sidhe blade.
By the time dawn arrived, he’d made a decision.
Chapter 5
Sophie Keyes did not know where Lincoln slept, or if he slept at all. Twelve hours passed in a blink of oblivion. She woke to find the bedroom empty, and she took a few minutes to sit in the half light of morning, shaded by horizontal blinds.
The yellow light warming her skin was from Earth’s sun. She hadn’t felt its heat in years. The familiar scent of swea
t and dirtied socks emanated from the hamper in the corner, and it almost smelled like she was living among her guardians again. She hadn’t lied about her comfort with the odors of close cohabitation with multiple males. More than comfortable, she was nearly consoled.
She took time to tidy herself. Change her clothes. She was groggy from sleeping too long, so she splashed water on her face. She brushed her teeth as she wrote notes in her journal.
Sophie was rereading the page when she finally stepped out of the bedroom…and ran right into Lincoln Marshall.
“Oop!” She stepped backward hastily. “I’m so sorry!”
Lincoln didn’t respond like a normal person would have. He just stood there and glared like a particularly resentful redwood. He was no less intimidating on Earth than in the Middle Worlds, though that was another thing Sophie found appealing about him; she’d been raised by men as scary as him. He likely wouldn’t appreciate it if he knew that the mere girth of his arms made her want to snuggle him like a teddy bear.
Of course, Lincoln was not the man Sophie’s biases perceived him to be. He was a Remnant of Inanna, god of war and fertility—mostly war in Lincoln’s case. He had a chip on his shoulder larger than Mount Everest was tall. And his disdain for Sophie radiated more clearly than ever.
Whether it was because she was a black woman (a fact Lincoln had made clear was a serious issue) or because she’d rejected his advances, she wouldn’t bother guessing. Her brilliant mind, full of arcane history, seemed to go completely blank when Lincoln glared at her like that. He was a full sensory experience, overloading her with the scent of his sweat and the shine of his strangely bright hair, a shard of shattered sunlight. He should have been a Remnant of the likes of Apollo, not Inanna.
“I’ve got an appointment and you’re coming with,” he said.
It wasn’t as though Sophie could argue. She was the one who was making demands of him, the one invading his life.
Just kidding. Of course Sophie could argue with him.
“I hardly think this is the time for you to be meeting appointments,” Sophie said, snapping her journal shut and tucking the pen in its spine. “You need to protect me, and the best offense is a good defense, as they say. It’s of the utmost importance that we should determine who has attacked me.”