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.”