She was no one Tessa knew, a plebeian woman of average height, with dark eyes and wavy brown hair pulled into a haphazard ponytail. Her clothes were casual but showed a body that, although small, was muscled and toned like someone who engaged in regular athletic activity. For half a second, Tessa wondered if this was another backup praetorian, except there was a slightly dazed look in the woman’s eyes that Tessa didn’t usually observe in those super soldiers.
“This is, uh, Drusilla Kavi,” said Dag, who seemed uncharacteristically uncomfortable. “She’s a . . . colleague. A praetorian.”
Quentin was the only one who didn’t seem to pick up on the weird vibe in the room. “Are you here to help too?” he asked brightly.
“I’m looking for Mae,” said Drusilla, voice dreamy. “She isn’t returning calls, and I’ve looked everywhere. I went to her home, but she wasn’t there. Then I found out she’s been at IS and went there—except I don’t have access to the building anymore. When I heard she’s been hanging out here, I thought I’d stop by.” Drusilla glanced around with a small frown. “But she doesn’t seem to be here either.”
“Mae’s on a mission and not able to take calls,” explained Tessa. “Ah,” said Drusilla. “That explains it.”
Dag cleared his throat. “I, uh, didn’t know you were out of the hospital, Kav—Drusilla.”
“I’m still staying there,” she told him. “But I get day passes. I’m doing much better. I’m sure I’ll be out and back on duty in no time.”
“I’m sure,” murmured Dag.
“Are you certain you have permission to be away?” asked Rufus, still regarding her curiously.
The smile she gave him was as spacey as the rest of her, but there was a wry tone in her voice. “Do you really think I could leave if the military didn’t want me to, Mr.—?”
“Callaway,” he said. “And I suppose not.”
“They’ve taken very good care of me,” continued Drusilla. “They take good care of us all—don’t they, Linus? Do you still have your implant?”
Dag looked startled at the question. “Of course. Don’t you? I mean . . . I’m sure they turned it off while you’re, uh, recovering, but you must still have it.”
She shook her head. “The doctors thought it best to remove it. Just until I’m better. It’s helped . . . a little. Some things haven’t gone away, though. Like my hands.” Looking down, she rubbed them together. “Do you get that? The pins and needles?”
Dag looked completely baffled . . . and like he wished he were somewhere else. Or that she were somewhere else. If Tessa weren’t so equally weirded out by their guest, she would’ve taken pleasure in seeing her normally cocky tormentor so off his game.
“Uh, no. I don’t get that,” he said. “I’m not really even sure what you mean.”
Drusilla nodded in sad resignation. “I guess you’re lucky then. The meds help with some things . . . but that never seems to go away.”
Awkward silence fell, and at least now, Tessa had some explanation for what made this woman behave so weirdly. Whatever her “meds” were helping with, it had to be significant to justify this haze she lived in.
“Well,” said Drusilla. “I’ve taken up enough of your time. When did you say Mae was getting back?”
“I didn’t,” said Dag. “It’s a mission. We don’t know.”
“Right, right. Well, I’ll just keep trying her, and maybe I’ll get lucky. She visited me once in the hospital, and I think I was kind of out of it.” Drusilla gave a shaky laugh. “I wanted to make amends now that I’m with it again.”
As she moved toward the doorway, Rufus hurried forward. “How about I help you get back. I’m not sure you should be out walking alone this late.”
Drusilla laughed again. “I’m a praetorian. Nothing can hurt me.”
”Let me. I might be going your way anyway,” he insisted. “You’re going to the base’s hospital?”
Rufus exchanged looks with Dag. “Uh, as it turns out, I am.” It was obvious to everyone but Drusilla that he was lying. He turned to Cynthia. “Okay if I go early?”
“Fine with me,” she said.
“Then I’ll make sure Praetorian Kavi gets back safely.” Dag nodded. “Better you than me.”
“You’re very kind, Mr.—um, I forgot your name already,” Drusilla said apologetically.
“It’s okay. Just call me Rufus.” He guided her toward the door. “Let’s get you back.”
Drusilla followed, giving the others one more distracted smile. “It was nice meeting you all. Nice seeing you, Linus.”
“You too,” Dag said stiffly. When the front door closed, he sat down at the table and shook his head in exasperation. “I owe him. He’s right—she shouldn’t have been out alone, but I’m not sure I could put up with that all the way back to the base.”
“Who was she?” asked Cynthia. “And what was wrong with her?”
”Just another praetorian. One injured in—well, it doesn’t matter, but she’s taken a long time to recover. And honestly, I’m not even sure what she’s recovering from anymore,” he said.
“Something that seems to require a lot of medication,” suggested Tessa. Dag nodded in agreement.
Cynthia returned her attention to the game and began reassessing her tiles. “Well, I hope for her sake she gets better, but in the meantime, I’ve just got to say I’m glad she doesn’t have an implant. I mean, she doesn’t seem that dangerous, but anyone that out of it has no business with performance-enhancing technology. Your turn, Darius.”
CHAPTER 17
Gemman Gods
Seeing Justin go immobile as a raven appeared out of thin air had been startling to Mae. And yet, that was nothing compared to when the raven suddenly returned without warning, bursting in through the small window in a flurry of squawks and dark feathers. It circled once around the room and then flew straight at Justin, as though it might attack him—only to vanish an inch before it made contact. The moment it did, Justin began gasping and sputtering, like a drowning man finally able to breathe air again. It was the first movement he’d made in an hour.
Mae sprang from her position by the door, moving instantly to his side. She put an arm around him as he coughed and was surprised to feel that his skin was burning up. He half-heartedly tried to push her away and sputtered out, “Going to be sick . . . get something . . .”
There were no bowls or trashcans in the room, so she grabbed the next best thing: the hat that Carl had given him. Justin dry heaved into it a couple of times, and Mae left him for the guesthouse’s bathroom, returning with a cup of water. His stomach settled, he accepted the water greedily but only took a few sips before handing it back to her and collapsing onto the bed. Mae had some experience with battlefield wounds, but illness was beyond her—particularly one with a supernatural cause.
“What happened?” she asked, smoothing back his sweat-soaked hair. The fever had come on instantly.
His eyes glittered brightly as he stared through her. “The touch of the god,” he said. “And the downfall of the stream . . . but they can’t right? Too much redundancy. No one can take it down. The god . . . he will know what to do . . .”
Mae managed to get him to take another sip of water, and then he sank into a heavy sleep. She made a wet washcloth for his face and let him rest his head in her lap as she stared around the room helplessly, wishing the ravens that pestered him so much would come talk to her.
“I don’t suppose you’ll pop into my head and let me know what’s going on?” she said aloud. But no response came. She didn’t have the benefit of answers from supernatural entities. All she had was a knife, but she certainly wasn’t going to use it now and risk losing time, not when Justin might need her in his current state. He’d warned her of the price for supernatural involvement. Was this what he was talking about? Her impression had always been of a greater, more metaphysical cost, not something so acute and immediate.