“We don’t know that it was an elect,” she said.
“Who else could it have been? There’s no question someone with considerable power—shapeshifting, illusion, whatever—is responsible, and only the servant of some god could do that. Why this and not an outright attack? I don’t know, but the first and best way to get answers is to get a name. Please do this.” He started to reach for her again out of habit but remembered and stopped. “I’ll go with you. I won’t leave you.”
Only the servant of some god. Mae felt ill, suddenly remembering the words spoken to her by the goddess—by Freya—when she’d brought the apple tree back to life: This is the kind of power you have in service to me, the power of life and love and fertility. As my priestess, you will bring life where you choose. As my warrior, you will bring death when necessary. You will bring comfort and healing. You will ignite desire. And always, always, I will have my hand upon you, empowering you.
Was this Freya’s idea of empowerment? To be so desired that someone would use magic or their god’s favor to deceive her and take her unknowingly? Mae, who’d had countless casual lovers without a second thought, suddenly felt dirty and violated. Her body no longer seemed like her own, and she hated herself for it—and hated Freya for it. Where had the goddess’s hand and protection been when that phantom had been in Mae’s bed? Was this what it was truly like to be in the service of a god? Where was Geraki’s higher calling?
“I’ll go,” Mae told Justin. “I’ll go to the hospital with you.”
The story they’d contrived sounded as convoluted as she’d expected, but even Mae could recognize that she was in a shell-shocked state and that went a long way in convincing the intake officer. Equally convincing were the signs of physical assault. In the sterile lights of the hospital, Mae could now see red marks on her wrists that would be bruises tomorrow. It again made her feel foolish for not suspecting something sooner. Why would Justin, who had played her body with such skill in Panama, have resorted to such crude and fumbling tactics? She’d written it off to the heat of the moment, believing he was so wild for her that he couldn’t control himself. In reality, she was the one with no self-control to stop and consider that maybe everything wasn’t actually falling out like she’d dreamed.
After her exam, the staff offered to discharge her, but she and Justin wanted to wait there to get the results as soon as possible. Matching one DNA sample to the entire registry was a time-consuming process. It had taken over twenty-four hours for the refugee girls, though in criminal matters like this one, law enforcement could expedite things. It was still almost two in the morning when the results came back, and when they did, the doctor who delivered them was clearly astonished.
“I’m sorry,” he told her. “There was no match in the registry.”
“What do you mean there was no match?” demanded Justin. “Every living Gemman is in the registry! Was there something wrong with the sample? Didn’t it run long enough?”
The doctor shook his head. “No, everything was done properly. It just seems your assailant wasn’t a Gemman citizen.”
“The registry keeps DNA samples of people here on visas,” insisted Justin. “Check those.”
“We did,” said the doctor. “But not all those on visas are logged. And it’s possible it could’ve been a fugitive, someone not legally in the country, as rare as that is.”
Justin, who’d been so calm throughout all of this, had finally reached his breaking point. “You made a mistake! Run the damn test again, and find the son of a bitch who—”
“No,” said Mae, standing up and taking his arm. “There’s no need. Thank you.”
“If you want,” said the doctor, “we can do a peripheral test and attempt to find any close genetic relatives, but that takes more time and gets more difficult to—”
“No,” repeated Mae. “We’re done. Let’s go.”
She practically had to drag Justin out to keep him from going back. “Mae, there’s a mistake,” he reiterated, once they were standing outside the hospital’s entrance.
“Is there?” she asked. “Justin, think. Whoever did that to me had the ability to change their fucking appearance! Do you think they’d then carelessly let themselves be ID’d by a hospital’s genetic test? There’s no telling how far their god’s power extends.” Another thought occurred to her, one that nearly made her sway on her feet. “That, or there was no match to a human in the registry . . . because he wasn’t human.”
“They do a standard DNA map,” Justin said, calming down again. “If he wasn’t human, it would show.”
Mae wasn’t sure of that, and it only increased that sickening feeling of violation. But Justin did agree with her that whatever god had done this had apparently helped cover up his or her servant’s tracks. Justin nobly vowed that they’d still get answers, no matter the cost, but Mae felt disillusioned and doubtful.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I just want a shower . . . but I . . . I don’t want to go back there. Back to my place.”
“Well,” said Justin, “that I can fix.”
They took the purple line out to his place, where they found the rest of his household asleep, save for one of the rotating praetorians keeping watch that night. It was someone from a different cohort, a friend of Dag’s, and his presence reminded Mae of her own weakness tonight. She sent the guy home, telling him she was taking over the watch and that he should go find a Saturday night party. He accepted gladly.
Justin gave her full access to the bathroom adjacent to his bedroom, which had a shower nearly twice the size of hers. She stayed in it for almost forty minutes, scalding and scrubbing every part of her body. When she emerged into the steaming bathroom, she found he’d quietly slipped in his best shot at a change of clothes for her: a plain men’s cotton T-shirt and drawstring pajama pants. She changed into them and stepped out to the bedroom, finding him reading in bed in a similar ensemble. Rather than feel amused at the match, however, she felt a small pang in her heart. He usually preferred sleeping in boxers, and she had a feeling the extra clothing was a kindness on his part, in case seeing him half-naked freaked her out. The sad part was, it wasn’t a bad assumption. She knew this was the real Justin, but the memories of the earlier phantom were hard to shake.
But she surprised both of them by slipping into bed with him. She’d been afraid of his touch all night, but now, she suddenly found herself in need of warm, human contact. She rested her head on his chest, and after several moments, he tentatively placed an arm over her back. They lay like that for a long time until Justin finally broke the silence.
“I’m sorry.”
”For what?”
He swallowed. “This is my fault. If I’d been brave enough earlier, if I hadn’t turned you away, if I’d stayed with you instead of going to the party—”
“Justin,” she interrupted. “This is in no way your fault. Not in the least.”
“I’ve all but served this god in every way already. I should’ve taken the plunge and made it official. I could’ve at least finally gotten something I wanted that way.” Justin smoothed the hair away from her face, again using great caution and gentleness. “That’s what it was, you know. The cost for being able to have you is becoming his priest and swearing my loyalty to him. But I don’t care anymore. It’s worth it for you, Mae.”
His words struck her profoundly, especially after her earlier revelation and disgust with Freya. “No,” Mae said at last. “I don’t think it is. You were right about everything—about how they mess up your lives and how there’s always a cost. You were right to keep away and not bind yourself. I understand that now and am glad you did what you did—or rather, didn’t do. Keeping yourself free of them is what matters.”