“I think very highly of your job,” he insisted. “It’s the rest of your motives I question.”
“I can’t stay attached to IS forever. That’s not the kind of work I enlisted for.”
His attempts at self-control unraveled. “You enlisted to be killed? If you really wanted to get out of IS, then why aren’t you being assigned with the rest of your cohort here in Vancouver? Why aren’t you doing monument duty with Val and Dag? Why are you going out to active combat in the borderlands? Why do you want to go out to active combat in the borderlands?”
He wasn’t the only one who snapped. “To get away from you!” she cried. “To get away from all of this—but especially you.”
Justin stood there frozen, as immobile as if he’d been knocked to the ground. “I see,” he said finally. “So, I guess that part about how nothing was going to change how you feel about me was kind of an exaggeration.”
“No,” she said, fists clenched at her sides. “It wasn’t. And neither was the part about you being infuriating. But there’s no way I’m going to let you do something stupid because of me. I won’t let you commit yourself to that god—”
“That’s my choice,” he interrupted.
“Not if it’s contingent on being involved with me,” she shot back. “I won’t let you do that. I’m pulling myself out of the equation. I’m freeing you from that god, and I’m freeing myself too. I’m done with this game, with godly affairs. I shouldn’t have dabbled in the first place. If I had, then last night—” Mae faltered and then found her resolve again. “Well, last night might not have happened.”
She looked so strong and beautiful out there, his Valkyrie in black, but the waver in her voice pierced his heart and told him the truth. Last night’s attack had had colossal effects. But how could it not have? Sexual assault wasn’t something one easily recovered from under so- called normal circumstances. Muddling it all up with this supernatural war . . . well, it was no wonder she wanted to leave.
“Do you think it won’t follow you to the battlefield?” he asked. “Do you think the gods won’t follow you there?”
“I’m sure they have better places to be,” she said.
“They followed us to Arcadia, Mae! They’re everywhere. They’ll go wherever you go. There’s no escaping what we’re involved in.”
Her face hardened. “I can’t believe that. I refuse to give in to them, and you should too. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll resign from your job and . . . I don’t know. Go back to teaching. Go back to anything, anything that’s not this.”
“This is what I’ve got, and I’m willing to face it on my terms, to serve him if it means having you in my life to—”
“No,” she exclaimed. He’d started to reach for her, and she pulled back. “No. Don’t. Please. Not for me.”
“Mae, I know what happened last night was hard—”
Her eyes widened. “Hard? Hard? You have no idea! No idea what it feels like to live with the aftermath of something like that—”
“Then let me help you!” he cried. “Let me help you heal from this, not some dangerous decision that you made on a moment’s notice. Together we’ll find out who did it—”
“Justin.” Her voice was low again, though the emotion written on her face showed how upset she still was. “This decision is made. I’m leaving.”
Look at her, said Magnus, speaking up at last. You say you know her so well, so look at her. She’s telling the truth. She’s leaving, and you can’t stop her. Your best bet at salvaging this situation is telling her you understand and that you support her and that you’ll be here waiting for her. If you have any sense left at all, you might even tell her you love her.
If she had any sense, Justin informed the raven, she wouldn’t leave me.
And with those words, Justin had enough self-awareness to realize that was a huge part of the problem here: she was leaving him. Oh, there was no question he was upset about the rest. He was upset that she was leaving without properly letting herself recover, that she was leaving without any further effort at finding her assailant. And, yes, he was absolutely upset at her willingly walking into another life- threatening situation. Waiting for her while she’d escaped Arcadia had been hard enough. He couldn’t imagine another stretch of endless days, not knowing if she was dead or alive.
But it was that personal sting, that after a life of women who’d meant nothing, he’d found one who meant everything—and she was leaving him. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t leaving him personally, exactly. This was the result of forces beyond their control, but the result was the same. She would be gone, and he would be back to being surrounded by others who made him feel alone. It hurt in a way he wasn’t prepared for, and he knew lashing out at her was a selfish reaction to that pain. He knew also that Magnus and even Cynthia were right: if Mae was leaving, then he needed to part on the best terms possible.
But that pain and the inability to deal with it were too great, and he found himself blurting out, “This is a mistake. You’re making a mistake.”
Her face started to fall, but she quickly recovered and took on her ice princess persona. Too late, it occurred to him that maybe she was hurting too and that she was waiting for him to say all those things he should’ve said.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said coldly. “Here. I’ve got a couple of parting gifts for you.” She produced the amber knife from her boot and handed it to him. “Give this to Geraki.”
Justin took it more from surprise than anything else. “Geraki?”
”He’s the one who sent it. Tell him I have no use for gods who can’t promise what they deliver.” From her belt, she produced a golden neck torc with dragons on the ends. “This is for you . . . or whatever you want to do with it.”
Justin took it in confusion. “What is it?”
“The eagle staff,” she said. “Or it was. When I touched it, it transformed into this.”
He was still upset, still heartbroken . . . but those words made his jaw drop. “When did you get this?”
“I made a side trip after rescuing the girls. The staff changed shape when I touched it.” She spoke casually, like robbing a country’s religious leader really had been just a side trip.
“You . . . you touched it?” Justin remembered the ravens saying only the strongest of faith could do so. “And . . . it changed shape?”
“That’s what I just said,” she snapped. A hired car slowed down in front of the house, and Mae turned toward it. “That’s for me. I’ll see you around.”
“Mae . . .”
Justin wanted to say more but found the words stuck on his tongue. Lucian had claimed Justin could talk anyone into anything, but he was at a loss here. He didn’t even know if he had the power to get her to forgive him. She disappeared into the car, and he stood there forlornly on the wet lawn, knife in one hand and torc in the other, watching until she vanished down the street. When he could finally muster the initiative to move, it was to look down and examine the knife.
Before you ask, said Horatio. No, we didn’t know Geraki gave it to her.
Is it Freya’s? asked Justin, thinking back to the revelation that had begun to emerge in Arcadia.
Magnus answered. Most likely. Geraki wouldn’t have given it if it wasn’t on the behest of an ally, and the fact that the torc didn’t change shape when you touched it means it’s sacred to the same pantheon you serve. Freya best fits the description of the goddess Mae has been working with.