Gameboard of the Gods (Age of X #1)(19)
Author: Richelle Mead

“You’re probably not in any significant danger from investigating the cold cases.” Justin couldn’t be certain, but Cornelia almost sounded disappointed about that. “But one can never predict what some of these zealots will do. Since they may be, uh, uncooperative, we feel you should have more security than usual.”

“After that group tried to set me on fire, I don’t really have a problem with enhanced security,” he told her. “Add as many people as you want.”

Cornelia shook her head. “I’m sure Prætorian Koskinen will be more than sufficient by herself.”

“What?” asked Justin and Mae in unison.

“Didn’t General Gan explain the nature of this mission?” asked Cornelia, sounding legitimately puzzled.

“No,” said Mae, visibly trying to bury her shock again. “He simply told me to accompany you here.”

“For which we are very grateful, my dear.” Francis smiled at her as if she were a favorite granddaughter. “And now you’ll be Dr. March’s bodyguard as he travels and completes this assignment.”

“A bodyguard,” said Mae flatly. “I’m going to be a bodyguard.”

Boring work for a Valkyrie, said Magnus. If you want her in bed again, piss off someone dangerous so that she has something interesting to do.

“It may also be useful to have a patrician around,” added Francis. “It might get you a friendly reception if you go to the land grants. You know how they are—no offense.”

“None taken,” Mae murmured. She still looked stunned, and it seemed legitimate to Justin, reducing the odds that she was here to kill him. “Do you know how long I’ll be assigned to him?”

Cornelia looked irritated that this meeting was still going on, now that the essentials were covered. “We need this solved in a little less than four weeks.”

“Why four weeks?” asked Mae.

“The next full moon,” said Justin. His high came crashing to the ground.

“He’s so smart,” said Francis, grinning.

Cornelia rolled her eyes. “Yes. Brilliant.”

“And what happens if I don’t solve it in four weeks?” Justin asked quietly.

She fixed him with a cold gaze. “Well. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, won’t we?”

Justin attempted a smile, but all he could think was that said bridge would probably be on fire, with him stuck in the middle and alligators circling below.

Mae’s obvious disappointment at this turn of events irritated Justin. She certainly hadn’t seemed that miserable around him in bed. “I’m sure it won’t be that unbearable, prætorian. I’m really not that bad once you get underneath everything.”

Her eyes looked more blue than green in this lighting, and he saw a flash of anger in them. It reminded him of the passion he’d seen earlier. I wish she wasn’t so hot, he thought wistfully.

You have to help her, said Magnus. She has gods swarming around her and no way to stop them.

No, Justin said. Don’t bring up gods anymore. This isn’t the time. Not when we’re on the verge of getting my life back.

It’s always the time, said Magnus. Besides, what do you think you’re going to be dealing with when you return?

Mae said nothing to Justin’s comment and directed her attention to the others as she stood up. “Do you need anything else from me tonight?”

“No, no,” said Francis, stifling a yawn. “You’ve done more than enough, my dear. Get some sleep. We’re leaving early.” He paused and laughed. “Ah, you don’t sleep, do you? Well then, do whatever you want. You’re young. Maybe you can find some dashing, exotic fling.”

Mae didn’t even blink. “I’ll just stay in my room, sir. There’s no one worth my time in this place.”

She turned with military precision, but her air was all castal, displaying an attitude that refused to acknowledge those people—or rather, the one person—she considered beneath her. As Justin watched her go, he barely heard Francis dismissing him as well and telling him to go fetch his “provincial girl.”

A haughty, lethal bodyguard. An assignment involving shadowy phantoms. This homecoming was starting to accrue a hefty price tag.

You still want to pay it? asked Horatio.

Absolutely.

CHAPTER 6

GENIUS, CON ARTIST

Tessa wasn’t asleep when someone pounded on the front door.

She wasn’t supposed to be awake. Her mother would kill her if she found out, but Tessa couldn’t help herself. Her father had acquired a reader from the Eastern Alliance and given it to her this morning. She knew it was old technology for them. Everything that trickled into Panama was. But to her, it was a miracle: a small, lightweight device that contained hundreds of books. Some were old, some were current. Most were written in Mandarin, which she couldn’t read. There were still enough from the RUNA to keep her busy, and she could read English as well as she could Spanish. Her father had made sure of that.

The reader became irrelevant when she heard the noise, however. She froze where she sat, tense and wide-eyed. It had been years since gangs regularly raided the houses of their rivals, and her father wasn’t even involved in anything that would attract attention or retaliation. Still, the drills her parents had made her and her sisters practice over and over were still fresh in her mind. Go to the tunnel, bring nothing. All it would take was one shout from the bodyguards, and Tessa would be out of her room in a flash.

But no shouts came. Whoever was there banged on the door again, and several moments later, she could hear loud voices engaged in some sort of argument. No shouts of alarm. No stomping of feet. No gunfire.

Tessa waited a little bit longer, but when the noise didn’t stop, her curiosity got the better of her. It was a problem she often had. Slipping out of bed, she found her robe and tied it tightly over her floor-length nightgown. Out of habit, she nearly pulled up her hair but then decided to leave it down to save time. She moved quietly and slowly as she left the room, still cautious of any possible threat, and prayed the old wooden floor wouldn’t creak. The closer she came to the staircase leading down, the more she relaxed. She recognized the voices. There would be no raid tonight.

She made it downstairs and paused just outside the doorway to the foyer, keeping out of sight but still managing a good view. Her mother stood there in a similar robe, arms crossed, but she’d taken the time to pull up her hair. Marta Cruz would never be seen with her hair down, not even in the middle of the night. Tessa’s father stood nearby, and his clothing suggested he hadn’t even gone to bed yet. Two of the family’s bodyguards were also on hand, looking more confused than concerned.