Gameboard of the Gods

CHAPTER 12 MIRACLES

“Welcome to the Church of Apollo and Artemis,” said Justin when they reached their next stop. The church was a small white building that had been built up to make it resemble a Greek temple. Faux pillars surrounded the doorway, and a Greek inscription was painted in gold about the door. “Know anything about them?”

“No,” said Mae. He obviously hadn’t expected her to. Religion and myth weren’t taught in schools.

“Apollo’s the Greek god of light, prophecy, music, and a few other things. Artemis is his twin, goddess of the hunt, the moon, virgins—” Justin came to a stop and frowned as he studied the Greek words. “She’s also not mentioned anymore. That’s just welcoming us to the Church of Apollo.” He took out his ego to pull up a file. “Hmm. I wonder if they dropped her. This place hasn’t been inspected in almost eight months. If so, this may be a dead end since she’s our moon connection. Shit. The priestess that used to operate here is a piece of work.”

“You think she’s responsible for the murders? Because she’s linked to the moon?”

“No,” he said swiftly. “Absolutely not. That’s not her style.”

Mae frowned. “Then why are we here?”

“Because she’s got connections to, uh, resources that might help us. Maybe her old partner can help us find her.” Justin looked over something else on his ego, the edges of his lips quirking into a smile.

“What is it?” Mae asked.

“There are reports of this place claiming miracles. That’s always a treat.” He slipped his ego back into his jacket. The two matched. “Another good reason to have someone like Leo on hand. These groups go to extremes to pull off their scams. Leo’s a pro at figuring out what they’re doing. Fortunately, I’m not half-bad myself.”

Mae rolled her eyes. “Now, now, no need for modesty.”

He grinned as the two of them headed inside. “If the same guy’s still here, he’s not really all that stable either. Actually has the balls to call himself Golden Arrow.”

Although Justin had an appointment, no one greeted them at the door, which was unusual. When they stepped inside the church’s foyer, they found a full-fledged ceremony going on within.

“Warning sign,” Justin murmured to her. He’d once taught university classes and often slipped into lecture mode without even realizing it. “They’re feeling cocky if they scheduled a service during a servitor inspection. Worse still that they’ve got this many people out on a weekday afternoon.” He checked his ego. “Looks like a quarter of their regular members are here. And there’s the man himself.”

Through a doorway, she could see Golden Arrow standing at the front of a large room, wearing a white toga that wasn’t even accurate for Roman wear, let alone the Greek culture he was hearkening back to. He wore gold-painted laurel leaves in his dark hair and held his hands upward as he stood over a large smoking bowl sitting on a tripod. Two similarly clad women knelt nearby, one on either side of him. The walls were painted with murals of a blond man in various scenes: shooting a bow, driving a chariot across the sky, etc. Mae squinted at the pictures and then focused back on Golden Arrow.

“There’s a little facial resemblance,” she noted.

“There certainly is. Bad enough to claim to speak for a god, let alone liken yourself to one. Ah.” Justin pointed. “There’s Artemis, but significantly dwarfed. They really have dropped her from the act.”

The picture he indicated showed Apollo with a dark-haired woman carrying a silver bow. She wore a short gown and a crescent moon on her head. Mae studied the picture for a long time and felt chills down her back. When she dragged her gaze away, she found Justin watching her closely. “Ready to go in?”

“Of course,” she said, irritated for reasons she couldn’t explain.

He hesitated a few moments longer and then gave her a small nod as he walked toward the main sanctuary, where the ceremony had gone on uninterrupted. Golden Arrow continued chanting in Greek, with his hands and rapt face turned heavenward.

“What’s he saying?” she whispered as they started to step through the doorway.

Justin shook his head. “Nonsense, mostly the same stuff repeated over and over. It’s all about light and glory.”

Golden Arrow’s chanting suddenly stopped when he caught sight of Justin and Mae. All of those gathered turned around to stare as well.

“Friends, we have a special guest, Dr. March from the servitors’ office. So nice to see you again after all these years. Come, come. Take a seat and join us.” He had a good speaking voice, one that resonated. Mae could see how people would be compelled by it.

“Thank you,” said Justin cordially. Mae had to give him points for looking perfectly at ease. He sat on a pew in the back and then beckoned her to join him. “Please, carry on,” he called.

Even she could see how contrived Golden Arrow’s simpering smile was. But after a melodramatic half bow, he returned to his ceremony. The Greek chanting gave way to English, in which Golden Arrow begged Apollo to grace his humble servants with his bliss. He began a refrain that the worshippers echoed as they stomped out a steady beat on the floor. The words grew faster and louder, filling the space with a buzz that set her teeth on edge. Then, through some unseen signal, the noise abruptly stopped. The congregation seemed to hold its breath as it watched Golden Arrow experience what seemed like a cross between a seizure and an orgasm. Maybe, in some cases, the two acts weren’t always that different.

Golden Arrow shook violently and fell to his knees, head tilted back and mouth open as he let out a low moan of joy. A rapture even greater than what he’d shown earlier lit his features, and it only seemed to grow more intense when he lay prone on the floor and continued to writhe around. He finally stilled and grew quiet, gasping in a way that made Mae wish she could offer him a cigarette. The two robed women helped Golden Arrow stand and face the congregation.

“Who will the god choose to share his ecstasy today?”

All of the worshippers dropped to their knees and stared upward with eager expressions. Golden Arrow walked among them, peering closely at each face. At last, he stopped in front of a middle-aged woman, murmuring, “Share in the union of our god.”

Her face shone, and she followed him back toward the front of the room. There, she fell on her knees, head lowered.

“Here we go,” Justin said.

Golden Arrow cupped the woman’s face with his hands, saying a quiet prayer Mae couldn’t hear. A few moments later, the woman had a startling reaction that mirrored his earlier one. She took on that same orgasmic look, complete with the uncontrollable writhing on the floor. Everyone watched in awe, and when the fit finally passed, Golden Arrow’s assistant helped her back to her seat. He then repeated the process with a young man who looked barely out of high school.

Mae was aghast. She whispered, “It’s fake, right?”

“That part is.” It was a weird word choice. “The question is who’s faking it. Him or them.”

“One more,” the priest intoned. “The god will share his grace with one more. Dr. March, would you like to experience the light of Apollo?”

All eyes turned toward them again. Justin said nothing, and Mae could guess his thoughts. Golden Arrow had timed this ceremony with Justin’s visit and was now openly inviting him to participate in a “miracle.” There was a dangerous look in the priest’s eye that put her on alert. He expects something to happen. He knows it will. Justin had said miracles were always disproven. It’d be a big coup for a group to demonstrate an act of divinity on the person sent to debunk it—which meant, of course, that Justin couldn’t do it. She could see Justin analyzing all of these things, and suddenly, a smile appeared. He turned to her and rested his hand on hers, leaning so close that his lips nearly brushed her cheek.

“Do you trust me?” Before she could answer that disconcerting question, he added, “At least as far as this stuff and our country go?”

Mae glanced up at him and met his penetrating gaze. Did she trust him? Not with women, of course. She thought about everything she’d seen in these last couple of weeks, the way he so keenly observed others in his job, jumping on the tiniest signs of danger. And as for his country? Yes. If nothing else, she believed in his devotion to it. She gave a small nod, and he turned toward Golden Arrow in triumph.

“Thank you for the offer,” Justin told him. “But I think I’ll pass this time. My lovely friend here, however, would love to commune with your god.”

Mae jerked her head toward Justin in alarm, but his attention was all on Golden Arrow. The priest looked disappointed at first but then smiled and shrugged. A servitor’s companion was just as good. He gestured for her to follow him.

Trust me, Justin’s eyes seemed to tell her. Nodding more to herself than him, she rose and walked toward the church’s front. Neurotransmitters surged within her at this threat, and that dark power began to settle upon her, weighing down her steps. For once, Mae didn’t entirely fear it. It was almost like armor.

Golden Arrow smiled down at her in glee. “Feel our god’s light,” he said, resting his hands on her cheeks. Mae tensed, fearful that Justin had led her astray and she’d soon find herself on the ground, writhing for the entertainment of these nuts. But…nothing happened. Nothing at all—except a slight flaring of the darkness wreathing her. Golden Arrow’s grin faltered, then disappeared altogether. Soon, his face became an almost comical picture of disbelief. She turned as Justin’s voice suddenly rang out through the church.

“Mr. Rafferty. You’ve created a hoax in an attempt to trick others into the worship of a fictitious entity. Your license is revoked, and you will be forced to answer for—”

The young man who’d had the earlier fit sprang toward Justin. Mae saw the attack coming and acted without hesitation. I can’t let anything happen to him. She was too far away, though, to stop that first punch that knocked Justin back. That was all the guy got in before Mae reached him and tackled him to the ground. Her sharpened senses warned her of others moving in, and once she was certain her target was down, she spun around and blocked the attack of another man who’d come at Justin. The guy was joined by several of his brethren, men and women, all of them worked up over this blasphemy toward their leader. Mae vaguely noted that Golden Arrow himself, along with other more prudent members of the congregation, was uneasily keeping his distance.

She spared them little more time than that, however. Battle mode seized her, driven by both her normal fighter nature and the influence of that dark presence that reveled in violence. That darkness seemed to take especial satisfaction out of battling the servants of a god, and for a moment, Mae had the surreal sense of being involved in something much bigger than what was, ultimately, a scuffle with some delusional hotheads. The pews made for awkward fighting, but it was more trouble for them than for her, and as soon as she had a semi-clear space around her and Justin, she took out her gun and fired a shot into the air. Everyone froze.

“Back off,” she ordered, moving into a position that gave her a vantage on everyone in the room. “Get over there, against that wall.” Power filled her, and she almost hoped someone would try to resist. They didn’t and instead scurried to comply. Golden Arrow seemed to realize just how much trouble he was in. The rapture was gone, and he looked like a very ordinary, very frightened man.

“Dr. March, maybe we can clear up this misunderstanding—”

“You can clear it up with them,” said Justin, getting to his feet and nodding toward the doorway. Mae could hear voices and footsteps, and within seconds, local police filled the room, notified by a message Justin must have sent off on his ego at the fight’s start. Servitors could request instant access from law enforcement.

Once she and Justin identified themselves, the authorities took over processing and detaining Apollo’s followers. Mae sat near the back of the room with Justin, staying out of the way until they were needed to finalize the official paperwork. The darkness that had aided her in battle was gone, leaving her tired and a little empty.

Justin gingerly touched the spot on his face that had been hit. “Ow,” he said. “My stunning good looks are ruined. How will I get by in the world now?”

Mae rubbed her trembling hands together. “You’ll manage. There’s hardly anything there. Just get some ice when we leave.”

He shook his head. “I’d rather have something harder. We’re staying in Windsor tonight. You want to go hit some nightlife?”

“Incredible,” she said. “You get attacked by a cult, and the only thing you can think of is going clubbing.”

“You have a better idea?” He winced. “Goddamn, that hurts.”

“Baby. The military infirmary would laugh me out if I came in with that.”

“I’m not a supersoldier with a pain-dulling implant.”

“It’s nothing,” she insisted, unable to hide a smile.

“Dr. March.” That was Golden Arrow as the police led him past. His earlier fear was gone, and he’d apparently decided to accept his arrest with arrogance. He came to a halt. “You must be very pleased with yourself. No doubt your master thinks he’s triumphed over mine.”

“SCI’s triumphed over worse than you,” said Justin cheerfully.

Golden Arrow’s eyes gleamed. “That’s not the master I’m talking about.”

“What happened to your partner in crime?” asked Justin. “I was hoping to see Callista.”

“I’m sure you were,” said Golden Arrow with a sneer. “She left last year with Nadia.”

Justin fell silent as he dredged up the name. “Nadia Menari? That Arianrhod priestess?”

“I’m surprised you remember the lives of those you ruin.”

“She was preaching the destruction of men everywhere,” said Justin. “She was lucky she wasn’t arrested. Why’d she go with Callista?”

“I don’t know.” Mae understood little of what was being discussed, but from the bitterness in his voice, Golden Arrow had taken these events personally. “To start some überfeminist cult.”

“Where?”

Golden Arrow glared. “Hell if I know. They took off with half my money and disappeared.”

“If you need to talk more,” said one of the authorities, “we can set up an interrogation room at our station.”

Justin shook his head. “I’m good.” Yet, Mae was pretty sure she heard disappointment in his voice.

“For now,” called Golden Arrow as his captors led him away. “Your side hasn’t won. Not by a long shot.”

“I don’t even know what my side is,” Justin muttered.

Mae watched Golden Arrow until he left the building, and then she turned back to Justin. “Did what he said make sense? Is Callista the priestess you want?”

“Yeah.” Justin definitely looked upset. “The piece of work. It’s interesting she went into business with Nadia. She was another priestess. Different religion, but both their goddesses have a real girl-power thing going on—and silver and moon connections. If all our victims were male, I’d say maybe we were onto something.” He shrugged and stood up. “Still worth finding them. For now, I’m finding that nightlife, with or without you.”

Mae thought he was joking, but after they were settled into their Windsor hotel, Justin came knocking on her door. He’d lost the tie and simply wore a black jacket over a white button-up shirt with the collar open. Even in casual mode, he still looked polished and stylish, and of course, his hair had been repaired after the temple scuffle. After being surrounded by military men whose styling could at best be described as “efficient,” she was constantly surprised at the effect his meticulous grooming had on her. He looked her over.

“You’re wearing that out?”

“I’m not going out with you,” she said, feeling slightly affronted on behalf of her jeans and black blouse. “I told you that before.”

“Right, right. Because flawless castal princesses don’t lower themselves to the company of common plebeians. Well, rest easy, because this is business. You can’t really abandon me to the seedy streets of Windsor, can you? Maybe some vindictive followers of Apollo will come after me. Wouldn’t you feel bad about that?”

“Yeah. I’d be heartbroken.” Seeing his hopeful look, she sighed. He had a point, after all. “Fine. But I’m not changing.”

He looked as though he might protest but shrugged it off. “Something tells me for you, it won’t matter. Let’s go.”

She didn’t know how many times he’d been in Windsor, but he managed to find the shadiest, most illicit club he could. It wasn’t even an official establishment and was instead housed in what looked like an abandoned warehouse. When they stepped inside, though, she was blown away that a place like this could exist without being known to authorities.

Hundreds of bodies were packed together in relatively little space, and the room reeked of human sweat and smoke from all sorts of substances. It was almost like being in Cristobal’s club, except cleaner and more high-tech. The place was kept dark, lit only by pulsing colored lights that seemed to be timed to the loud, pounding, percussion-intensive music filling the air. People talked in clusters around the periphery of the room, while the middle was reserved for dancing, which mostly seemed to consist of a lot of erratic body thrusting and rubbing.

“Wow,” said Justin with delight, while Mae felt her body respond to the implant. He made a beeline for the bar, and she fell into step with him.

“How is it possible that someone who bemoaned his fate in Panama for four years chooses the most provincial bar I’ve ever seen in this country?” she exclaimed.

“Difference is in the clientele,” he told her. “These people are civilized.”

Glancing around, Mae wasn’t so sure. Some did seem to be from Justin’s demographic: stylish, affluent people charmed by novel vices. Others looked like the dredges of society and would’ve fit in well in Panama. The bartender, whose mouth was completely encircled in metal piercings, seemed to be a prime example.

“Black Bay bourbon. Straight,” Justin ordered. He glanced at Mae. “Can’t get that in the provinces.” He turned back to the bartender. “You got any ash?”

She suppressed a groan, wondering if her position as a soldier of the Republic meant she should be enforcing its laws.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” said the man, handing Justin a small glass of amber liquid. “It’s good, if you want to get something for your fucking grandmother. You want some serious shit, though, you go for the gates of paradise.”

Justin scoffed. “You don’t have that here.” The bartender reached down and held up a small plastic dropper, earning an exclamation of, “Fuck me. Hook me up.”

“The gates of paradise? What is that?” asked Mae as Justin handed over a stack of EA dollars. Their sister country still ran on hard currency, which was fairly easy for Gemmans to exchange. Since it couldn’t be traced in the same way electronic funds could, it was frequently used for purchases like this.

Justin accepted the dropper. “The closest those of us without implants can get to being a god.” Without hesitation, he held it to his tongue and shook out several clear drops. He closed his eyes, shuddering as an invisible wave swept over his body. “Damn,” he breathed. It sounded like a benediction. He opened his eyes again and blinked them several times as though focusing. Even in the erratic light, she could see his pupils dilating. “Heavenly. Would this be wasted on you?”

“Yes,” she said sternly. “I don’t need drugs to wind down after a hard day.”

“Says the woman whose life is dependent on neurotransmitters and endorphins.”

She flushed. “That’s not the same at all.”

“Whatever you say.” He knocked back his drink in one gulp and handed the empty glass and vial to the bartender. “Another bourbon.” He waved grandly to Mae. “And whatever she wants.”

She nearly declined but felt awkward just standing there. “Get me a mojito.”

The bartender gave her a flat look. “Does this look like the kind of place that serves mojitos?”

“Surprise me then.”

He made her a martini, explaining, “That’s the prissiest I can do.”

Mae would’ve expected Justin to start trolling for women, but instead, he leaned near her against the bar in companionable silence. He watched the room with interest, and she wondered if his brilliant observation skills still worked when he was strung out on illegal substances. At least he was sipping the bourbon this time. He wore his typical amused and confident expression, but when she gave him a more scrutinizing look, she swore she could see a glimmer of the sadness she’d observed in Panama.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

He glanced her way, and she could tell he was on the verge of denying it. Then, studying her, he changed his mind. “Do you know why the land grants are on hold? Why we’re looking into cults now?”

“Because one of them is responsible for the murders?”

The ghost of a smile flashed over his face. “Well, yes, but I’d much rather solve all of this through placid forensics work—even though I know that’s not your thing.” He grew solemn again. “I got a call from the illustrious Cornelia the other day, letting me know how displeased she was at our lack of progress.”

Even though she wasn’t personally involved with the investigative part, Mae felt offended. “But you’re doing everything you can. Your interviews are…meticulous. You’re getting the data scrutinized again. And we’re not done talking to everyone.”

“You’re a fan after all, huh?” His smile returned, and for a moment, his hand lifted as though he might touch her. Then it dropped. “Meticulous or not, we’re stuck, and Cornelia made me very aware of the ticking clock.” He stared into the depths of his glass. “And so, we’re on to nuts like Apollo’s people—but even that didn’t pan out. I thought it’d be easy, you know. Just a few strokes of brilliance from me, and it’d be put to bed. Now I may be back in Panama before the month’s over.”

“Why did you go there in the first place?”

He looked back up, surprising her with a hint of the sadness she’d seen at their first meeting. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Mae didn’t want to, but she felt sorry for him. No matter his faults, he’d been put into a bad situation—maybe even an impossible one. Bringing him back had most certainly been an act of desperation on Internal Security’s part. “Maybe you can find that woman, Calliope—”

“Callista,” he corrected. “And maybe. I don’t know. Not many people can disappear, but she could. She’s got ties to underground networks of religions, ones that hide from SCI. Those groups stick together and help each other stay under the radar. Most of them wouldn’t go anywhere near a servitor like me, but she’d help me. I know she would.” He finished the bourbon and gestured the bartender over. “More paradise.”

Even the callous bartender looked taken aback. “That first shot should last all night.”

Justin put some cash on the bar. “It’s been a long day.” After a little more hesitation, the bartender swept up the money and handed over another vial. Mae bit her tongue on her own protests and watched as Justin took it down. His depression melted away, or was at least hidden. That dashing charmer returned, and he stepped closer to her. “You want to dance?”

“No. And that’s not dancing.” She cast a contemptuous look at the dance floor before returning her gaze to him, feeling slightly discomfited by his proximity. “It’s just an excuse for people to rub themselves up against each other.”

He leaned close. “If memory serves, you didn’t mind that once.”

“I’m going to ignore that because you’re high off your ass right now,” she snapped. “And if memory serves, you don’t go on second dates.”

“I’m not asking you on a date, princess.” The intensity of his eyes was all-encompassing, his voice velvety and coaxing. The same voice he used to get what he needed from interviewees.

Her earlier sympathy dried up. “I’m sure you think that over-the-top term of endearment is cute, but it’s really not.”

“It’s not cute. It’s true.” He looked at her in a way that somehow managed to see both the past and the present. “You know, the first time I saw you—before the alley—my whole world came to a stop. Everything else in that room faded to nothing, and there was only you, with your beautiful neck and your winter-sunlight hair and eyes that commanded the room.” He tilted his head in thought. “Do you know stephanotis?”

Mae swallowed, suddenly feeling as though she were back in Panama with a man who knew her inside and out. “Stephan-what?”

“It’s a flower. We should find some and go back to the hotel.” He reached out and ran a hand over her hair. “We’ll make a wreath of them and crown you in majesty, and then the world will ignite between us….”

Mae jerked away, embarrassed to find she was holding her breath. She was a soldier who killed without hesitation, not a woman swayed by pretty words. “Go dance. I’m sure there’re plenty of women just as far gone as you who’ll be enthralled by your flowers and fumbling advances.”

“I’ve never fumbled in my life.”

She turned away, angling her body so that her back was to him. Tense, she waited for more, but it never came. When she finally dared a look back, he was gone. The bartender strolled over.

“Refill?”

She shook her head and left for a wall near a back exit. It gave her a good vantage of the dance floor but kept her away from most of the crowd—not that it stopped her from getting hit on. She should’ve left. There was no reason for her to be here. She didn’t even know why she’d come. Yet, something in her couldn’t abandon Justin, especially now that he was in the throes of drugs and alcohol. Not that he seemed to need much help. Each time she caught a glimpse of him, he was talking to a different woman, his face alight and full of that oozing charisma. He seemed to be on top of his game as the night went on, confident and in control, even after a trip to the bar for another drink and vial. It made his earlier proposition that much more insulting. Disgust filled her, and she welcomed it. It was easier to deal with than attraction.

Blinking out of her own troubled thoughts, she focused back on the dance floor. She couldn’t see Justin, but she could make out a few people standing around, looking at something on the floor. One of the gathered people shifted slightly away from whatever they all were watching, and Mae caught a glimpse of the jacket Justin had been wearing earlier. Her adrenaline spiked. She sprinted over to the gathered people, none of whom seemed in any particular hurry to act or move. Her stomach lurched as her worst fears were realized. It was Justin, sprawled on the floor, eyelids barely open as his breathing came fast and shallow. Alive—for now. As she quickly knelt down beside him, she wondered just how much trouble she’d get into if he died.