Gameboard of the Gods

CHAPTER 8 NOT COOL

He didn’t believe in Huan’s hell, but as Justin stepped into the RUNA, he could almost believe in a heaven.

It was everything he remembered. Bright. Orderly. Efficient. Clean. And advanced. No armed thugs or dilapidated buildings. The lack in provincial technology had always been apparent in his exile, but it didn’t really hit him until he was surrounded by modernity again. The chip readers. The monitors. The egos. Here was the world as it should be, the country that had survived the Decline to emerge more brilliantly than it had started. His homeland. Where he belonged.

Stop drooling, snapped Horatio. The girl’s going to pass out.

Justin glanced over at Tessa and saw that the raven wasn’t that far off from the truth. She was still pale and anxious. He squeezed her hand.

“You’re okay. Stay with me here.”

She was having a hard time, but Justin stood by his decision to bring Tessa here. She was capable, and she deserved this. Sergio had taken Justin in without question when he’d shown up penniless in Panama. Marta Cruz had always believed Justin was a freeloader, but he had strong convictions about paying his debts. Choosing where to go in exile had been the biggest gamble Justin had ever made, with his life as the wager. Gemman authorities had escorted him from his office straight to the nearest airport, telling him he could go “anywhere but here.” He’d had only minutes to make a decision. Central and South America were the obvious options. Their populations had been diverse enough to help them weather the Decline better than other places, and they were more stable than most provinces.

And you see yourself in her, Horatio said.

Justin didn’t deny it because it was true. For a moment, Tessa’s face dissolved, and he saw another one in his mind, an older face that had seemed beautiful to his ten-year-old self. The noise and smells of the Anchorage market had surrounded them, and his boss had been yelling for him to return. How did you do that? the beautiful woman had asked. It’s easy, Justin had replied. You just have to look at their faces. And with those words, his life had changed.

Studying Tessa now, he was struck by how painfully out of place she looked. With her ankle-length skirt and thick hair, she could’ve been a time traveler from another century. She attracted a lot of stares, so it was probably just as well that her eyes were kind of glazed over. Walking next to Mae, so perfect and polished in her tailored outfit, didn’t help Tessa’s appearance, though it occasionally allowed Justin to see flashes of compassion on Mae’s face when she didn’t think anyone was looking. Killer soldier, haughty castal, bitter one-night stand…whatever she was, Mae had a soft spot for frightened provincial girls.

“Can’t we take a car?” he asked her when he realized they were headed toward the airport’s entrance to the subway.

Mae shook her head. “We need her chipped, and this way’s faster to the Citizens’ Ministry.”

“I don’t want a chip,” Tessa repeated, abandoning one fear for another.

“It’s easy,” he said. “And it’ll make your life a lot easier.”

She looked skeptical, probably because her crackpot mother had filled her with all sorts of idiocy about chips sealing Gemmans to the devil.

Proving his point, Tessa triggered an alarm when she passed through the transit entrance. The guard waved them on once Mae stopped to show him Tessa’s documentation and card, though Justin was pretty sure Mae could’ve achieved the same effect by flashing a gun, that ridiculous knife, or the look she’d given Justin last night upon learning he wasn’t Huan Korokov.

“That’ll happen every time you go through a checkpoint if you don’t have a chip,” Justin told Tessa. “Sensors like this are scattered around the city.”

“Tracking us,” she said darkly.

“It’s not recorded. Most are just scanning to make sure everyone’s got an authentic chip—or the paperwork to explain why they don’t. The chip will send its person’s name to the scanner, but that’s only to match it against outstanding warrants. Most of the time, the names are dumped after that.”

“Most?” Tessa asked. Smart girl, picking up on the one-word nuances he loved.

“Most,” he affirmed. They came to a halt near the yellow-line train’s platform. “High-security spots—like this airport—will have scanners synched to the National Registry. All the people going through are checked against that to make sure they have a matching official record.”

“Still sounds like tracking to me. No one can go anywhere unnoticed.” At least ruminating over conspiracy theories distracted Tessa from the tightly packed subway tunnel. “And doesn’t the registry control names?”

He thought about it. “‘Control’ isn’t the right word. It’s just a way to strengthen national unity.” Per RUNA policy, all citizens had to have a name of Greek or Latin origin to be in the National Registry database. Castals could call each other whatever ethnic names they wanted on their grants, but in the eyes of their country, their names had to meet the same criteria as those of plebeians. “Besides, there are thousands of choices.”

“It’s still a limitation.”

“Whatever you say, Teresa. Your dad isn’t stupid. He gave all of you RUNA-friendly names in a continuing insurance plan in case you ended up back here.”

Tessa looked dumbstruck at this revelation, then almost appeared offended that she’d been put into a preexisting system without her consent or knowledge. It kept her quiet as they rode the train through the city, and although she caught her breath when they emerged out onto the high light-rail platform, she didn’t have a meltdown, which Justin took as a promising sign of her ability to adapt. She’d be part of this world in no time.

Once they were off the train and walking outside at ground level, Justin found he was the one dazzled and overwhelmed. The soaring buildings glittered in the setting sun, casting shadows on the earthbound pedestrians moving below. The light-rail track curved between buildings, while below it, automated traffic flowed smoothly and efficiently. Screens with ever-changing images filled shop and restaurant windows. Other, larger screens were mounted on buildings, running the latest headlines, political profiles, and ads for every good and service imaginable. It was a far cry from the dirty streets of Panama City, with its hodgepodge of shady pedestrians, gas-powered cars, cart vendors, and, at times, horses.

Their subway stop was two blocks from Hale Square. The square was a wide, grassy park flanked by three federal buildings, resplendent in marble and pillars: the Citizens’ Ministry, the Ministry of Internal Security, and the Ministry of Diplomacy. A Gemman flag hung on each building, and there were no advertisements or screens of any kind. The Citizens’ Ministry was the department that oversaw chips and the National Registry, and as they approached it, Justin paused to glance over at Internal Security. That was the building the servitors worked out of, where his old office had been. It seemed a lifetime ago since he’d strode into work each morning, confident in being at the top of his career. He’d had the world in his hands, never once dreaming it’d be ripped out from under him.

A few people were walking away from Internal Security, carrying signs he couldn’t read. “What’s going on?” he asked Mae.

“There’s a lot of buzz about religious freedom lately,” she explained. “Protesters hang out here every day.”

“You can’t be serious.” There were a few core principles that had never changed since the RUNA’s inception. The danger of religion and belief in the supernatural was one of them.

“Nothing’s going to come of it. They’re just making a lot of noise.”

It was after hours, and the foyer of the Citizens’ Ministry was empty, save for two regular military guards standing watch. They saluted Mae when she identified herself, but she barely spared them a glance as she strode off toward the elevator bank.

Aside from one technician who cringed around Mae, the chipping office was empty. Tessa seemed calmed by the quiet setting and made no more protests about chips. The technician led her to a chair beside a monitor and stainless steel table, and she gave Justin a brave smile as she sat down.

He sat nearby, close enough to reassure Tessa but far enough to let the technician work. Mae took a seat beside him and immediately began jotting out messages on her ego, probably requisitioning more guns and knives or whatever it was prætorians did in their free time to defend the country. Justin kept an eye on Tessa, watching as her profile slowly assembled on the screen.

“Six,” he said in approval once her genetic score appeared. “Good for a provincial.” Mae’s attention was still on the ego, and he added, “Not as good as a nine, like some people have.” He’d memorized every single detail on her screen, back in customs.

This made her look up. “So?”

He nodded toward Tessa. “So, a five or six is exactly what you’d expect from her. But from a cas—patrician? I’d say anywhere from two to four. Maybe, maybe a five in a rare case.” He paused for effect. “Not a nine. That’s a plebeian rating.”

“Apparently not,” Mae said.

“It’s too high. I have a nine.”

“Do you feel threatened by that?”

“Of course not. It’s just weird, that’s all. Doesn’t it seem weird to you?”

“Not really,” she said. “I’ve had it my whole life.”

He tilted his head, studying the flawless skin and hair with new appreciation. “You haven’t had any work done, have you? Not a trace of Cain.”

“Nope.” She looked back down at the ego.

When the Mephistopheles virus had swept the world and taken out half its population during the Decline, it had caused reproductive damage to many of its survivors, passing along a mutation that resulted in poor fertility, asthma, and damaged skin and hair. The mutation had a long, complex scientific name, but zealots who already believed Mephistopheles was some divine punishment called its mutation the Mark of Cain. The name had stuck. Until a vaccine for Mephistopheles had been created, the RUNA and EA’s diverse genetic breeding program had offered resistance to the virus, which tended to attack those of homogeneous backgrounds. Heterogeneous genes had also helped weed out Cain, and it almost never appeared in plebeians anymore. Castals, with their narrower breeding pool, still suffered from it, though there were plenty of cosmetic procedures to cover up the external signs. There wasn’t much to be done for the asthma or infertility. Judging from the way she’d behaved in bed, Mae didn’t seem to have any breathing or stamina issues.

No fertility issues either, said Horatio helpfully. Worried? You didn’t really take any precautions.

No. Civilized women in the military get vaccines and contraceptive implants.

Justin lowered his voice. “Are we going to talk about what happened?”

Mae didn’t look up, but he knew with certainty she was no longer focused on the ego. “A lot of things have happened, Dr. March.”

“I’m talking about the one that happened last night, the one where you and I were in bed and I—”

“—pretended to be an EA diplomat in order to seduce me? Is that what you’re referring to?”

He scowled. “It didn’t take that much seduction. And it wasn’t like I did it as part of some greater scheme. It just kind of…happened by accident.”

Now, at least, he warranted more attention than the ego. “How can you have on a fake diplomatic uniform and give a fake name by accident?”

“Neither of them was faked,” he argued. “Huan’s a real guy.”

“I’m not sure that makes it any better.” Those sea-colored eyes narrowed in thought. “In fact, I’m pretty sure that makes it worse.”

“Hey, you made the mistake of assuming I was something I wasn’t, and I ended up just kind of going with it. Besides…” He still had a trump card here. “I brought a military aide back to my place, not a prætorian.”

She at least had the grace to look embarrassed about that. “Would you have brought back a prætorian?” Shaking her head, she pushed forward without waiting for an answer. “Yes, of course. Of course you would have.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I know all about you. I heard plenty of it from Cornelia on the trip down.”

Fucking wonderful. Cornelia Kimora was being used as his character reference.

Mae’s lovely face was full of scorn as she continued. “I know all about how well you can play people and how fast you go through women—”

“It wasn’t that fast—”

“—and if your goal was to bag a patrician soldier through lying and manipulation, well, then, congratulations. I’ll obey my orders to protect you. No one’ll lay a hand on you. But what happened in Panama is done and gone. It’s never happening again. Not. Ever.”

Justin was rendered speechless for a few reasons. One was that he was usually the person doing the breaking up. The other was that this conversation wasn’t going as expected. He’d wanted to make sure things were cut off, in order to reduce future temptation—but not this way. He wasn’t used to rejection. Hearing her so adamantly refusing him was a blow to his pride and made him want to bring her back to him.

I can’t, he reminded himself. If she is the one, I can’t risk finding out just how binding the bargain is. I’m not going to be able to dodge it again. It was time to deliver the killing blow. If she was pissed off at him, so much the better. He put on what he hoped was a rakish expression.

“Of course it won’t happen again,” he said loftily. “I don’t go out on second dates—although ‘date’ is kind of a generous term for last night. I didn’t have to buy you dinner. Or even ask.”

She didn’t blink. “I don’t go out on first dates with plebeians. You’re so curious about Nordic nines? They don’t give a second thought to fast backwoods flings.”

“It wasn’t that fast,” he repeated. “Unless you count how fast your clothes came off.” Her condescending tone and haughty expression were textbook castal debutante, triggering unexpected anger in him. She acted as though she’d been wronged by his deception, but he, of all people, was the one who’d been tricked. The charm, the grace, the wit…even that poignant sadness he thought he’d seen. It had been an act, a game for this bitchy ice princess to play with a plebeian.

“And,” Mae added, voice prim, “if you try to brag about this, no one’s going to believe you. No one will believe someone like me would sleep with someone like you.”

That was the gut punch. It was also the last word, because he couldn’t muster another response. If he’d wanted to make sure they never even held hands again, then he’d accomplished that mission brilliantly.

The technician finished Tessa’s profile and synched it to both a chip and the National Registry. Justin dragged his gaze from Mae and tried to make his spinning brain focus on the screen. It was about what he’d expected, containing Tessa’s citizenship, basic info, and visa details. After that, there was nothing left to do but insert the chip into the space between the thumb and forefinger of her left hand. Tessa winced as though it hurt, but he had a feeling it was more psychological than anything else. She flexed her fingers afterward and seemed surprised they still worked.

“Welcome to the civilized world,” Justin told her cheerfully. He gave no indication that he was bothered or even cared about his stinging conversation with Mae. After all, he had a nation of civilized—and far more reasonable—women at his fingertips now.

Mae was no longer hostile and had switched into what he was beginning to believe was her normal mode, formal and emotionless. “Well, then. It’s time for all of us to get home.”

She thanked the tech for working late and then headed for the door, assuming Justin and Tessa would follow. He did without question, suddenly feeling tired. The initial high of his return had faded, and the lack of sleep yesterday combined with today’s travel was starting to take its toll. Tessa was practically asleep on her feet, though that could have been lingering effects of the sedative he’d given her earlier as much as fatigue from the journey.

Mae led them back out to the subway, and the three rode in silence. Tessa leaned her head against Justin’s shoulder and slept while he looked out the window and tried not to openly study Mae. She was engrossed in reading something on her ego. He could tell it wasn’t faked this time because she was absentmindedly winding a strand of that marvelous pale gold hair around one finger. People who faked ignoring you didn’t display subconscious habits like that.

Well, said Horatio with a heavy sigh. You really messed that up.

Justin ignored the bird and forced himself to start thinking of the assignment that had bought him this ticket home: patrician murders and Cornelia’s shadow assassin. His mind was already spinning with ideas on how to solve the case. He knew what pertinent data to request and what questions to ask when he made on-site visits. Getting the footage to Leo was key. Proving the video had been altered would remove a good part of the mystery surrounding this.

If it is fake, they might not need your “unique perspective” anymore, Horatio warned him. At least he wasn’t harping on Mae anymore.

Yes, I know. But for now, I’m more concerned about the four-week deadline.

The train slowed at a station, and that was when Justin truly looked outside at their surroundings. They were in the suburbs. “Why are we here?”

Mae gave a vague answer as she led them off the train and hired a car at the station. The distance they ended up driving was actually pretty short and probably could’ve been walked, but Mae thought a car would be easier on Tessa. In reality, it just ended up freaking out the girl when she saw there was no driver. It dropped them off at an elegant house in what was clearly an affluent neighborhood. Scattered streetlights lit the darkness in a way that felt safe but wasn’t obtrusive to those trying to sleep. Well-established trees canopied the street, and Tessa looked much more at ease here as she took in the quiet homes and wide green lawns. It was only when they were walking up to the door that Justin finally gave up on the night’s mysteries and focused on what they were doing.

“Why are we here?” he asked again as Mae knocked on the door.

It opened almost immediately. Justin had only half a second to register his sister’s face before she backhanded him and sent him staggering back a couple of steps.

“You have a lot of nerve!” she yelled, advancing menacingly forward. Justin hastily retreated, bitterly wondering what had happened to Mae not allowing anyone to lay a hand on him.

“What exactly did I do?” he asked. Looking back on their lives together, it probably could’ve been any number of things.

Cynthia didn’t answer. The rage on her face vanished, and suddenly, she looked as though she was going to burst into tears. She flung herself into his arms. “I thought you were dead.”

He patted her awkwardly on the back. “Not yet. Let’s, uh, go inside.”

The house’s interior was as beautiful as the exterior, decorated at a level even he approved of, but he had little time to admire it. By the time they made it to the kitchen, Cynthia’s rage had returned. Justin had grown up disguising his emotions and manipulating others’. Cynthia played no such games. Her feelings were always out in the open. “What the hell did you think you were doing?” she demanded. “Having them bring me here?”

Last night’s negotiations came back to Justin, and all of this began to make more sense. He had to admit, they’d really come through when he’d requested nice accommodations for her. And they hadn’t wasted any time. “What’s wrong with it? This place is great. Don’t tell me you were living anywhere like this in Anchorage. You were still in Anchorage, right?”

Cynthia put her hands on her hips. “A group of soldiers came and abducted me from work! No warning. No time to get ready. They just said I had to come with them. Do you know how humiliating that was?”

It echoed too closely to what Justin had experienced when he’d been exiled. He gave Mae a curious glance. “What happened?”

She leaned against the counter, perfectly at ease. “You said you wanted her here immediately.”

“So they took me literally?”

“How else were they supposed to take you?”

Cynthia glanced back and forth between them, her eyes widening when she noticed Tessa. “Who are these people?”

“This is Prætorian Mae Koskinen,” he said. Cynthia didn’t even have time to be shocked by that before he really played his trump card. “And this is Tessa Cruz. She’s from Panama.”

“Panama?” Judging from Cynthia’s face, Justin might as well have said Tessa was from the moon.

“That’s where I’ve been,” he explained, like he’d been on an extended vacation. “I brought Tessa back to study here.”

Cynthia frowned as she took it all in, and then a look of horror crossed her face. “You guys aren’t—”

“No,” he said in exasperation. From Tessa’s innocent expression, she thankfully hadn’t picked up on the insinuation. “Why does everyone keep thinking that?”

“Probably because they know how you are,” Cynthia retorted.

“I’ve got limits,” he grumbled, trying to ignore Mae’s I told you so look. “Tessa’s father is a friend of mine, and I’m helping them out. She’s going to stay here with you.”

Cynthia’s face went still. “I see. And I don’t suppose you thought to check with me first? Just like you didn’t bother to check when you had me degraded in front of my coworkers?”

“What the fuck is the problem?” This reunion wasn’t going at all like he’d expected. “You should be grateful. This place is like a palace.”

“Grateful? Grateful?” Justin worried Cynthia might slap him again, and if past events were any indication, his great protector was just going to keep leaning against the counter. “Justin, I was on the verge of a post-prime grant to go back to school. My interview was today!”

He relaxed a little. “So? You don’t need the grant now. I’ll cover it. The universities are better here anyway.”

Some of the anger faded out of Cynthia. She looked tired, and just a little sad. “You really don’t get it, do you? You’re the same as ever, still heavy-handed and so goddamned sure that—” She stopped as her eyes focused on something behind Justin. He turned and saw a boy standing in the kitchen’s doorway.

“Quentin,” said Justin, surprised at how much his nephew had grown. What was he now? Eight. “Do you remember me?”

Quentin’s face said he didn’t. “This is your uncle Justin,” Cynthia explained.

Recognition lit the boy’s features. “The arrogant bastard who ran out on us.”

“That’s the one,” she said. She looked quite proud of her son’s excellent memory.

Justin scoffed. “No question that you’re part of this family, huh?”

Really, though, Quentin’s features said more than enough about which family he belonged to. He looked just like Cynthia, from the high cheekbones to the almond-shaped eyes. They were hazel flecked with green, an unusual recessive variation. His hair was all plebeian, though: the dark, almost black shade of brown that Justin, Cynthia, and their mother all shared.

“I should go,” said Mae. “It looks like you’ve got a few things to sort out.” She managed to keep a straight face as she delivered that understatement.

“When will I hear from you?” he asked.

She straightened up, displaying that exquisite posture she’d acquired in her caste or the military, or maybe some mix of both. “Whenever SCI gets things started. It was very nice to meet you. All of you.”

Mae had taken two steps toward the door when Justin realized something. “Wait. Where am I staying?”

Mae’s face was perfectly neutral. “Here, I suppose. This was the only address they gave me.”

“Here?” He looked around, feeling like he was seeing it for the first time. “This is Cynthia’s place. Cornelia promised me a place of my own.”

“Hey, don’t look at me. I didn’t set this up.” Mae turned pensive as she mulled things over. “You asked for a nice place. And you asked for a nice place for your sister. You didn’t specify that they be different.”

She’s right, said Horatio. And that’s an interpretation Cornelia would love exploiting.

Justin couldn’t formulate a response right away. “But I…no! I can’t live with my sister. Do you know how not cool that is? I can’t live in the suburbs. I’m supposed to have a place in the city.”

Mae wasn’t sympathetic at all, and despite having her poker face back, he was pretty sure she was laughing at him on the inside. “You should’ve been clearer. Besides, it’s an easy commute on the purple line.”

“You should be grateful. This place is like a palace,” said Cynthia, mimicking him from earlier. Judging from her look of glee, she actually liked this turn of events far more than his actual return. After a week of living together, she’d probably have a very different opinion.

“Talk to someone in Internal Security when you’re back up and running,” Mae told him. “I’m sure you can be persistent enough to get this fixed.”

Justin nodded in acceptance, knowing there was nothing she could do anyway. He could lay other grievances at her feet, but not this one. Maybe it was just as well that this hiccup had occurred. He could choose his own place instead of having some administrative assistant do it. Without further complaint, he gave Mae a reluctant thank-you and let her leave. He watched her walk away and then quickly turned when he realized he was admiring her legs.

“I kind of like her,” said Cynthia after they heard the front door close.

“She’s castal,” he said, knowing Cynthia wouldn’t like that. He glanced over and saw Tessa practically swaying. “Oh, sweetie.” He put an arm around her. “She’s got to get to bed, Cyn.” An alarming thought occurred to him. “Is this place furnished?” The living room they’d passed seemed to be, but after the other zany events surrounding his accommodations, he couldn’t presume anything.

“To the smallest detail,” Cynthia said. Her expression turned kind as she regarded Tessa. She could be brash and uncouth at times, but Cynthia had been a mother for eight years, and that nature permeated a lot of her actions. She picked up Tessa’s suitcase. “Come on, I’ve got the perfect room for you.” To Justin, she said sharply, “Don’t go anywhere.” Like he had a choice.

“I’ll check on you once you’re settled,” he told Tessa.

The two women disappeared, leaving Justin awkwardly alone with Quentin. “There’s wine in that cupboard by the pantry,” Quentin said.

“What makes you think I want it?” Justin asked. In truth, it sounded like a great idea, and he headed right to the door.

“Because when Mom was opening all the cupboards, she saw it and said, ‘Well, I guess we’re prepared if any of the family drunks stop by.’”

Justin pulled out a bottle at random. It was a Syrah. “Your mom’s a classy lady.”

“Why do I have a feeling ‘classy’ wasn’t the first word that came to mind?” Cynthia said as she returned to the kitchen and promptly found him a glass and corkscrew.

“Because everyone in our family is brilliant and astute.” Justin filled the glass up as far as he could. “That was fast.”

A smile twisted Cynthia’s lips. “Poor kid just went straight to the bed and fell asleep.” She nodded to Quentin. “Go to your room. I need to talk to your uncle.” He looked reluctant to miss the unfolding family drama, but a sharper command sent him scurrying.

Justin held up the wine bottle. “Want some?”

“Wouldn’t want to deprive you.” She rested her elbows on the kitchen’s island and leaned forward. “I’m glad you’re back, you know. I almost missed you. But I’m still mad at you.”

“I know,” he said. “I missed you too.” Until that moment, he hadn’t realized how true those words were. Cynthia infuriated him sometimes, but she always kept him honest. She’d been his first, best friend, and being away from her for so long had left a hole inside him. He set the wine down and wrapped his arms around her, finally allowing himself a moment of vulnerability. Too much had happened between them for him to put up his usual façade. “And I’m sorry. I know what a bad position you were left in.”

She rested her head against his chest. “I should be used to that by now. But, Justin…why did you go? Why on earth were you in Panama? Do you know how weird it is for you to show up after four years with a prætorian and a provincial girl?”

“Yeah,” he said, finally releasing her. “Believe me, I’m fully aware of how weird it is.”

“You didn’t answer my question about why you left.”

“Because I can’t tell you, Cyn.” He could guess her next question. “I’m serious—it’s a security thing. And I can’t tell you why I’m back. But I’m going to get things in order right away. Your name’s going to go on everything I’ve got, all my accounts. You won’t be screwed over again.”

Her eyebrows knit together. “Are you leaving again?”

Justin wished he knew. Francis certainly seemed to think the RUNA couldn’t get on without Justin, but Magnus had been right about Justin’s value possibly decreasing if he found the video’s modification. And of course, if he didn’t find anything in four weeks, it would all be for nothing. Nonetheless, Justin mustered a smile for his sister and topped off his glass. “Of course not.”

Inside his head, he heard Horatio tsk. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.