But even before Geraki’s news, it had occurred to Justin that SCI had a problem that wasn’t going to go away. They were going to have to deal with it, and who better than someone who was open-minded about what was truly happening in the world and who had an excellent track record? They needed someone like him, but they probably would’ve left him alone if he’d turned a blind eye to the supernatural in his report. In committing to what he’d seen, he had opened himself up for new opportunities—opportunities out of the public eye that would come along with the power and influence he’d indeed been offered.
Did he want to get involved with more of this stuff? That was the big question. He wouldn’t have minded an ordinary life, but in taking on this one, he could create extraordinary lives for his family. A man who wielded the power Internal Security had given him could get a provincial girl into a private school that could appreciate her talents. He could do what someone had done for him. He could do equally monumental things for Cynthia and Quentin, when the time came. The only problem was that Justin didn’t know what this would mean for him.
They sent Mae away after that in order to go over the logistics and bureaucracy of the new position. Although she’d be tied to it, she was still technically on loan from the military and not directly involved with Internal Security’s inner workings. Justin was acutely aware of her absence, particularly since she was now in the very small circle of people who could really understand what he was going through.
He sent her a message afterward, asking to talk, and she sent one back saying she was busy with some friendly canne sparring, but that he was welcome to join her afterward. She sent him directions to the facility she was playing at, a large operation that offered training and competition for various martial arts. The front desk directed him to the small practice court she was on. He’d never been in any place like it and felt conspicuous in his suit among the handful of other spectators.
But it was worth it to see this bizarre sport. It was very much like what Val and Dag had described: stick fencing, with a few acrobatic moves thrown in. Mae and her opponent wore regulation clothing, rather than the party wear she and Porfirio had apparently fought in. Even in the lightly padded clothing and face mask, she was easy to spot, not just from the shape of her body but also the way she moved, with grace and speed born from natural and implant-induced abilities. It was mesmerizing, and most important, there was no divine glamour trailing her.
She won each of her matches, and when she and her opponent unmasked, Justin saw she’d fought against a chagrined-looking man. They shook hands, and as Mae turned to leave and allow the next combatants to take the ring, she spotted Justin and joined him on his bench. Her hair was pulled into a sloppy ponytail, and the T-shirt she revealed underneath her jacket was damp with sweat. Still, she looked happy and bright.
“The only people I can get to play these days are men who think they can take out a woman, even one who’s a pr?torian.” She grinned. “They never do.”
“You want to celebrate your victory with a drink?” he asked.
Her eyes weighed him a few moments, the smile fading into her neutral expression. “There’s a divey little place around the corner that serves food too—if you can bring yourself to step inside.”
“Hey, I’ve been in my share of dives.”
Although, when they entered, he saw his clothing was even more out of place than it had been in the arena. This was very much a blue-collar establishment, and casually dressed people drank cheap liquor and played darts and pool. They found a corner table, and Mae ordered half the menu, needing to refuel after the frantic way the implant drove her body.
“What’s up?” she asked. “New developments after I left?”
“New developments before then.”
He told her about his bizarre meeting with Geraki, tying some of it to the SCI debriefing. Naturally, Justin was careful to edit out the parts pertaining to her, like how the two of them were supposed to run off together in some divine union and his own particular wheelings and dealings with Geraki’s god. Here, in a bar full of laughter and clinking glasses, mystical forces seemed far away.
“Do you think it’s true?” she asked between bites of her hamburger. “That there really is some great godly showdown coming?” She wasn’t at ease with the idea of gods in the world, but she accepted them now. Not being possessed by one probably helped a little.
Justin tapped his glass of bourbon. “I kind of do. I don’t know how or why, but I do. I just wish I knew what to expect.”