The Immortal Crown

CHAPTER 4

Moonlighting

It wasn’t difficult finding Mae. Many facets of her were still a mystery to Justin, but some things were pretty predictable. After leaving his house, he immediately got on a train for downtown, knowing she’d either be at her place or a bar. When he called her, and she answered with voice-only, he had his answer.

“Where are you drinking?” he asked promptly. “How do you know I’m drinking?”

“Because you were instantly sending messages the moment our plane had stream access. You only do that on our trips if you plan on going out afterward.”

“Well, congratulations on another brilliant deduction. Are you trying to find out where I’m at so you can verify some other amazing guess?”

“It wasn’t a guess,” he retorted. “And I need to find you so we can talk.”

There was a moment of heavy silence. Then: “We were stuck on a plane for ten hours. Couldn’t we have talked then? There’s such a thing as personal space, you know.”

He sighed, mentally and physically exhausted after the long day of travel. “Something’s happened. Something involving danger and death and all that other stuff you like.”

She fell into thought again and then yielded. “I’m at Brownstone.”

“Where is it?”

“Really? There’s a bar in the greater Vancouver area you don’t personally know every inch of?”

“Man, you’re in a bad mood,” he grumbled. “I’ll look it up. See you soon.”

A quick check on his ego told him Brownstone was a bar frequented by military personnel, due to its proximity to a train stop used exclusively for traveling to the base just outside the city limits.

Justin uneasily wondered if he might be walking into a praetorian drinking party. Mae’s two regular sidekicks, as Justin thought of them, could be trying enough, let alone when they were en masse with others. No use worrying about it now, he supposed. And, for all he knew, maybe they’d have recommendations on this latest complication in his life.

He was still blown away that Antonio Song, the devotee of Mithras who’d attacked Tessa, had proven that unstable and vindictive. Justin had meant what he said about these sorts of retaliations being rare. Most shut-down churches blamed the government as a whole, not its individual servants. And Justin had also meant it when he said this was just a random, routine zealot. He didn’t believe Song was part of some larger conspiracy or one of the dangerous elect Mama Orane had warned about. Song was a fluke, but he was a fluke that had driven home to Justin just how great the potential for harm this job presented. Enough supernatural sightings and trips to the provinces had reinforced the dangers of his work. He’d accepted it, just as he’d accepted Mae as his shield from those threats.

But having his family targeted? It was a startling and disturbing revelation, especially in light of this “war of the elect.” And from what he knew, there were just as many elect and godly devotees walking the RUNA as the provinces—maybe more, considering Geraki had told him the religious vacuum the RUNA had maintained for so long was opening itself up to divine influences. If elect were willing to attack other elect they considered threats, then loved ones of the enemy could be a starting tactic. Song might be a nobody in the grand scheme of things, but he was a warning of what could be much more dire things to come.

Mae was easy to spot when Justin got to Brownstone. There weren’t a lot of castals in the military, and her light features stood out among the predominantly plebeian soldiers. More than half of the bar’s patrons were in uniform, mostly the gray and maroon of the regular military. There were a few black-clad praetorians among them though, creating spots of shadow in the cheery environment. Even off-duty, the regular military moved deferentially around them.

Two such praetorians were sitting with Mae: Valeria Jardin and Linus Dagsson. Justin paused near the bar’s doorway as he studied the threesome. Just as he’d known he’d find Mae in a bar, he knew she wasn’t actually here to drink. Praetorians couldn’t get drunk, at least not on the stuff a place like this served. Their implants metabolized regular alcohol too quickly. Mae wasn’t here for the drinks or the establishment. She was here for her friends. She always returned to them after a case, taking therapeutic comfort from them, even if she didn’t ever discuss many of her cases’ details. The dynamic she had with them fascinated Justin, both because solitary Mae wasn’t nearly as close to her biological family and because Val and Dag seemed like such opposites for a highborn Nordic girl.

And because you’re jealous, said Horatio. She bears her heart to them but not to you.

Neither of those things is true, Justin retorted. She has walls within walls that not even those two have seen through. And I’m not jealous.

You could’ve had a more exalted place in her heart, said Magnus.

And at our master’s knee.

I don’t need either of those things, Justin said. But he couldn’t help but feel a little wistful as he noticed the rare ease with which Mae sat in her chair, elbow propped on the table and chin resting in her hand as she smiled at some wild story Dag was telling her. There was still tension in her, of course. There was always tension in her. Just now, though, it was about as low as he’d ever seen, excepting their ill-fated one night stand. And as he approached the table, Justin watched her normal tension return as her blue-green gaze settled on him. Her companions, sensing the change in her, immediately turned to him as well.

A grin lit Val’s face. “Dr. March,” she said, going so far as to stand up and kiss him on the cheek. “And here I thought suits like you didn’t go slumming with the likes of us.”

“Suits don’t usually get invited,” he explained. Although she’d been joking, Justin noticed that he was, in fact, the only person literally wearing a suit in there, earning a few curious glances. He might as well have stamped BUREAUCRAT on his forehead.

“Well, then, consider yourself with a standing invite,” declared Dag, spreading his hands grandly. “Especially if you can get IS to pick up our tab.” Whereas Val was small and—deceptively—fragile looking, Dag was a schoolgirl’s dream of muscles and rugged looks.

“I don’t see why not,” said Justin, bringing up the table’s ordering panel. “I can get them to pick up everything else.”

“So where’s all the death and danger that you mentioned?” asked Mae pointedly.

Justin finished his order and turned off the panel. “At a police station, vanquished by a coat rack. For now.”

He told them the story as it had been told to him and watched as another transformation took place in the praetorians. The jovial, laidback expressions vanished, as did the smiles. Calling Mae tense earlier had been a mistake because that was nothing compared to the rigid posture that now seized her. Even for a fight long since passed and far away from them, the praetorians’ implants sprang to life, filling their bodies with adrenaline and other fight-or-flight chemicals.

“She’s okay?” demanded Dag, when Justin finished. “Our girl’s okay?”

Justin wondered when Tessa had become “our girl.” By Justin’s count, she and Dag had met twice, the first being a particularly traumatic time when she’d been dragged home after she and drunken friends had trespassed on federal property. Dag had led her to believe she was in more trouble than she was, going so far as to suggest she’d be sent to a girls’ reform camp. Their second meeting, a chance run-in downtown while Justin’s family was out to dinner, had mostly consisted of Dag asking her how her camp application was coming.

But he and even Val looked fiercely protective as Justin assured them Tessa had survived the incident unscathed. Mae didn’t ask about Tessa, not because she didn’t care, but because she knew Justin wouldn’t be here if anything was wrong with Tessa.

“And he was just some random zealot?” Mae asked. Justin met her eyes, knowing what she was really asking: did the attack have anything to do with the elect and the divine “game” being waged?

“Random,” he confirmed. “Just some upset guy who got it into his head to come after the servitor that shut him down. But next time— well. Who knows?”

He left it at that and could tell from her face that she understood. “So what now?” asked Dag. His face brightened. “You want us to go rough him up a little?”

Val nodded in agreement. “We can scare the shit out of him if you want. Make sure he never messes with you again.”

“I don’t think he will anyway, but thanks for the offer.” Justin paused to accept a glass of bourbon from their waitress. “I am, however, concerned about other malcontents coming and calling on my family. I think I’m overdue at looking into security for them and figured I should ask the person—well, people—who know it best. I mean, I’m sure IS has people—”

“Screw that,” said Dag. “You don’t want government contractors involved. They’re just watching the clock. I mean, they’re fine if you’re just some rich person worried about your house, but with your job? You’re dealing with some serious shit.”

He doesn’t know the half of it, said Horatio. “So your suggestion is?” asked Justin.

Dag held up his hands. “Us.”

The amazing part was that he looked perfectly serious. Justin shook his head. “Right. Because you don’t have any other job to do.”

“We’re on capital duty,” said Val. “We have nine hour work days. We need to do something else with the other fifteen. Moonlighting’s as good a thing as any.”

With the way Mae tended to keep her friends close to her, Justin would’ve expected some protest. Amazingly, she looked as though this were perfectly reasonable. “I have to stay with him.” She nodded her head at Justin. “And there’s only two of you and three of them.”

“You know we can get another Scarlet to help.” Val looked truly inspired. “Hell, we could get a bunch of them. Do kind of a rotation for when our shifts don’t line up.”

“Whoa, hang on,” said Justin, unable to believe this was still going on. “I don’t think I can afford a whole ‘bunch’ of moonlighting praetorians.”

“Oh, we’d do it for Finn,” said Dag. For a moment, Justin thought he’d actually said “fun” instead of the praetorians’ pet name for Mae. “We take care of our own.”

It was a weird bit of logic—that Justin had somehow become part of that inner circle. If, say, they’d been talking about protection for Mae’s sister and nephew, Justin didn’t doubt they’d have the Scarlets and every other praetorian cohort ready to help. It was hard to believe they’d go out of their way for someone like him.

“We can’t base their protection solely on when capital praetorians are between shifts,” said Mae. “He’s going to have to hire out someone—just to have a regular person on hand. The Scarlets could be pulled out without notice.”

“There are agencies for that,” said Justin.

“No agencies,” she said. “Unless you can find someone that’s ex- military looking for security work. They’re out there. Probably a number of them in this bar, even.” She glanced around as though the lucky candidate might come strolling right up to them. “But you’ll have to advertise and do interviews. Well, I’ll advertise and do interviews.” The look on Mae’s face said that she expected, if left to his own devices, that he’d end up hiring call girls.

The three praetorians soon seemed to forget about him as they threw themselves into making plans. They compared Dag and Val’s schedules to Justin’s family’s and began working out a system where there’d always be one person on duty in the house at night, and then individuals to escort various family members to their respective schools throughout the day. Mae even worked herself into the rotation, volunteering to come over tonight and do the all-night watch. Justin nearly protested that, seeing as she’d barely gotten back into town, but he thought it might break his family into this new system a little easier if they dealt with Mae before the others. As it was, Tessa would probably have a panic attack being under the same roof as Val or Dag.

“If I can get an ad up tonight, maybe I can do interviews tomorrow or the next day,” said Mae, letting Justin back into the conversation. “We’re good for that long, right?”

“Should be,” he said. “Nassau ran longer than they expected. We should have at least the next two off and then stay domestic for a while.” It was one nice side to their job, at least. When they went away for a long provincial trip, they could usually count on local assignments upon returning.

“Listen to you guys,” said Dag, eyes shining. “Tossing around Nassau like it’s no big deal. You’ve been to more provinces with March these last few months than I’ve been to in my whole military career. I wouldn’t mind dropping in on one of your trips if you ever need help.”

That’s it, Justin realized. That’s why they’re helping. They’re bored. Praetorians are proud to serve in their capital, but it’s a lot of show, and they’d rather be fighting. They’re hoping helping me will send a little more action their way.

They’re doing it for her too, Horatio said. She doesn’t always like you, but she does care about you and the others. Her friends can tell, and that carries a lot of weight with them.

And they want to defend my house from raging religious zealots, Justin insisted.

Well, yes, obviously.

Even though Val and Dag seemed excited about this new enterprise he’d brought them, Justin couldn’t shake the feeling of overstaying his welcome. He finished and paid for his drink—and theirs—and then made motions to leave. Mae quickly downed her own drink and stood up as if to follow.

“No, no, you can stay,” he said. “Enjoy your break.”

“I don’t need a break. Besides, I’m working the first house shift tonight. I have to go with you anyway.”

“I’m not going home.”

Mae’s disapproving look spoke legions, and he knew he could have easily kept her away if he made up some story about a liaison. As it was, the truth was nearly as effective.

“I’m going to see Lucian.”

“Really?” she asked, after several moments of scrutiny. “I need to ask a favor.”

“Lucian Darling? Our security’s not good enough?” asked Dag with a wounded look.

Justin gave him a small smile. “Different favor.” To Mae, he said, “You’re welcome to come, if you want.”

That unreadable mask of hers slipped into place. Mae’s relationship with Lucian Darling—Justin’s old friend and one of the country’s most powerful senators—was an enigmatic thing. He was infatuated with her. She neither seemed to like nor dislike him. A plebeian senator, even a liberal one, couldn’t be seen publicly dating a castal woman, so he’d contrived a number of events in the past for her to attend, like dinners and other fundraisers. She’d gone to a couple, always polite and always showing as much emotion as any good Nordic debutante would when out in society—meaning, no emotion at all.

“I’ll walk you to the subway,” she said. “Tell Lucian you’re coming, and he’ll have his car sent to his station for you. The timing should work out well.”

So. She didn’t want to go. That was telling—as was the familiar way in which she spoke about getting to his home.

Val leaned toward Justin. “You’re going to tell us all about how our Finn knows the good senator, right? I mean, we’ll have all sorts of time to kill when we’re protecting you and your loved ones out of the goodness of our hearts. Surely the least you can do in return is tell us what some people have been unfairly tightlipped about.”

Mae rolled her eyes. “Because there’s nothing to tell.”

Her friends looked skeptical, and Justin suspected he had more badgering in his future. For now, he was able to slip off relatively unbothered, after offering more sincere thanks to the praetorians. He was equally gracious to Mae as they walked out into the busy summer night toward the subway stop across the street, thanking her for her role in everything.

“I get that they’re doing it for you,” he added when they reached the stairs leading underground. “But I’m not sure why you’re doing it.”

“Because I like your family,” she said, confirming what the ravens had said. They reached the platform, and a monitor informed them that the gray line train—which led out to Lucian’s suburb—was seconds away. “And I know better than anyone else what kind of stuff is coming after you—and could come after them. You need extra help.”

The train pulled up and opened its doors, letting crowds of people move in and out. Justin paused before boarding to give Mae one last glance. “You think praetorians will be enough?”

She had that unreadable expression back on. “They’ll have to be.”

Justin had given Lucian plenty of notice that he was coming by that night. He’d also told Lucian he was bringing Mae.

“Really?” Lucian asked, upon realizing he’d been tricked. “You don’t think I would’ve let just you come over?”

Justin peered around the expansive living room that a bodyguard had just escorted him into. The house and upper class suburban neighborhood weren’t unlike his own, though there was a sterile, too- neat feel to everything. No surprise, he thought, since Lucian probably spent more time on the road these days than around the house.

“Hedging my bets,” Justin said. “I had no idea what kind of long day you might have had. You might not want any guests at all. But you’d still probably want her.”

“Probably.” Lucian, upon closer examination, actually did appear as though he might have had a long day. He was settled into the corner of a leather sofa, with his arm stretched along its back and his feet resting on a coffee table. The top buttons of his dress shirt were undone, its sleeves unrolled. If he’d had a tie at some point today, it’d been discarded. There was an easy smile on his face—it was hard to find Lucian without one—but it was underscored with fatigue. “Though believe it or not, there actually has been something I’ve wanted to see you about. So this works out happily for everyone. Make yourself a drink, and we’ll talk.” He held up an empty glass. “Make me one too.”

Justin took the glass over to a bar between the kitchen and living room. It too was beautifully laid out and well-stocked, straight from an entertaining magazine but not seeing much use. “Why don’t you give up on your unattainable Nordic obsession and find some well-bred plebeian wife to smile in your campaign ads and throw dinner parties for you?”

Lucian’s grin broadened. “No time. Maybe after I win. Right now, that’s where all my real energy’s going.”

Justin sat down in an armchair near the sofa, handing over Lucian’s drink as he did. “Does it take that much energy? Don’t you have this sealed up?”

“Never assume anything in politics. We’re still in the lead, but Chu from the New People’s Party has been going up in the polls. Very quickly.” Lucian’s dark eyes stared off into space as he sipped the drink, his mind spinning with numbers and points. “We need something big. No more well-written speeches and school visits. Something that’ll stick in the hearts and minds of people and make them see me as a leader, not just someone trying to win a contest.”

Justin nearly made a joke, but the intensity in his old friend’s gaze made him reconsider. He’s into this. He’s really into this. In any other politician, I’d say that makes him more dangerous than someone who’s just trying to reap the fame.

Any other politician? Are you saying he’s not dangerous? Asked Horatio.

That remains to be seen.

To Lucian, Justin said, “Do you have something in mind? A great hearts-and-minds-winning stunt?”

“Not a stunt.” Lucian’s eyes focused back on Justin. “But it can wait. Tell me what you need.”

“What, after a buildup like that? I can’t compete. You go first.” Lucian hesitated only briefly, took another sip, and then leaned eagerly toward Justin. “Arcadia.”

The name of the RUNA’s volatile neighbor was not what Justin had expected to hear. Composed of the southeastern part of the former United States, Arcadia had formed after the Decline when the rest of its American countrymen had banded together with Canada. Relations between the RUNA and Arcadia weren’t friendly, a situation made more difficult by the fact that Arcadia was neither advanced enough to be treated as an equal nor backward enough to be casually dismissed like other provinces. Frequent border disputes in recent years had only worsened political tensions.

“You want to take it over? Annex it?” Justin asked. “That would certainly get people’s attention.” He was mostly joking, but from the fervent look in Lucian’s eyes, Justin wondered just how extreme the senator might be willing to get.

Lucian clasped his hands together. “No. Not yet. Just go there. There’s been talk for a while between both countries about a diplomatic visit—some sort of friendly delegation going in to try to better understand our neighbors and their ways.” A bitter smile played at the edges of Lucian’s lips. “There’s been particular interest in this after rumors of the Arcadians amassing new weapons—not that I expect them to tour us around that.”

Justin parsed his words. “Us. As in you—you’d be a part of this delegation?”

“Exactly.”

Lucian settled back into the couch, face triumphant as he gauged Justin’s reaction—which was one of astonishment. “That’s crazy! People like you don’t go to Arcadia . . . or any province. You’re supposed to stay on the campaign trail, in posh hotels surrounded by bodyguards.”

“And that’s what makes this so big. There are no heroes anymore, Justin. Leaders get elected with words, not actions, and when people go to the polls, they’re usually just voting for the lesser of evils because there’s nothing better. But I intend to be better. I can’t be Mae, fighting gloriously out there on the battlefield, but I can be the first leader in the RUNA’s history to ever set foot in semi-hostile territory, unafraid to further this country’s interest. People will respect that. That’ll mean something, whereas my rivals’ words will just be . . . words.”

“See, that’s your problem right there,” said Justin, unable to believe what he was hearing. “You can put ‘semi’ in front of it, but ‘hostile’ will still get you killed.”

Lucian looked more confident than he had any right to be. “You visit plenty of hostile places. You’re still alive.”

Justin downed his drink. “I don’t go there as a public official, decked out in fanfare. I go in covertly—well-protected—and don’t always get out so smoothly.”

“Well, I’ll be well-protected too. Even the Arcadians aren’t foolish enough to think our party’d go in without our own soldiers.”

“A dozen Gemman soldiers won’t mean much if you’re surrounded by the entire Arcadian military,” Justin pointed out.

“The Arcadians won’t touch me or the people with me. They don’t trust us, sure, but they don’t want an incident. Some of them really even do want to stabilize relations between us.” Lucian stood up and began to pace. “In this case, the fanfare pays off. They can’t do anything when this is all so public. I’ll be fine. You would be fine.”

Justin had been about to stand and make another drink but now found himself momentarily frozen in place. “Me? I assume you’re speaking hypothetically.”

“It’s only hypothetical if you don’t go.”

The smug grin on Lucian’s face was maddening. Justin was used to reading the truth from people’s expressions, but he couldn’t read Lucian just then. Was this some kind of joke? No . . . the more Justin studied the other man, the more it seemed Lucian was in earnest. The question was, why?

“Give me one good reason I’d want to go with you on a suicidal trip to Arcadia,” said Justin at last.

Lucian chuckled. “Well, as I already told you, it’s not suicidal. As for a reason . . . don’t you study religion? That place is a hotbed of it— getting hotter from what I hear.”

“I study religion to protect my own country. What others do to destroy theirs is up to them.”

But as Justin spoke, a chill ran down his spine. Whereas the RUNA had renounced religion after the Decline, Arcadia had clung to it—so fiercely, in fact, that it had become intertwined with the government. The Arcadian faith was rigid and authoritarian, and the idea of it “getting hotter” was slightly terrifying. And yet, there was no question religion really was heating up in the RUNA and other parts of the world. Was the divine game—or maybe even war, at this point— active in Arcadia as well?

It would certainly be something worth looking into, said Magnus. And our master would especially be interested in knowing the state of godly affairs there.

I don’t owe him that, Justin reminded the ravens. I only answer to Internal Security, and they haven’t asked this of me. I’m not going to volunteer because Lucian wants company.

“You can bring Mae,” added Lucian unexpectedly. “Most of our security detail will be praetorians, actually.”

Justin suppressed a groan. “Is that what this is about? Unbelievable. You’d seriously go this far to get some alone time with her?”

Lucian held out his hands in an appeasing gesture. “No. Believe it or not, you’re actually the one I want more on this trip. We’ll have other cultural experts with us to help us ‘learn’ about the country. A religion expert is vital with these people—as are your observations on human nature. I don’t just want election results from this trip, Justin. I want long term results. I want to know how these people breathing down our necks think, and understanding how their superstition affects them is the key to it. There’s no one else I trust more than you to get inside their heads.”

He’s actually complimenting you, observed Horatio.

First time for everything, said Justin.

“I already have a job,” he told Lucian. “IS has assignments for me. I can’t just drop them for a field trip.”

“I think they’d spare you if I asked.”

Yes, Justin was sure they would. Especially if they sensed a supernatural threat lurking in Arcadia’s borders. But Justin still wanted no part of it. Arcadia was its own unique brand of dangerous, and Justin especially didn’t want to be tied to some much-hyped, very public trip.

“Sorry,” said Justin firmly. “I pass.”

Lucian weighed him heavily for several moments and then gave a nod, his customary smile returning. “Okay. But think on it. And if you change your mind, you’ve got a week to get in on one of the biggest international moves in this country. Now. What did you want to talk about?”

He dropped that awfully fast, thought Justin warily as he began explaining about Darius’s internship. Too fast.

Yes, agreed Horatio. He certainly did. Be careful.