She groaned. “You’re not going to do yourself any favors if you get sick from taking too much of that.”

“I can be sick as much as I want tomorrow. I’ve just got to show the power of my god tonight.”

Mae moved toward the door and paused. “Can you at least tell me what that part about the staff was?”

Justin had started to close his eyes but opened them again.

“Possibly a weapon, from what the ravens are telling me.”

“Like my knife?”

“Much more powerful. They claim it’s a threat to us and our country, but I don’t know how we can get a hold of it. Even if we knew where Holy Lake was—and I’m sure that wasn’t its name pre-Decline—getting there would be nearly impossible.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “We’ll have to be content with pulling off one heroic act in our country’s defense and let that one go.”

Mae left him after that, feeling troubled at another potential threat waiting for them but concurring that there was little to be done when they had so many other issues to deal with. The other praetorian women had been invited out on a sightseeing expedition with the Gemman men, one she would’ve been allowed to go on as well, save that she didn’t want to leave Justin. He woke up later in the afternoon and actually did look better, though he insisted on another shower. He made it to the bathroom unassisted, which was promising, and she went out to the main house to find him some food.

It required putting on the Cloistered getup, which was a pain in theory, but proved useful when she passed some of Carl’s sons on the way to the kitchen. They lingered in the hallway, barely giving her a second glance. Mae realized they’d mistaken her for Hannah. Even Harriet did when Mae found the older woman tidying up by the kitchen stove, and it wasn’t until Mae asked for a plate for Justin that Harriet realized who she was talking to. Mae stayed out of the way as the plate was made up, standing close enough to overhear the men—and an unexpected conversation.

“You better get Father to put a hold on one of Pittsfield’s girls.

He’s moving his salon any day now.” It was one of the younger sons, whose name Mae couldn’t remember.

“Since when?” demanded Jasper.

“There was a break-in the other night at his place,” explained the first speaker. “He doesn’t think it’s safe there. Wants to find a more secure location until the girls are of age.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” said Jasper. “Why would I want one? None of them are old enough.”

“He’s got the best-looking girls in the city,” said a voice Mae recognized as Carl’s oldest son, Walter. “Of course, they’re illegals, but that won’t matter once he sells them—if he can sell them. No wonder he’s hightailing it out. If he lost them before they’re sold, he’s out a lot of money. He’s probably got at least three more years until they’re ready.”

Jasper’s voice was petulant. “I don’t want to wait three years, no matter how good-looking. I want a woman now.”

Mae didn’t pay attention to the rest and barely noticed when

Harriet handed her the plate. The Cloistered costume allowed Mae to walk unbothered past the brothers again, and her mind spun out of control as she hurried back to the guesthouse. There was no way they could be talking about any other salon but the one she’d broken into.

She’d suspected her visit wouldn’t go unnoticed, but it had never occurred to her the owners would take off as a result. She wanted to scream in frustration. Fate had sent her to a location right by her goal, and she was about to lose it through her own actions. Any day now.

What did that mean? When was the salon moving? What could she do in so short a time?

She longed to speak to Justin about it, but he was too preoccupied with his upcoming task at the temple. He chatted a little about it as he ate the food, and it was a sign of his focus that he didn’t notice how troubled she was.

“If this god really is on my side,” he remarked, bright and alert from his first Exerzol dose, “I’ll come back to you tonight with good news.”

Mae jerked herself out of her troubled thoughts. “What do you mean come back to me? I’ll be with you.”

“No need this time,” he assured her. “As long as the Grand

Disciple wants to bargain with me about this missionary visit, I’m in no danger. And I don’t really want to watch him leer over you the whole time either.”

“I can handle it,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Yeah, well, I can’t.” Justin set his plate down. “Besides, if Hansen sells me out after all, I don’t want you anywhere near where those freaks might get a hold of you.”

“If he sells you out, then you’ll need me more than ever!” she exclaimed.

“No. You stay here. I’ll be fine.” He looked her over. “I’m serious.

You and your implant can settle down.”

Her implant had spun up, raising all her endorphins, though it had been triggered long before this by the news of the salon. “How do you know my implant’s up?” she asked.

Justin gave her a wry smile. “Because you always have that same tension and predatory look when the implant inspires you to proposition me. You’ll have to find some other outlet tonight, though. I’ve got to keep my strength up.”

Mae felt blood rush to her cheeks, but he’d already turned away from her and was trying to make sense of the makeup kit they’d pilfered from Lucian’s room. As Justin experimented with under eye concealers, she simply sat around dumbfounded, replaying his last words. Was that why he thought she’d tried to take him to bed after the Arcadians burst into the room?

Was it the reason?

She could admit that her libido did ramp up when the implant was activated, and it certainly had been after escaping from Jasper. But as she thought back to the details of that night, it hadn’t just been the surge of chemicals that had drawn her to Justin. It had been . . . him. And not just the feel of his body either—though that hadn’t been without its effects. There’d been something powerful in the way he’d stood up for her. Not that she was looking for rescue. Mae didn’t expect that from anyone. It was more about the trust between them than the actual act of helping her. He’d had no idea what was going on, yet he’d unquestioningly stood by her. He always did. In Mae’s life, trust was a tenuous thing. She trusted her fellow praetorians because they’d been trained to have each other’s backs, and she knew she could count on them. Mae realized she placed just as much faith in Justin as she did Val or Dag or any of the Scarlets . . . without any of the same concrete reasons. There was something intangible that bound her to Justin, something that burned with both loyalty and a deeper attraction that she didn’t know how to articulate.

In fact, she didn’t know how to articulate any of this. And as she continued struggling to come to terms with her own tangled emotions, she felt the moment to act or say anything more about them slipping away. Justin grew caught up in his task, and before long, the other Gemmans returned home and wanted updates. Lucian was understandably surprised to hear Justin now saying he wanted to encourage an Arcadian cultural delegation without elaborating why.

Mae lost any other chances to speak alone with Justin until the others left for dinner, just as word came that a temple car had arrived for Justin’s pick-up.

“Are you sure I can’t come with you?” she pushed, standing alone with him in their guest house’s common room.

“I’ll be fine. This is all on me, and I’ll feel better knowing you’re safely back here under boring house arrest.” He certainly looked capable of making anything happen. He’d made a remarkable recovery and was back to the same outgoing, dashing mode that Mae knew so well. “And when I get back, we’ll figure out this business with your niece.”

“I thought you’d forgotten,” she said, legitimately surprised. It had never left her mind—especially in light of recent developments—but she’d thought it had slipped his.

“I don’t forget anything,” he teased. “Especially something like that. Wait for me, and we’ll talk.”

A surge of emotion swelled within her chest, muddled by her earlier fears that he thought she only came to him when she was amped up on endorphins. Of course, he’d had his own share of bad behaviors in their history of fumbling romantic attempts, ones she’d heard no good excuses for. But as she allowed herself to accept that he’d misunderstood her recently, she also came to terms with the idea that she’d maybe misunderstood him. The how or why—especially in light of some of the things he’d said to her—was still a mystery, but enough weirdness surrounded them these days that she understood that there were very possibly factors at work that she had no knowledge of.

Yet again, expressing all of these things was beyond her. Words were Justin’s gift, not hers. And so, bereft of any other immediate options, Mae leaned forward and kissed him—a long, lingering kiss that didn’t say “I want to take you to bed” but that hopefully conveyed some of the depth what she was feeling inside. It was the best she could do. Whether she was successful or not, she couldn’t say, though he certainly looked surprised when shouts from outside about the waiting car forced them to part. He looked as tongue-tied as she felt and only managed to say, “Wait for me,” before slipping away.

Mae returned to his room and tried to find some distraction that wouldn’t leave her obsessing over him or the risks he might be facing.

The sight of the amber knife reminded her of her own problems and the clock ticking on the salon. Justin had said he’d help her tonight . . . but that was assuming he got back in a timely manner to do anything.

Picking up the dagger, running her fingers over the amber inlay, she knew instantly what she wanted to do, no matter his warnings about the supernatural. The knife had led her to her niece, who was about to be taken away again. Justin had said he’d help her tonight, but what harm was there in being prepared with more information? The more they knew, the more they’d be able to act. The only risk she faced was if she didn’t come out of the knife’s trance before the other Gemmans returned from dinner. A check of the clock in the main sitting room told her she had at least two hours, if not more. Resolved, she summoned a prayer to the unknown goddess and sliced her palm with the blade.

The expected vision came, showing unexpected things. Mae saw what was happening with the salon and what she had to do. When the vision ended, and she returned to her senses in the bedroom, she discovered two things. One was that only an hour had passed. The other was that she had a mark left on her skin from where she’d cut it.

Before, the wound had always healed by the time the vision ended. It still didn’t look fresh now by any means—more like it had happened a couple of days ago—but she was startled to see any residual mark at all.

A voice sounded in her head: You can’t keep asking for much without giving a little.

Mae had no time to ponder that, though. Not after what she’d seen.

Time was more critical than she’d realized. Wait for me, Justin had said.

But as Mae began stripping off her Arcadian dress, the unfortunate reality hit her. “I can’t,” she said aloud. “I can’t.”

CHAPTER 18

Odin’s Priest Earns His Keep

Justin knew he looked good. The mirror and Mae had told him as much.

Did he feel good? That was a different matter. He could’ve easily slept another six hours, and he had a feeling he might more than double that once the current Exerzol high wore off. As long as he could get through this upcoming meeting, though, it would all be worth it.

You could’ve warned me about the aftereffects, he told Magnus, as the temple car drove into the city. Or maybe that soul severing part.

It’s been a long time since I’ve done that for a priest, explained the raven. I knew there’d be some consequences but didn’t think it’d be this bad. But you’ve recovered nicely, and next time, we’ll make sure you’re better prepared.

Justin didn’t appreciate the assumption. No one said there’ll be a next time.

Won’t there? asked Magnus. Don’t you want to feel that communion with Odin? Not that you need me for it. If you embrace your calling, you’ll find maintaining that connection on a daily basis is easy.

Justin wasn’t sure if he wanted that either. Yes, he could freely admit that it had been pretty thrilling, but as he’d learned from his lifetime of substance abuse, a high wasn’t always worth what you paid for it. The potential to lose control was too great. He’d discovered that with drugs on more than one occasion and wasn’t sure he could win if he tried it with a god. The hypocrisy of having warned Mae away from such things wasn’t lost on him either.

And then there was Mae herself.

For a sweet moment, the weight of human and godly concerns lifted from Justin, and he was left only with the memory of that kiss.

What in the world had brought that about? Concern for his safety?

Gratitude for his help with her niece, help he still really wasn’t sure how to give? There’d been no question the feel of her lips made his blood burn and hands long to touch her . . . but that parting kiss had been about so much more than just sex and desire. What that more was remained to be seen.

“Because my life needs one more complication,” he muttered.

“Excuse me?” the driver called back.

“Nothing,” said Justin.