Gameboard of the Gods (Age of X 1)

“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.”

She nodded. It was a rare side of her, this unkempt Mae, eating junk food. She was still dazzling, and it was hard not to remember how her lips and skin felt. He had to remind himself of the danger she represented. Another night with her would thrust him squarely into this game. That, and he was having difficulty forgetting the way she’d killed Emil. He recalled Dominic’s words, that she was a prætorian first and a patrician second—more than that, she was the predator he’d been warned about. Justin could see it in the way she tensed at the breaking of a glass at the bar and the way her eyes assessed every single person who entered, even as she smiled and bantered.

And yet…in that moment, there was peace between them. A rapport and naturalness he couldn’t remember sharing with a woman. Most conversations with his last serious girlfriend from five years ago had degenerated into “Where is this relationship going?” He knew he had to push that aside and do what he’d come to do.

“Mae…there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

She instantly grew wary.

“I…wasn’t entirely honest about Lucian. There are old rivalries between us, and I kind of exaggerated things.” Each word was agonizing. “He’s actually a really good guy, and you should give him a chance.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. Lucian wasn’t that bad. Justin just didn’t want to give her up.

Clearly, this was the last thing she’d expected. “You…you want me to go out with Lucian?”

“Maybe not go out with, exactly,” he said. “But you know, at least talk to him. That fund-raiser thing he wrote about is actually a pretty good idea. Just get to know him in a way that isn’t going to attract a media circus. Besides, how often do you get to go to black-tie political fund-raisers?” Justin smiled so that he wouldn’t grit his teeth. “Hell, I’ll even go like he asked and help deliver you to him.”

Too late, Justin realized that was the worst thing he could have said to a woman who’d spent her life feeling like she was someone’s possession. Deliver you to him. Her face confirmed it. There was no more shock. There was nothing at all—except, perhaps, a fleeting gleam of disappointment in her eyes.

He was taken aback. Was it possible that somewhere, after everything he’d put her through, she still wanted him? Justin ignored that and focused on what mattered: He’d fulfilled his promise to Geraki.

“Well, thanks for the advice,” she said stiffly. “Maybe I’ll go. Maybe I can salvage that mauve dress.”

He couldn’t tell if she knew what a blow that was to him. Instead, he tried to recover his faltering smile. “Great. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled. You want another round?” He didn’t expect her to stop hating him. But maybe he could get her to hate him a little less.

“I have things I should do.” They both knew she was lying.

“One drink,” he beseeched. “I didn’t give you all my insight on what SCI’s doing.”

After several agonizing moments, she nodded, not looking that enthused. “Sure.”

Justin scooped up the empty glasses. As he waited at the bar for his refills, he looked up at a screen showing—of course—Lucian giving some speech in San Francisco, going on about his great unknown age. Justin had felt a headache coming on since they arrived at the bar, and this only made it worse.

“Goddamned politicians,” a voice said. “You can’t trust any of those government types.”

Justin glanced over and saw a steel-haired businessman sitting at the bar with a glass of wine. With all the emphasis on national security and loyalty that surrounded Justin, he kind of liked the occasional conspiracy theorist. “I am a government type.”

The man studied Justin, and the light just barely reflected off of what was a very, very good artificial eye. It was nearly indistinguishable from the real one, and judging from the guy’s expensive suit, he had money to throw around. He even had a cluster of little white flowers on his lapel. Aside from Justin, he was the best-dressed person in the bar.

“Is that so?” The man chuckled. “Should I be worried then about what we aren’t being told? What this Age of X is really going to entail for humankind?”

It was a good question. “Well, Senator Darling says it’s going to be bright and wonderful. He seems to know.”

“Of course he does,” the man said with a snort. “Guys your age always think you know everything. Believe me, there’s always more to learn.”

“Not true. I’m a big believer in the pursuit of knowledge.”

The man looked over to where Mae sat alone. “I’d like to get to know more about her. You’re with her, right? Girlfriend? Wife?”

“Neither. In fact…she doesn’t really like me right now.”

“Lucky for me.” The man knocked back his wine and stood up. “I’m going to go talk to her.”

Incredibly, the guy made good on his word and walked over to Mae. Strangers’ advances were second nature to her, and she looked up at him with a polite smile. She even seemed to thank him when he brazenly took the flowers from his jacket and tucked them behind her ear. He gave her a nod of farewell and walked away.

Justin returned with the drinks. “Did he ask you out?”

“Him?” She laughed, which was nice after the earlier animosity. “No, but he laid it on kind of thick. He could be you in thirty years. Started waxing poetic about how my beauty will live forever in thought and memory and how these were a paltry offering.” She pulled the star-shaped white flowers out of her hair and examined them. “They smell good.”

“Stephanotis,” he said, pulling up his mental encyclopedia without thinking. “From the Greek word for ‘crown.’…”

Her eyebrows rose. “Stephanotis? Wasn’t that the flower you told me about in Windsor?”

Justin nearly dropped his glass. He scanned the room frantically, searching for the man. No luck. “Be right back.” He hurried up to the bar and waved to get the cute young bartender’s attention. She was knocking back what looked like aspirin, something Justin wouldn’t have minded since his own headache still pulsed at the back of his skull.

“You probably can’t tell me this…but do you know that guy’s name? When he scanned his ego?”

She hesitated about the breach of privacy and then groaned. “He didn’t scan it. I asked him, but he started asking me if I played chess, and I forgot. My boss’ll kill me. That was our most expensive wine!”

But Justin was already walking away. “I have to leave,” he told Mae.

“Why?” She looked him over, and her concern for him was real. “What’s wrong?”

Justin swallowed. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just…well, the bartender’s getting off her shift soon and asked me to go out. I can’t turn that down.” He put on what he hoped was a smug, bastardly smile.

This time, Mae’s thoughts were perfectly obvious. She was floored that after asking her for another drink, he was about to ditch her for a woman he’d just met.

“I see. Well, far be it from me to stand in your way.” She stood up, rigid and formal. “Thanks for the drink. I’ll meet you at SCI tomorrow.” And without a backward glance, she strode out of the bar, the air freezing around her.

Justin stared after her, feeling forlorn.

Wallow later, said Horatio. Do you want your answers or not?

Justin did. He had to know. He had to finally know. He scooped up the flowers and headed out. Back at the house, he found the usual buzz of activity as his family welcomed him home. He ignored them all and went straight to his office, slamming the door behind him.

“I need a search,” Justin said to his screen before he even reached his chair. “I need all references to the phrase ‘thought and memory.’”

The screen complied with frustrating detail, far too many hits to begin to parse. He drummed his fingers against the desk.

“Filter the search by religious and mythological contexts.”

That narrowed the list considerably. In fact, the only results left pertained to one subject. He brought up the first hit, which was a basic encyclopedic entry:

In Norse mythology, the god Odin (Wodan in German contexts) is accompanied by two ravens, Huginn (Thought) and Muninn (Memory), who advise him and report what they learn about the world.

Justin felt mildly ill. He was familiar with stories of Odin, who frequently appeared with other Norse gods when Nordic and Scandinavian castes decided to attempt some revivalist religion. Odin was a major enough god that every servitor had a working knowledge of him. Justin had always thought he did as well, but apparently, he’d been lacking a particularly important detail about the god’s choice of companions, a detail that certain invisible birds could’ve helpfully enlightened him about.

“Give me a full compilation about the Norse god Odin,” ordered Justin. “Attributes, primary sources, and general folklore.”

The screen complied, and with every line he read, Justin felt as though the world was starting to crumble beneath him.

Odin, or “All Father,” is a Norse god of the Æsir associated with wisdom, cunning, knowledge, war and battle, magic, and death. He is usually accepted as the king of the Norse gods.

Odin made many sacrifices for his wisdom. He gave up his eye in order to drink from Mimisbrunnr, the well of wisdom. He also hung himself from the world tree Yggdrasil in order to master the runes, which impart insight into the present and future.