Age of X01 - Gameboard of the Gods Page 40

  “Do you have any place we could go?”

  She didn’t answer right away, which only made things that much more tantalizing. He gripped his bourbon glass tightly, waiting for a response that seemed to take forever.

  “You said you don’t scare easily,” she finally said. “Are you afraid of the women’s bathroom?”

  Whoa. He hadn’t expected that. He’d figured she’d give him an address that they’d slip off to separately. Not that he had a problem with bathroom sex. In his younger days, when privacy hadn’t always been so easy to come by, it had been a necessary option sometimes.

  “It takes more than that to scare me,” he assured her. And actually, the more he thought about spreading her legs on a bathroom counter, the more on board he was with the idea. There was just one problem. “But it might not be the most, uh, secure place—which could be an issue here.”

  “Not the ones on this floor,” she said in agreement. “But there’s one in the basement for employees that doesn’t get used much. Do you see the stairs over there? There’s a service door that’ll take you down.”

  She seems to know that bathroom pretty well, observed Horatio. I wonder how many men she’s held “class” for down there.

  “I’ll go now,” Katrin continued. “Meet me in five minutes.”

  She cashed out and, without another glance, sauntered away. Justin played a few more rounds, watching every second on the clock, and then left for the rendezvous. He had to seize a moment when no one was near the stairwell before slipping into it. They might very well have had cameras in it, but he was pretty sure that bathroom sex, while frowned upon, wasn’t actually a crime, even among castals.

  The lower level was a daylight basement, and the long corridor he entered ran down to a glass door that opened out to the casino’s back property. Otherwise, there was little activity. A few servers scurried back and forth between stockrooms, but no one was down at the end that contained the restrooms. With a deep breath, he strode toward the door marked WOMEN and knocked softly when he reached it. For half a second, he had a panicked thought that Katrin might have played him and some dour Nordic matron would open the door.

  But it was Katrin who answered, with a sly smile on her lips and fervor in her eyes. She beckoned him in and locked the door. For a moment, he was a little thrown off by the bathroom. First of all, it was a lot bigger than he’d expected. Everything in it was aqua blue, from the paint to the satin-covered chair near the entrance to the two faux-marble stalls. Soft violin music was piped in from unseen speakers, and everything smelled like freesias. Justin wasn’t sure if this was a castal thing or some secret of women’s restrooms he’d never known about. It kind of took away from the kinky element of everything, but that was a concern easily forgotten.

  Katrin wasted no time in pushing him against a wall and kissing him with an almost ferocious intensity. Her mouth tasted like rum and strawberries, and her teeth nipped at his lips. He moved his hands down her hips and pulled one of her legs up, bending it so that he could slide his hand up the back of her thigh. Her skin was sleek and soft, and the fabric of her dress yielded easily as he pushed it up. Yearning flooded him as she ground her body against his, giving him one of those rare moments where the continuous spinning of his mind stilled and gave in to instinct and emotion.

  He still held high hopes of getting her onto the counter and wasn’t really picky about which way she faced. But when he tried to move her in that direction, she pushed back, her hands resting on his chest to keep him pinned against the wall. Maybe this was part of what “intimidating” meant. It reminded him a little uneasily of Mae’s dominance, and he hoped this would have a happier outcome.

  It didn’t.

  He had Katrin’s underwear partway off when he felt the wire against his neck.

  The kissing also abruptly stopped, and when he opened his eyes, he saw that the ferociously passionate look on her face had simply become ferocious. He tried to speak, but the words were choked off as the wire bit into his flesh. With a strength born out of sheer terror, he pushed back against her and managed to momentarily escape the wire. Katrin surged toward him again with remarkable strength, but he dodged in a way that kept his neck from strangulation. He managed to wriggle away and grabbed the first weapon he could find: a ceramic vase filled with freesias. With no thoughts of chivalry, he swung it toward her and managed to clip the side of her head. It slowed her for a moment, and then, improbably, she came at him again and hardly seemed fazed at all.

  Ironically, he found he was the one backed up against the counter. He swung the vase again, managing to keep a small distance between him and that wire while he frantically tried to figure out what to do. Offense wasn’t really his style, but staying on the defense didn’t seem like it would get him anywhere. He advanced forward as he wielded the vase, allowing him a little progress until she knocked it out of his hands. It fell to the ground and smashed into pieces. He kicked out at her and managed to hit her leg, but much like the vase, it only seemed to annoy her.

  Those small delays allowed him a little movement, however, and he was able to reach the door. Unlocking it took long enough that she was able to grab his arm and jerk him backward. His other hand held on to the doorknob firmly, and for a moment, he felt like he’d be ripped in half. He pulled away and managed to open the door, shoving it into her as he did so. It threw her off, so that she missed when she tried to grab his shoulder. Shouting for help, he made it into the hall and had another split-second decision to make.

  To his right was the way he’d come, and at the far end of the hall, he knew there had to be employees working. To his left, not very far at all, was a glass door leading outside. He didn’t know where it went, but surely it would go somewhere with people and safety. That was the way he chose.

  But when he reached it, he found that it was locked. He couldn’t find any obvious way to open it, and the delay cost him. Katrin caught him by the shoulder this time and jerked him away from the door. Unexpected pain shot through him at her touch, like several blades scratching his flesh. Snarling, she lunged toward him with the wire, but it wasn’t an ideal weapon for a moving target. When he dodged again, she dropped the wire and pulled out a shiny black knife from somewhere in that tight dress.

  “Shit.”

  The long hall beyond her offered freedom, but he couldn’t figure out how to get past her. The best he could do was awkward hitting and dodging that slowed her a little but in no way seemed capable of stopping or even tiring her. She appeared to be evenly matched in strength with him, which was equally frustrating. At one point, they got tangled in each other and fell to the ground, rolling around in a way that was not at all like what he’d originally imagined when coming downstairs. Her hand raked down his back, causing more of that pain. If her nails were that bad, he couldn’t imagine what the dagger would do.

  He finally kicked her off enough that he could crawl into a nearby storage closet. He shoved the door in her face and held it shut with his entire body while he groped for a light. When he found it, he could barely believe how the world had fucked him over today. The glass door he’d wanted to open had had a lock, and this one, which he needed to stay closed, had none. There was nothing he could do but try to hold it closed with his own weight. On the other side, Katrin turned the knob and pushed hard against the door, making it open a few centimeters before Justin was able to throw himself back against it. With one hand, he fumbled for his ego but couldn’t really get out a message while trying to hold the door.

  Well, now what? asked Horatio.

  Justin was about to say he was open to suggestions when he realized Horatio was talking to Magnus. In all the time he’d carried them in his head, the ravens had never conversed with just each other. It added to what was already a maddeningly surreal situation.

  We have to do something, said Magnus.

  What, claw her eyes out? Horatio sounded incredulous. We can’t directly intervene. We aren’t even technically suppose
d to be here until he’s sworn.

  Well, it’ll never happen if he’s dead, will it? And we only need to assist, not intervene.

  Katrin launched herself at the door and must have had a running start. It pushed open more than it had during her previous efforts, and it took Justin several seconds to fight against her and slam it shut again.

  Okay, said Horatio reluctantly. What do you have in mind?

  You stay here, was Magnus’s bizarre response.

  And then, suddenly, Justin felt a searing pain and the sensation of having something ripped out of his skull.

  CHAPTER 30

  THE RAMBLINGS OF A MADMAN

  Tessa might not have understood the big picture of what Justin and Mae were involved in, but she knew enough about genetics and the RUNA to realize the implications of what Mae’s mother had revealed. That kind of research was unheard of in Panama, and Tessa was honestly surprised that Mae had handled it as well as she had. But maybe that had been for the benefit of her mother, whom Tessa found even more terrifying than her own.

  Regardless, Tessa had decided it was best for her to clear out in case Mae needed time to herself. Tessa didn’t mind going back out anyway. Once she’d adapted to the weirdness of being in a city where everyone looked alike, her natural curiosity took over. She was fascinated by a group of people who’d clung to their identity so fiercely, they’d been willing to risk the consequences of Mephistopheles and Cain. Even now, after years of progress, they still maintained their separation from the rest of the country while simultaneously being fiercely loyal.

  Most people mistook her for an ordinary Gemman plebeian. There were a handful of others like her on the streets—seeing as their hotel was the only plebeian-friendly one—and most Nordics took them in stride. Mae had explained that farther outside the city, they’d find more prejudice. Here, no one paid much attention to Tessa as she wandered into shops that were still open. She even stopped in a café and bought a pastry stuffed with lingonberries. She’d never heard of lingonberries, but Nordics seemed to love them. Munching on it, she eventually made her way back to the park across from the hotel to listen to the band. A group of people chatting nearby described the music as “Norwegian fusion folk synth.” Tessa had no idea what that was but decided the whole scene would be worth filming for her class’s documentary—presuming she was ever allowed back to school.

  She was so engrossed in her camera that she was taken completely by surprise when a hand clamped onto her arm. Gasping, she turned and found a young Nordic man standing next to her. He appeared to be only a little older than her, with bright blond hair and a wild look in his eyes. Tessa was too shocked to act right away and wondered if she’d found some plebeian-hating patrician.

  “You’re with SCI,” he said.

  That was unexpected. “I—what? No.”

  “I saw you outside the police station,” he insisted. “I know you guys were here today to look at the Arnarsson crime scene.”

  “Er, no. Those were my, um, friends. I’m only sixteen. I’m still in school.” She calmed down a little, telling herself she was out in public. He couldn’t do anything to her. Although, as she began processing what he said, it occurred to her that he may have been stalking them all day.

  “You have to come with me,” he said, still holding on to her. “I’ve been trying forever to get SCI to come here! They never answer my requests. But you can’t put it off anymore.”

  She gulped. “I told you, I’m not with SCI!”

  He leaned close. “I know things. I know things that’ll help solve the Arnarsson case. She wasn’t the only murder.”

  That got Tessa’s attention, though she wasn’t entirely sure what to do with it. Murder investigations were out of her league. In fact, she got the impression they were out of Justin’s league, but for whatever reason, that was what he’d gotten involved with.

  “I can’t help you,” she said. “But I can get you the actual servitor that’s here. You can talk to him.”

  The guy hesitated and then gave a slow nod. He released her, and she took out her ego to call Justin. He didn’t answer, and things were further complicated when Mae didn’t answer either. So much for “Call if you need anything.”

  “I can have them get back to you,” Tessa said apologetically. “But right now—”

  “No!” he exclaimed. “They’ll never get back to me. I know how bureaucracy is. And they don’t even think it’s a real murder.”

  She shifted uncomfortably, suddenly worried she wasn’t dealing with someone who was completely sane. “Um, what is ‘it’ exactly?”

  “My brother. They killed him. The same people who killed Clara Arnarsson. I can help SCI get to them.”

  “Why don’t they think it’s a real murder?”

  “Because there was no body. They just think he’s missing,” he explained. “But I’m telling you it was them! He was murdered by the servants of an evil goddess of death and war. Come talk to my dad—he’ll tell you.”

  Tessa didn’t know what to do. His story seemed absurd—especially the evil goddess part—but if there was a chance he knew something about Justin’s case, it would be invaluable. Justin hadn’t directly said it, but she’d begun to pick up on signs of unease that made her think his continued stay in the RUNA might very well hinge on this case. She tried again to get the Nordic guy to wait, but he was obstinate.

  “No. Now. Look, I’m not taking you into a dark alley or anything. My dad’s in a convalescent home not far from here. Totally public.”

  “Why is he in a convalescent home?” she asked.

  “Because they think he’s crazy.”

  This wasn’t really reassuring her. But as she studied him, she began to feel sorry for him. His face was so earnest, his eyes so pleading…whatever was going on was real to him. He was cute too, and while that shouldn’t have affected anything, it did make her feel more kindly toward him.

  “We’ll stay out in the open to get there?”

  He held up his hand. “I promise. It’s a fifteen-minute walk from here, all busy streets.”

  She hesitated only a few moments more before finally agreeing. The guy—who introduced himself as Darius—lit up and actually grabbed her hand to lead her from the park. He was true to his word. The walk was safe, the convalescent home nearby. Along the way, Darius apparently decided Tessa was his new best friend and launched into the story of his brother.

  “Ilias was older than me,” he began. “Almost ten years. Our parents weren’t very fertile, and it took them a long time to have me. We didn’t grow up playing together with the age difference, but he always looked out for me and helped teach me things. He was great. Outgoing, good-looking. Everyone loved him.” Darius’s face fell for a moment, and then he rushed forward. “Last year, this guy kept showing up to see Ilias and our parents. I don’t know who he was or what he said, but everyone had a different reaction. Ilias always treated him like a joke. He was like that. Thought everything was funny. He talked about the guy like he was crazy. But our parents…they were different. They were upset every time he visited. Not upset—scared. After a while, they were just always on edge. You could see it all over them. And one day…my mom just cracked. She committed suicide. Cut her wrist in the bathtub.”

  Tessa flinched. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry.” Conversation faded after that.

  The facility that Darius’s father lived at tried very hard to pretend to be something else. Its façade was nearly as grand as the Koskinen house, though better maintained, and even its name sounded more like what you’d find with a country manor: Rose Grove. A clock in the lobby said it was nearly eleven, making Tessa worry about whether his father was still up.

  “He doesn’t sleep much,” Darius explained. He led her upstairs to a room on the third floor. A sign outside read OLAF SANDBERG.

  Olaf had the look of someone who’d aged before his time. He sat at a table in his room, talking to himself as he slid around puzzle pieces on a screen. “Red lin
e matches red…start with the corner, then find the others…can’t match blue with yellow….”

  Darius took a chair on the opposite side of the table. “Dad,” he said gently. “I have someone who wants to talk to you.”

  “That’s nice. Very nice.” Olaf’s eyes never left the screen.

  “She wants to talk about Mom and Ilias.”

  Olaf’s hands faltered on the screen, and pain crossed his face. “Over and done, over and done.”

  On impulse, Tessa set up her camera on a nearby table. It wasn’t ideal, but she thought this might be worth recording for Justin. She then sat in an empty chair between the two men, more than a little unnerved by Olaf’s disposition. She was no interrogator, nor did she even really know why she was here. She let Darius take the lead and witnessed a remarkable change in him. The frantic desperation was gone, replaced by a calmness and heartbreaking affection for his father.

  “Dad, she wants to know about the goddess you’re always telling me about. The one you made the deal with.”

  “Over and done,” repeated Olaf, his voice shaking.

  “Did she kill Mom?”

  “No.” The old man’s head shot up, and he doled out glares to each of them. “No one took her. She gave herself up. Do you understand? No one took her. She was strong.”

  Tessa wasn’t sure about that if she’d killed herself. Darius’s resigned expression said he’d heard all of this many times and was simply trying to draw out his dad’s story for Tessa’s benefit.

  “She gave herself up for Ilias,” said Darius, seeking confirmation.

  “She wanted a life. It should’ve been enough.”

  Tessa hadn’t wanted to get involved, but again, her mind was trying to understand. “Your wife wanted a life?”

  “No! Of course not.” Olaf paused to slide some more puzzle pieces around. “She did. The dark one.”