Richelle Mead - The Immortal Crown

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.