A mile down the road soon brought her to what seemed like a pretty good possibility for the Grand Disciple’s residence. The lodge was built into the side of a hill that afforded what was probably a stunning view of the lake. A fence enclosed a wide perimeter of gardens and ornamental trees around the house, and Mae could vaguely make out control panels that indicated the fence was probably another electrified one. Lights shone strategically on the grounds and in the house, but they were faint and seemed to be the type that were regularly left on when a house was vacant. She saw no signs of any other occupation, which made sense if the Grand Disciple was busy entertaining Justin.
Feeling confident, Mae scouted out a tree that would allow her to jump the fence, just as she’d done at Carl’s. But once she was actually up in the tree, a look down showed her that there might be more danger than just the fence itself. Tiny, nearly obscured pinpricks of light on the fence’s interior side indicated some secondary defense system. Mae jumped back down and approached one of the control panels on a fence post. Its display showed readings for more than just electric current in the fence: there was also a motion sensing field being projected from the fence onto the grounds. If she jumped over, she’d promptly set off that alarm and give herself away.
The panel’s display had a keypad ready to accept a security code, but Mae couldn’t make any attempt at guessing that. She needed a more primitive solution. After a few moments of studying the wires and cords coming out of the control panel, she did a quick walk around the property and soon had a sense for how the fence’s power was generated. It fed out of a large cord, which wound up a power pole into a control box, which was then connected to more wires feeding out to large power lines running along the road.
Exposed power lines were rare but not unheard of in the RUNA, especially in more rural areas. Mae had seen a few in the outskirts of the Nordic land grant—and had also seen how susceptible they were to storms. Operating on the idea that Arcadian technology was faultier than her homeland’s, she scoured the wooded area around the fence until she found the biggest fallen limb that she could reasonably carry up the pole with her. It made for a cumbersome journey, but the pole was designed for worker access and had hand and footholds that made the task much easier than climbing the tree earlier. Wrapping her legs around the top of the pole, Mae swung the limb down on the wire leading to the fence—only to have the wire stay firmly connected.
So much for faulty Arcadian technology. Mae had seen power lines at home brought down by smaller limbs and had assumed this would be simple. She supposed anyone building and powering a residence out in the woods wouldn’t have done so without reinforcing their power lines. Sizing up another swing, Mae struck the power line again and managed to put more of her weight into it. Doing so cost her her balance and secure hold on the pole’s top, however. She managed to scramble at the last moment and save herself from plummeting to the ground, but her strike with the limb turned out more unwieldy than she’d intended. She not only hit the line running to the fence but also the one feeding into the house. Both fell, swinging down in a shower of sparks.
Mae clung to the pole and held her breath. Two things were very likely to happen. One was that a power outage would trigger some kind of backup alarm system, sending security forces out this way. She’d have no way of knowing that until they actually showed, however. The other possibility was that losing main power would trigger a backup generator, meaning her acrobatics had been for nothing. But as the lights in the house and on the grounds went out and continued to stay that way, Mae realized she might have gotten lucky on that, at least. In fact, as she climbed down, she wondered if she’d gotten lucky inadvertently knocking out the house’s main power by accident. After all, the house probably had a security system she would have had to deal with as well. Now there were no obstacles preventing her from going inside, so long as she could beat any backup coming.
Wasting no time, she ran up to the house’s main door. A manual lock kept it closed, power or no power, but no active security system meant she could freely break a nearby window without consequences. There’d be tangible signs of a break-in, yes, but so long as she was gone in a timely manner, it wouldn’t be connected to her—or hopefully the person who’d raided the salon. An ornamental garden urn proved a useful tool for smashing a large enough opening in the window, but once she was inside the house, Mae discovered her luck might be out.
“What was that?” she barely heard a voice say. It was followed by the sound of running feet.
So. Apparently the house was occupied after all, not by its main resident, but by security guards skulking in the dark. She’d seen no obvious movement in her initial observations and had been foolish to assume the Grand Disciple wouldn’t leave a manual security system in place. Mae dove behind a large couch, using the shadows and darkness to her advantage as three men with flashlights came barreling into the room. They immediately ran toward the broken window, studying it with their backs to her. One of them tucked his flashlight under his arm and used his free hand to retrieve an old-fashioned radio communication device. Mae didn’t know if he had on-site or off-site backup in mind, but she couldn’t risk either. She sprang out from the couch, again using her gun as a blunt weapon, just as she had at the salon. Shooting would’ve been more efficient, but she didn’t want to risk Arcadian forensics tracking the gun back to the salon. Tonight’s altercations needed to seem unrelated.
She effectively took out the guy with the radio in one blow, aided by the element of surprise. His comrades took a little more finessing, but they too were caught unprepared and limited with hands full of guns and flashlights. Their eyes weren’t attuned to the darkness like Mae’s were, and she was too fast for them to initially get a good a fix on, though one managed a few futile shots. Within a minute, she had both of them knocked unconscious on the ground.
There were apparently others in the house, however, and the shots drew them to this location. Their feet and flashlights gave them away, and Mae hid in the shadows once more, using similar techniques to take each one by surprise as he came into the room. She had seven unconscious men down by the time the house truly and finally stayed silent. Someone still might have gotten out a call for backup, or the power failure might’ve automatically done so. Regardless, Mae wasted no more time and began exploring the house. She tucked the gun from the salon into her belt and took one of the fallen men’s gund to hold in its place. She also retrieved his flashlight but didn’t turn it on yet, instead relying on ambient light from the moon outside. She didn’t want to give herself away as the others had done.
The house was the height of luxury, even by Gemman standards. Passing through opulent bedrooms and parlors, Mae wondered how much time the Grand Disciple spent here and how much entertaining he did. She also wondered if this was all paid for by priestly salary or “contributions” from followers. But although each room was furnished with rich fabrics and artwork, she saw nothing like the staff that had been described to her. Conscious of the time passing while the girls waited for her, Mae was nearly ready to call the mission a failure when she flung open what seemed like a bedroom’s closet door and found— another door.
A glowing panel on the door showed her that at least one part of the house was using a generator. After a little bit of study with the flashlight, she discovered the panel was a palm reader. Apparently, the Grand Disciple would take no risk of anyone guessing a code. Knowing she couldn’t forge his palm, she studied the panel and door frame, looking for any sign of a power source that she might disable in a similar way. She found nothing, meaning it was too well-concealed or possibly kept in another part of the house. Before she could decide whether to go after it, she heard more voices and movement.
“Sir! Don’t go in until we know what happened here. Someone could still be inside.”
“If they are, I know exactly where they’ll be,” said a voice Mae recognized. “You—come with me. The rest of you check the remainder of the house and cal
l someone to get the power back.”
Mae’s heart rate sped up. The Grand Disciple was here. From the sound of it, his arrival might very well have been coincidental, meaning his retinue might be small. It didn’t sound like it would stay that way, and Mae intended to leave before the others showed up. As it turned out, however, the place the Grand Disciple knew any intruder would be was the very room she was in. He and a guard appeared in the doorway before she could get out. Mae froze as a flashlight illuminated her, and the guard trained his gun on her.
“Don’t move!” yelled the guard.
“Don’t shoot him,” warned the Grand Disciple. His eyes were wide as he studied Mae in the flashlight’s glow. At first, she thought he’d recognized her but soon discovered something else had caught his attention. “Who do you serve?” he demanded. “Who sent you? I’ve never felt power like this . . . not here in my own country, at least . . .”
Mae didn’t dare answer, not when her voice would possibly give away her identity and most certainly her nationality. She didn’t want to bring trouble to the other Gemmans. Knowing her speed was superior, she fired on the guard, moving at the same time to make sure she was out of the line of fire of any return shot. Before he’d even hit the ground, she grabbed hold of the Grand Disciple who put up zero resistance as she dragged him to the closet door. Maybe he was too stunned by this turn of events . . . or maybe he just didn’t know how to overpower people without the full force of his office.
She forcibly pressed his palm to the scanner. It turned green, and the door unlocked. As soon as she had it open, she slammed him down hard, so that his head hit the wall and he slumped to the ground.
On the other side of the door, she saw a small room containing only a table. And on that table was a golden staff with an eagle perched on top, just as she’d been told. Mae sprang for it and heard a voice croak out behind her: “You’ll never be able to touch it. You’ll—”
Her hand closed around the staff, and a shock ran through her, like static electricity. The staff shimmered before her eyes, then twisted and changed shape. Moments later, she was holding not a staff but a torc, an open-ended neck ring worn by ancient Celtic and Nordic peoples. It was still made of gold, but rather than an eagle, the torc’s two ends now displayed dragon heads.
The coat she wore had large pockets, and Mae carefully tucked it inside one. Her blow was keeping the Grand Disciple down, but he was still conscious enough to stare in gaping disbelief. “How . . .”
Mae stepped over him without a word or glance. She could hear a commotion in the rest of the house and knew more guards were coming. Rather than go back out through the house itself, she used an end table to break the bedroom’s window and create an escape onto the roof. Not looking back to see if she was being followed, she darted outside and managed to deftly leap over the various eves of the lodge until she found a low enough point to safely drop to the ground. If anyone had followed her, none would be able to conduct that roof walk as skillfully, which gave her a lead. And as she ran off into the woods, two cars pulled up in the house’s driveway, showing her that for now, at least, the attention was on the house.
Pumped full of adrenaline and emotion, she ran back to the van in nearly half the time it had taken her to get to the house earlier. All the girls were still inside, many recoiling in fear when she burst in and immediately started the engine. “We have to get out of here,” she said, as though her frantic actions didn’t make that clear.
She tore off for the main highway, knowing that if she could do it without passing anyone on the lake’s road, they’d be safe. If there were more responders coming, her van would be suspect, fleeing from the scene. Either luck or the knife’s goddess was with her because she made it back to the highway, heading south toward the junction without incident. Mae didn’t allow herself hope, though, until she reached the westbound road going off into the Arcadian wilderness. Even then, she didn’t entirely relax but knew that she had eluded immediate pursuit from those looking for whoever had robbed the Grand Disciple’s lodge. For all she knew, however, patrols were out monitoring these roads in search of the salon’s raider. Even if no one knew a Gemman woman had attacked the salon, the word might still be put out that kidnappers were on the loose in a van matching this description.
But as one and then two hours passed, Mae saw no signs of pursuit or patrol. Either no one monitored these hinterlands, or else she’d been too fast for her crimes to catch up with her. Mae was starting to think she’d actually pulled off the impossible—twice—tonight when the van began to sputter and tremble. Mae felt the motor choke up and finally stop altogether, forcing her to guide it off to the road’s shoulder.
“I knew this thing sounded bad,” she muttered, staring bleakly at the instrument panel. Cecile leaned toward her.
“I think it’s out of gas,” she said, pointing toward a dial aimed at the letter E.
“We haven’t been on the road that long,” protested Mae. “Even with the detour.” Admittedly, she hadn’t checked the fuel gauge when setting out. She hadn’t thought to. Gemman cars, even most of the manual ones, ran on solar power or highly charged batteries. Those that did use fossil fuels were so efficient that she would’ve expected even half a tank to last longer than this. The cars themselves also would’ve told her if they were running low on fuel. “I don’t suppose there’s any way of knowing where we could buy gas,” she said. They’d passed a place on the main highway when starting out but had seen nothing in some time.
“No woman would ever go buy gas anyway,” said Cecile. Although she was fascinated by Mae, she’d also picked up quickly that there were some things Mae just wasn’t savvy to.
Mae got out of the van and stood on the side of the dark road. Night insects chattered around her, and a humidity reminiscent of what she’d grown up with dampened the air. They were surrounded by fields scattered with trees and had no other landmarks or signs of civilization. Looking up, however, Mae found guides in the sky. It was a perfectly clear night, filling the sky with more stars than she could remember having seen at once. Her father used to stargaze with her when she was younger and had taught her the basic constellations, many of which she could see now: the great bear, the small bear, the dragon. One in particular caught her eye, Cassiopeia—the queen. Mae remembered her father teaching it to her on a small tablet, which had overlaid an image of a crowned and enthroned woman across the stars. There was probably an old myth behind that constellation, one that Justin would know.
He lingered on her mind for a moment, but as Mae gazed at the cluster of stars and thought of that crowned woman, it was her guiding goddess who soon dominated her thoughts. This time of year, the queen was almost directly to the north. Now, it would seem, was the time for faith and divine favors.
Cecile came up beside her, with Monica and the girl whose coat Mae had borrowed not far behind. “What are we going to do? Some of the little girls are getting scared.”
“And they want to use the bathroom,” added Monica.
The girl Mae had traded coats with held out something. “This was tangled in your old coat,” she said nervously. Mae took it and saw Justin’s charm, the one that obscured her from being recognized as one of the elect. So. That explained why the Grand Disciple had reacted as he had. She fastened the necklace back on and couldn’t spare any extra worry for what the consequences of that slip might be.
Instead, Mae’s eyes focused on the stars a few seconds more, and then she fixed her attention on the dark shapes of the two girls beside her. “First, some of you are going to help me push this van off the road and out of sight. After that, we’re going home,” she said. “On foot.”
CHAPTER 22
A Long Two Days
Hannah’s disappearance wasn’t discovered right away, giving Justin some time to brief Lucian that their world had just been turned upside down. Ironically, Mae’s raiding of the salon down the highway caused enough of a stir that first night that no one in Carl’s family sp
ared a thought for Hannah.
“They said it must’ve been a whole team of guys,” Walter told Carl. It was late, and most of the household would’ve normally been in bed if not for the breaking news. Walter and some of his other brothers had just returned from a local tavern where they’d gotten the scoop. “Everyone shot dead except one, all the girls taken. Heard there was a fire or something too—like maybe they tried to burn the place down to cover their tracks.”
Justin was lounging in a stuffed arm chair in Carl’s study, trying to appear casual, though anyone looking closely would’ve noticed the death grip on his untouched scotch. After the exhausting evening with Hansen’s followers, Justin couldn’t have stomached the alcohol if he’d wanted to, and the latest developments had only reinforced the need for sobriety. Across the room, Lucian’s drink was equally untouched, and his eyes met Justin’s at the mention of “a whole team of guys.” A whole team—or one Mae.
Justin almost felt bad for Lucian. Justin had at least been semi- prepared, knowing about Mae’s last secret visit to the salon and her niece. That didn’t make tonight’s developments any easier to handle, but Lucian had had it much worse when Justin had essentially told him in sixty seconds that Mae had run off to liberate stolen Gemman girls and left a fugitive Arcadian concubine in her place.
“Damn,” said Carl, stamping a cigar butt into his ashtray. “Pittsfield had some fine girls there too.”
“Is this common?” asked Phil, legitimately curious. He was, as of yet, blissfully unaware of the disaster unfolding in the Gemmans’ laps.
“Not usually around here, this close to the city,” said Carl. “Out in the real country . . . yeah, you’ll get all kinds of barbarism. People stealing their neighbor’s daughters. It’s savage. Makes me sad to see it happening here.”