The Omega was unusually full by the time Will arrived at four on Tuesday afternoon, half a day after dragging himself away from Sigrid’s warm bed. He could’ve stayed, would’ve if he were more certain of her. It had been a great night, true, and she’d enjoyed the hell out of it. He’d made sure of that, after his first desperate rush to have her. She’d been well sated by the time he left and loose as a limp noodle.

He grinned as he took over from Eric at the bar, spelling the other man for a well earned break. She was supposed to come in tonight, and when she did, if he could sneak away for a dance with her, he would. That could be his break from work, holding the woman of his dreams close, touching her, bathing in her scent, kissing her.

His blood hummed underneath his skin. Oh, yeah. There’d definitely be kisses.

Will stayed on the floor after Eric returned, greeting new arrivals, directing them to the best places to find shelter and food, and mentally tallying each one against the supplies starting to pour in to the IECS’s storage, located deep within the Archives. He’d spent the morning overseeing shipments, unloading trucks, and stacking boxes, and should’ve been worn out, thanks to a lack of sleep and excess physical exertion.

He passed a freshly built stout off to a customer and tried hard not to grin. Oddly enough, excitement buzzed in his veins, fueling the work he had to get through before he could crash. Another long day tomorrow. More trucks coming in, more new faces, he’d bet, and another shift at The Omega, maybe capped by a daily dance with his woman.

If that was the routine he’d be following until whatever storm was coming their way passed, he didn’t mind one bit.

An hour before the supper crowd usually straggled in, his grandmother strolled into The Omega. Will passed off bartending duties to Eric and walked around the bar into the main portion of the room. Anya met him halfway and turned her face up for a kiss.

Will went one better and added a hug to his peck on her cheek, then eased back, his hands still cupping her shoulders. “What’s wrong, Amma?”

A mischievous grin lifted her expression. “Who says something’s wrong? Can’t I come visit my favorite grandson when I’m of a mind?”

“That would fly if you came in here more often.”

He slid an arm around her shoulders and squeezed, mindful of her fragility. She’d always been strong, a force to be reckoned with, and mortality sat well on her, but she was old in a way Sigrid was not, physically old, their great age notwithstanding. The perpetual youth granted by An’s curse was gone now, broken by her heart’s truest love, allowing Anya to age as mortals did, as he did.

He grimaced. That’s just what he needed right now, a reminder of one of the biggest hurdles standing between him and Sigrid.

Anya placed a cool hand over his. “I do need to talk to you, if you have time.”

He cut a side-eyed glance at her. “I knew something was wrong.”

“Subtlety must be passing me by in my old age.”

“Age doesn’t have anything to do with it,” he said mildly, and earned a reprimanding pat from her.

He took her to his office through the hustle and bustle of waitstaff and kitchen help preparing for the evening meal, closed the door behind them, and sat down on the sofa beside her. “So what brings a councilmember to my humble bar on a Tuesday evening?”

“I’m not here as a councilmember. I’m here as your grandmother and the head of your family.” Anya turned toward him on the couch and curled one leg under the other. “Chana Wolfbane visited me today.”

“Oh?”

“She wishes to court you.”

Will’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s the first I’ve heard of it.”

“She struck me as being…” Anya’s grin reappeared, wider now. “Old-fashioned. I gathered she expected me to make the decision, though she took it well when I said it was up to you.”

It hadn’t always been. At one time, a Son, especially a Son as well-connected as Will, would’ve had his entire life arranged for him from birth to death, often without his having a say in any part of it.

Was he ever glad to’ve been born in an era when such customs were no longer strictly followed.

“Is there a chance you’ll consider her suit?” Anya asked.

The previous night popped into his head. Dancing with Sigrid in her dining room, carrying her to her bed, making love to her again and again and again until they were both spent. Arousal swept through him, so swiftly his breath stalled. He rubbed a fingertip along his temple and forced himself to breathe, just in case his grandmother was still as sharp as she’d always been.

She stretched a hand toward him and brushed it across his knee. “There’s another?”

Well, damn. A Son couldn’t get away with anything around this bunch.

He considered the situation carefully, turned it around and around in his mind searching for the best response, and finally said, “There could be.”

“Sigrid Glyvynsdatter?”

Why was he surprised? They’d been seen dancing together. His truck had been parked outside her house until well past midnight last night. Gossip was bound to reach his grandmother eventually, and through her, his mother.

Anya sighed and tightened her grip on his knee. “You care for her.”

How could he deny it? “I do.”

“Will, darling.” Anya sighed again and withdrew her hand, and her expression was more one of regret than disappointment. “She’s asked for you, you know.”

Surprise huffed out of him on a short laugh. “What?”

“Sigrid approached me this afternoon and asked permission to court you. I told her the same thing I told Chana, that it was up to you.”

“You did?”

“My first instinct was to reject her.”

Panic shoved him off the couch onto his feet. “No, you can’t.”

Anya arched a single, gray eyebrow. “I can’t?”

“No, I mean, wait.”

He shook his head and paced away from her. Sigrid had actually offered for him? Why hadn’t she asked him about it first? He nearly smacked his forehead. Of course, she wouldn’t ask him. A Daughter of her age and arrogance would never consider asking a mere, mortal man such a thing, but to approach his grandmother with this, to enter into a formal courtship…

Maybe Sigrid did care for him, just a little.

He whirled around and faced Anya. “I love you.”

“Ok,” she said, her voice even and just a little curious.

“But I want you to butt out.”

“Ah. I knew there was a catch.” She shifted on the sofa, placed both feet on the floor, and folded her hands in her lap, ever the calm matriarch. “You have feelings for her.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Strong feelings?”

He didn’t even have to think it over. “Yes.”

Her head tilted to the side and her cornflower blue eyes narrowed on him. “Chana Wolfbane is an excellent match. She would bring a considerable fortune to our family, and would protect you to her dying breath. Her mother would make a powerful ally. Having a refuge in Turkey would strengthen our families ties in that region.”

“Forget it, Amma,” Will said flatly. “I’m not marrying a woman for political gain.”

“But you would for love?”

“If I had the chance.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.” She stood slowly, as graceful now as he ever remembered her being. “I can’t give you my blessings for a match with Sigrid, not at the moment. I know her too well and have no desire to see you hurt.”

Will regarded her for a long moment. “Will you stand in our way?”

“Sigrid asked me that very same question.” Anya shook her head, sending her long, nearly white braids shifting across the red peasant blouse she wore. “I won’t come between you. For now.”

Relief sighed out of Will and the tension tightening his shoulders bled away. It was more than he’d hoped for, though in all honesty, he’d never envisioned being faced with this decision, not when Sigrid was the Daughter in question. The fact that she’d thought to formally court him boggled his mind, and left him hanging somewhere between wonder and uncertainty.

Which, come to think on it, was exactly where he’d been since that first kiss.

He stepped up to his grandmother, cupped her shoulders, and touched his forehead to hers. “I do love you, Amma.”

“I know, darling.” She cupped his face in her hands and stroked her thumbs along his cheeks. “I’ll have to tell your mother. She’ll probably rush home to see to her little boy’s wellbeing.”

He laughed at that. “Tell her there’s no hurry.”

“Tell her yourself. She texted me last night, wondering what you were up to. I told her you were busy on Council business.”

Which was true enough. It shouldn’t have surprised him that his grandmother knew. “I’ll call her in the morning,” he promised.

He and Anya went back out into the bar proper, him to his duties making sure customers were well satisfied, her to hers greeting newcomers as the councilwoman she was. Will tucked their conversation and its revelations away for another time, though in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help dwelling on Sigrid and the surprise of having her seek a formal relationship with him.

 

 

Early Wednesday morning, Sigrid and George met in one of the workrooms set aside specifically for housing and testing the known remains of the Seven Sisters. Three specially designed boxes rested on the long island positioned in the middle of the room, each containing a different set of the Bones of the Just, procured from three different locations.

Pieces of the first skeleton had been hanging on a wall in the nightclub Bones, and were discovered during a battle between Daniella Nehring and her mother, Lilith Cæstus. The puzzle over how the remains of a Sister had ended up there had never been solved, but safe money was on Lilith having had something to do with it. Her secrets had died with her the day her youngest daughter had skewered her to a dance floor, so they would probably never know the whys.

Sigrid would’ve loved to have been there the day Lilith was killed. She and Lilith had had a couple of run ins over the centuries. The other Daughter had been vicious and cruel, and had been one of the few who could best Sigrid in a bout, fair or not.

Jerusha Mankiller and her now fiancé Drew Martin had discovered the second set of remains in Turkey during their hunt for Sanctuary, positively identified as the skeleton of Marnan, and had provided information on the whereabouts of a third set, the skeleton of Eleni, which had been retrieved from Boston.

George entered the room carrying a box identical to the three Sigrid was studying and set it on the table beside the others. He sat down on a tall stool next to the workspace crossing one wall, file folder in hand. His shoulders were relaxed under his lab coat and a shy smile graced his boyish expression. “I finally have the admixture analyses on the Bones of the Just. Sorry it took so long.”

The ethnicity test results, at last. Sigrid perched on a stool beside him. “No apologies are necessary. We’re all busy right now.”

“Yeah, well.” He glanced at the folder in his hand as if he’d forgotten he held it, then opened it. “Right. The results were exactly what we expected. All three show strong Near Eastern origins, nearly pure, as a matter of fact. And guess what? That fourth box there? It’s a near match in ethnicity to the other three.”

Sigrid straightened on her stool. “Another Sister?”

George shrugged. “Female, same mitochondrial DNA, same ethnic origins, and a remarkable similarity in bone structure from the cellular level out, so she probably grew up in the same environment. If she wasn’t a Sister, she was closely related to them.”

“Where did you find that?”

“It’s the remains Moira found in the Archives a while back. It didn’t hit me until I was running the admixture analyses on the Bones of the Just that these remains were very similar.”

Was it true, then? Had a Sister’s remains been stored here in Tellowee, sheltered from time and their enemies, right under the very noses of those searching for it? Excitement raced under Sigrid’s skin. She crossed her arms over her chest and eyed the boxes.

Four sets of bones, possibly four of the Seven Sisters gathered in one of the People’s centers? No wonder Rebecca thought the Prophecy of Light was finally coming to pass.

She shrugged the speculation off and returned her attention to George. “Any mutations in the mitochondrial DNA?”

He shook his head sharply. “Sorry, no. They’re all exactly the same, just what we’d expect of four sisters born of the same woman.”

“So none of these bones belonged to Abragni, though by process of elimination we know two belong to Marnan and Eleni.” Sigrid squelched her disappointment and crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s too bad genetics can’t help us identify which Sisters the other remains belong to.”

“Maybe someday, but hey. We’re lucky we could get enough DNA out of the skeletons to run tests, and really, without documentary evidence, we’d have no way to say for certain that these are the remains of any of the Sisters.”

“True.”

“I mean, we know they’re old. Sure, they are, and we can sort of guess at their ethnic background through the science and technology available now.” George twisted around on the stool and faced the protective boxes, excitement radiating from his eyes and his posture. “But if we didn’t have somebody’s word, if we didn’t know through documents or whatever, how could we pinpoint their identities as much as we have?”

Sigrid relaxed against the edge of the work table, doing her best to suppress her humor. “Good thing we have an Archives full of documentation, yes?”

A faint blush brightened his cheeks and his shoulders slumped. “Sorry. I just get excited about the possibilities.”

“Don’t apologize, George. Cherish your excitement while you have it.” The Lady Ki knew Sigrid had lost hers long ago, and rediscovered it only recently in a towheaded Son with beautiful green eyes and a kiss so potent, it left her reeling two days later.

They had danced last night under the fairy lights strung above the dance floor at The Omega.

Warmth suffused her, from the memory of his touch, from the anticipation filling her. They would dance again tonight, if she had her way, and since Will seemed unable to deny her such simple wishes, she would. Afterward, perhaps he would indulge her again by spending the night in her bed, or she in his. Where her young lover was concerned, she too had a hard time saying no.

George cleared his throat. “So, anyway. About the other day.”

Sigrid arched an eyebrow. In the past, such a gesture would’ve sent him running. Now he merely continued his rambling thoughts aloud, as had become his habit in the past few days.

“I wanted to thank you for letting me unload about Andrea.” He grimaced down at the file folder in his hands and tightened his fingers around its edges. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I mean, you’re my boss and personal stuff shouldn’t bleed over into work, but I—”

Sigrid leaned forward and touched his forearm, stopping him in mid-ramble. “I’m not just your boss, George. I’m the Daughter responsible for your wellbeing during your tenure here at the IECS. You are, in effect, part of my family. If I had no care for you, I would fail myself as well as you.”

“You Daughters and your duty.” George shook his head, his scowl deeper now. “Anyway, I appreciate it. Talking to you helped a lot.”

“I wish you would allow me to intercede on your behalf.” She curled her hand around his and waited until he looked at her before continuing. “If you were my Son and truly a part of my family, I would go to Andrea’s family and seek Retribution on your behalf.”

“But I’m not a Son. I’m not anything.”

The sadness in his voice rent right through her heart. “You are more than you believe, George, much more, and I won’t have you saying otherwise.”

“You won’t, huh?” A small smile eased the gloom in his expression. “I guess since you said so, I have to believe it, right?”

“Now you understand. A Daughter’s word is law.”

His smile turned into a grin, then into laughter, and he chuckled so hard, she could do nothing less than join him in his humor.

When he’d finally wound down, he said, “Thanks. Really. It’s a lot better working here, now that I know you’re still human.”

“Pfft,” she scoffed, and tilted her nose into the air, affecting a snobbery she knew well how to use to her advantage, when the time was right. “I am no mere human. I am a Daughter of the line of Bagda, a warrior of the ages, and not one to be trifled with. You would do well to remember that.”

“Oh, trust me. I will.” He handed the folder to her and tilted his head toward the boxes holding court in the center of the room. “Time for these to go into storage?”

“Not yet.” She tapped the edge of the file against her skirt and considered the Bones of the Just. “How is the testing coming for the skeletal remains in the on-site museum?”

George winced and hissed in a breath. “Damn it. I knew I was forgetting something.”

Sigrid clucked her tongue. “For this, I shall have to punish you. Next time, the beers are on you.”

“You’re on. Speaking of, are you going to The Omega tonight?”

She turned her gaze to a search for nonexistent lint on her skirt. “Of course, and you?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He cleared his throat, then said in a carefully casual voice, “Will’s a pretty good guy, yeah?”

A slow smile found its way into her expression. “Indeed, he is.”

“Maybe you should, ah, you know.” He shrugged and a hint of pink rose in his cheeks. “Be nice to him. I mean, the way you were with me.”

“I am doing my best,” she assured him, then turned matters away from the personal onto work, marveling the whole while about the transformation one simple conversation had had in George’s demeanor.