Epilogue – Marcus
Marcus made a half hearted attempt to turn his snarl into a forced smile as the elderly couple standing next to him apologised for bumping into him for the third time. The couple, who were in full on flirt mode, barely appeared to notice. At their age? He didn’t know whether to be appalled or applaud.
Grrr, he attempted to shift further away from them. But the party was crowded, and space, especially around the bar was at a premium. Withholding a sigh of frustration, Marcus focused once more on his top of the line - wouldn’t even be released to the public for another three years – tablet computer. He was running over three dozen search criteria at once. And though he’d set the parameters to flag even the slightest anomaly, he couldn’t help but feel that if he studied the data, he might see something that a machine wouldn’t.
It was a false hope. His search parameters had been impeccably coded. He’d done them personally. And for an extra layer of security, he had six world-class hackers back at Maat Tower, performing their own highly unique, highly illegal searches. It was pure frustration causing him to act so unfocussed and irrational.
He was taking this personally. Marcus knew better than to let emotions take over. But it had been almost five months now since Hadleigh had learnt that Serena, an Earth Witch, friend, and sidekick on their paranormal reality show, Para-Exterminators, had been kidnapped by the sons of the God of Chaos; Sek, Mot and Bal.
Initially, the trio had wanted Serena for her blood, intending to use it in a ritual to resurrect their father, Apep. But Serena had proven a tricky prisoner and during one of her escape attempts had killed Bal.
His brothers, Sek and Mot, wanted revenge on Serena. Intending to imprison and punish her slowly and painfully for the rest of her very long life. It was Marcus’s job to find out where Serena was being held. Currently, he and his hacker team were combing through the supply and acquisition forms for every prison, hospital, institution, and holding facility in the State of Texas.
The demi-god dickheads might be able to hide Serena or change her name, but records were set in stone. Accounting systems were rigid and demanding. Bed numbers, room inhabitants, medication, food orders, they were all automated, collated, and had to add up. Somewhere, there was an anomaly just waiting to be identified.
Of course finding Serena was just priority number one on the list for Marcus. Identifying the location of Sek and Mot was a close second. Fuck, the idiots were dragging around their father’s corpse, a mummy in a sarcophagus. They should have been easy to track, but the duo was proving elusive and cunning.
Marcus couldn’t help but feel he was letting his fellow Warriors, his brothers-in-arms, down. It was foolish and a waste of time to let guilt gnaw away at him. But there was so much at stake, not just Serena’s life, but all of humanity if Sek and Mot succeeded in resurrecting their father, the God of Chaos.
Discovering their whereabouts was Marcus’s responsibility. It’s what he’d always done. Gathering information, dissecting it, seeing the patterns, making leaps of logic. He provided the direction. Then Rafe and Drum would strategize their approach. Vaughn, their Captain, would take point and lead them into battle. To victory. Ensuring the magical community didn’t spill over and create havoc in the mundane world.
It was their job. Their duty. Their life.
Just over a hundred years ago, Maat, the Goddess of Truth and Balance, had trawled the timelines and found seven men who had died as they lived, enforcing justice and righting wrongs.
She’d made each of them an offer. Upon their death they could travel onwards across the river Styx to the afterlife. Or, they could have the memory of their earthly life wiped and be re-born in the sun, to serve in Maat’s name as Elite Warriors. Semi-immortals. Her Staff of Righteousness. Her four Spears of Justice. And her two Seekers of Chaos.
Their mission; to seek out injustice and chaos where ever it might be. To keep order amongst the magical community and ensure the mundane world remained in ignorance. A reality TV show was the perfect cover for their off-camera activities.
Funny, no matter how terrifying an incident was, as soon as one of the team turned up in their Para-X uniform to deal with the trouble and then proceeded to ask people to sign a release form to appear on television, everyone instantly relaxed and assumed the whole thing was a hoax.
An idea they at Maat Headquarters had deliberately fostered, ensuring that their weekly TV show, featuring generally a highly publicised, but decidedly non-magical incident, bordered on the cheesy. Shaky camera work. Flashing strobe lights. Confusing heat and ultra-violet filters. Always shooting after dark and ensuring there were lots of heavy shadows as the team tried desperately to find some conclusive scientific proof that the supernatural was real…. not.
Marcus rolled his shoulders, wincing slightly. He tried to match his gym hours to off set the amount of time he spent hunched over his computer, but with Serena missing, and Sek and Mot out there, doing who knows what, his priorities had shifted lately. Wearily, Marcus rubbed at his eyes, he needed to cut down on his screen time, maybe look up once and a while and enjoy the party, or not, grimacing as the couple bumped him for the fourth time.
Crap, he really wasn’t in the party mood. Oh sure, Marcus was happy for his Captain and friend, Vaughn. He, and the gorgeous, bloodthirsty Hadleigh made an exceptional couple. It’s just that there was so much intel to trawl through.
Information was the key. Everything came down to ones and zeroes these days. From the tips that came into the Para-X website. To the constant search of the dark web and the internet for even the slightest hint of supernatural gone wrong, anything that would require the intervention of the Elite Warriors of Maat.
And if that weren’t enough of a workload, also requiring constant vigilance were the complex financial spreadsheets Marcus maintained overseeing Maat Enterprises’ extensive holdings.
Speaking of which, wasn’t there a warehouse in Chicago he’d been contemplating purchasing with a view to turning it into condos? He tapped the screen, bringing up the information. Hmmm, it was probably a better time to sell, than buy. The infrastructure wasn’t quite there yet. Probably another four to five years before tenants would be attracted to the area. Hold on, the warehouse looked decidedly familiar. Marcus scrolled through several photos, before enlarging an overhead shot. Bloody Hell. No wonder the place looked familiar. He, Maat Enterprises, already owned it and were trying to offload it.
So, it was official. He was burnt out. Marcus clenched his teeth to prevent a cutting remark from escaping as the couple next to him bumped him yet again. Snapping closed the tablet he scooped up his whiskey, the ice long melted, and pushed his way through the crowd.
Fuck, he just needed some space. For an outdoor party it sure was crowded. Halting at the edge of the dance floor, Marcus couldn’t help but smile as Vaughn and Hadleigh danced by, eyes only for each other.
Must be nice. To find your other half. The perfect complement to you. Marcus wondered if there was someone like that out there for him. She’d be smart of course. Interested in the same things he was; computers, information gathering. Deadly, that went without saying. Perhaps a Warrior accountant, or an Amazonian legal eagle. She’d be uncomplicated and drama-free. And she would fit into his life seamlessly, like the last piece in a puzzle.
And if she happened to be stunningly beautiful, well, that would just be icing on the cake. And if Marcus had anything to say about things, she’d look an awful lot like the gorgeous woman seated by herself off to his left. Silky, long, straight black hair that fell to her shoulder blades. Amazing eyes, hazel but overlaid by a web of pure green threads. There was just the slightest tilt to the edges, suggesting an exotic heritage in her lineage. A cupid bow shaped mouth that was surprisingly wide. Honey golden skin, with the faintest smattering of freckles across a narrow nose. And her cheeks were naturally suffused with a soft pink colour that made her glow with health and vitality.
Marcus found himself striding towards her. Not because he was interested in talking to the gorgeous woman, but because she was sitting alone at a table for eight and he was in dire need of a peaceful place to sit and work. Maybe in the last two minutes and fourteen seconds his search engines had come up with some information to help locate Serena, or Sek and Mot.
Brushing past a few party-goers drifting off the dance floor, Marcus instinctively slowed his stride, his internal alarms ringing. Crowded party? Woman sitting alone at a table for eight? More concerning, the no-man’s land of cleared space surrounding the table. Everyone was giving her a wide berth. Damn, there had to be something majorly wrong with her.
He should probably find another spot, he didn’t need any trouble or distractions right at this moment. Damn, his attention captured as he watched the gorgeous woman’s bow shaped mouth curve into a stunningly sexy smile as she raised her glass up high in a toast.
On auto-pilot, Marcus found himself closing in, disappointment flooding through his gut as he noted the woman was obviously pregnant. He also automatically catalogued she wore no ring on her wedding finger, nor was there a tan line to suggest she’d ever worn one. So she might possibly be available, thus explaining why his cock was still showing distinct interest. Thankfully his common sense gave him a mental wake up slap. This woman screamed drama, disruption and complications. Dis-engage, dis-engage.
The only reason he sat, Marcus assured himself, was for the space to work, not because of any lingering attraction he might be experiencing. Flipping open his tablet, he sent the raven haired beauty raising a glass of champagne in the air a sharp look. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Green shot hazel eyes zeroed in on the very large man daring to invade her table. “And I wouldn’t sit there if I were you.” Riya was so not in the mood for company.
“Haven’t you read any of the medical studies regarding the affects of alcohol consumption on foetal development? I could call a few up if you’d like?”
“The foetus is fine. It must have escaped your notice that I haven’t touched a drop.” Riya lowered her hand holding the full glass of flat champagne. “I was merely raising it in a symbolic gesture.”
“A-huh.” Marcus frowned down at his tablet. Shit, still nothing. He tapped a few commands in, zipping through a myriad of spreadsheets, sorting data into comparative columns. He just needed that anomaly.
Riya frowned. Lovely. A gorgeous Elite Warrior of Maat sits down at her table, gets all up in her grill about things that don’t concern him. And then… he proceeds to ignore her. Not that she wanted to talk with him, not with the mood she was in. Down one moment, dismayed by the lack of life in her… life. Up the next, ready to tackle the world with a brand new attitude.
Stupid pregnancy hormones. Getting blasted with them like this, Riya could only compare it to being a novice surfer suddenly finding themselves riding a thirty-foot storm wave. And she was supposed to be in a fit state to meet the father of her child? Heaven help the man, he would have to be a saint. And absolutely nothing like this jerk who had sat down at her table without even asking her permission, and was now completely ignoring her.
Big deal, so he was gorgeous. It wasn’t the packaging that made a man, it was his actions, his words. And so far, Riya wasn’t particularly impressed. Though the Warrior packaging was admittedly hot. He had to be only inches away from seven feet in height. And the tailored navy trousers and white, burnt orange and navy fine checked shirt couldn’t hide his ripped, leanly muscular frame. He had a strong, jutting jaw. His face sculpted, nose strong and straight. Hair inky black, like a starless night, too long, brushing past his collar and falling into his eyes. And what eyes, they were a stunning, deep, ocean blue. Focused, intent and strangely hypnotic. Giving the impression he was always alert, always assessing. That within a split second he knew all your strengths, all your weakness. All your secrets. It was disconcerting.
“Rude much. You know this is a party, right?”
Assessing blue eyes flicked up from the tablet screen. “Pardon?”
“You heard me. You rudely sit down, after commenting on my… situation, which is none of your business. Then you proceed to play some silly computer game and get all petulant because you are clearly losing.”
“This is a look of pure frustration, I’m working, not playing. And I was not rude, I was expressing concern for your unborn child. If I had wanted to be rude I would have said something along the lines of, given there is no hovering male, or a ring on that finger, then I can only assume you also believe birth control is a symbolic gesture.” Marcus couldn’t believe the words leaving his mouth.
There was just something about this woman, something that stirred his… anger? Anger? Why would he be angry? He didn’t even know the woman. Though it was obvious about seven months ago some random guy had. Just the thought made Marcus’s gut churn and his hands want to clench into fists. Seriously, he needed some down time, it was becoming more and more obvious he was stretched too thin and over tired.
Marcus assumed his table companion would hurl an insult at him and storm off, the one thing he wasn’t expecting was for her to throw back her head and laugh loudly. Merriment making her hazel green eyes sparkle.
“Heavens.” Riya’s laughter finally died down. “So, of the seven Maat Warriors, which one are you? I’m guessing it’s not Charming? Grumpy, perhaps?”
Marcus grinned at her, there was just something about her smile that made you want to smile too. “Marcus, Spear of Justice. And you?”
“Riya, Fate Weaver.”
“Fate Weaver? That’s like a thing?” Marcus loved nothing more than information. And he was intrigued as hell by this woman… this woman’s declaration.
“It’s a thing.” Riya held up her hands. “And I have the callouses to prove it.”
“I’m picturing a big ass loom and you sitting next to it, cackling as you act as puppet master to the whole human race.”
“People decide their own destiny. I just make sure they are in a good head space to make the right choice. No cackling involved, though occasionally I do sing along to the radio. And there’s no loom. I make clothes.”
Marcus frowned. “Clothes of destiny? That sounds kind of…”
“Awesome?”
Marcus shrugged. “I was going to say lame, sorry.”
“So far from charming, it beggar’s belief.”
“I apologise if I offended you. It’s just, clothes of destiny? As woo-woo magic goes, even you have to admit that sounds… tame on the power scale.”
Riya shook her head, she’d heard this kind of negativity regarding her powers ever since they’d fully kicked in when she was twelve. She had a speech prepared for all the naysayers. “Ever heard the line, clothes make the man? Clothes, my not-so-charming friend, make destiny. War, peace, declarations of love, acts of heroism, and sacrifice. They help define who a person is, giving them the strength to say yes when opportunity presents itself. Or for some, help them be brave enough to say no and mean it. No, to negativity. No, to the abusive boyfriend who proclaims love but whose fists tell a different story. Clothes can help motivate a person to step up, be counted, take the lead, or to step aside when the time is right. What we wear helps to define us, from the inside out. Helping us to be a better version of ourselves and to make the right choices to attain our destiny.”
Marcus pushed the hair back from his forehead. “It doesn’t sound as if you are out there slaying monsters.”
Riya rolled her eyes, obviously she wasn’t going to convince Charming here that her magic was valid and just as meaningful as a sword when it came to keeping the world safe. “In my own small way I do okay.”
A man like this, who killed things for a living, he’d never respect her powers. And the one thing Riya had always vowed was that she would never be in a relationship with a man who didn’t value her magic and understand its importance.
Good thing that Mr not-so-Charming was such a rude jerk then, she wasn’t missing out on anything. Though it would probably be better if they changed topics. “So, what’s got you so bent out of shape?” Riya glanced down at the matte black sleek computer tablet and then back to those focused – miss nothing – ocean blue eyes.
“You probably heard the reason that Hadleigh joined our team was because Serena, who used to work for the show, was kidnapped? I’m trying to find her. We’re pretty sure Sek and Mot have her imprisoned in some type of high security facility in Texas. Probably under a fake name. So I’m running searches on inmate birth records. And in case they have her completely off the books, I’m running another series of searches on bed occupancy numbers, utility usage, food orders and medical supplies. Somewhere there is an anomaly in an accounting system. I just have to find it.”
“What about laundry?” Riya queried.
“Most of these facilities do their own.”
“Perhaps, but they still have to keep records of how many sheets and inmate uniforms are required to keep their facility operating at maximum efficiency. It would at least be another factor to add in to those searches of yours.”
Marcus’s intense dark blue eyes flashed. “It certainly would.” He started typing, fingers flying. “This will just take a minute.” Barely thirty seconds later he was closing the tablet down. “Good idea, thanks.”
“Sometimes it just takes a fresh perspective. Now you can relax and let the computer do all the work while you enjoy the party.” Riya glanced around at the happy crowd. “I spy a number of female guests eyeing you, I could introduce you if you like?” More than a few visiting Valhalla Maidens, their war axes tucked into their belts, were out right staring in Marcus’s direction. And shooting Riya sharp glares of contempt and jealousy. Seriously, couldn’t they see there was nothing happening here but a pregnant lady taking a rest and an Elite Warrior of Maat being broody and rude. Ugh, Riya winced as the baby rolled. She wasn’t sure that was a feeling she would ever get used to.
“You okay?” Marcus peered at Riya’s belly in trepidation. As in-field medic for the team he knew a lot about treating gaping wounds. He knew next to nothing though about babies or pregnancy.
“You can take that horrified look off your face. Nothing exciting is going to happen, just the baby doing somersaults.”
“You didn’t look so thrilled for half a second there yourself.”
Riya shrugged, patting her belly. “I can say without fear of recrimination that this pregnancy has been nothing but a steep learning curve.”
“And was I right? No man in the picture?”
“No.” Riya smiled ruefully. “And every moment it looks less and less likely that he’ll ever step up.”
Marcus clenched his teeth, anger spearing him. Whoever had deserted Riya was out of their mind. She was gorgeous, smart and funny. Okay, her magic was definitely low on the power scale and pretty useless as all fuck. Fate Weaver? Clothes of destiny? Still sounded lame to him.
Of course she was the complete antithesis of what he was looking for in a woman. He liked them corporate, focused, ambitious, with a killer edge. Who understood that for him, his job was his life. It all boiled down to information gathering, training, and killing. The type of woman he normally played with were likewise driven, but willing to carve out time in their busy schedule for the only other important thing in life, sex.
Although, when was the last time Marcus had met a woman that even stirred his libido, not counting the gorgeous, heavily pregnant – so off limits she should have police tape surrounding her - one sitting across the table from him? A while definitely. Marcus struggled to remember his last relationship… hmm, perhaps five, maybe six months at least. Not since Hadleigh entered his friend’s life, and turned it upside down. Vaughn’s perfect match. And Marcus had witnessed the rightness. Of how the two complemented one another.
It had stirred something deep in him. Not dissatisfaction. His life was perfect. No complications. No drama. No one dividing his attention from what was important, his job. But watching Vaughn with Hadleigh, it made him want… more. More what, Marcus wasn’t exactly sure as yet, which was annoying. Perhaps he needed to pull back just a little on the work front. Find time to meet someone new.
Marcus’s gaze once more lowered to Riya’s belly, his gut clenching. He told himself his reaction was only normal. He was feeling righteous on Riya’s behalf, except… when he got angry it wasn’t usually this red haze of killing rage. Wanting to tear, rend and smash. Focus, asshole, you’re tired but there is no reason to lose it. “I could hunt him down.” Yeah. He liked that thought.
“Why are you smiling like that?” Riya shifted uncomfortably, the man had a killer smile. Or was that the killer in him smiling? Pregnancy came with hot flushes, right? “And hunt who down?”
“The missing father.” Marcus placed a hand down on the tablet. “I just need a name.”
“Oh, yes, a name.” Riya couldn’t help but laugh, her gaze travelling around the room. “See, this is where it gets a little complicated.”
Marcus fought not to wince. He loathed that word. Complicated was just another word for trouble. And why the fuck was he offering to get further involved in Riya’s life? The raspberry maternity dress she was wearing might as well have the word drama stamped all over it. Except he shouldn’t need to be reminded, the large baby bump staring him in the face was as good as a neon sign flashing - danger, danger, danger. Marcus couldn’t fathom why he was even still sitting here, talking to the woman.
“You don’t know his name, do you?”
Riya’s spine straightened, shoulders back, green threaded hazel eyes sparking. “I’m hearing judgment in that tone of yours, Charming.”
Marcus released a slow, deliberate breath. “No, absolutely no judgement here.”
“You should try unclenching your teeth when you say something like that, it tends to make it more believable.” Riya laughed softly. It was be amused, or be angry. And she knew from past experience that anger rarely got you anywhere.
“Fine, yes, there is judgement. In this day and age, I just think it is irresponsible to hook-up with a partner you clearly know nothing about and have unprotected sex.”
“You think there might be consequences?” Riya faked a look of concern and then placed both hands over her belly. “Like maybe getting pregnant, perhaps? That whistle you just heard was the train leaving the station.”
“You seem pretty cavalier about this whole situation.” It was Marcus’s job to assess all the angles and he didn’t get why Riya wasn’t more concerned. Or, why he couldn’t let this matter drop. “If you don’t know who the father is, you know nothing about his, or his family’s medical history. It also means you won’t be getting any financial help. Have you seen the latest indices released on how much it costs to raise a child? I can email them to you if you’d like? And have you considered how time consuming a baby will be? How it will impact your lifestyle? Your earning potential? This clothes of destiny thing can’t pay very much. At least with a partner in the picture you could have shared the load. Raising a baby alone, have you even thought it through? Have you factored dental into your healthcare projections? And don’t forget extra-curricular activities; music lessons, sporting equipment and uniforms.”
Riya’s jaw began to ache, she was surprised to find she was clenching her own teeth. Growing up with eleven brothers, it took a lot for someone to get under her skin. But this know-it-all, judgemental jerk seemed to have a natural knack for slamming his large fists down on all her buttons.
“Whether there is, or isn’t a baby-daddy in the picture is none of your concern. And I’ll have you know I own and run a very successful business. Plus, I have the love and support of a very close, very large family. I’m never alone.” Riya lurched to her feet, still unused to the added weight of the baby. “You can take your judgment, your rudeness, and all your indices and… and shove them where the sun don’t shine… jerk.” Riya swivelled, sending Marcus one last dirty look before waddling away as fast as she could. Not the most graceful of exits, but at least she’d told that condescending asshole off.
Riya’s heart thumped hard in her chest, high colour clinging to her cheeks. Heavens, when was the last time she’d let herself get truly angry? Too long. Well, no more playing nice. No more playing it safe. No more putting her life on hold. From now on, she was going to say yes to risks. Yes to adventure. And someday soon she’d meet the father of her future baby again and she’d say yes to him.
She had been distracted today, had probably met him and been too caught up in her own personal drama to appreciate his finer points. He’d be nice. Thoughtful. Supportive. Sweet. And he’d instantly understand and respect her magic. Absently, Riya patted her baby bump reassuringly. And when they were ready, when their life was perfect and harmonious, they’d talk about having kids and get to work on producing this little bundle of joy… in five… maybe seven years from now. She waddled faster, time was wasting away, Riya had places to be and a life to start living.
Marcus watched Riya disappear into the crowd. Fighting the strangest urge to go after her. To what end? To keep fighting with her? Weirdly, that idea appealed to him. Seriously, he need to focus on what was important. He was in service to a higher power, a Goddess. He had never been at the mercy of his libido, and he wasn’t going to start now because some gorgeous woman in distress was batting hazel green eyes his way.
Not that Riya had even hinted that she needed or required his help. But come on, with lame woo-woo magic powers like that and about to be a single mother, with no father in the picture? No wonder she was firing all his protective instincts… and that’s all that was firing. Marcus was experiencing nothing stranger than his go-to must protect the weak and innocent instincts that came with the Elite Warrior packaging.
Bloody hell, he stomped down hard on those feelings. As Riya had so succinctly pointed out, she wasn’t alone and struggling. She’d mentioned owning a business, and being surrounded by a supportive family. She’d called him an asshole and a jerk… just for pointing out the practical problems with her situation, it was clear she wouldn’t appreciate any further input from him. Even if he clearly was in the right.
Women, they could be so irrational. Not to mention complicated and overly dramatic. Ding, ding, Riya had clearly exhibited all those attributes, which landed her squarely in the forbidden zone… pity, that smile, those eyes… no, crap, he needed some sleep.
Marcus’s phone buzzed at the same time his tablet beeped. Lightning fast he coded in his password. Well… Hell. Thanks to Riya’s suggestion he might just have a lead on where Sek and Mot had stashed Serena. Finally. He glanced up to see if any of his fellow Warriors were nearby to share the good news. No, this was a party, a celebration. No reason to interrupt their good time until he had confirmation. Hunching over, Marcus began typing fast, narrowing and refining the search parameters.
All his hunting instincts fired, his gut flooding with a heightened sense of anticipation… they were close now, he could feel it. Every cell was vibrating and alert. And this feeling in no way resembled the sharp sense of recognition he’d experienced when he’d first laid eyes on Riya. No, not at all. That had been his common sense warning him of complications and drama on the horizon, nothing more. And, By the Sands, why was he still thinking about the woman?
Determinedly, Marcus pushed all thoughts of Riya aside, the job, that was what was important and always would be. The job was his life.
But maybe, sometime in the not so distant future, he should look into finding that perfect woman. The complication free one, who would slot into his life, without making a ripple. The final piece in his puzzle.