She spared them little more time than that, however. Battle mode seized her, driven by both her normal fighter nature and the influence of that dark presence that reveled in violence. That darkness seemed to take especial satisfaction out of battling the servants of a god, and for a moment, Mae had the surreal sense of being involved in something much bigger than what was, ultimately, a scuffle with some delusional hotheads. The pews made for awkward fighting, but it was more trouble for them than for her, and as soon as she had a semi-clear space around her and Justin, she took out her gun and fired a shot into the air. Everyone froze.

“Back off,” she ordered, moving into a position that gave her a vantage on everyone in the room. “Get over there, against that wall.” Power filled her, and she almost hoped someone would try to resist. They didn’t and instead scurried to comply. Golden Arrow seemed to realize just how much trouble he was in. The rapture was gone, and he looked like a very ordinary, very frightened man.

“Dr. March, maybe we can clear up this misunderstanding—”

“You can clear it up with them,” said Justin, getting to his feet and nodding toward the doorway. Mae could hear voices and footsteps, and within seconds, local police filled the room, notified by a message Justin must have sent off on his ego at the fight’s start. Servitors could request instant access from law enforcement.

Once she and Justin identified themselves, the authorities took over processing and detaining Apollo’s followers. Mae sat near the back of the room with Justin, staying out of the way until they were needed to finalize the official paperwork. The darkness that had aided her in battle was gone, leaving her tired and a little empty.

Justin gingerly touched the spot on his face that had been hit. “Ow,” he said. “My stunning good looks are ruined. How will I get by in the world now?”

Mae rubbed her trembling hands together. “You’ll manage. There’s hardly anything there. Just get some ice when we leave.”

He shook his head. “I’d rather have something harder. We’re staying in Windsor tonight. You want to go hit some nightlife?”

“Incredible,” she said. “You get attacked by a cult, and the only thing you can think of is going clubbing.”

“You have a better idea?” He winced. “Goddamn, that hurts.”

“Baby. The military infirmary would laugh me out if I came in with that.”

“I’m not a supersoldier with a pain-dulling implant.”

“It’s nothing,” she insisted, unable to hide a smile.

“Dr. March.” That was Golden Arrow as the police led him past. His earlier fear was gone, and he’d apparently decided to accept his arrest with arrogance. He came to a halt. “You must be very pleased with yourself. No doubt your master thinks he’s triumphed over mine.”

“SCI’s triumphed over worse than you,” said Justin cheerfully.

Golden Arrow’s eyes gleamed. “That’s not the master I’m talking about.”

“What happened to your partner in crime?” asked Justin. “I was hoping to see Callista.”

“I’m sure you were,” said Golden Arrow with a sneer. “She left last year with Nadia.”

Justin fell silent as he dredged up the name. “Nadia Menari? That Arianrhod priestess?”

“I’m surprised you remember the lives of those you ruin.”

“She was preaching the destruction of men everywhere,” said Justin. “She was lucky she wasn’t arrested. Why’d she go with Callista?”

“I don’t know.” Mae understood little of what was being discussed, but from the bitterness in his voice, Golden Arrow had taken these events personally. “To start some überfeminist cult.”

“Where?”

Golden Arrow glared. “Hell if I know. They took off with half my money and disappeared.”

“If you need to talk more,” said one of the authorities, “we can set up an interrogation room at our station.”

Justin shook his head. “I’m good.” Yet, Mae was pretty sure she heard disappointment in his voice.

“For now,” called Golden Arrow as his captors led him away. “Your side hasn’t won. Not by a long shot.”

“I don’t even know what my side is,” Justin muttered.

Mae watched Golden Arrow until he left the building, and then she turned back to Justin. “Did what he said make sense? Is Callista the priestess you want?”

“Yeah.” Justin definitely looked upset. “The piece of work. It’s interesting she went into business with Nadia. She was another priestess. Different religion, but both their goddesses have a real girl-power thing going on—and silver and moon connections. If all our victims were male, I’d say maybe we were onto something.” He shrugged and stood up. “Still worth finding them. For now, I’m finding that nightlife, with or without you.”

Mae thought he was joking, but after they were settled into their Windsor hotel, Justin came knocking on her door. He’d lost the tie and simply wore a black jacket over a white button-up shirt with the collar open. Even in casual mode, he still looked polished and stylish, and of course, his hair had been repaired after the temple scuffle. After being surrounded by military men whose styling could at best be described as “efficient,” she was constantly surprised at the effect his meticulous grooming had on her. He looked her over.

“You’re wearing that out?”

“I’m not going out with you,” she said, feeling slightly affronted on behalf of her jeans and black blouse. “I told you that before.”

“Right, right. Because flawless castal princesses don’t lower themselves to the company of common plebeians. Well, rest easy, because this is business. You can’t really abandon me to the seedy streets of Windsor, can you? Maybe some vindictive followers of Apollo will come after me. Wouldn’t you feel bad about that?”

“Yeah. I’d be heartbroken.” Seeing his hopeful look, she sighed. He had a point, after all. “Fine. But I’m not changing.”

He looked as though he might protest but shrugged it off. “Something tells me for you, it won’t matter. Let’s go.”

She didn’t know how many times he’d been in Windsor, but he managed to find the shadiest, most illicit club he could. It wasn’t even an official establishment and was instead housed in what looked like an abandoned warehouse. When they stepped inside, though, she was blown away that a place like this could exist without being known to authorities.

Hundreds of bodies were packed together in relatively little space, and the room reeked of human sweat and smoke from all sorts of substances. It was almost like being in Cristobal’s club, except cleaner and more high-tech. The place was kept dark, lit only by pulsing colored lights that seemed to be timed to the loud, pounding, percussion-intensive music filling the air. People talked in clusters around the periphery of the room, while the middle was reserved for dancing, which mostly seemed to consist of a lot of erratic body thrusting and rubbing.

“Wow,” said Justin with delight, while Mae felt her body respond to the implant. He made a beeline for the bar, and she fell into step with him.

“How is it possible that someone who bemoaned his fate in Panama for four years chooses the most provincial bar I’ve ever seen in this country?” she exclaimed.

“Difference is in the clientele,” he told her. “These people are civilized.”

Glancing around, Mae wasn’t so sure. Some did seem to be from Justin’s demographic: stylish, affluent people charmed by novel vices. Others looked like the dredges of society and would’ve fit in well in Panama. The bartender, whose mouth was completely encircled in metal piercings, seemed to be a prime example.

“Black Bay bourbon. Straight,” Justin ordered. He glanced at Mae. “Can’t get that in the provinces.” He turned back to the bartender. “You got any ash?”

She suppressed a groan, wondering if her position as a soldier of the Republic meant she should be enforcing its laws.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” said the man, handing Justin a small glass of amber liquid. “It’s good, if you want to get something for your fucking grandmother. You want some serious shit, though, you go for the gates of paradise.”

Justin scoffed. “You don’t have that here.” The bartender reached down and held up a small plastic dropper, earning an exclamation of, “Fuck me. Hook me up.”

“The gates of paradise? What is that?” asked Mae as Justin handed over a stack of EA dollars. Their sister country still ran on hard currency, which was fairly easy for Gemmans to exchange. Since it couldn’t be traced in the same way electronic funds could, it was frequently used for purchases like this.

Justin accepted the dropper. “The closest those of us without implants can get to being a god.” Without hesitation, he held it to his tongue and shook out several clear drops. He closed his eyes, shuddering as an invisible wave swept over his body. “Damn,” he breathed. It sounded like a benediction. He opened his eyes again and blinked them several times as though focusing. Even in the erratic light, she could see his pupils dilating. “Heavenly. Would this be wasted on you?”

“Yes,” she said sternly. “I don’t need drugs to wind down after a hard day.”

“Says the woman whose life is dependent on neurotransmitters and endorphins.”

She flushed. “That’s not the same at all.”

“Whatever you say.” He knocked back his drink in one gulp and handed the empty glass and vial to the bartender. “Another bourbon.” He waved grandly to Mae. “And whatever she wants.”

She nearly declined but felt awkward just standing there. “Get me a mojito.”

The bartender gave her a flat look. “Does this look like the kind of place that serves mojitos?”

“Surprise me then.”