The High Priestess (2 page)

Gerard blinked. The smoke saturating the place made it difficult to pick out the figures hunched over every table, huddling together in low conversation. He stumbled through the maze of chairs and half fell against the bar. The bartender put down the rag he’d been wiping the pitted counter with and leaned over. “Something I can help you with?”

Gerard put his hand over the other man’s, praying to Ba’al that Fisk was right about a brother in arms. “I need assistance.”

The man’s eyes widened when he caught sight of the blood. “Of course.” He jumped over the bar in a smooth movement and slipped an arm around his waist. The second the man put pressure on the wound, Gerard’s entire world shifted sideways and went black.

…

When the stranger stumbled through the room, the impulse to do a reading rolled over Marianna. He was obviously injured, his hand never wavering from its place against his side, and every instinct screamed he was trouble of the worst kind—exactly the type of thing she avoided. She bit her lip, fighting the need to pull out her cards. This wasn’t the time or the place for such things.

He swayed as Sven grabbed him, entire body going slack. Marianna was halfway out of her seat before she realized she’d moved. With a mental curse, she slid back into the chair and watched Sven haul the unconscious man into the back. It wasn’t her responsibility to make sure he was okay.

The push got stronger, pulsing beneath her skin until it was everything she could do not to scratch at it.

She took a shaky sip of her drink. Why this man? Why now? With all the med gel and supplies they had on hand, he’d be fixed up in no time. She couldn’t risk him emerging from the back room and seeing her cards.

But there was no change in the ants-under-her-skin feeling.

Marianna gritted her teeth. Fine. Unwilling—and unable—to deny the impulse any longer, her hand strayed to the worn cloth bag. The cards were her conduit to the Lady—to ignore their warning was to court death.

After a quick glance around to ensure no one watched, she slipped the cards free and shuffled them under the table. The deck had been her mother’s before she died. Marianna still had her grandfather’s spare deck stored away in a locked chest filled with some of her parents’ things, but it had never felt as natural in her hands as this one did.

All the locals knew she was a Diviner, one of the Lady’s people, but there were strangers mixed in with the crowd tonight. While Keiluna was a planet known for its tolerance of any and all alien life, Marianna wasn’t willing to risk her health and well-being on that fact. There had been rumors of Sanctify ships spotted in the quadrant, and wherever those sadistic monsters went, alien blood flowed. And that was only for your typical, run-of-the-mill alien.

A Diviner’s fate was so much worse.

Marianna sent up a quick prayer to the Lady for guidance, flipped over three cards, and sat back, tapping two fingers against her bottom lip. Usually a basic past, present, and future reading more than sufficed, but this reading wasn’t particularly clear. The Star was simple enough—hope, helping an individual to prevail through hard times. Definitely her past. She’d gotten through her ill-spent adolescence on a steady diet of hope and, unlike so many of her childhood friends, went on to make a living in a way that didn’t involve petty theft—even if she did retain quite a few of the skills she’d learned from Darla.

With a sigh, she moved on to the next card. The High Priestess indicated that she should trust her intuition. Fair enough. As a Diviner, she knew the truth in that better than most people.

The final card was The World. Sometime in the future, she would reach a new stage, and something would change fundamentally in her life.

Marianna sighed again. The reading was about as clear as mud. Definitely not worth the risk she’d taken by doing it in public.

With a final glare at the offending cards, she gathered them up and slipped the bag back into the pocket she’d sewn into the inside of her coat. Its two layers deterred all but the most determined pickpockets. Theft wasn’t much of a concern with the way she was dressed—drab, too-loose clothing, her hair pinned up under a hat—but Marianna was always careful. There had been violence on the wind lately. It was best not to draw attention to herself with so many tempers riding hot.

Time passed and the bar’s patrons came and went, several nodding to her though no one approached her booth. Finally, what felt like an eternity later, the back door swished open, and the stranger staggered back into the room. He must have been hurt worse than she thought for the healing to take so long. Even now, he was pale beneath his tanned skin, black hair sticking out haphazardly in a way that suggested he’d run his fingers through it recently. Lines bracketed his mouth, the only indication of the pain he must be experiencing. Those dark eyes certainly gave nothing away.

Drawn by an impulse she couldn’t explain any more than the one that had pushed her to do a reading, Marianna slid out of her booth and skirted the wall, coming up between him and the back door. The desire to meet this man, to talk to him, pulsed beneath her skin in time with her heartbeat. The cards had told her to trust her intuition, and her intuition insisted he was important, vitally so.

She tapped his arm. “I’ve never seen you in here before.”

The look he turned on her would have sent a different woman running.

Marianna just smiled. She’d seen far more terrifying things while growing up on the streets. “Allow me to buy you a drink.” Before he could say no, she signaled Sven to bring two glasses of the special liquor they brewed on-planet. Most tourists couldn’t handle drinking it straight, but she had a feeling this man wouldn’t have a problem with it.

“I don’t want a drink.”

She cocked her hip against the bar, picking up the closest glass. “While I’m inclined to respect your wishes, this isn’t the type of bar you show up to and not drink.” Marianna leaned closer, well aware that her billed cap shadowed her eyes, leaving him nowhere to focus but her lips. It was a trick she’d learned out of necessity. The deep violet color of her eyes marked her as a Diviner. It wasn’t something she normally worried about, but a stranger—even an injured stranger—couldn’t be trusted as a friend. Hells, for all she knew, he was a member of Sanctify.

Marianna shook off the thought as soon as it occurred to her. The Lady wouldn’t push her into meeting this man if he meant to kill her. At least…she was reasonably sure She wouldn’t.

He turned to face the rest of the room. It was difficult to tell, but she counted at least six people watching, all with varying degrees of hostility. The Hammer wasn’t very welcoming of strangers, especially ones who mistreated Marianna. Even in this part of town, where aliens weren’t completely accepted, people sought her out for readings. Getting a glimpse of the future was worth its weight in credits, even if most of them wouldn’t admit to visiting her in the first place. Personally, that was fine with Marianna. Attention was all well and good—until things turned ugly and people wanted a scapegoat. Better to cruise below the radar and survive.

The man sighed. “Fine.” He nodded at the booth she’d just vacated. “Shall we?”

Marianna allowed him to lead the way, giving her the opportunity to frown at a few of the old-timers huddled around the nearest table, playing with a deck of cards nearly as ancient as they were. Their expressions relaxed into grins that were all a few teeth short of a set, and they went back to their game.

After sliding in across from the man, she sat back and looked her fill. He had a harsh face that was strangely attractive, but there was nothing to indicate why she’d felt the impulse to approach him. The silence stretched between them as they sipped their drinks. When it was clear he wouldn’t be the first one to speak, she asked, “So do you have a name?”

“I don’t see why it matters.”

What a prickly fellow. Marianna allowed herself a small laugh. “Well, generally when two people meet, they exchange names.”

He made a face like he wanted to argue but, once more, she beat him to the punch. “The alternative is my calling you Stranger while we sit here and drink.”

“You aren’t going to quit, are you?” An unexpected grin deepened the brackets lining his mouth and sent an equally unexpected surge of warmth through her body. She hadn’t felt something like this since…Lady, it’d been nearly a year. How extraordinarily depressing.

“Of course not. I bought you a drink—you’re mine for the duration of it.”

Gerard mentally cursed himself for even considering it.

Her smile was sweet and he felt it like a kick to the chest. “Gerard? That’s quite the name.”

How was he supposed to respond to that? “It’s the one I was born with.”

“The majority of them are.” She held out a delicate hand, the skin so pale it was almost translucent. “I’m Marianna. It just so happens that it’s not the same one I was born with.”

Curiosity blossomed as he took her hand, careful to keep a gentle grip to avoid hurting her. She was so slight. Fragile, almost. Someone to be protected—

Training kicked in, demanding that he shut his mouth and leave. Nothing good could come from further conversation with this woman. But Gerard couldn’t bring himself to move away from her. “What name were you born with?”

“It makes no difference.” She shrugged. “That name died with my mother and father.”

“You don’t have any other family?”

Another shrug. “There’s a grandfather out there, lost among the stars. He used to pop back in and make sure I was still alive, but he never stayed long.”

“He left you.” The thought of abandoning his own flesh and blood twisted something in Gerard’s chest.

“Grandfather suffers from a severe case of wanderlust. There was no room for a child in his life.”

“That’s no excuse.”

“Perhaps not. It’s far too late to worry about it now.”

So she was an orphan. Just like him. It didn’t matter—hundreds of his brothers shared the same fate. Still, he found himself speaking. “My parents were killed by an Abura-Sumashi when I was an infant.” The High Priest was the one who had found him—he’d only be an enforcer back then—and taken him in. He owed the man—owed Sanctify—everything.

And now he had Oberon to take care of. Gerard owed it to the boy to keep his head down and obey orders, no matter if he agreed with the path Sanctify was taking or not.

“I’m sorry.” She actually sounded like she meant it.

“Why? I never knew them.”

“So what brings you to our humble establishment? Your injury?”

“Injury?” Gerard scanned the rest of the room, squinting against the smoke that stung his eyes, and wondered how many of them knew.
Fool. All of them
. It wasn’t like he thought of that before stumbling through the front door. Just because the owner was a brother to Sanctify’s cause didn’t mean his patrons were. The rookie mistake burned in the back of his throat, heating his face until he was sure Marianna could see the blush spreading over his skin.