A.K.A. Goddess (34 page)

I just nodded, shook his hand and watched him go. For once…had something gone smoothly? It hardly seemed possible.

Then again, we had four Grail Keepers here.

It was definitely time for us to celebrate our sisterhood.

We tucked the chalice back into its case before leaving the private room. Better not to linger with our smuggled property at the exact scene of the crime, right? Unfortunately, our plans meant we couldn’t go far or take very long, either.

“I found just the place.” Sofie nodded toward the VIP ladies’ lounge.

I looked at Aunt Bridge, our official wise woman.

She nodded, smiling. So we did it.

This being part of the VIP lounge, the rest room gleamed with cleanliness and smelled of its vases of fresh flowers. We washed the changing table before making an altar out of it, amidst all the mother-caring-for-child vibes you could want. Sofie, who’d been toting our backpack, retrieved a liter-size bottle of spring water and a mixed bouquet of roses and daisies and carnations that they’d purchased from a street vendor.

Excellent.

We covered our makeshift altar with flowers. Then, after washing the grail itself, we filled it with spring water and set it in the center.

It made a beautiful tableau. Even before drinking, I felt peace settling over me. Even with announcements of arriving and departing flights. Even with the occasional woman coming in to use the bathroom, sending curious looks but giving us our space. This wasn’t supposed to be separate from the world. This was supposed to be the world, for anyone who wanted it. Soon…

“So…” Sofie whispered. “Do we say something?”

“Only if you want to,” I murmured—and lifted the grail and drank deeply. Like drinking sisterhood, hope, belonging, strength. Welcome…

My experience was hardly as dramatic as back in the sanctuary. This time I understood the glimpses of people and places that danced before me. Other women had fought and even killed for their loved ones before—some with success, some without. Other women, so many others, had faced the dreaded deathwatch. Almost all of us loved, sometimes well, sometimes poorly.

Women throughout time had gathered with their aunts, cousins, sisters for strength. This was right and necessary.

Everything that was happening was right.

“We are one,” I whispered, blinking quickly against the warmth of tears, and passed the cup to Lilith.

She drank, then closed her eyes…and smiled at the images she, too, must see. It was the smile I’d sometimes seen her give her babies, when she felt especially loving, especially proud.

Now she gave that smile to herself. “We are one.”

She and Sofie helped Aunt Bridge hold the chalice, since Bridge’s arm was still in a sling from her attack. Bridge kept her eyes closed for a very long time, even once trails of tears began to slide down her frail cheeks. Finally, when she opened them, she simply nodded at us with a tremulous smile, indicating that Sofie should take the grail.

Apparently, she couldn’t speak past what she’d seen.

Sofie drank, then put the grail down…and sighed, long and deep. “We,” she murmured, then cleared her throat around her emotion and spoke firmly. “We are so one.”

We nodded. Then, shared smiles not being enough, we group hugged. How could spreading this feeling, this understanding, not be of vital importance for women? For people?

Someone cleared her throat behind us. We turned to see a middle-aged woman watching us, overloaded with a purse, a laptop case and a rolling suitcase. “Excuse me,” she murmured.

The rest of us exchanged self-conscious glances.

“Don’t mind us,” I assured the newcomer. “We’re about to clean up.”

“No, it’s not that. I was just wondering…this is going to sound silly, but…” She ducked her head, embarrassed. Then she squinted at our necklaces. “‘Circle to circle’?”

Oh, my goddess.

“‘Never an end,’” we responded in delighted unison.

Was it a small miracle? Maybe, but why rank them? The important thing was that Sandra Dennison from Klamath Falls, Oregon, got to drink of Melusine’s Chalice, as well.

Someday, as soon as we found a way to do it safely, other women would also experience this grail. But until then…

“It’s quarter to six,” said Lilith, checking her watch once Sandra left. “Our flights are going to board soon and, uh, I could use some help in here.”

She was edging toward the handicapped stall. With her round, pregnant stomach, it was the only one that fit her well.

But she had more reason than that.

“Coming,” said Sofie, with a been-there, done-that grin.

I poured the remaining water from the grail into its plastic bottle. Then, kissing the grail once more, I put it safely back in its case. It was mine, but never just mine.

Sofie took the case with her into the stall, with Lil.

That left Bridge and me—and the perfect chance to chase down a niggling piece of mythology. After helping her to an upholstered settee to wait, I asked, “You know the story of Nuada of the Silver Hand, don’t you, Aunt Bridge?”

“I’m better with goddesses than gods,” she said. “But yes.”

“Nuada is kind of an elfin king—warrior elves, like in Tolkein. But he loses his hand in battle and has to relinquish his throne, right?”

Aunt Bridge nodded. “The leader represents his land. As with the Fisher King. If he’s not physically perfect…”

“Then the people fear the kingdom will suffer.” The password had to be a message. But Lex was about as physically perfect as mortals get. He’d worked incredibly hard at it, almost obsessively, ever since…

Oh, heavens. Ever since the leukemia. The point at which his father had started ignoring Lex for Cousin Phil.

Phil, who would take over either Sangreal or Comitatus if Lex wasn’t in charge…and who already had. I didn’t understand everything, but I’d just gotten a chunk of it.

The Comitatus really was about blood!

Aunt Bridge continued. “But Nuada regained his kingship after a silversmith fashioned a replacement arm for him.”

“Yeah,” I said slowly. “But I bet whoever had gotten the throne in his place sure fought that restoration.”

Splitting the loyalties of their followers down the middle.

Lil and Sofie emerged from the large stall.

“Okay,” said Sofie. “Let’s get this show on the road—”

But she stopped, her head coming up to stare at three male figures in the sheltered entrance to the ladies’ room.

They were well-dressed men who had the stance I’d come to recognize as Comitatus. Control. Power. Confidence. Like Lex’s.

Qualities that weren’t always bad things, unless you used them against someone else. And considering these guys’ timing…

Crap.

“W e’ll take that,” said the man in front, gesturing toward the leather case in Sofie’s hand.

“Eat shit and die,” said Sofie. Most women can be warriors by necessity. But some, like her, just excel at it.

“No,” said their leader. He was an older man, balding, still fit. I guess they couldn’t risk ski masks in a place as crowded and terrorist-sensitive as an airport. “Thank you.”

No, thank you? That weird touch of humanity, sarcastic or not, niggled at me. How did a bunch of men associated with what many thought was a holy bloodline turn out so bad?

Unless, like Lex, they didn’t think they were.

“I already helped take down eight of you today,” I said. Hopefully it had been the worst eight, since college boy and de Montfort had been among them. “The men who ambushed Lex Stuart.”

They tried not to let it register, but the way they blinked, the way they breathed, gave them away.

“You didn’t know about the attack in Lex’s apartment?”

“Alexander Stuart has been murdered?” demanded their leader with the kind of careful calm that wasn’t calm at all.

“No. Together, he and I are more powerful than ever.” Even if it had been a lie—us being together—I would’ve said it.

“Oh, Mag,” moaned Lil. “Not again.”

Beyond them a woman said, “Isn’t this the…? Never mind.”

This was one woman’s sanctuary they couldn’t invade for long without being noticed, and they knew it. The leader extended an impatient hand toward Sofie. “The chalice. Now.”

“Eat shit,” she began—but stopped when the stocky brunette man drew a pistol from under his designer suit coat and aimed it at Aunt Bridge’s head.

They couldn’t show a gun for long here. “Now,” repeated the leader, heading for Sofie.

I stepped between them and murmured, “Give it to me.”

She did—I felt the case’s weight in my hands—while Bridge protested, “It’s not worth it.”

But it would always be worth it. I thought of the men I’d killed today. I’d been defending the most important thing, life. Yes, the Melusine Chalice was powerful, if not in the way some men seemed to fear. I had willingly risked my life for it at Fontevrault, and in Paris. I would risk my life for it again.

But nobody else’s. And damn it, I’d hit my quota for killing today.

Face-to-face with the leader of this latest trio, I said, “Fine, you can have it.”

Sofie, behind me, said, “What?”

“Maggi, no!” protested Bridge weakly.

But the man in front of me smiled. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I said. “But it’s conditional.”

His smile faded. “We do not negotiate.”

“Please, this is Negotiation 101, here. I have something you want, and you have something I want. We’re both short on time. So here’s my deal. Sofie takes Lil and Bridge to catch their planes—” flights we’d reserved mere hours ago, en route to the airport “—and I sit with you in the lounge. They won’t call the cops, because of the grail being here illegally. Once Sofie phones to say that they’re on their flights, I give you this.”

The leader reached to take the case by force, but I dropped easily away from him. The sandy-haired man aiming a gun at my aunt was more worrisome.

“I’m not fighting you,” I said. “But I’m not handing this over without something in return.”

To my delight, I saw their leader hesitate.

Aunt Bridge said, “But, Maggi, you’ve gone through so much.”

“There are more grails out there,” I assured her, still holding the leader’s gaze. “We’ll find them.”

The leader said, “Leave the backpack.”

He meant Sofie’s backpack. “Eat—”

“They want to make sure we’re not smuggling the chalice out in it,” I interrupted her. “You can understand that.”

With a glare, she retrieved her phone and wallet—then tossed the pack to the stocky man. “I’ll be back for it.”

“Call me once the others are on their planes,” I said.

“If that’s really how you want to play it,” said Sofie.

I looked at the gun in sandy-hair’s hand. “That’s how they’re making me play it.”

So, with one last wary glance, Sofie eased Bridge and Lil out the rest room exit. Be careful, she mouthed from behind them.

Then I was alone. Outnumbered.

The leader smiled again and reached for the case.

I not only stepped past him, but thumped him hard in the stomach to remind him that I wasn’t completely helpless. “Did you forget the rules, or are all of you just that bad with delayed gratification? Nobody touches the grail. We go into the lounge, where nobody should complain about your presence, and we talk.”

Glaring at me, he nevertheless signaled to sandy-hair to holster the pistol.

The stocky man said, “We have nothing to tell a woman.”

“Not even a woman who helped stop an assassination attempt against your rightful leader?” I smiled at their startled gazes. “I think you do. And even if you don’t, I’ve got plenty to tell you. Come on.”

And I started for the lounge. As I passed, sandy-hair reached for the case—and found himself with a handful of nothing and two of my fingers against his eyeballs.

Everyone froze, that time.

“And here I thought you men might have some twisted kind of honor,” I said. It was the only explanation I had for the use of blades against Lex, instead of guns. “Didn’t we have a deal?”

Since they were a hierarchy, I looked to their leader. “If not, I can be more trouble than you can imagine.”

Reluctant, he nodded and spoke the words. “We have a deal.”

I went out and sat down. I laid the leather case on my lap and folded my arms across it.

Two of them pulled up chairs, as well, to look more natural. Sandy-hair continued to stand watch. This was the VIP lounge; more than one person around here had probably seen a bodyguard.

I smiled, fully in control. For now.

They did not smile back.

This afternoon had stripped everything down to the bone, and in my bones I believed that Lex was a good man, despite his connection to the Comitatus.

It was time to test whether that might be true of any of the rest of them.

“Here’s how I see it,” I said into the silence. “René de Montfort called you guys Comitatus. Like the old code of conduct for Anglo-Saxon warriors defending a king. Since your group clearly crosses borders, I’m thinking your king is metaphorical, probably the head of the Sangreal bloodline. Right so far?”

“How did—” started sandy-hair, but the leader raised a hand to silence him.

The stocky man said, “She’s bluffing.”

“Or Stuart told her,” said the leader.

“Please. Like even I could convince Lex to break vows. You did mean Lex Stuart, right? Not Phil?”

No answer.

“It would be easy to mix them up, if you just looked at their genealogy,” I continued. “And not their appearance, personality, ability or worthiness to lead. But even by bloodline, Lex should be in charge. And no, he didn’t tell me that either.” Technically speaking. “There are several good conspiracy books out on the genealogy of the Holy Grail. It is information anyone can find if they look hard enough.”

They seemed uncomfortable but said nothing.

“I can see how your group might have worried when he was dying—as a child, I mean. Maybe people questioned a sickly boy’s place leading such a distinguished society. And once his and Phil’s blood mixed, after the bone-marrow transplant…Oh, wow.”

Maybe against his will, the leader looked intrigued.

“Is it possible that Lex’s father agreed to support Phil’s succession in return for the bone marrow that saved his son’s life?” It put Deuce Stuart in an uncharacteristically fatherly light, but it also made incredible sense.