I materialized in the hallway outside of Bradford’s office and politely knocked on the door.
“Come in,” he said from inside.
I entered slowly and stopped in the doorway, making eye contact with him, looking for his blessing to go any further.
“Isobel,” he said. “I would appreciate to know the whereabouts of Devin.”
“They’re safe,” I said.
“That’s not what I asked.”
“That’s what you get, Bradford. They’re safe, and they’re happy about it.”
Bradford fell silent, then motioned for me to come sit in the leather chair in front of his desk. I felt like I was practically job interviewing all over again.
“You have apparently been busy since last I saw you,” he said. “Not at your position with Jenning & Reece, of course, which has been noted in your personnel file.”
“I have a doctor’s note for my absence,” I said. He didn’t smile. I didn’t care; some of my jokes were just for me.
“I almost don’t mind your assassination of Lonso Drake,” he said. “That was, shall we say, enterprising of you. But stealing my grandchild is another matter. I need them here. Olivia needs them here.”
“I agree that you need them here,” I said.
Bradford picked up my meaning.
“Olivia is with you?” he asked.
I nodded. “Please note that in her personnel file.”
Bradford sighed heavily. “That will get her killed by Violet in a heartbeat.”
“Maybe,” I said. “I mean, if you haven’t killed her first. She’s been keeping a big secret from you.”
“And you’re here to reveal it to me out of the goodness and kindness of your heart, I take it?”
“Are you saying I’m not a good person, Bradford? Because you might hurt my feelings.”
“Get on with it.”
“Alexander Reece is alive in the logosphere, fighting the vanguard of the thunderstorm, and Olivia plans to make him a god if we can’t find another way to stop the thunderstorm from destroying Earth.”
After a long pause, he said, “You do make an entrance, don’t you?”
We sat quietly for a few moments, while Bradford weighed whether he trusted me, and considered the implications of what I’d said.
“Olivia should have told me,” he muttered at last.
“Maddy warned you he was out there in the logosphere when she told her story at Cameron’s condo,” I reminded him.
“Olivia should have told me,” he clarified. “And Maddy didn’t mention this nonsense about making Alexander a god. Christ, he was barely qualified to be a managing partner of this firm, let alone god of the planet.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. I didn’t pretend to understand the interpersonal dynamics among Alexander, Olivia, and Bradford, and wasn’t about to start asking Bradford personal questions to find out.
“I want to propose—a truce,” I said to him. “More than that—an alliance. To fight the heralds together. To save the entire population of Earth, not just the people of California.”
“I’m surprised at this optimistic streak in you,” he said. “We’ll be lucky to save the people of California.”
“We could help each other,” I said.
He didn’t reply. I wasn’t exactly ready to let on that I knew about the transcription error, so I had to work a different angle.
I said, “Are you worried about what you’re going to find when you reach the source of the Beacon?”
He raised his eyebrow and said, “You’re very well informed.”
“What about your scout ship?”
“It launches tomorrow. But it’ll be empty except for sensor and recording equipment—basically an oversized drone. Violet will not allow a pilot, because there’s no one she trusts to accurately report back.”
I took a gamble, and said, “Bradford, look—I will pilot your scout ship, and I swear to you, you can trust me to report back. But you’ve got to stall the launch of the arkship. The last we saw Alexander, he was single-handedly facing the enemy in combat. He needs our help. If we find a way to stop the thunderstorm right where it is, we won’t even need the arkship.”
“Violet is firm—the launch countdown will not be stopped.”
“The launch countdown was accelerated because she was scared of my people attacking, and I’m offering you a truce!”
“So what do you actually want from us in exchange for this truce?”
“I’ve heard you’re developing a whole new set of musical power morpheme sequences. Are any of them combat appropriate?”
“Most,” he said. “Considering the general atmosphere, that focus seemed appropriate.”
“Can you teach us?”
“I could certainly have them installed in your people. Anyone who can actually sing, that is. Installation isn’t a comfortable process, but it’s highly effective.”
“What do these sequences do?”
“I don’t call them ‘sequences.’ They’re called movements. The simplest of the lot demoralize the enemy at an existential level. The most powerful among them can deresonate an enemy into independent component frequencies. The movements work best with multiple voices singing together on different parts.”
“Gotcha—a battle choir.”
“Exactly.” He paused, then said, “Is that all you want?”
“I also want Cameron’s guns,” I told him. “I understand that’s impossible without Violet finding out.”
“Nothing is possible around here without Violet finding out,” said the voice of Violet Parker, coming out of the intercom on Bradford’s ancient desk phone.
Bradford smiled—for the first time since I arrived, I was the one caught out in complete surprise.
Moments later, Violet teleported into the room. She arrived at the far end of the room to avoid catching us in the backlash of electrical energy that surrounded her entrance. But I was close enough to feel an unpleasant hint of its charge.
She wore an impressive black uniform that combined regal with militaristic styles, purple highlights here and there on the sleeves and collar, beautiful black boots. Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail of all things. I would have expected maybe a bun or some kind of wrap but it was a touch that kept her looking very energetic. She was really looking sharp all things considered—you couldn’t tell she was under any stress whatsoever. She carried no weapons that I could see, despite teleporting herself into the presence of one of the most wanted so-called terrorists in her empire.
Bradford smoothly got up and allowed Violet to take his seat behind his desk; he stood behind her, leaning against the bookshelf, preparing himself to enjoy watching Violet take over this conversation.
This was an unexpected twist, but I had my wits about me. I’d seen more combat than Violet Parker by a wide margin. She might try to mask subliminal commands to me, but I could defend myself by careful concentration on her overt meaning. Moreover, Violet had made one major tactical mistake by coming herself, aside from the fact that she was now in range of a strike from Blades Per Minute. There was no way she’d come here from Sacramento without expecting to teleport back, probably from this very room, which meant the jammers probably didn’t extend to Bradford’s office. I could probably escape at will.
“Olivia plans to make Alexander Reece a god, does she?” Violet asked, making sure she’d heard me correctly. “Presumably instead of making the arkship passengers loyal to their Empress?”
“That’s the gist of it,” I said.
“I will slay her myself before she ever gets the chance,” Violet said.
“I might let you,” I said.
“Let me?” she snapped.
“Well, hmm, is she sitting in her lab waiting patiently for you to slay her? Because surprise, no, she isn’t.”
“You’re a deeply annoying human being, Isobel.”
“Okay, now my feelings are definitely hurt.”
“But you’re also quite impressive. Olivia was right to want you in our cabal, although I suspect you’d probably be too squeamish for our core activities. You’re proposing a truce then, are you? You and Madison Price will cease your little kidnapping and murdering spree, and we’ll all just team up to fight the bad guy, is that it?”
I paused, then said, “Uh, yeah, pretty much.”
She paused, then said, “Well, I like it.”
“Really?”
“Isobel, I’m cruel, and vindictive, and I’ll kill you someday, I’m sure of it, but I am trying to save people’s lives. I’m also not about to let Alexander fucking Reece achieve godhood before I do. Oh, I’m sorry, did I say that out loud? What I meant was, yes, by all means, let’s team up to fight the bad guy. Bradford and Cameron are at your disposal. Mind you, I refuse to delay the launches. So plan your attack and get it done. And keep in mind, if anything happens to the arkship, that’s it. That’s our last hope for escape.”
Incredible. It would be absolutely absurd to ignore warnings about the danger to the arkship if they tried to jump with the existing sequences. I wanted to give Violet more credit than that, but she wasn’t making it easy.
A sudden distant shriek rang out, alien in nature, instantly familiar to me. We all fell silent, waiting to see if it would happen again. It most certainly did.
Violet instructed Bradford to open the blinds on his corner office windows. In the distance, something large and black was circling the skies above Los Angeles. It was alone, mercifully. Imagine something the size of a jumbo jet, with giant pterodactyl wings, periodically spraying jets of black bile from its throat down at targets on the ground.
“This is one of your heralds, I presume?” Violet asked as she pulled her phone out of her uniform (which, of course, had pockets because she was the fucking Empress) and started dialing. I nodded. “How many of these are out there?”
“Hundreds at a time,” I told her. “This is practically a baby.”
“Yes, hi, Libby, this is Violet,” she said into her phone, “can you put me through to Centcom please?” In the pause, she asked me, “How do they react to bullets?”
“Just the way you’d hope,” I said. “But they regenerate when you hit them, so you have to hit them hard and fast.”
“Hello, this is the Empress. No—please, just listen. Tell whoever’s in command this shift to scramble all fighters in Southern California, and then put me through to the General … Yes, the target is the GIANT FUCKING DINOSAUR ABOVE LOS ANGELES!”