Chapter 178: The Council

“—According to multiple student accounts, during last night’s Spring Carnival the entire auditorium was swallowed by an unexplained fog and total darkness—”

“In addition, the band Low Shoulder vanished after their performance. Two local students are also missing, one of them a member of the cheer squad—”

The screen cut to a panel of studio experts.

“This is clearly a precursor to a sudden shift in the global environment! Or the students experienced a collective spatial displacement! The physics community must—”

A gray-haired expert waved his arms, face flushed with excitement.

“For all we know, the missing people have already crossed into another world!!”

The television’s tinny voice filled the mostly empty office.

Soren leaned back on the couch and took another bite of pizza.

Experts were useful. Most people believed whatever came out of their mouths.

Carrie sat at the worktable, focused on the clothing sketches in front of her. The pencil moved in light, precise strokes; every so often she paused, frowned, and adjusted a line.

“Morning.”

Patty came down the stairs yawning, kicked off her slippers, and dropped onto the couch. She swung both legs across Soren’s lap without asking.

He gave her calf a light squeeze and looked at her.

Their eyes met. For a second both of them remembered the night before.

Patty’s face went scarlet. She snatched up her phone and held it in front of her like a shield, blocking his view.

Ever since last night the air between them had shifted. Neither of them had tried to name it.

“Ahem—”

She cleared her throat, desperate to change the subject. “Once finals are over, let’s take a trip. Beach or mountains—your pick. I’ll cover everything. Sound good?”

Soren said nothing.

Patty puffed her cheeks. “What? This young lady is offering to take you on vacation and you’re turning me down?”

“Cough—”

Soren lifted her feet off his legs and stood. “I’ve got to head out for a few days. We’ll talk about the trip when I’m back.”

He really couldn’t spare the time.

McClane’s death still needed settling. That was a debt.

After that he had to wait for Morrison’s report on the Armitage family.

And there was one more piece of business that couldn’t wait.

He touched the USB drive in his pocket—the one Alessa had pulled off Ada. Whatever data the spy had risked her life to steal from the underground facility was almost certainly on it.

The woman had clearly been burned before; she’d encrypted the drive after the fact. He would need someone he trusted to crack it.

“You’re leaving again?” Patty’s mouth twisted. She grabbed a throw pillow and hugged it. “When will you be back?”

“Depends.”

Soren looked at her and changed the subject. “How’s the magic practice coming?”

That lit her up instantly.

“Hmph! Let me show you what a real genius looks like!”

She lifted her chin, pointed one finger, and the coffee cup on the table trembled, then rose a few centimeters into the air. It wobbled, but it stayed up.

Soren watched the proud look on her face and gave a polite round of applause.

“Not bad.”

“Of course!”

Patty sat up straighter, eyes bright. “I’ve already decided my path.”

“Oh?”

Soren raised an eyebrow. “Let’s hear it.”

“The books list a bunch of secondary spells—summoning, teleportation, that kind of thing. I’m going to learn summoning and one solid teleport. Then I only need to keep Carrie safe so she can do the heavy lifting. If we can’t win, we just leave.”

Summoning.

Did that require materials? A contract with whatever got called? He really hoped she didn’t pull something that would eat the furniture.

Teleportation arrays were useful, but anything that messed with space always came with risks.

“Sounds solid,” he said, rubbing his temple. The cooperative mindset itself was fine. Two people watching each other’s backs would always beat one person fighting alone.

He didn’t try to steer her. Interest was the best teacher. The only reason he had them learning magic at all was so they could protect themselves when he wasn’t around.

He had just leveled a research base and captured a certain light-based predator. Once the people behind those projects noticed, the retaliation would not be gentle. When things got busy, he would not always be able to keep an eye on the two of them.

—

In a dim conference room somewhere far away, a large screen split into more than a dozen windows. Each window held a blurred silhouette—some in tailored suits, others in long robes.

“Dean, your brain-swap technique still isn’t stable.”

A voice neither male nor female drifted from one of the windows. “Why are people still fighting inside the company? I didn’t join this circle to listen to boardroom squabbles.”

Dean Armitage sat alone at the long table, speaking without hurry. “Corporate factions run deep. Interests are tangled. Replacing a single decision-maker is easy. Scrubbing out every opposing voice takes time.”

“Excuses.”

A robed figure gave a cold snort and took over.

“The Mammon descent ritual was ruined. The experimental facility in Maine is rubble. Even the Leviathan projection we spent so much to summon was driven off by an angel.”

Two photographs appeared on the central screen: Soren with a long blade in hand, and Bayonetta.

“I move we pool resources and eliminate this Soren first.”

“No.”

Dean shut it down at once. “He himself is manageable. The two standing behind him are not. Moving too soon only exposes us early.”

“Our focus cannot be wasted on variables like this.”

“So we just ignore them? Let them keep kicking over our pieces?”

The robed silhouette laughed without humor.

Silence settled over the channel.

After a moment Dean spoke again. “Has the Valak data been received?”

“Yes.”

“Volunteer production has already begun.”

Dean nodded, eyes moving across the faces on the screen. “Everything else can wait. Replicate Valak first.”

His tone cooled. “As for the witch—she has been hunting us. Watch your backs when you leave your safe houses.”

“Heh. If you hadn’t stolen something of hers, maybe we wouldn’t be living like this.”

Someone chuckled. “And she started the bloodshed on your territory, no less.”

Dean’s expression stayed flat. He ignored the jab.

“That’s all for now. Accelerate the collection of emotional residue across the regions. I will push the core plan forward. Only those resources give us any chance against Dante and his kind.”

“Wait.”

The silhouette in the upper-left window cut in. “What about the Deathlight that vanished from Derry? If it falls into the wrong hands, the threat to the plan is enormous.”

“Deathlight is an ancient predator from outside this universe,” Dean said evenly. “It is far more cunning than we assumed. Its disappearance is almost certainly just recovery. One fragment of it will not affect the larger design. Leave it.”