by Ben Farthing
Fiametta Vine slowly stood. She yawned. "I can't imagine Mr. President would purposely put anyone in danger."
Everard texted Brian. Where'd you go? Have you seen Loretta?
"Madam Rector is right," said Mr. President. "The booms are disconcerting but ultimately harmless. And Bermuda's lure will keep away the creatures' battle."
"Harmless?" Everard said before he could stop himself. "They about rip you apart when they're strong enough."
"Thank you, Mr. Harrison," said Mr. President, "but it's up to the more experienced people what to do about this crisis."
"The booms aren't just luring the creatures here," said Everard. "They're pushing people away. Haven't you noticed the city is half empty? And if you don't give in to the urge to flee, it boils you from the inside out. I saw it happen with my own eyes. Almost felt it happen to me. I thought Loretta reported all this to you."
A dozen disgusted gazes met Everard's. Like your insides boiling was that different from an extra leg growing out of your lower back. Maybe Lucy had a point about a disconnect between the Periphery leaders and the people they claimed to lead.
"Loretta has reported everything," said Mr. President. "But your sources are unreliable, and Loretta is hardly the only eyes and ears we have. The booms are harmless."
"My sources? Four of us watched it happen. Ask Bermuda! Ask Brian!"
"That remains one reported instance. The Perforated Woman is perfectly capable of deceiving multiple people at once."
"Where's Bill Bill? I want to hear him say that."
"The Burgesses don't answer to you," said Minnie.
"Bill Bill is with General Logan and the Continental Regulars, constructing the lure outside the city."
"Bullshit," said Everard. "He was here twenty minutes ago."
"He's on his way there," said Mr. President, annoyed. "We have it under control."
"And you all trust him?" Everard asked the room.
He got reluctant acquiescence in return.
"What would he gain by lying?" asked Fiametta Vine. "We know he wants to maintain the Burgesses' political power. If he let the people die, who would he have power over?"
"I'm not accusing him of purposely wanting to kill people," said Everard. "I'm accusing him of letting his arrogance blind him so he makes a stupid decision."
"That's enough," said Minnie.
Everard's phone buzzed with Brian's reply. Loretta grabbed me. We're in Bermuda's workshop. Idk where Bill Bill is. Get down here.
Everard stared hard at Minnie, then Mr. President, then the room full of out-of-touch leaders. "You're all going to cross your fingers and hope this goes away, aren't you? If Loretta fails, you all deserve what happens to you."
"Loretta's contract has been completed and paid for," said Mr. President.
Everard walked out.
A few dozen civilians had invaded the main foyer. Not just Burgesses, but all sorts of Periphery denizens. Families huddled in corners, while stressed Burgesses set up cots and handed out blankets. Everard pulled aside someone carrying a water cooler. "What is all this?"
"They're hunkering down until this blows over," he grunted. "Some of the topside Denizens felt safer here."
"So which is it?" asked Everard. "Are the booms dangerous or not?"
"I just do what I'm told."
"You keep telling yourself that when your guts start boiling."
The Burgess ignored Everard to deliver the water cooler.
Everard stepped through the small crowd. A middle-aged couple sat with their arms around each other, listening to an elderly woman play the guitar to keep a circle of children entertained.
This was ridiculous. He'd always heard power corrupted, but he didn't realize it also made you dumb as a brick. Although, Mr. President didn't seem dumb. Everard didn't like it.
He headed down to Bermuda's workshop.
In the stairwell, Everard's phone rang. It was Bowman's number.
After a flash of fear that this had something to do with Abby and Liz not picking up, Everard answered. "It's too early to gloat, you scrawny fuck."
"I warned you what would happen if you didn't leave this alone."
Everard forced himself to stay belligerent. He didn't even know what Bowman was threatening him with yet. "Was everyone in the Periphery dropped on their head as a child? I want to go home. If you and your carpet-face henchmen would leave me alone, I'd have gotten out of your hair."
"I know your secrets, Everard Harrison."
Everard leaned against the stairwell. "I swear to god, if you-"
"Secrets you'd prefer the government not know."
Okay. Not Abby or Liz. He exhaled. "Yeah, you mentioned that."
"But you're still trying to convince everyone that an extra lure isn't enough."
"How'd you know about that?"
"The Burgesses aren't the only ones who pay highly for information."
Everard had no idea who in that room Inc had on their payroll. His best guess would be Mr. President, based on his terrible plan, but that didn't make any sense.
"I've got my contact at the FBI on the other line," said Bowman. "And he's very interested in someone who's been operating a business and conducting his finances under a false identity. That's felony fraud."
"But if I come let your nauseating God possess me, you'll sweep it under the rug? No thanks."
"Becoming a host offers its own rewards," said Bowman. "I'll tell my contact I was mistaken; all you have to do is walk away. Discourage the others from pursuing it if you can, but just walk away, and Uncle Sam will be none the wiser."
"And you think then they'll let you join the CEO?" asked Everard.
"You don't know you're talking about!" said Bowman through audibly gritted teeth.
"I know I'd never spend a decade kissing ass for a chance at a promotion," said Everard. "Here's what you can tell your FBI friend. Find a pen, I want this to be word for word: fuck you."
"Keep acting like this and you're going to get yourself killed."
"You keep trying, and yet I'm still alive. I've already made your fellow bluebloods start to doubt you. Shouldn't take long for that video to make the rounds and turn the regular schmucks against you, too. So you already lost your political standing to try to make me one of you. Does the CEO want a rebellist that bad that he'd sacrifice your entire organization? Because that's what I'm going to make you pay if you keep coming after me. I walked away from the Ailuromancer. I'm not helpless anymore."
Everard's heart raced. Bowman had to know he was bluffing.
Silence on the other end.
"Oh, I get it." Everard continued down the stairs. "The CEO is willing to sacrifice it all."
"Your abilities mixed with the CEO's would make it easy to rebuild."
"You don't believe that. You're still just the loyal lapdog. Tell the CEO I'm tearing down his plans to kill the Burgesses, and then I'm coming for him."
Everard ended the call and walked into Bermuda's hall.
Loretta stood at the doorway to his workshop. "You're threatening other reality benters now?"
Everard shrugged. "I just want to be left alone."
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Everard stepped over bloodstains from the fight with the Lynch Mobbers. Bermuda fussed about something inside his workshop. Loretta motioned for Everard to follow her inside.
"Hold on," said Everard. "You've still got your magic security system protecting my friends, right?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Neither are answering their phones."
"If either of them were in danger, I'd feel it. And for your friend in the city, Shadow's cats are keeping on eye on her. They haven't reported anything, but I can ask for an update."
"Do that," said Everard.
Loretta tapped at her phone. They went inside the workshop.
Bermuda frantically searched his shelves, pushing aside weapons, cookware, and old tools, stirring up clouds of dust in the small museum.
All
the scraping and clanking made a nice harmony with the music Brian had playing—a guy on a guitar singing a grating falsetto.
"Does anyone see a silver film canister. It's got holes around the top." Bermuda spotted Everard. "I'm surprised every time I see you're still alive. How's my pistol?"
"Not a scratch." Everard pulled the flintlock from the back of his waistband. "Why weren't you guys upstairs?"
"We left once we heard Mr. President's plan," said Loretta.
"Bah," spat Bermuda, "that old man accuses Bill Bill of being senile, and he thinks propping up a little lure outside the city will work. I threw something together, but I guarantee you the Perforated Woman has been working on her lures for at least a year."
"Will it work?" asked Everard.
Bermuda opened a crate, looked inside, then closed it. "I told him I couldn't promise anything. Especially if he wouldn't let me set it up myself."
"Why wouldn't he let you?" asked Loretta.
"Damned if I know. He said he needed me here to help with all the civilians. He said Bill Bill and the Regulars would take care of it. But I'm still going, obviously."
"When's the last time anyone saw Bill Bill?" asked Everard.
"With you before you met Ryker," said Brian. "Why?"
"He said he'd be at the meeting, but when I got there Mr. President said Bill Bill is out building this second lure with the Regulars."
Bermuda yanked open a drawer, dug through screws, batteries, and other junk.
"Plans change," said Loretta. "Bill Bill respects Mr. President."
"Do you?" asked Everard. "Because this plan is almost purposely dumb."
"I trust Mr. President to pay my invoices. And to stay true to the Founding Fathers' vision, which didn't include betraying them to Inc."
"Maybe. Something's still not right. Did I tell you Minnie came running to my room this morning?"
"No."
Everard told them about how she'd acted frantic until she got on her jacket and then her demeanor changed. Telling the story, something new occurred to him. "Inc has control of her. That's why she shifted so suddenly. I bet you anything she's the one feeding this plan to Mr. President."
"No," said Loretta. "Stop making assumptions; you don't know enough about the Periphery yet. Inc transfers their consciousnesses into their own suits. It requires some kind of personal connection with the garment. That's why it's such a big deal to get promoted and join the CEO."
Bermuda dumped out a wooden crate filled with shoeboxes. "If Inc was controlling Minnie, they would have needed an inductee who had a personal connection with colonial attire."
"Oh," said Everard. "Then I'm back to my original idea of Mr. President going of the deep end. Bowman just called me. He knew what was going on in Mr. President's meeting."
"You and Bowman talk?" asked Brian. The song changed to whiny folk music with a buzzing keyboard melody.
"He calls every once in a while to threaten me," said Everard.
"You know you can block numbers, right?" said Brian.
"That's not the point," said Everard.
"The Hall of Burgesses should be invisible to any sort of bent-touched eavesdropping," said Loretta.
"It is." Bermuda dragged a shelf away from the wall to reveal a safe. "I installed the countermeasures myself."
"Bowman knew Mr. President's plan," said Everard. "So if Inc wasn't listening in, that means-"
Bermuda finished his thought. "Inc had a contact at the meeting." He turned the dial of the safe.
"And why don't you guys think it was Mr. President or Minnie."
"We already explained why," said Loretta. "I can vouch for most of the faction leaders. Unless Inc got to them recently."
"I don't know," said Bermuda, "but I know who Mr. President will blame. I've spent years building relations with the city factions—this is exactly what that old man needs to blame Capitol Bohemia and the NoGoes once he finds out."
"Assuming he admits it's happening," said Everard. "You should have seen him in there. He's entirely in denial."
"I saw it," said Loretta. "That's why we're here."
"Still going after the converter?" asked Everard.
"I think that's our best bet."
"And you?" Everard said to Bermuda. "You're okay going behind your president's back?"
"My loyalty is to the Burgesses." Bermuda opened the safe with a click.
"I'm still in," said Brian. "You haven't got your bent down yet."
"Good. I could use your help," said Loretta. "All three of you."
"Really?" asked Brian. "I thought you didn't want sidekicks."
"It's not long term. There's just too many moving pieces here. Howser called me—the Hunters are having some issues with their equipment. Apparently trapping the Boogeyman is harder than they thought. And with Ryker still making a move on that explorer outpost, well, my point is, I don't know at what point I might have to take off to put out another fire."
"So what you're saying is..." said Everard, forcing Loretta to finish his sentence.
"I need your help."
"You actually want to stay?" asked Brian.
"Hell no," said Everard. "But I keep kicking the wasp nest, and they keep coming after me. Maybe stomping on it will help."
"Alright then," said Loretta. "Here's the plan."
"We break shit," said Everard. "Right?"
"Yes, but I don't want to go in blind."
"What about Shadow's cats?" asked Everard.
"I know there's more than ten people guarding it. They're not real great for details."
"Found it," said Bermuda. He pulled a steel film canister from a cardboard box.
"What is it?" asked Everard.
Bermuda popped off the cap, revealing an orange flame dancing on a candle. "It's the Great Chicago Fire."
Everard peered down at the flame. "My history teacher made it sound bigger."
Brian stepped close and Bermuda jerked it away.
"This is what's left. It'll get bigger quick if it catches on anything. It's impossible to extinguish." Bermuda put the cap back on. "They didn't put out the Chicago fire; they contained it and it ran out of houses to burn. There's a lot of power created by something like that. Didn't take much for me to make it useful."
"How is it still burning?" asked Everard. "How did you even get this?"
"The same way I have the pistol that fired the shot heard round the world," said Bermuda. "I find things. And then I make them useful."
"How is this useful?" asked Everard.
Bermuda handed the canister to Loretta. "The CEO is a reality benter. Chances are, he'll try to tweak reality to stop us from destroying the converter. This fire can't be extinguished."
"Ah," said Everard. "This is our unstoppable force to bash apart his immovable object."
Loretta held the canister up to inspect it. "What happens if I accidentally touch it to myself?"
"Sounds like you'll accidentally burn to death," said Brian.
"That's more or less accurate," said Bermuda.
"I'll be careful." Loretta tucked the canister in her pocket. "Still doesn't solve the problem of going in blind."
"I know where we could get some insider intel," said Everard. "We left it in the trunk."
"The rogue CEO," said Loretta.
"Would he know anything?" asked Brian. "I thought he was some sort of outcast."
"He'll know standard operating procedures," said Loretta. "That's something."
Bermuda's phone rang. "It's Bill Bill." He answered it.
"Where is he?" asked Everard.
"Hello? Can you hear me? Bill Bill, you're breaking up. What's not enough? You there? Lost him." Bermuda squinted at his phone. "I've got signal. Problem was on his end."
"Why wouldn't there be service at the new lure?" asked Brian.
"Maybe he was never there," said Everard.
"Why would Mr. President lie?" asked Loretta.
"Why wouldn't he lie," said Everard.
/> "Here's what we're going to do," said Loretta. "Everard's right—something's not right with Mr. President. Bermuda, I'll go with you to check out this lure. You make sure they're building it the way you said, and I'll see if I can get some straight answers out of Bill Bill."
"Got it." Bermuda went to the back room.
"You two," said Loretta, "talk to the rogue CEO and find out everything you can about the converter's defenses."
"Will do," said Brian.
"We can handle that," said Everard.
Bermuda came back in the room wearing a kevlar vest and carrying a rifle.
"What historical figure did that belong to?" asked Everard.
"I bought it off a contractor who worked in Iraq," said Bermuda. "But it's just a regular .416 Barrett."
Loretta turned to Everard and Brian. "Stay in touch. Let's take it out within the hour."
She and Bermuda hurried out the door.
Brian picked up his speaker. "Shall we?"
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Everard and Brian jogged down the steps of the Capitol building. In the hour Everard had been inside, the cloud-filled sky went from a pale gray to a dark gray. A metallic cinnamon smell hung thick in the air. The Saturday tourist traffic was almost nonexistent, which just didn't happen in August.
Out of Brian's speaker played a mellow synth pop song with the singer repeating every phrase over and over.
"What do you think?" asked Brian.
"I'm not sure," said Everard. "We'll have to figure out which of us puts on the suit and how to restrain him."
"I mean about the song," said Brian.
"Oh. It's fine, I guess."
"That's all?" Brian stopped in the middle of a crosswalk. "No other comments?"
"We've got bigger things to deal with. What's going on?"
"You don't find it annoying?"
"This conversation is kinda annoying." Everard walked to the sidewalk, but Brian stayed where he was.
"Say the music is annoying."
"I don't mind your music."
"Tell me you hate it and I have awful taste."
"I don't-"
"Say it!"
"What is wrong with you?"
"She hated my music. Acted like I wasn't a real dance mage because I didn't use her ballerina shit."