Immanuel watches the demon’s left arm, which is partially hidden below its lunging body. Even at greatly reduced speed the limb is just a blur as it extends toward the Michael Gabriel drone, which is morphing out from the trunk of the dripping white tree.

Two of the sentry’s scalpel-sharp clawed fingers puncture Mick through his abdomen and out his spine before the appendage retracts in an attempt to parry Jacob’s blow.

‘Jesus, it … it butchered him.’

Jacob nods. ‘We can win, but it’ll take both of us to do it. We have a long day tomorrow, try to get some sleep.’

‘Sleep? You honestly expect me to sleep after seeing that?’

‘If you can’t sleep, ask the computer for a green tea sedative.’ Jacob exits through the open shoji, then turns. ‘Tomorrow is a big day, Manny. We need to bring you back to our chosen path.’

Immanuel Gabriel lies back on the uncomfortably hard bed, staring at the ceiling.

Maybe it’s your chosen path, bro, but it’s not mine.

Geology Lab, University of Miami,
Coral Gables, Florida

Lauren Beckmeyer is in Bill Gabeheart’s office, her bare feet propped on his desk. She has been in the lab over two hours, waiting for the lab’s computer to complete a data search to confirm information downloaded earlier from Yellowstone Park is identical to data received in the past.

ANALYSIS COMPLETE. REPEATING DATA FOUND BETWEEN
YELLOWSTONE CALDERA READINGS OF 16 APRIL 2030 AND
19 NOVEMBER 2033.

‘Repeating data? Computer, how close in similarity are the two readings?’

NO VARIANCE FOUND. DATA IS IDENTICAL.

Gabeheart was right. Those Fed bastards are hiding something. She types in Gabeheart’s access code on her laptop.

The professor’s prerecorded image flashes on screen. ‘Hi. Sorry to disappoint you but this isn’t me. Since I’m probably outside watching Old Faithful, feel free to leave me a message.’

‘Doc, it’s Lauren. I found something. Contact me the moment you—’

The recorded image disappears, replaced by that of Paxton J. Walther, Bill Gabeheart’s regional coordinator at Yellowstone. ‘Ms. Beckmeyer?’

‘Yes, sir.’ What’s he doing on Gabeheart’s private comm link? ‘Sir, where’s Professor Gabeheart? I need to speak with him.’

Paxton shakes his head sadly. ‘I’m so sorry—’

Lauren’s muscles contract in fear.

‘—there’s been an accident. Bill … he died earlier this morning.’

‘What?’

‘He was taking temperature readings at one of the hot springs when there was a tremor and Bill fell in. By the time we got to him … the third-degree burns … he was gone.’

‘Oh, God … oh my God—’

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘I can’t … I just spoke with him the other day.’

Paxton’s eyes come into focus. ‘Saturday?’

Lauren feels light-headed as the blood drains from her face. ‘I, uh … I don’t know. Might have been—’

‘Lauren, did Bill download something to you?’