“I’ve got loads of questions,” Annabelle said, her eyes on her brother as he rose from his seat and gave a small bow. He left her then, this time for good.

At first Annabelle kept the rod in a drawer, ignoring it, an unwelcome reminder of something that felt pained and unfinished. But one day she felt the air humming as if a train were passing by in the distance, and the sensation poured through her entire body like a tickle. She checked the hallway. She looked out the window. She wondered if a test was being conducted on the grounds. Then she returned to her chair and realized what the source of the sound was.

She opened the drawer. She took the rod in her hand. Every hair on her body prickled, and gooseflesh tightened her skin. Rather than bring the rod toward her ear, she leaned her head toward it, because in addition to feeling the tremoring sensation, she heard something. Whispering. The voices were legion, overlapping, but at least some of them seemed to belong to Adam.

She couldn’t make out what was being said. Not with any clarity. Snippets of words here and there. It was like trying to read code without knowing Java or listening to twenty radio stations at once. Was this—to borrow her brother’s phrase—some kind of antenna? Or something else? What were the implications if the metal could absorb more than energy on a quantum scale?

A part of her brother was still here, having merged with the metal. And a part of the girl was still here, having joined with the fungus. If that kind of absorption and convergence was possible, what did death even mean anymore?

The answers to these questions inspired her for their scientific challenge, yes. The curiosity and adventure of her work. But there was also an angry ambition that drove her. Thaddeus Gunn—the principal director and supervising authority for their shadow agency—did not seem to think much of anybody, including herself. He dismissed her suggestions. He hung up on her midconversation. He referred to her as a grunt, a roughneck who got the job done without really understanding it.

She might not be a scientist but that didn’t mean she wasn’t hungry for knowledge. She wanted to discover something of consequence as a rebellion against him but also because she had grown up the favored child, and, as much as she hated herself for it, she couldn’t help but crave that same feeling of approval and recognition that came when her father hugged her close and called her his perfect girl.

Ten miles from Seattle, Annabelle can already see the fires. Several blocks blaze throughout the metro area. Cords of black smoke tie the ground to the clouds. The F5 Tower is missing what looks like an entire floor of windows, the glass replaced by an orange gash of flame.