“Carol,” my dad said, his tone identical to mine.

“She was put out in front of millions of people because you chose to step in front of the cameras. That’s all I’m saying. I hope you’ll be kind to each other if you happen to end up communicating.”

I drew in a deep breath. “Thank you for talking to your team for me.”

“I suppose that’s you saying you’re done with this conversation. I’ll let you go,” my mom said.

I hung up.

“A response from Mayday through his intermediary, while you were talking,” Byron said. “It’s hard to decipher. A tentative yes? He doesn’t seem sure. It might have been a mix-up in communication.”

I saw Kenzie do a fist-pump.

“Better than nothing,” Rain said. “It’s movement in the direction we want.”

I opened my laptop to check. For a guy with authority and personality, Mayday’s response didn’t seem to have much direction, with all of the qualifiers he’d added.

“He was in the last episode,” Sveta said.

“Of Hard Boil? Yeah,” I said. “Questioning competency, organization, the PRT, getting into the Echidna event in Brockton Bay, the allegations about the Protectorate.”

“Yeah,” she said. “He’s sticking his neck out.”

“We’ll pay him back. We’re already drawing off heat, they weren’t done with him, because they left some threads hanging. His tie to Kenzie, for example. Something for a later episode, maybe, maybe the conclusion episode. We’ll divert attention and deflect from him. Over the next couple of days, if any stations want us, we’ll give them interviews or information. Up their ratings so Hard Boil can sink a bit.”

Sveta nodded. “That’s time taken away from bigger crises.”

“Yes,” I said. “Absolutely. But it’d be one person at a time, and if we mess with their ratings so soon after they had to end a show early… might knock them down a peg or distract from Mayday.”

Sveta smiled. “Might.”

“Might.”

More messages were rolling in. Another team. Shorewatch was back, the latest move in their routine approaching and retreating.

And so much anger, so much hate. Nine negative messages for every positive, but at least there were positives.

And, so quick I almost missed it, a name flew by, one among three messages that came in all at once.

“Guys,” Chris said. Fastest on the draw when it came to computers. I was still double checking the name.

A name. One of the enemy.

Goddess.

“Shit,” I heard Sveta mutter.

“I still don’t like her title,” Ashley said, her attention on the screen.

I read the message. One word:

Meet?

Shit. I set my teeth.