“An event you flagged as priority blue has occurred,” another soldier reported. In his command center, eight thralls were either at computers or waiting at the ready. None of his lieutenants were present.

“What event?” he asked. He raised his glasses and rubbed at his eyes.

“Citrine and her husband were at work, they received a phone call, departed immediately to leave, skipping their usual procedures in their hurry, and were blown up by a car bomb. One injured, one dead. It was anti-parahumans.”

“Alcott? She’s been in the anti-parahuman orbit.”

“We looked in on her. She’s upset. She’s meeting Gary Nieves shortly.”

“When it rains it pours,” Teacher said. How annoying. He’d been keeping his eye on that for some time, and his plan had been to intervene when things fell down in a particular way. Stepping in here, putting his thralls in the right places, and calling some mercenaries he had in reserve would give him the city in the same way he had Cheit, and it would put him three moves away from checkmating Shin, who were complicated, and made more complicated by how vigilant they were against another power play.

Now he had to choose. He could have that but lose this, or vice versa.

For something to be this conveniently inconvenient or inconveniently convenient suggested Contessa.

He turned, and he looked at the door he had come through. It had been a brief visit, but it had taxed him all the same. He considered himself brave, and more than that, he considered himself confident, but some things were too dangerous to handle directly.

Let’s assume she’s got me, he thought. We’ll assume Contessa has that knife at my throat. Will she use it? Will I walk blindly into the blade?

“I’ll use your power, Melody.”

Melody was a young Asian woman with the side of her head shaved. She had some tattoos, but she had more flesh that had been cut out with a scalpel and left to heal as scars, raised lines, bumps, and swirls on flesh. Some had been self-harm, some had been body modification. She had her demons, and those demons had chased her into his company. She had been one of the first he had recruited after Gold Morning, when he had become big enough to require managers.

She approached him, hands clasped behind her back. She met his eyes, and opened them wide, then wider still, until two eyes became one, the one eye became something larger than her face, occluding the rest of her, the room, and then him, in that order. He could feel it overlap and intersect his lower face, the bridge of his nose, and his own eyes, so they became one singular portal as well.

“Who?” she asked, a voice from nowhere to nowhere.

“Let’s begin with their leadership. Chevalier. I sent Christine to deal with him.”