When Viper got to Malton's office, he was stopped just outside the door by Malton's personal assistant. He'd never been stopped going into Malton's office before. The diminutive woman — with thick spectacles and a pen always stuck in her hair — actually stood right in his way. She was probably less than half his weight, and he had a good six inches on her at least, but she didn't budge an inch.

"Mr. Malton is on a very important phone call right now."

"Lady, do you know who I am?" he growled. He was feeling really impatient, given the news developments while they'd been in-flight. "He's gonna want to see me."

"He was quite specific, sir. No interruptions."

"I'm not a damn interruption."

Still, the woman refused to let him by, and the doors were tightly sealed unless she pressed the button to allow him through. Viper could have just leaned over and pressed it himself, but it became moot a second later as the doors swung wide.

Three suits left the office, none of whom Viper recognized. One shot him a curious look, which wasn't too surprising. Viper never did fit into boardrooms whenever Malton dragged him to one. It was rare, but sometimes Malton had to account for some of the larger expenditures required by the Malton Solutions private contract service. Bringing Viper into the boardroom to silently intimidate the more obstinate board members was just the easiest way out.

She said he was on a phone call though. Who the fuck were those guys?

"You may go in now," the assistant added, way too smug for her own good. Viper resisted the urge to flip her off as he went in.

Cornelius Ferdinand Anastasia Malton stood behind his desk, scribbling something on a piece of paper. He always stood. His desk didn't have a single chair behind it, and the only one in the whole room was stuffed in the corner, as a courtesy for guests who didn't have the constitution to stay standing for longer meetings. It was all part of his image — the youthful, athletic CEO that exuded health and competence.

He'd deliberately sold himself as the opposite of Thomas Laushire in many ways. Laushire was nearly twice his age, at fifty-six to Malton's thirty-one. Malton was an active, aggressive executive that forced himself into the public eye time and again (partly to ensure the board could never truly get rid of him if they wanted to), while Laushire preferred to act the aloof master above such trivial concerns. Even down to appearance, they were starkly different — Laushire was a bit overweight, sporting the iconic mop of fiery red hair that he shared with his daughter, while Malton was in his prime in every form, and kept his dark brown hair trimmed so close he might as well have been bald.

When Malton looked up, Viper felt unsettled. Not that he thought the man could ever beat him in a fight — even without magic, Viper had nearly a decade of real combat experience, while the closest Malton had ever been to a fight was a bar when they'd both just turned twenty-one. No, Malton was intimidating because Viper knew what he was capable of. While Viper kept to a code, one drummed into him in the military which he'd adapted to fit his new life, Malton was unpredictable. It was a quality that helped him dominate the business market, as his seemingly risky ventures became goldmines of profit.

At the same time, it meant he could be utterly ruthless when the time came, and Viper could never tell when that time was coming. Without Rook at his side, he felt distinctly unsettled. It hadn't always been that way. Once upon a time, Malton and Viper — Corny and Stefen, as they were known in every pub from Southampton to Edinburgh — were closer than brothers.

Those days were long gone by.

"So." Malton said, setting down his phone on the desk. The room was uncomfortably silent, another common tactic he used to unsettle negotiations.

"Who were the suits?" Viper asked, trying to get ahold of the conversation before they really got into it.

"Lawyers. It seems Thomas has decided to lodge an inquiry into my international dealings in the colonies. Something about trade agreements and tariffs." Malton shook his head. "It's all rubbish, but Thomas is grasping at every straw he can find. It won't slow us in the slightest."

"Why, though? Ain't he Europe-based?"

"An excellent question," Malton said, digging through a stack of papers. He pulled out a sheet and set it on top, and Viper leaned in to read it. Something about permit regulations and failure to follow procedure — bureaucratic shit that reminded Viper why he'd never get anywhere in business. "Thomas doesn't have a single quid in the entire region. I had Research check it three times, and our other sources concur. Nor is he angling to make any investments in the area. He's up to something."

"Like what?"

"This Wilmore person. If they even exist." Malton started pacing behind his desk. Normally, he was able to stand stock-still as long as he needed to, with infinite patience to wear down stubborn opponents, but he'd never bothered around Viper. He let his true feelings show. It was one of the main reasons Viper still trusted his old friend. "They've been gobbling up capital and firms left and right in the West, particularly around the Pacific Northwest region. Almost like they knew what we did."

Viper paused. "You still don't have a clue who Wilmore is?"

"Whoever they are, they're smart. Playing businesses off each other and striking killer deals, and all without showing their face once. I'm impressed. They're a shadow without any sort of history behind them."

"And now they're workin' with Laushire?"

"Not on paper. Not even in rumor. I'd stake my company on it though."

"'Course you would, you're insane."

Malton smiled. "Thomas is making a play to control magic, and I've already got it in my pocket."

"Speakin' of which…" Viper glanced over his shoulder, even though they were alone in one of the most secure private offices in the country. "Got something for the lab."

Malton's smile grew wider, and Viper still wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. Fuckin' hell, Tess… Where are you when I need you?

Malton's primary thaumaturgy lab — as he'd named it, though Viper just rolled his eyes — was buried underneath an unassuming shop a few streets away from the Culver-Malton building. Malton was a known frequenter of the shop, which sold books and other curios, so to see him enter in the middle of the day wasn't unheard of. The old man running the place gave them both a knowing wink as they headed straight into the back room.

Straight into the back, around the corner, through a rotating bookcase, past a retina scanner, a voice imprint, a handprint, down a steel elevator and another two floors, and finally into a wide box of a room stuffed in between all the old London sewers and undercity. Viper had no clue how Malton had managed to build it in the middle of the city without being noticed, but Malton often said there wasn't anything one couldn't do with enough money. Viper had long-since accepted it as fact.

Nothing, that was, until they'd discovered magic.

The secret might be out, but Malton still wanted to maintain a hold over his research as long as he could. Given their perfect and total infiltration of Laushire's system, he'd gone to great lengths to ensure absolute privacy for their own operation. Only three people had ever entered this room after it was initially sealed. Now, it was about to become five.

Viper smirked at Napowsky. The man was gaping at the sheer layers of verification and security as they descended into the antiseptic, evenly lit white lab space. "Isn't this overkill, sir?"

"Can't be too careful," said Malton over his shoulder as they walked down the steel staircase set into the wall. "Kleiner, as I instructed."

"Yes, sir." The other member of their party was one of Malton's research scientists, a man with doctorates in both theoretical and applied physics, plus a great many other educational achievements that Viper couldn't be bothered to remember. All he cared about was that the mousey-looking man with the nervous tic had cleared his background checks. Kleiner didn't have a speck of dirt on him, and Malton trusted him, so Viper let him into the circle.

Kleiner hurried down to the instrument panel set into the wall, checking the sensors. He'd brought several boxes of equipment as well, which Viper and Napowsky were lugging down the stairs. Kleiner instructed them to set up the sensors in a small circle around an open space near the center. Little towers of what looked like tiny satellite dishes, black boxes with revolving tops, antennae, and numerous other dark plastic and metal objects Viper couldn't begin to describe.

While he was setting up, Malton took them aside. "I retrieved your men."

Viper raised an eyebrow. "Thought Tacoma cops claimed the bodies."

Malton shrugged. "A well-placed bribe or two. They're on their way back to London now. My assistant will arrange discreet burials."

"They didn't have any family," said Viper.

"Of course," Malton nodded. "Nonetheless, they deserve a proper burial. They did their jobs."

Napowsky looked on with approval, even admiration. "Thanks, boss."

Right, that's why he's the guy in charge. Viper settled back, focusing on the future again. "They link us to the fight?"

"The Battle of Lakewood, as the talking heads coined it," said Malton, with a faint smirk. "No. Your men got away clean. The blame has been placed squarely on the mysterious golem-summoner."

"Hendricks."

"Yes, though the general public isn't aware of his identity yet." Malton scratched his chin. "I've been trying to come up with a plausible way I might have obtained that information. A quiet leak is still risky, and may not be believed even through the proper channels."

"Do we care, sir?" asked Napowsky.

They both looked at him, surprised. "'Course we care," said Viper. "The guy's a psycho. Blew up the whole damn neighborhood. Our explosives weren't anywhere near the structures."

"But I thought we wanted people distracted from what we're doing."

"Distracted is one thing," said Malton, while simultaneously launching a monitoring program on the bank of computer monitors. "We don't want them outright hostile to the idea of magic though. Public opinion is on this being a fight between awakened, and not the witch hunt it really is. If it continues, we won't be able to implement our own strategies for magic-fueled economies."

"So that's the end-goal, sir?"

Malton stopped typing. He glanced at Viper, slightly amused. "Your men don't actually know, and they still follow every instruction to the letter? I'm impressed, Stefen."

"Didn' need to know."

"Know what?" asked Napowsky, obviously confused. He looked between his two bosses, waiting for answers.

"We're in the business of energy, Napowsky," said Malton, and both of them were surprised he even knew the man's name. "At the end of the day, every industry boils down to energy."

"Every science, in fact," added Kleiner, rejoining them.

"Indeed." Malton nodded an acknowledgement. "Magic is just the manipulation of that energy in its rawest form, in a far more direct manner than we've ever believed possible. I want to harness that. I want to understand it and control it. I want to know everything there is to know about this new technology."

"And do what, sir?"

"Save the world," he said with a steely grin.

They stood out at the edges of the room, to avoid any possible interference. Malton stood alone in the center, wearing a sterilized lab coat. Kleiner was hunched over his console, watching a dozen graphs and meters, while Viper and Napowsky watched and waited.

Malton picked up the piece of parchment, took a deep breath, and lowered his eyes to the page.

For a few moments, nothing happened. Kleiner glanced over, but all they saw was Malton saying something, his eyes slowly tracing over the Scrap. The monitors showed no unusual activity, except for one. They could hear him, in the otherwise-quiet room, but the computers could not.

"There's no sound," Kleiner murmured to Viper.

"Huh?"

"Look," he added, pointing at the decibel readout. "It's increasing consistently with his breathing, nothing else. But I can hear him speaking from here. It should be registering something." He picked up the headphones and put them on. Viper pointed at his own ear, raising his eyebrows. Kleiner shook his head and set it aside. "Just white noise. Nothing."

Malton's voice cut off. The lines on the graphs turned into mountains all at once.

"Heart-rate just doubled. Shit." Kleiner was dancing across the keys. Malton had given them strict instructions not to cross the line, to get every measurement they could. Viper could reassure himself that this was normal, that everyone went through the same awakening process — but seeing his friend start to choke, watching him fall to the ground and twitch, he could barely restrain himself.

"Show up, damn you…" he murmured. Where was she?

Shit, what if she can't teleport this far? Every awakening has been in Washington state until now. She is human, ain't she?

"Brain activity is through the roof. His prefrontal cortex looks like it's on fire." Kleiner's voice had a note of panic now.

"Calm down, doc," said Viper, though he was having trouble keeping his own voice steady.

A loud beeping sound. "I lost him!" Kleiner shouted, whipping around — but he needn't have worried.

She'd appeared, as she always did. Viper let out a huge sigh of relief. He sat back against the console desk, wiping the sweat from his forehead. Grey-eyes was kneeling on the hard surface next to Malton, holding his head up off the ground while she read the rest of the Scrap to him.

"Amazing…" gasped Napowsky.

"...Who is she?" asked Kleiner.

"If you figure that out Doc, you'll be the richest man in the world," said Viper.

As Malton started to sit up, she vanished again, with only the faintest hint of a breeze. The air was so still, though, that they all felt it even across the length of the room. He rubbed at his eyes, blinking rapidly and shaking off the feeling of the void. Viper took a step forward, but Kleiner held him back by the shoulder.

"I'm still collecting data. Wait."

Malton stood back up and stretched out his limbs. He rolled his head around his neck, going through a quick muscle relaxing routine.

A ball of purest fire burst into life right in front of him.

Viper's mouth fell open. He'd been awakened for ten seconds, and he could already do that?

Tess… I hope to god you ain't right about him.