President Stafford settled comfortably into his chair in the center of the table, directly opposite Cinza. His chief of staff Ioannis Miklos sat next to him, while the DTA secretary Wesley Gatiss held the opposite. Cinza, in turn, had Makoto and Jeremy flanking her. The usual crowd surrounded the rest of the table, but now with the addition of Courtney. Jeremy and Maddie's sister had flown in the night before, with the stated focus of requesting—begging—for more federal aid to handle the spiking influx of pilgrims, radicals, protestors, and every other magic-obsessed person flooding into the state.

The press were completely barred from this portion of the building, giving them some peace—and tryin' to hide from more people recognizin' her from past lives? Too late for that now, girl. Jeremy still felt a bit strange sitting on her side of the table, but it was his job—didn't necessarily mean he held her views on anything. Least it means I get to watch Aderholt make an ass of himself every day from the best seat in the house.

"I'd like to thank you, sir," said Cinza, cutting through the murmuring on both sides of the table and drawing the President's attention, "for dedicating so much of your week to our meetings. I know your administration handles a great many responsibilities and you could not possibly have planned for something like this. Your generosity is gratefully accepted."

Stafford smiled. "Well, I'll be sure to try that line on my wife when I explain again why we had to cut our Thanksgiving break short."

"What's on the agenda today?" asked Ioannis, glancing at his deputy.

"The Governor of Washington is here," the man explained, nodding to Courtney, "with a request for federal aid and to present her strategy on state-level handling of magical affairs."

Rachel's strategy, Jeremy silently corrected. Courtney pulled out a stack of papers with a pompous air, and Jeremy could actually feel the table quiver slightly as she straightened them with a few loud taps.

"As you're all aware," said Courtney, "the state of Washington has seen a significant upturn in tourism lately." The dry joke got a few appreciative chuckles, most importantly from the President himself. "We've called in our own national guard to help handle the situation, and every transportation agency is working practically around the clock to handle incoming traffic, but it's not enough. We've got tourist camps springing up on roadsides. People are clogging up streets and neighborhoods. Worst of all, we've got untold numbers trespassing in the Olympic National Forest."

"Pilgrims seeking their revelation," said Cinza, her magical voice more pronounced than usual. Jeremy believed she'd been subtly increasing the effect every day the negotiations continued, to ensure no one got used to the sound. The Greycloak leader wanted them to always feel on edge and off balance around her, and it certainly worked on some of the cabinet. "Can you truly punish such an action?"

"Your right to your beliefs stops at the point you're interfering with other people's lives," the deputy chief of staff shot back. Cinza merely smiled, while Ioannis gestured for his deputy to step down.

"This is your front lawn now," pointed out Wesley Gatiss, bringing a calmer voice to the proceeding. He and Cinza were beginning to build up a rapport, but Jeremy couldn't be sure. Cinza seemed ill-inclined to bond with anyone on the other side of the table, even the head of the department she'd most likely be dealing with in the future. "Aren't you worried they'll trample through your home?"

"They could not even if they tried," said Cinza with supreme confidence.

"I'm more concerned," interjected Courtney, trying to regain control of the conversation, "with the growing number joining the radical movement which claims Brian Hendricks as their leader."

"The domestic terrorist group," corrected Cinza icily. "Do not dance around with soft labels."

"Whatever the term, a sizeable amount of the incoming population is certainly looking to join their ranks." Courtney opened her packet, and gave them all the page number to match. Jeremy glanced through the page, seeing a stack of numbers he couldn't much care about—it was a problem, certainly, but not his problem. "They're being radicalized and encouraged into beliefs that will result in similar events as the Tacoma hostage situation and the conflict in Lakewood."

The President glanced over at Kimberley Young, the National Security Advisor. "Do we have any ideas on how to find such individuals?"

Kimberley sighed. "Most people coming in aren't exactly radical. They become radicalized when they attend meetings. Hendricks must be a hell of a speaker. Point is, we can't really screen for them."

Cinza shook her head in an exaggerated motion of disappointment. "All the money, research, and invasions of privacy, and you cannot provide a single possible threat."

"I can get you plenty of damn threats," Kimberley shot back. "Already arrested four crazies this week on roads bound for your neck of the woods armed to the goddamn teeth. Doesn't help that much when we don't have a clue who we're tryin' to protect."

"This is as good a time as any," said Courtney, desperately trying to break in again, "to announce one of our programs. Washington will be providing a strictly voluntary registration program for awakened residents. Anyone who wishes can register their status with us, which will provide some demographic data and also significantly increase our ability to monitor legitimate potential threats."

"And you will one day provide them a list of who to lynch," said Cinza. "Who protects this database? Who can access it?"

"I'm assured of its confidentiality and security."

Cinza smirked. "I've no doubt."

"She's not wrong," said Jeremy, to the surprise of many at the table. He generally stayed silent unless specifically called upon, which was just fine with him. This time, he knew he had to voice his concerns—ones he'd already raised to Courtney and Rachel without much success. "Hendricks has had active police officers in his ranks. We can't be certain an ally of his wouldn't get access to this database, and once they've got it, people are gonna get murdered in their homes. They don't hold back."

"We may have a solution," said Courtney, to Jeremy's shock. He hadn't heard this part. "It is our understanding that these hunters, for lack of a better term, will not strike without verifying their targets. They hold to a code. This verification process requires magic to perform, and it is not instantaneous."

"Hang on," interrupted an aide Jeremy didn't know. "They use magic to hunt people with magic? I thought their whole thing was anyone using magic had to die."

"Terrorists are often hypocrites," said Cinza coldly.

"You're not wrong," said Ioannis, "but in this case, they aren't… not exactly. They aren't hunting people with magic, they're hunting awakened people. Brian Hendricks himself uses magic quite openly, as I understand it, but their targets are only people who have actually gone through the process."

"How do they verify targets?" asked the President, silencing the growing debate.

"A stone," said Jeremy, pulling out the one he'd been carrying ever since meeting Jonathan Hudson. "Looks like this, with the Korean word for 'truth' carved in it. Jackson Smith made a ton of them back in Rallsburg, and Hendricks inherited 'em."

"How does it work?" asked Kimberley.

"Takes a few minutes and eyesight of the target," said Jeremy with a shrug. "I've never tried it, don't really care to."

"It is functionally harmless," said Cinza, though her eyes were locked onto the stone as if it might explode, "and you would not know it was used on you, so how do you intend to track it?"

"I have been in contact with an individual who can track magic being used, down to specific locations and types of magic in use," said Courtney very carefully. Will Carbonell, still layin' in a bed back in Vancouver with Rachel's fuckin' cadets… They're gonna rely on him to protect every damn awakened in the Northwest? "They can notify us immediately upon the activation of any of these stones."

"And there's no false positives?" asked Gatiss. Nice to know he's lookin' out.

Jeremy shook his head. "Far as we know, I've got the only stone outside their possession. Unless anybody picked one up off the bodies of Hendricks' guys in Lakewood, but I'm pretty sure they recovered all their own."

Kimberley nodded. "Nothing like those stones was reported in our cleanup."

"No one can manufacture more," added Cinza, still staring down at the stone on the table with a cold glare. Shit, she never saw one before, did she? "The magic required was far beyond any of us."

"So it's true, then?" asked Ioannis. "This whole… God idea?"

"Not all Gods are noble, but Jackson certainly held the power of one." Cinza refused to take her eyes away from the stone. "I recognize that we must keep it, but I would ask you remove that thing from my presence."

Jeremy quickly withdrew it to his pocket again, and after a minute or so, Cinza finally returned to the meeting at large. The rest of the room had been utterly silent until she looked up again, without even the typical murmuring in the back row of aides surrounding the table.

"So," said President Stafford finally, breaking the silence and turning to Courtney, "this individual would recognize one of these stones in use, notify law enforcement, who would move in to arrest them. Is that a correct understanding of the process you're proposing?"

"Yes."

"They can recognize the specific type and from any distance?" asked Kimberley skeptically. "What about multiple users at once? How precise is the detection?"

"It's my understanding they will be able to handle any precision we require," said Courtney dismissively. But it's all on Will. How the hell is he supposed to keep up with the whole damn region? I know he ain't that strong, even if it's his affinity or whatever.

"Is this even legal?" asked Gatiss, straightening his glasses slightly. "It sounds like a significant invasion of privacy to be able to detect this from any distance and into any home, without due process or probable cause."

"The possession of these stones is probable cause," said Cinza. "Their only purpose is to hunt us. They were created to help a monster perpetuate genocide."

"We can't arrest people for having a damn rock in their pocket," cut in Aderholt. "No matter what it can supposedly do."

"We also can't implement such an invasive strategy without a careful examination of the situation and the need," added the President, a great deal more tactfully. "I know your need is dire, Cinza, but I do not wish to sacrifice personal liberties for the hope of safety."

Cinza nodded. "I can respect such an ideal."

"But—" started Courtney, but the President held up his hand, and she fell silent immediately.

"I will certainly send additional aid to the region, Madam Governor. We'll work out the numbers later today, no doubt, but I must also caution you that the scope will be fairly limited. There are certain issues we can't move on immediately, because we aren't certain of our jurisdiction."

"Such as?" asked Cinza, before Courtney could even open her mouth.

"Well, Mr. Hendricks himself, for one."

"Explain."

President Stafford shook his head, exasperated. "Cinza, as much as I hate to say it, the man has no criminal record, has broken no laws as far as we know, and is only accused by hearsay and rumor. There are supposedly videos of his speeches inciting violence, but we haven't found a single one, nor have you unless I'm mistaken." Cinza nodded slowly, anger practically boiling under her skin. "There's no evidence yet, merely your accusation."

"Sir," said Jeremy carefully, "there is one thing."

"Oh?"

"Brian Hendricks is still listed as missing on the official Rallsburg investigation. Bringing him in for questioning is under the scope of that investigation, as with any Rallsburg refugees, and I'm still the lead investigator on that case."

Aderholt looked livid, but the President seemed intrigued. "Not criminal charges, though."

"We could charge him with contempt of court," said Maddie thoughtfully, "for avoiding the subpoena to answer questions about the Rallsburg Incident."

"He could argue he never saw it," said Ioannis.

"We've broadcast it every day since we knew there were survivors," said Courtney. "The man should have seen it by now."

"Reasonable doubt," said Cinza coldly, with a disgusted look on her face. The air in the room seemed to drop several degrees when she spoke, so icy was her echoing voice. "Once again, you will refuse to pursue the true villain because you fear the consequences."

"You said it yourself," said the deputy, "this is about civil liberties. Everybody's got rights, even Brian Hendricks."

"I'll go after him," said Jeremy suddenly, before the room started getting into another debate—one of their sessions the previous day had ended early after an aide took Cinza's bait and went too far. The young man was no longer present in the room. "I've met him. He's aware that he's avoiding being questioned. I have the jurisdiction and authority to bring him in."

"You've met him?" asked Ioannis in shock. The rest of the room echoed the sentiment. Jeremy had held that information in for a long time—only Maddie had known, after all. Even Cinza was staring at him with a mixture of gratitude and betrayal.

Jeremy nodded. 'Bout time I decided the man was legitimately insane. I sure as fuck don't trust Rachel anymore, so maybe he was right about something, but that man's way more dangerous right now. "Man blindsided me with his golems, took me somewhere out in the woods. Just wanted to talk, sell me on his story. I'll find him again." He's crazy enough to invite me back, I'm sure. Just gotta get in contact with Felix.

Aderholt looked like he might explode. "Why didn't you report this?" he growled through gritted teeth.

"Well, at the time, I was suspended without pay," Jeremy pointed out. And fuck if I'm doin' that kind of paperwork for free, especially when it's gonna do jack shit. "And since I've been reinstated, I've been pretty busy. Hadn't had the opportunity."

His old boss opened his mouth again, but the President spoke first. "Granted, Mr. Ashe. As soon as you can, find the man and bring him in. Use whatever it takes. You'll be given a contact in the national guard for resources."

"I will inform the Greywood," added Cinza, inclining her head to the President. "Let this be the first success shared between us."

An aide off in the corner, clearly a fresh-faced newbie, started clapping. Every single head in the room swivelled in unison to stare at him. The President raised an eyebrow, obviously desperately holding in a chuckle. The aide slowed to a stop, face redder than a tomato.

Jeremy leaned back in his chair, the weight of the task he'd just assigned himself settling into his stomach. Jesus… now I'm up against the whole damn terrorist movement, and I gotta bring the damn leader in alive. Fuck me.