Jeremy didn't bother to respond. Brian was a raving lunatic in many ways, but what was Jeremy supposed to do about it? He couldn't exactly correct the man. As far as he could tell, every single thing Brian said was true. It matched the evidence, far better than Rachel's vague guilt-ridden statements had. The majority of deaths in Rallsburg were by injuries inconsistent with the golem attacks, and much more in-line with Brian's tale.

Should just arrest the both of them. This is getting ridiculous.

He needed to meet Cinza, he decided. When — if — he made it back to Rachel, he was going to arrange a sit-down. There were too many pieces he was still missing, and since Rachel had been out of the game for so long, she didn't have them either.

Brian was called away after a few moments of awkward silence by one of his compatriots. Felix sauntered after him, notebook in hand. A masked man brought Jeremy some water, but other than that he was left alone.

Wonder what happened with that bomb threat… In the eyes of the American public, the awakened sure weren't winning the public relations fight. Even Jeremy, as inexperienced as he was in the field, could see the cascade coming. Hailey could have been the standard bearer for the whole group, practically groomed to be a perfect representative, but she'd overstepped on live TV in front of the whole damn world. She wasn't coming back from that easy.

And she called us humans. Like we ain't shit compared to her. Part of Brian's story rang even more true. Jeremy had started to consider Hailey a friend over the last couple weeks, but that line really rubbed him wrong. Arrogant, he got that right. Hailey's arrogant as fuck, Rachel's got her own arrogant streak too. Even that stupid fuckin' theater kid, assumin' he can do anythin' and not get in trouble. Are they just young and stupid, or is this somethin' worse?

As Felix came back and the golem shifted its position again, Jeremy remembered—this is bullshit. Not one hundred percent, but holy shit, he had me going for a bit.

"You're not convinced," Felix commented, noticing Jeremy's expression change.

"You are?"

Felix grinned again, in what was fast becoming an annoying trademark. "I think he's got a story no one's heard yet, and it's pretty damn compelling. Compared to what's in that book? Lots of people are gonna take the word of an ordinary family man who lost his home over a foreign cult leader and her crazed sex-cult."

"Jesus, is that really—"

Felix shook his head. "Nah, they aren't really. But you know how this shit goes. Hell, you're the goddamn FBI, don't you turn up sex cults all the time?"

"Not my department."

"Oh, right, yours is harassing reporters for shit they didn't do."

Jeremy looked at him more closely. "Hang on. Are you—"

"Yeah."

Felix Wieczorek. One of the journalists who got picked out by Nate Price. "Still not my department. I'm suspended."

"Like you wouldn't have been first in line to chuck me in a cell for refusing to reveal what's in the book." Felix grinned. "Lucky me, though, I got outta Dodge before anyone could snatch me up. I think Ted Winters is banking on staying on-screen long enough that he can't get arrested either. Too much of a scandal if they try to pull him off a scheduled appearance."

"So how the fuck you get here?"

"Two sides to every story," Felix intoned with a laugh. "I read that wordy bullshit from Cinza, and I wanted the other half. I knew he had to be alive, and there were enough clues if you read between the lines." He glanced over his shoulder, where they could just barely make out Brian's outline through the dark forest. He was on the phone. "Man paints a pretty compellin' picture."

"He's a killer too," said Jeremy. "You remember that shit in Tacoma? The standoff?"

"He never went in the building, and the golems didn't hurt a fly. Made damn sure of it, in fact."

"His men, his plan." Jeremy eyed Felix icily. "Two people still died in that building."

Felix shrugged. "One person, if we agree with good old Hailey that they aren't human anymore. And that one is tragic, don't get me wrong, but it wouldn't have happened if you hadn't butted your head in."

"Fuck you," Jeremy snapped. "Wouldn't have happened if he hadn't sent a bunch of guys with guns to take the place hostage."

"I regret it every day," said Brian quietly.

They both turned, surprised he'd returned so silently. Brian walked back up to Jeremy, and he could see real sorrow in the man's ocean-blue eyes.

"As soon as I realized what happened, I made sure no one else got hurt. I made mistakes, and so did my men in how they handled the situation. It won't happen again."

"How reassuring," said Jeremy dryly.

"Mr. Ashe, I know I won't convince you tonight," Brian went on. "But I respect what you've done so far. Your pursuit of this case has been admirable."

"Get to the point, so I can go home already."

He nodded. "I want you to keep following the case. Don't turn a blind eye and assume your job is done just because they've begun to emerge. They cannot be trusted."

"You were in the national security branch, right?" added Felix.

Jeremy nodded.

"This is the greatest threat to national security you've ever faced," Brian continued. "I pray to God that you can stop it."

"Isn't that your job?" asked Jeremy.

"It's too much for one man at this point. Maybe if we'd acted sooner…" Brian shook his head. "I will be ready, when you understand." He lifted his hand slightly, and the golem lifted Jeremy up into the air again. "I'm sorry I can't take you back to your motel. I can't have you getting any ideas about where we are."

"Don't worry, I don't have a fuckin' clue," he replied, glancing around at the trees uneasily. "Thanks for not killin' me, I guess."

"I'm on your side, Mr. Ashe."

"Uh huh."

"I didn't do anything to the kid you were protecting, either."

Thank god. "How long does that last?"

"Until you realize the danger he poses." Brian shook his head. "He's reckless. They told me what he was doing when they found him. He's going to hurt someone eventually, and you'll wish you'd acted sooner rather than later."

The golem carried Jeremy back to the truck, which had been parked not all that far away. He still only got a glimpse of the make and model, though, and the license plate was missing. Not enough to identify it. The huge arms dumped him into the trunk and closed the lid.

"Good luck, Mr. Ashe."

Fuck you, you looney mass-murdering psychopath. "Thanks."

"I've got a request for you," said Felix.

"The fuck?"

Jeremy twisted around in the trunk. They'd been driving for a good thirty minutes at least when the journalist's muffled voice sounded from the back seat. It was hard to tell, since Jeremy didn't have his phone or even a watch. I should get a watch… if shit like this is gonna happen.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

"...You could've been talkin' this whole damn time? I'm bored as shit back here."

Felix laughed. "Fair enough."

"What's the request?"

"Stop the book from getting published. It's too dangerous."

"It is, huh?" Jeremy whistled. "A fuckin' Pulitzer-prize writer is callin' for government censorship. There's somethin' you don't see everyday."

"...What, did you take a profile of me?"

"'Course I did. You and every other Sunday column asshole on that list." Jeremy paused. "Seriously, though. What's so dangerous about it?"

"Everyone will know how to awaken. And when that happens…"

"But there's a catch, isn't there?" Jeremy pointed out. "Can't do anythin' without a scrap of the old book, yeah? It won't spread that fast."

"They made copies. If they did it once, they can do it again. No one can control that." Felix rustled around on the seat. "I'm against censorship, but I'm a hundred percent in favor of weapon control. This is a weapon. It needs to be regulated."

"Can't argue with that."

"So help us here. Slow it down. Don't let that book get out."

Jeremy laughed. "The fuck am I supposed to do that? It's coming out tomorrow."

"Laushire bought everyone some time. There's no way they release it tomorrow with the lawsuits she pulled together. They were expecting a poor cult leader holed up in the woods, not the daughter of a billionaire. Easy pickings turned into a pack of hungry wolves. And I'm guessing daddy Laushire will back her play, too, if the rumors are true. They sure as shit don't want that book coming out."

"Which rumors? I've heard a fuckton lately."

He could practically hear Felix's grin through the rear seat cushions. "Spoilers, Agent Ashe. Let's just say there's some juicy intrigue in the rich man's house. I'm really looking forward to bringing that up with the patriarch himself when I can."

"You just love tearin' people down, don't you?" Jeremy muttered.

"No, of course not. I'm telling their stories, good or bad. What happens after those stories reach the public is out of my hands."

"Irresponsible as fuck, aren't ya?" Fucking reporters.

"The public decides. I'm just the messenger. I don't pull stunts like Russ did tonight. That was a pretty cheap shot, emotional manipulation on national TV. Guy thinks he's David fucking Frost. I kept it legit: nice uncommentated raw footage of the standoff." The truck lurched hard, knocking them around a bit. When it settled, Felix spoke up again. "But seriously, Agent Ashe. That book is nuclear. Figure it out."

"No promises," Jeremy said, "but the other side ain't exactly happy about it either. So at least y'all agree on somethin'."

"That's good to hear." Another heavy bump. "Your stop's coming up."

"Thanks for the ride," Jeremy added sarcastically.

Felix laughed. "Free tip? Don't bother putting an APB on this truck. We won't be taking it out again. Save your effort."

No effort on my back, but whatever. "Sure."

"Head south and you'll get out of here in one piece. See you around, Agent Ashe."

The truck lurched to a halt. Jeremy kicked at the trunk, and to his surprise it actually opened this time. He crawled out, aching all over from the rough ride. The instant he hit the dirt, the truck sped off. They'd stopped with a fairly long stretch of open ground ahead, giving it more than enough time to get away.

The rain had kicked up at some point while they'd been driving, and a layer of mud was caked on his sleeves and pants. Jeremy groaned out loud, before pulling his windbreaker hood up and beginning to trudge south.

Five minutes later, he stopped. Which fuckin' direction is south?

He glanced up at the sky. The tree cover wasn't so dense here, but the rain clouds were still pretty thick. Jeremy wasn't getting wet at least, but he didn't have a clue where he was.

Felix made it sound like it was gonna be easy.

Jeremy kept walking in the same direction he'd been let off it, since it seemed as good a way to start as any. It sure as hell wasn't the way they'd actually come. He'd noticed more than once they'd driven in a circle to mislead him.

Must be near midnight… cold as fuck out here.

After an hour of walking (or however long it really was), Jeremy felt completely lost, and was actively cursing Felix's name. Still, he knew he was in the Olympic forest somewhere, and they wanted him to get home. They wanted his help.

Am I just that fuckin' bad in the woods?

The faint sound of a clink of metal caught his ear.

Jeremy perked up. Metal's not a forest sound. He scrambled forward toward the sound, slipping on the muddy ground as he went. More than once, he tripped over a root, but it didn't slow him much. He could hear civilization ahead. More importantly, he could smell hops.

Please, god, anything for a good fuckin' beer right now.

A thick wall of hedges, trees and thick thorns barred his way. Jeremy looked around, but the barrier stretched out and around. He knew the smell was right on the other side of the wall, along with the faint sound of laughter. He reached out gingerly to pull the first thick, thorny bramble aside.

His hand went right through it.

Jeremy stared at it. He moved his hand through the branch again, and then a third time. It didn't react in the slightest. A less tired and miserable Jeremy might have taken a moment to think it through, assess what he was up against — but after the rough day he'd endured, Jeremy just wanted a drink.

He burst through the illusory wall.

A dozen people looked up at him, shocked. They were seated around wooden picnic tables. Lanterns hung in midair above each one, giving the place a warm flickering glow. Two huge barrels were set up on the far side of the little clearing, where one man was busy refilling his mug. On every table were stacks of gemstones, pieces of paper, scraps of an old parchment, and other valuables, surrounding cards and dice, or just food and cash.

Jeremy stood up straight, his mistake finally dawning on his fatigued mind. A man in a thick hunting jacket and boots approached as he swayed in place, and it took him a couple seconds to recognize the lopsided smile, beady eyes, and messy brown hair. His voice had just a bit of a lilt, an easy charm that belied danger and suspicion. Jeremy knew that type. He didn't trust the man for a second.

"Well now, how'd you get in here?" asked Julian Black.