Geists were wetwork agents, ostensibly trained and employed by the United States government. It was obvious, though, that someone else was capable of pulling their strings. Not so long ago, Dan had stopped a Geist from killing Jeremy Rawls, the head of the FBI's Villain Response Unit. Investigating the hit had been the catalyst for his present situation, starting him down the path towards Madison and the Evo Church.

The running theory was that Madison had ordered Rawls' assassination, in order to preempt an investigation into the rat, Dunkirk. Unfortunately, not even Dunkirk could explain where Madison had conjured up a Geist willing to murder a government official without legitimate sanction. Now, Dan was sensing a Geist playing bodyguard to some random suburban house; a house where Senator Madison was currently being invited into like he was an old friend. Dan felt he could now explain where the good senator had found his Geist.

Madison entered the home, alone, while his bodyguard waited patiently outside the door. The man seemed satisfied by the safety of his charge, simply leaning up against the wall and surveying the surroundings from behind black shades. He glared suspiciously down the street, where parents and children played at the local park. Dan's veil continued to trace the Geist, but the trained killer remained almost perfectly still. It gave the Dan the impression of a guard dog, waiting to strike.

He relocated his door, opening a pinhole inside the home; a moment later, he added another for sound. Madison walked through the small foyer into a narrow hallway, escorted by a much younger man. The wooden floor creaked with every step. The wallpaper was flaking. Mold gathered at the edges, staining white to brown. They passed two different doors, one to a bathroom, the other, a bedroom. The doors were chipped and peeling, more particle board than paint.

The hallway split, one end facing an open living room, and the other leading to the master bedroom. In the former, there was a man sitting on a moth-eaten couch, almost as old as Madison, and not nearly so well preserved. He had the same olive brown skin as the younger man, but he was ragged and wrinkled. His hair was black, where it hadn't given way to grey. His arms were skinny, almost emaciated, and his hands were all skin and bone. His eyes, though, were wide and aware, and when they settled on Madison, the man rose up on knobby knees to greet the Senator like an old friend.

Dan had absolutely no idea who this guy was. He snapped a picture of his television screen, prepared to text it, then thought better of the action. He deleted the picture from his phone, dug into his hammerspace, and pulled out an instant film camera he'd bought on a whim. He took a close up picture, and set it aside to develop. He sent a simple text to Anastasia—'need drop-off. send pic of location when convenient'—then returned his attention to the screen.

"Merry!" the old man greeted, clasping hands with Senator Madison. "It's good to see you, my friend!"

Madison smiled. Dan had watched the man smile a thousand times over the past few days, on television, in the news, in meetings with staff and donors. He smiled and smiled and smiled again, and every smile looked the same. Smooth, curving, dimpled; it never reached his eyes. The smile he gave to the old man was small, and slight, yet filled with warmth. It was genuine, if Dan was any judge. At the very least, it was different from his public smiles. It was something unique, and special.

"Peter," Madison replied, clapping his companion gently on the shoulder. "Glad to see you're still here."

The old man wheezed with laughter that quickly became a cough. He fell back in his seat, hacking and spitting. The younger man rushed forward to help him, but was waved away. When he finally regained control of himself, Peter said, "It's not been two weeks since last we met, you old coot! I'm not so frail as that."

Madison bestowed the frail man with a look that could best be described as politely skeptical. He turned to the younger boy, who Dan realized couldn't be older than eighteen, and asked, "Has he been taking his medicine?"

"I've been putting it in his soup, Uncle Merry," the lad said with a nod.

"You what!" the frail man squawked, at the same time as Madison gave that same small, warm smile and said, "You're a good boy, Nikolos."

"My own grandson, poisoning me with that foul substance," Peter complained in a wavering tone. "No wonder my meals have tasted so strange of late. I assumed the boy had forgotten how to cook!"

Dan's phone pinged, and he checked it. Anastasia had sent a picture of an empty table. Dan checked his instant photo, saw that it was developed, and turned it over. He scribbled on the margins a quick request for identification, along with a brief update of the situation, then made a tiny door to the location in the text, and pitched the photo through. By the time he'd finished this task, Madison and his companions had finished catching up, and were moving on to business.

Peter looked to his grandson, smiled genially, and said, "Nikolos, would you be so kind as to make me something to eat. Without anything else in it, this time."

The young man looked between the two, got the hint, and vacated the room. Dan swept the house, remembering the third life form he'd felt. He found it again, standing in a side room, beside a window. A quick sweep of the clothes revealed the same clothes as the invisible guard outside. It was another Geist! Dan focused on the living room, determined to learn who this 'Peter' really was.

The Senator had found himself a rocking chair, looking incongruously comfortable as he spoke about serious matters. "I'm being followed."

A chill ran up Dan's spine. Abby jerked upright, was halfway out of her seat before Peter's response stopped them both.

He snorted, unconcerned. "Obviously. Summers has hardly been subtle about it. She dropped a plane on you."

Dan unclenched. They weren't talking about him. Anastasia had been deliberately overt with her surveillance, to throw attention away from Dan.

"I noticed," Madison drawled, shaking his head.

"Your man gave you up."

Madison blew out a sharp breath. "Yes."

"As I said he would."

Now, Madison looked annoyed. "Yes."

"This is what comes from working with those who have no principles, Meriwether," Peter chided. "They save themselves, rather than the cause."

"Yes, thank you for the lecture," Madison said, in a long-suffering tone. "But what's done is done. He knew little more than my name, and that is not enough. She cannot come for me in the night, like she has so many others. I am not so easily dispatched, even by her. Nor can she easily discredit me. My position will force her to do things the slow way, the public way. It will take time to build a case against me, and I will work to counter it. Our work must continue in the meantime. Only now, some risks must be taken."

Peter held up a thin, wavering finger in a motion that was clearly meant to be threatening. "Nikolos will not be some ill-used pawn. He is worth more than that. The boy will be strong, I can feel it."

"Such things are up to fate," Madison replied gravely. "I'm certain Niko will do his duty, regardless of his... abilities."

This did not placate Peter. "Poorly allocated resources is how we found ourselves in this situation! What did the Elders say about this?"

"The Elders do not know my candidate," Madison explained patiently. "Nor do they know my plans. You will not tell them, Peter. It is better this way. They can testify to ignorance, even under the sway of a Truthteller."

"Their wisdom may have been worth the risk," Peter argued.

Madison only shook his head. "We will never agree on this, my friend. Please, do not turn this into a sermon. There are more important things to discuss."

Peter scowled, but conceded. He asked, "Still no word from your... business partners?"

At which point, Dan realized they were still speaking in code, despite being in what should be a perfectly safe home, guarded by nearly undetectable soldiers. Paranoid, beyond the pale. Even when discussing their plans with trusted allies, they were cagey on the details. Dan wanted to scream. At least he could mostly make sense of things. He assumed the 'business partners' in question were the People.

"None," Madison admitted. "I think they suspect I've not been completely forthcoming with them. A new point of contact will be needed, which is where Nikolos comes in."

Dan's phone vibrated. He glanced down, noting Anastasia's name, and an attached document. He put it down. There would be time to read it, later.

"He will need quite a reputation, to secure such a meeting," Peter noted.

"Do not speculate!" Madison warned, harshly. "You know better than that! There is a difference between believing a thing, and knowing it for certain!"

"Yes, yes, forgive me," Peter acknowledged, waving his bony hand. "He is my kin. I worry for the boy."

"Soon, he will be a man. He has been trained for what faces him. He is as prepared as anyone can be." Madison fixed Peter with a firm stare. "Put it out of your mind. Worrying over what you cannot change has never helped anyone."

Peter barked out a laugh, weak and rasping. "Now it's your turn to lecture me! Fine! So be it! You haven't come all this way to trade words with a dying man. Nikolos!" This last name was shouted, and shortly after, the boy in question came into the room garbed in an apron and bearing a bowl of steaming soup.

"I am here, grandfather," he said, kneeling beside the frail old senior. He held out the bowl, but it was waved away.

"Leave it," Peter commanded. "Your time has come, Nikolos. You are called."

The boy's eyes widened. He left the bowl on the nearest flat surface, and straightened his back. His gaze flitted from one old man, to the other.

"I'll speak to him alone," Madison said, giving Peter a significant look.

Peter held the stare for a long moment, then huffed. "Oh, fine. You can't blame a man for trying. Come here, boy! Give me an arm to lean against!"

The younger man led the elder out of the living room, and into a chair in the kitchen. There was a thick door separating the two rooms, and Nikolos gingerly slid it shut. He came back to the couch, taking the seat where his grandfather had been, and waiting, expectantly, for Madison to speak. The older man was examining him, like a potter examines clay before it sets.

Eventually, Madison spoke, "You've been told what will happen next?"

Nikolos nodded, swallowing. His lips were chapped. His eyes were wide. His nostrils flared in and out in rapid succession. He managed a quiet, "Yes, uncle."

Madison nodded, unshouldered his backpack, and opened it up. Dan held his breath, but instead of a charcoal black orb, Madison pulled out a small, folded scrap of paper. He passed it over, and Nikolos accepted it gravely. He unfolded the scrap in his lap. Dan quickly swapped angles, opening a new door above the boy to peek at what lay within, but Nikolos was bowed and hunched, pouring over the message like it was the words of a prophet. Mere seconds passed, then the boy methodically folded the scrap, placed it in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed.

"I understand," he said to Madison, who nodded in return. The old senator reached back into his bag, and this time the orb was pulled free. Black as pitch and inscrutable, the dark thing seemed to pulse in the rooms soft light. Dan had a brief moment where he considered opening a door and stealing the thing before it could be used, damn the consequences; he hesitated, but Madison did not.

The senator unceremoniously shoved the orb into the chest of Nikolos, and there was suddenly no more time. The inky blackness poured out from the orb, into the boy, fouling his olive skin. It spread across him like a wave of ants, leaving behind narrow trails that seeped into the skin without a blemish. Nikolos flinched at first, then held still, completely motionless, until the wave of black covered his face and eyes and he writhed in primordial terror.

Then, it was over. Nikolos gasped for air, near flat on his back against the couch, but the darkness was gone. The orb was cradled in his lap, a dull, ashy grey; the color of dead wood. Madison plucked it up immediately, and shoved it back in his bag. He turned to the boy, commanded, "Remember your lessons!"

Nikolos flinched. He stared up at Madison, eyes wide, mouth open, but mastered himself. He closed his eyes, pulled his feet into a lotus position, and breathed like a monk seeking enlightenment. Madison watched him for a few long moments, before smiling that small, satisfied smile, and rising from his rocking chair. He paused briefly, to pick up the bowl of still steaming soup, and carried it into the kitchen.

Dan reoriented his audio portal to the kitchen, but kept the camera on the boy. His chest rose and fell in perfectly synchronized gaps. There was the sound of a sliding door, a quiet greeting, and a clank of ceramic against marble.

"It is done," Madison said. "I wish you both the best of luck."

"May the Elders watch over you," Peter replied, in a tone of quiet reverence.

The door opened again. Madison stepped out, keeping his distance from the still and silent Peter. He left without a word, letting himself out. His bodyguard followed. The Geists remained, both of them having scarcely moved an inch since Madison had arrived. The old senator unshouldered his backpack, tossed it into the car, and clambered in after it. His guard joined him, and the car trundled off.

Dan watched it go, filled with uncertainty. Abby was at his side, blinking rapidly. She turned to him, and voiced the question to which he so desperately wanted an answer.

"What do we do now?"