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saw the suspicion creep into her handmaid’s eyes.

“Of course, Miss. I’m sure we’ll appreciate your generosity.”

Ester finished her immediate duties and wandered out. Celia knew Ester wasn’t as mindless and subservient as she appeared. How often did the Cherniks sit around and theorize about each death? What macabre Solomon humor pushed them through each day living on the edge of a string? They dared not crack, or their fall would be sharp and sudden, like any along the fjords.

Celia chose white gloves for the occasion. She thought they blended well with her sleeveless, fire-red bodysuit. She didn’t want to appear too eager to make a deal with her guest yet dared not dress to intimidate (her traditional strategy). Celia reminded herself about the value of discipline and cold, practical calculation. She held her people’s future within reach.

She intended to make Johannes proud.

Celia grabbed an egg-shaped silver case tucked between her perfumes and makeups. The case vibrated. She never took her eye off it after the messenger delivered it two days earlier in Oslo.

So small, so important. So dangerous.

A risk she needed to take.

“It’s time,” she whispered, stiffening her shoulders and coaching her reflection. “Be unafraid to sacrifice for the future.”

She took the lift down four levels to the Marsche family gallery. The room was empty save for eighteen obelisks, each designed in molded, glossy teak. A transparent sphere sat atop each, filled with ash. Beyond them, a hemispheric glass panel extended the length of the room, providing the summer estate’s most breathtaking view of the fjord. Outside, steep canyons of verdant forests rose from the sparkling, deep blue water where glaciers once ruled. Waterfalls half a mile high sliced through the forests with ferocious tentacles.

Celia removed her shoes, leaving only the whisper of her socked feet against the wooden floor as she passed the obelisks, ignoring the name inscribed on each. I kept my promise, she mused as she approached the panel and soaked in Earth’s most wondrous sight. You will always see the world as Johannes did.

She designed the gallery when she was fourteen and took out her first competitor. Twenty-five years later, she handed those designs to an architect and retrieved the stored ashes of every fallen Marsche.

“You never appreciated the history,” she told the ashen spheres. “This side of the mountain is where one man began his quest to move humanity forward. A lonely young man hiking these forests in search of truth, which found him. I want you to watch … I want you all to watch a new path begin today.”

Celia didn’t expect them to understand – especially her misguided, compassionate father. They wouldn’t be the last resistance.

She opened the egg-shaped box. It split into halves. She rested each in her palms. One was empty, the other filled with a sponge-like substance. A dimple in the center glowed sky blue.

“You will know how to unlock it,” the messenger said, unwilling to divulge more. “You’re the only one who can.”

Per their arrangement, the messenger did not reveal his identity and was shielded from immigration security to and from Earth. If she was wrong about them … if this was a trap … she’d hunt them down and murder them herself.

Celia tapped her amp to confirm Collectorate Standard Time. Then she pressed her right thumb into the glowing dimple. The result was immediate – the glow extended to both halves, even the empty shell. Instinct told her what to do. She reunited the halves, set the box upon the floor, and stepped away.

Soon, the fjords vanished, as did the gallery. She stood in what she deduced to be a vault – its walls were paneled white, matching the floor. No distinctive details.

She smelled him. It was a strange mix of perfumes and herbs. Neither the musk of a man nor the scent of a woman. Then again, she wasn’t in the room with a human being.

“I wasn’t sure it would be you,” she said, containing her fear of the giant who studied her from a far corner.

“And I wasn’t sure you’d have the guts to follow through.”

“What is this? Where are we?”

“Too far away to harm each other, but close enough to make a deal. Are you ready to begin?”

“In a white box? I think not. You’re disguising your location. I understand why. But if we’re to talk, I wish to feel at home.”

“Not a problem. Close your eyes and envision the fjord I see. Then open.”

Celia did as told and returned to the gallery.

Brother James stared through the glass, a few feet away.

“Let’s talk about the future,” he said. “We can help each other. Yes?”

26

N EITHER HIS FIERY EYES NOR THE DARK TREMOR in his voice terrified Celia. Her tour of duty in the Guard inured her against his intimidating size. No, what unsettled Celia was his sophistication. He was in command and knew exactly the terms he would achieve. How long had he been orchestrating this moment? She vowed not to allow him to dictate the terms outright.

“Help each other, you say? Interesting. You have slaughtered a quarter million humans and evaded the largest military search in human history. I’m not sure help is what you require.”

Brother James rubbed his beard. “Everyone needs help. We don’t change the universe in a vacuum.” He hinted at a smile.

“I see. An attempt at humor? Please. You are a savage.”

“As are you, which is why we’re here. We leave a trail of blood wherever we go because it serves our interests, and because we enjoy killing. I slaughter strangers. You slaughter your family. If we were being graded on savagery, I might not win.”

“My fam …? Your information is dreadfully inaccurate.”

“I’m not wrong about anything, Celia Marsche. I know it all. Literally, all of it. I’m a god,

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