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  Christian sighed. Hard things were hard, and his next task was unenviable. It was time to vet his trusted skeleton crew.

  Emilio was an obvious place to start. He had the skill set to disable Kablammy's communication infrastructure. He was also conspicuously absent. His work history, however, was practically nonexistent. He'd been with Kablammy for a long time, learning the ropes as an assistant and moving his way up to IT director. He was well-liked and even better paid. How could such an appreciated and rewarded asset turn on the company?

  Christian Everett hated this.

  "Look, Abbie," he said sarcastically. "This is you."

  She gave a waggish laugh. "Stop joking around, Christian."

  His eyes strained at the list. "I should show this to Tad. You really are a rock star."

  "Oh, that's really not necessary."

  "You made a name for yourself at Instaface. It was a big coup when InLink took you on. I'm still amazed you left them for us."

  Abbie tensed. "It was for you," she said. "I wouldn't have joined on with anyone else."

  The CEO smiled at the compliment. "Could you imagine if InLink was behind all this? If they took over, Haven would become a wasteland of paid advertising, fake news, and knee-jerk reactions."

  Christian froze. The absurdity had a twisted elegance to it. InLink had access to Haven's vital systems, and their headquarters was in Buena Park.

  "Ha, ha, ha!"

  Abbie's shrill laugh attempted to wrest him from the train of thought, but Christian was lost in the abyss of his mind. The mental block was shifting loose. The possibilities of the sabotage coming, not from a tech company, but a data company.

  And, oh, the extent of the data. An entire population of captive subjects, without the right to privacy, with connections to real people and organizations all over the world. A population that would always grow in size and never age out of their demographic categories. A population that every single person on this earth could one day join.

  Christian had repeatedly insisted on following the money, but data was money in the new economy. How could he have been so blind?

  InLink was the king of data, and they wanted to be the king of Haven too.

  "Abbie," admonished Christian, voice shaking.

  But the CEO still didn't understand people. She was faster than him.

  Tad cut through the cubicles to speed his path to Christian's office. The slow progress only increased his worry. If Abbie was a mole like Larry had been, everything was doomed. All the trust, all the employee management, all the new hires—how much could she have sabotaged?

  Part of him thought there had to be another explanation, that his dislike of the HR director was creeping into his logic. She wasn't a traitor, she was just annoying. But everything made too much sense, and what else would explain Emilio's email?

  As Tad neared the office, he heard the CEO's raised voice. The two were arguing. He hopped forward more urgently, crutch nearly slipping.

  A loud crack echoed through the office. Tad's crutch missed a step and he pitched to the floor. Two more reports buffeted his ears, like fireworks going off indoors.

  Tad ducked behind an administrative assistant's cubicle just as Abbie emerged from the office. "Frick!" she said with a sneer. She scanned up and down the administrative wing before storming toward the other end of the building.

  Tad swallowed. Had that been a gun in her hand? That was crazy, right?

  He waited a beat. Then another. He closed his eyes and listened. Someone stirred in Christian's office.

  Tad Lonnerman gritted his teeth and recovered his crutch, using the desk to prop him away from the floor. Once standing, he peeked over the line of cubicles.

  The area was clear.

  With a limp as fast as he could manage, doubling up the steps of his good leg by taking an extra hop, he safely reached the doorway. In the office, each of the CEO's dual monitors had been shot. Tad released a breath before hearing a murmur from the floor.

  Stepping around the desk with great trepidation, he found Christian lying on the carpet, blood welling from his torso.

  1690 Counter-Strike

  I chewed my lip raw. The Everchat hail icon was spinning round and round, an endless motion that resembled a black hole in more ways than one. I paused the call and reinitiated it, just in case there was a bad connection.

  The white knight lumbered toward me. "What is it?" she asked.

  "A message from Tad," I grumbled. "It's tagged urgent." I rotated the floating menu screen so she could see the progress.

  Eternal spinning.

  I couldn't understand why the call wouldn't pick up. I'd only been a minute late in answering. That was an acceptable delay given the requirements on my end to enter a private zone. Things were different in the real world; a swipe of the phone was all it took. My gaze went from Lash's painted eyes to Glinda, Conan, and the closed helmets of the Defenders.

  I cursed when my teeth accidentally drew blood. I was more nervous than usual. I laughed coarsely at the irony. A legendary spear of yore, the only dragon in the world, my enemy in chains, and the support and resources of the core city at my disposal—and I felt helpless.

  I strode back down the hall and into Hadrian's cell. "Peter, Tad was trying to reach me, but he's not available now."

  The old man was half distracted when he turned. "Just give him five minutes and try again. He's probably refilling his coffee."

  I winced. Perhaps Tad had assumed there'd be a short delay between his hail and my answer. Maybe Peter was right and he was setting up for a long talk.

  "What was that?" snapped Peter. "A network spike." The community manager went deep into his invisible menu.

  Lucifer frowned. "Hadrian sent an SOS."

  "No," swore Hadrian, head shaking. "It's not me. They have trackers on us." His eyes met mine. "The Trojan. I can't get away from it."

  I scowled. "Are you saying they know that we know?"

  "Maybe. It's possible."

  I pinged the Everchat menu again, all concern of privacy out the window. As I waited on the hail, I squared up with the prisoner. "You're not telling us the whole story. What the hell's going on?"

  Christian Everett squirmed in pain as Tad cradled his head. "She knew this would happen," he sputtered. "She tried to warn me. I thought... I was afraid she'd gone mad, trapped in a digital world so long. So alone."

  Tad nodded in support. He didn't really know what to say. At first he thought Christian was talking about Abbie, but he realized the CEO had family on his mind. His daughter Lucy was the one who'd tried to warn him.

  "You're hurt bad," were the words Tad finally strung together. They weren't inspired words, possibly even ill-advised, but they were the truth.

  Tad produced his phone and tried 911, hoping the emergency request would work if there was even a sliver of reception. When that failed he scrambled for something to prop the CEO up, settling on a stack of financial binders to elevate Christian's head. Then Tad checked the landline. Still no service. How was he gonna get the word out? He checked the time. If the security team was true to their word, they'd be arriving soon. Surely they had the capacity to contact authorities and handle emergencies.

  "The computer..." breathed Christian.

  Tad looked. Curiously, the PC was still running, power light on and fan whirring. Tad had heard three gunshots, one for Christian and two for the dual monitors. Abbie had fucking shot the monitors. Her misguided attempt to destroy Christian's computer had failed miserably.

  "Jeez, she really doesn't know anything about tech, does she?"

  Christian tried to lift to his elbow. "Need to warn... Need to warn Pete."

  Tad went still as he realized two worrying facts. One, the incident with Abbie wasn't necessarily over, and two, Pete and the Defenders were strapped in their EXSIL units, blissfully unaware of the danger within the studio. If Abbie was truly attempting to sabotage Haven, that's where she would go next.

  "Don't get up," ord
ered Tad, already halfway out of the office. "I'll get help." It wasn't until Tad was about to step into the main hall that he remembered to be scared.

  There was a crazed woman with a gun loose in the building who was just as likely to shoot him as she was to make a patronizing joke. Hell, knowing Abbie she'd do both at the same time.

  Tad peeked out the doorway. The coast was clear, which confirmed what he'd seen: Abbie storming to the other side of the building. He desperately hoped she was going for the exit, but everything was toward that side of the building, including the exit, his cubicle, the kitchen, and the Superdome, home of the saints.

  Tad set the crutch ahead of him and leaned into it. With Christian bleeding out and potential danger around the corner, every tortured step seemed to take forever. There was nothing for it but to settle into a rhythm. Crutch, foot, hop. Crutch, foot, hop.

  This time he was winded before getting to the kitchen. He stopped and leaned against the doorway, peeking in to make sure it was empty. It would've been crazy for Abbie to stop here, but an image popped into his mind of the HR director laughing maniacally, hands drenched in blood as she gurgled seven Diet Cokes in a row.

  Abbie wasn't there, and neither was anybody else. Nobody to warn; nobody to help. Tad grimaced. He was delaying the inevitable and he knew it.

  He hurried forward, borderline out of control. More than once he relied on his leg in a cast for support as he overshot the crutch's reach. Pain spread through unused muscles, but it was a dull pain, buried under fear and adrenaline and anger. Urgency was his prerogative. Tad hurried straight to the Superdome, abandoning all concern for his well being. He'd already almost died once, and that had been a car accident, a useless death in a mindless rat race. At least now he was fighting for something.

  As he sped toward the open double doors of the Superdome, Tad bowled right into an exiting Abbie.

  "Wha—?" She stumbled backward in surprise.

  They locked eyes for a split second before she raised the gun in her hand.

  Tad didn't recover his balance as quickly. Flailing for support, he reacted without thinking. The crutch he so desperately needed swung up and smacked Abbie's hand. He leaned into the blow, over relying on his wounded leg. The pistol bounced to the carpet and slid across the room.

  Tad recovered awkwardly on his crutch. He set his jaw, straightened as much as he could, and said something he'd wanted to say for a long time. "You fucking bitch."

  Abbie glanced behind her nervously, then at the gun, before hardening her features. "Get out of my way, nerd."

  "You're not going anywhere. When the security team gets here they—" Tad froze in horror as the sneer grew on her face. "You didn't call the security team, did you?"

  She snorted. "Don't worry, I called someone all right."

  She lunged forward. Tad tried to hit her with the crutch but she barreled into him. She ripped it away as he fell backward, only preventing a fall by clamping onto her sweater.

  "Ouch, my boob!" she screamed.

  "Sorry," he peeped. "I missed gender sensitivity training."

  She shoved him hard. Tad was out of breath, off balance, and without his crutch. Abbie was too heavy to drag down. She clawed his face and he attempted to punch her, but he couldn't put any force behind the blow, especially since she was driving forward and keeping him on his heels.

  He swelled with embarrassment realizing he couldn't fight her off. But, dammit, he wouldn't let her leave. Ignoring the raking nails, Tad pulled in, hugging her close. He buried his face into her cushioned chest to escape her attacks, and he lifted his legs off the floor as much as he could to weigh her down.

  Abbie kicked and flailed, desperately trying to hurry away from the Superdome, but she could barely move.

  A second later Tad realized the reason for her urgency as a bright light and shock wave tore over them and slammed them to the ground.

  Hadrian's eyes widened as Talon neared. "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "Who else is secretly working for InLink? Who's sabotaging the company from within?"

  "How could I know that?" he snapped. "I was always contacted by in-game constructs. If I'd used Everchat or something else, there'd be a record."

  I growled. "But you're communicating through the network spikes. We can see it happening."

  "I'm not in control..."

  "You expect me to believe that?!?" I drew the assassin needle and set it against his throat. Hadrian leaned into the blade. Lucifer rested a hand on my shoulder, and I reluctantly pulled away.

  This, of course, was what the Whisperer wanted. For us to be so enraged that we killed him, or even worse: for us to be driven into inaction and indecision because we didn't know what was going on any more than he did.

  "He's lying," I spat. "We should execute him."

  Lucifer countered with a tempered voice. "He'll reveal what he knows or face judgment."

  I stuffed the dagger into my inventory and glanced at the Everchat window. Still no connection. I focused on brigade chat.

  Talon: Status report in the city?

  Izzy: The bandits have taken heavy losses and are backing away.

  Kyle: Oldtown's untouched. The goblins are retreating.

  I cursed at the seemingly good news.

  Talon: Something's going down. Full alert. Look out for anything strange.

  Bravo Team tensed as they read my message. Lash arched a dark eyebrow my way. "Is there something we don't know about, boss?"

  I turned to Saint Peter. "Are your Defenders secure?"

  "I— Of course they are."

  "I mean, is there a way they could be hacked?"

  "It's impossible. There're real human beings driving them. There's no way the program can short circuit that connection. Same goes for me, or you for that matter."

  I forced out a harsh breath as Lucifer watched with concern. "Then do me a favor," I said. "Leave Haven. Check on Tad. If Hadrian did send an SOS they might be in trouble."

  The old man frowned. "But Hadrian's finally revealing—"

  "He's not telling us anything, Peter. He's lying through his teeth, stalling for time. Look, he's finally in trouble. Otho can delete him in seconds." I scowled. "Tad's not answering his own hail. Just humor me, please."

  The saint pulled his head back and stroked his beard with more consternation than usual. "I suppose it can't hurt."

  Hadrian flexed against his chains. Beads of sweat ran down his head and neck. "Wait," he said. "I have more to tell."

  "Then tell us," I demanded.

  "I'll only talk to the saint." The corner of his mouth turned up in a smile.

  My eyes narrowed. "Screw it. Execute him. Execute him now!"

  Lucifer's eyes shot to Peter. The saint straightened and went stiff. "Arghhh!" Peter convulsed as his body twisted.

  "Peter!" I grabbed him before he fell. His fingers clawed my arm.

  Lash rushed in, cleaver in hand. "What is it?"

  Screams filled the hall behind her. Bravo Team spun. The two silver Defenders collapsed and gurgled helplessly on the floor.

  I shook the saint in my arms. "Peter! Peter!"

  My friend's eyes became expansive windows as he stared through me, barely managing a croak. Saint Peter went slack and disappeared.

  I turned to the others. The Defenders had disappeared as well. "What's going on?" asked Glinda.

  I spun around. "Lucifer!"

  The devil clenched his jaw, turned to Otho, and nodded. The angel of death raised a black scythe above the prisoner's head. Hadrian shut his eyes and screamed.

  The dungeon lurched. I pressed forward, seemingly sideways as the entire world reeled. It was fast but slow, reminiscent of falling and being underwater at the same time. Otho's scythe came down in slow motion, like a dream.

  The Whisperer laughed, and I realized this was a nightmare.

  DEVELOPER CONSOLE

  >> ERROR

  >> CONNECTION LOST

  I watched in horror as a
ll of Haven shut down.

  1700 Perfect Dark

  The world is black and still, and so am I.

  1710 Limbo

  Haven version 0.9.31

  Online

  Booting auxiliary pipeline...

  Safe mode

  Waiting on reserves...

  The world came back, a stuck reel once again feeding through the projector. Everything shifted in place, sharpening and blurring and sliding.

  I collapsed to all fours, blinking repeatedly, breathing heavily for some reason. I chalked it up to virtual adrenaline. I wasn't hurt but my vision was shaky. My surroundings steadied and I recoiled suddenly aware I was in Hadrian's cell.

  As if someone had hit the pause button, the Whisperer sat in chains, hatred and confidence plastered into his sneer. Lucifer stood beside me, watching.

  "What was that?" I asked him. "Where's Otho?"

  No one answered. Lucifer stood in place, artificial, idle movement playing on his face.

  My expression soured. This wasn't Haven, it was a facsimile of the world. I thrust to my feet.

  Hadrian's gaze bored through me, lip curling up and snapping down, leaning forward and jerking back, breath uneven. His avatar was frozen in place, glitching in a jerky loop. When I stepped to the side, his eyes didn't follow.

  Lucifer didn't respond either. He stood as he always did, hand atop witchwood, silently observing his subject.

  My eyes strained at them. What was the matter with my vision? My hands were in sharp focus but the figures beyond were hazy. The effect was independent of distance. I could slide my boot past Lucifer and see it perfectly clear while everything else was out of focus, right down to the fuzzy stone floor. I stomped my foot and was satisfied with a solid thump.