The Law of Averages - Book 2: Chapter 174: Occult

The front doors of the Evo Church were so large that they could not be moved by normal civilians. Instead, they were kept open during business hours, angled inward in such a way to create a sizeable gap, without compromising the visual effect of two enormous gilded slabs. The size of the doors, and the shadows they cast, made it a relatively simple affair to find a dark crevice to hide a portal in. From this vantage point, Dan and Abby watched Senator Madison approach the doors, alone.

The old man walked with a steady, confident gait. The entrance was unguarded, though the odd civilian milled around inside. There was a service going on, judging by the number of cars in the lot and, after a moment of focus, the echoes coming from deeper within. There was a… Dan searched for a word more appropriate than ‘ticket counter’ but couldn’t find one, right next to the entrance. The man sitting inside glanced at the senator, noticeably adjusted his posture, and gave the man a professional nod.

“They know him on sight,” Abby noted quietly.

There was no real reason to whisper, yet Dan felt the need to copy her. He said, “One employee isn’t a pattern. Madison’s face has been all over the news since the crash.”

Abby hummed thoughtfully. They kept watching as Madison moved deeper into the church, walking down a long, circular hallway. The place really was built like a stadium, Dan noted. He supposed it was just the best architectural format for supporting huge numbers of people facing a center stage. His brain could acknowledge this fact, but it didn’t stop him from expecting to see a concession stand around each bend, or built into the walls of the building. Instead, there were private rooms everywhere. Meeting rooms, and miniature temples, some with pews and prayer mats, and others with office chairs and large tables.

Another bend; there was a gift shop, and a line of civilians. Over there, a sitting area and coffee shop. Sitting inside, Dan saw his first priest of the Church of Evolution Everlasting. The man looked like a Jesuit had been crossed with a Jedi Knight, and tossed into a war zone. He wore what Dan could only describe as matte-black battle robes. The only real color on the cassock came from a golden clerical collar, and gilded trim along the cuffs. The inside of the material, what little could be seen, shimmered with a fluorescent quality.

The priest sat in a booth and quietly sipped at a cup of coffee. Madison walked past, head turning to scan the café, and the two men’s eyes met. The senator’s stride did not slow. His head reoriented forward, and he continued walking. The priest, after a moment, dropped a few dollars on the table, stood up, and followed.

Abby poked Dan’s shoulder. “You see that?”

“Not really hiding it, were they?” Dan observed, reorienting his door to get a look at the priest. “I guess this confirms that he’s known to the church.”

Abby gnawed at her lip as the priest’s face appeared on the screen. She brought up her laptop, and navigated to the Evo Church’s official website. “They’ve got a staff list on here,” she explained, scrolling through dozens of smiling faces.

Dan jumped the portal forward, catching up with Madison. The old had man paused in front of a door, right around the next bend. The sign on it was a generic one, indicating yet another meeting room, and the door handle had a coded lock like every other. Some doors, mostly the ones with church pews, had windows. This one did not. Madison contemplated the pad, then tapped in a short sequence of numbers. A moment later, the lock buzzed. Madison turned the handle, and stepped inside. Dan’s camera caught a brief view of the interior, little more than a flash of brown, and Abby sucked in a sharp breath.

“That was wood!” she exclaimed. “Don’t make a door inside!”

Dan held off, keeping his current portal in the ceiling outside the room, and extending his veil through it. He kept one eye on the screen—the priest was ambling down the hallway—while he snaked his veil past the door. He immediately felt the same energy that suffused Madison’s own home. The room’s walls and ceiling were almost the exact same wood as that dwelling, bathed in cosmic radiation and almost alive. This was a room designed specifically for Madison’s power.

It was not, however, even a fraction as secure as the man’s home. The furniture was not carved wood, but synthetic fibers over an aluminum base. The table was marble, with a wooden base that was not imbued by cosmic energy. A quick test of the air proved that there was no pollen in it. There was a completely mundane potted plant in the corner, but its base was made of clay. Dan could think of a dozen different spots to stick a bug, if he was really determined. The trick, he supposed, was getting someone inside the room. There were surely more defenses than a simple locked door.

The priest paused outside the door, and tapped in the door code. Another buzz, he turned the handle and went inside. Dan created a new portal beneath the marble table, this time for audio. He cranked the volume up on the television, and leaned forward, with Abby right beside him.

There was the sound of a door shutting, followed by a tap, then a more mechanical clunk that reverberated through the room. Madison’s voice asked, “Are we secure?”

“So far as we can be,” came the answer. “Everything was rotated just this morning. All new furniture, even the door was changed. All completely random, all by those we trust. The seals are in place. No signal will escape this room. But of the powers that be, we cannot account.”

Abby sniggered beside Dan.

“…Very well.”

There was a sigh. A chair creaked, then another. Madison said, “She’s baiting me.”

“A good thing, I should think,” said the priest. “It means you are still dangerous enough to bait.”

“We need a response.”

“This is a result of your mistakes,” the priest pointed out mildly. “You granted power and influence to a fool who squandered both. You picked the wrong man to trust, and the wrong plan when it came time to retire him. And, you have made allies of People who you cannot call upon for aid.”

There was a certain emphasis there on People, a silent warning which sent the hairs on Dan’s arm upright.

Madison grunted in displeasure. There was a rhythmic tapping sound, coming from above the table. Dan imagined the old senator drumming his fingers against the marble surface, and felt glad for the show of nerves. Not so confident after all, Dan thought. Not here, where nobody will see.

“Our interests still align,” said Madison.

“They do.” There was a pause, and then, “Our sponsorships will continue, for yourself and those you’ve designated. The Most High asks that you exercise better judgement when choosing those who receive our Gift.”

Madison exhaled, sharp and loud. “Thank you, Elder.”

“That’s what the Evo Church calls their priests,” Abby whispered into Dan’s ear. “And the Most High is the current leader of the church. It’s literally his name; he had it legally changed.”

“I will not ask your plans, that is your business. Tell me what you require from the Church,” the Elder said. “You have our support, for now. Do not squander it.”

“I need another Gift,” Madison said, immediately. “If that old bitch is going to leave me dangling, then at least I can fortify my position.”

“You have a candidate?” the Elder asked.

“Yes. He was next on the list, already. He knows his duty.”

“And this one is not some… unruly child?”

An angry snort sounded from Madison’s end of the table. “The boy was a mistake, I admit, but the theory was sound. The public support he received proved it. It was the man, not the method, that failed. And even then, he would have lasted longer if not for Dunkirk’s foolishness.”

“Careful,” the Elder warned.

Another long pause. “Apologies,” Madison said. “I am weary, and privacy has been difficult to find.”

“It always is,” the Elder agreed. His chair creaked as it slid backwards. “Come. The Church will grant you its Gift.”

The two men stood and left the room. Dan snapped his door shut, and began tracking them down the hallway once more. Abby bounced in place beside him, furiously muttering under her breath. Dan was just as restless, his mind racing. Nothing the two men had said was even remotely actionable, but the implications were wide and far-reaching. If he didn’t miss his guess, then the Evo Church was at least partially responsible for the resurgence of vigilantes across the country. At minimum, it seemed that Madison had worked with them to sponsor someone who Dan was pretty sure had been Galeforce.

The pair continued their walk in silence, passing door after door, until they ended up in an alcove with a series of elevators. The priest walked to the very end, and pressed his thumb against the call button for several long seconds. The light, at first orange, turned green, and the doors opened. Madison joined him, and the doors clicked shut the moment he crossed the barrier.

Dan fumbled with his veil, opening a new door inside the elevator shaft. He watched the box go down, down, down. They’d started on the ground floor. Now, they were at least sixty feet underground. He opened another door inside the elevator, as soon as it came to a stop. The doors slid open, revealing a narrow entrance chamber guarded by a pair of armed men. One stepped forward, nodding to the priest as he waved a hand over him, then performed the same action to Madison.

“Clean,” he said, and stepped back. They filed out, and walked to the hallway’s only door.

Dan jumped ahead, finding a nearby wall and opening a doorway inside. Beyond the door was a viewing area, overlooking a large chamber. Thick shutters blocked off most of what lay inside, but something bright and twisting was hanging just below the windows. Shadows danced along the edges, bright light battering the shades. Madison and the Elder entered, and walked straight towards the window. The Elder paused at what appeared to be a control panel, and keyed in a sequence. The shutters snapped open.

Dan reoriented his portal to get a look at what lay below. His television screen flickered as it adjusted its input. Something odd appeared on screen: an orb, no larger than Dan’s head, but bright as the sun on a cloudless day. It sat on a podium, surrounded by a series of metal struts that wrapped around it like the legs of a dead spider. The struts rotated, slowly, and arcing coils of electricity occasionally leapt from their tips.

Abby gasped, horrified. Her hands, shot up over her mouth.

“What?” Dan demanded, jerking backwards in alarm. “What’s wrong?”

Abby’s hand jerked towards the television screen, violently accusing.

“That,” she said, with the gravity of a collapsing star, “is a cosmic generator.”