“And why should you, when it was easier to sit back and pull the strings?” Reed said.
“Exactly,” Janus said with a thick layer of resentment. “Can you imagine the effect of seeing a god on the battlefield against you? Then try to imagine the effect of seeing one felled by the enemy. Our presence in armies did almost as much ill as good, and we had long before devised a strategy to protect Rome that did not put any of us in a position to be killed and thus demoralize an army and destroy the power of our mythology.” He thumped a palm lightly against the table. “However, once our strategy did fall apart, some of us returned to the battlefield on occasion, never in an obvious way—”
“How did your strategy fail?” Li asked, cutting right to the heart of the matter.
Janus sighed again. “Because Ares—Mars, the God of War—was killed on the frontier while trying to aid the legions in modern-day France. He was our primary defense. Without him to destroy enemy armies before they could pose a threat, our power in the Empire was much reduced.”
Reed started to speak. “How did he—”
A loud beeping cut him off, and Foreman froze for a second before reaching into his pocket. He did not even speak before a voice came on the other end and blazed loudly for almost thirty seconds before hanging up without bothering to say goodbye.
Foreman pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it dully then let it fall to the table where it landed with a clatter that sounded almost explosive in the small conference room.
“What?” Reed asked, looking alarmed, which was probably how we all were looking at the moment.
“Three of the biggest national newspapers are set to blow the whistle on metahumans and the extinction tomorrow morning.” Foreman swallowed visibly. “They’ve got sources in the government, multiple agencies, and probably congressional staffs corroborating. Probably some foreign sources as well. And …” He paused and shook his head like he could make what he just said disappear. “… Cable news is already running with it, at least the basics.” His eyes met mine, and I could read the consternation without even having to try. “The word is out.”
Chapter 51
“Do they know about us?” Reed asked, cutting into the silence again.
“I don’t know,” Foreman said. “Until they hit news stands, it’ll be impossible to know unless one of the networks breaks it.” His phone buzzed and he stared at the screen for a second before turning it back over again. “All the major networks have broken into afternoon programming to tell the basics of what they know.” He let out a painful exhalation. “This is it.”
“Do they know about Sienna?” Scott asked. I glanced at him and he gave me a smile of support.
“I don’t know for sure,” Foreman said. “But almost certainly, yes. If there are leakers in the government, they likely have her entire file. It could have been disseminated to the entire White House Press Corps, for all I know.”
“Why?” Reed asked, his voice a low rumble.
“Because of Gables,” I said, and every eye in the place turned to me. I spoke calmly and in a low voice. “Because metahuman incidents like what we just did—what I just did—need an explanation. Especially with the truth coming out, there have to be some consequences in order to make people feel safe—”
“You’re talking about a sacrificial lamb,” Reed said. “You’re talking about someone who’s going to go under the bus for this. For the extinction, for the failures to respond until it was damned near upon us, for everything we’ve been trying to fight single-handed all this time—”
“They need someone to blame,” Kat said, her voice almost a whisper.
“A multiple murderer in charge of the U.S. Government response is a more convenient target than any other,” Li said, more neutrally than I would have expected given the circumstances.
“Though one might just question how a multiple murderer got into that position,” Reed said acidly to the FBI agent, who shrugged it off. “Maybe blame the government who put her there.”
“I put her there,” Foreman said softly, “and I’m sure the White House will be more than happy to assign that blame my way.”
“What about the pardons you promised?” Scott asked.
Foreman looked unmoved. “Most of you don’t need pardons.”
Scott shot a look my way, and now he was alarmed as well. “But Sienna does. What about her?”
Foreman leaned a cheek against his hand. “There was an agreement with the White House for that—”