That Saturday, I met Faith in the central courtyard area that sat between the four buildings that made up the headquarters of the Church of Mammon. She had gotten there before me and waved as I came out of the south building, where the dorms were.

“Something came up so Isambard can’t come today.” Faith said. There was an apologetic tone to her voice. She didn’t need to sound apologetic, it was hardly her fault. “So it’s just us girls!” It seemed her tone of voice wasn’t going to be apologetic for long anyway. We set out from the headquarters of the Church of Mammon in search of sights to see.

I hadn’t ever really been on holiday. I’d had holidays in the sense that I had school holidays, though I’d had my last of those, but I’d never really travelled somewhere, and certainly nowhere like Los Angeles.

Faith led me expertly down the Hollywood Walk of Fame. For her, bobbing and weaving among a sea of people was second nature. For me it probably didn’t even count as my third or fourth. We stepped over red star after red star adorned with a variety of names but ignored all of them in favour of the one we were looking for. Eventually we reached the one we wanted.

“Well there it is.” Faith gestured towards the golden letters that spelled a name that was becoming more and more familiar to me. Tom Beckman.

“How long has this been here?” I asked. Faith shrugged.

“Fifteen years or so… I think. Before he joined the Church of Mammon certainly.”

“How did people react when he joined the Church of Mammon?” I asked. Faith looked thoughtful.

“It was a while ago but… mostly confusion I think. No one really knew much about the Church of Mammon back then…” Faith continued to think, “In fact Tom’s conversion to the Church of Mammon is probably the only reason anyone really knows about it in the first place.”

Further along from his star was the building that Faith informed me was called the Ming Theatre. It was important for some reason. Whether it was considered important before or after a whole bunch of celebrities covered the concrete outside it with their hand prints was unclear to me. Almost inevitably we found the familiar name and less familiar hands of Tom Beckman at the edge of the space outside. He really was everywhere.

After what was probably a small lunch for Faith but an average one for me (average sized that is, not average priced) we headed on up to the Griffiths Observatory. Once again I was slightly confused as to why the place ever became famous, but from there we did see something I knew.

“Why is this sign famous?” I asked. I’d been wondering it about a lot of the things I’d seen today, but this one was the only one I’d questioned out loud. Faith shrugged, as she had done to a few of my questions.

“It’s big and it reminds people of the movies.” She concluded. That was probably it. We stood looking at the sign but spent far longer looking out over the city. It was strange to think that the metropolis I saw spread out before me was going to be my home for… well according to Richard Guyard, until I set the world right. It was unlikely that I would ever go back to living in Warrington. Unlikely that I’d ever go back to living in that cramped and cold flat. Unlikely that I’d ever go back to living with my mum and Alistair.

I missed them fiercely. I’d been speaking to mum occasionally on the phone but it was hard to speak for any extended period with the difference in time zones being what it was. I hadn’t even had a chance to speak to Alistair since I left.

“Are you okay?” Faith asked. As ever I nodded, then decided to ask something I’d been thinking about.

“How does the Church of Mammon keep Divitaetion a secret?” Faith seemed surprised that I asked this.

“They have ways of keeping people quiet, or discrediting people who do talk.” She ended up saying.

“The Church of Mammon is that powerful?”

“The Church of Mammon is that rich.” Money again. It always came back to that. I switched to a different line of enquiry.

“Is there anyone who can’t perform Divitaetion?” Again Faith looked surprised, but less so, at this question.

“Well most people don’t know how…”

“That’s not what I meant. Is there anyone who would never be able to perform Divitaetion?” Faith thought longer about her answer to this one.

“I’m sure there are some people who wouldn’t be able to get the hang of it… but no I don’t think there’s anything special that allows certain people to perform Divitaetion.” So pretty much anyone could do it… but the Church of Mammon kept it all a secret. All to ensure only the right people learned it. Whatever the “right” people meant.

Actually I had I feeling I already knew exactly what the Church of Mammon believed the “right” people were, and I had a feeling that, under normal circumstances, someone like me would never even be considered.

That evening, as we entered the lobby of the headquarters of the Church of Mammon, Julia waved at me from her seat at the reception desk.

“Verity, I have a message for you from Elder Guyard.” she called. A message from Richard Guyard? Whatever it was it couldn’t be anything good. I walked over to the reception desk.

“What is it?” I hoped the dread I felt didn’t register in my voice.

“He wants to meet you for dinner tomorrow evening.” A series of words reverberated around my head. None of them would be suitable for broadcast before the watershed. Luckily none of them slipped out of my mouth.

“Okay.” I managed to say instead. What else could I do but accept his offer?

“Great. Be at his office reception at six tomorrow evening.” I nodded and thanked Julia.

“Dinner with Richard Guyard? You’re really going up in the world.” Faith commented as we crossed the courtyard.

“I’ve already met him.” I said with little emotion. Faith raised an eyebrow.

“Training under Tom and meeting Richard Guyard? After only being here for two weeks?” Faith whistled, “What is the deal with you Verity Pour?”

“I don’t know…” I answered somewhat truthfully.

“So what are you going to wear?”

“What?” The question caught me completely off guard.

“To dinner with Richard Guyard.” Faith spoke as if I was the one being foolish here. “He’ll expect you to be dressed smartly, he is the Grand Elder after all.”

My personal belongings had all fit into a small suitcase. I did not have a shred of formal wear.

I arrived at the inner lobby, the reception to Richard Guyard’s office, a few minutes before six. I was wearing a dress that Faith had lent me. Faith was taller than me, most people were, but Faith had pulled off some magic and made it look like it was meant for me.

“Ah, Miss Pour.” The woman at the reception desk saw me. “I’ll let Elder Guyard know you are here.” She picked up a phone and made a call, presumably to the room behind the wooden door not ten feet away. When she was done, she put the phone down and said “Elder Guyard will be with you shortly.” So I was being made to wait. Well I had arrived here slightly early, so I waited patiently for Guyard to decide he had made me wait long enough.

That time turned out to be about ten minutes. Guyard emerged from his office, the doors swinging open and closed without him having to lay a hand on them. Behind him, I caught a glimpse of his gold clad office walls. Once again Guyard was wearing a bright yellow suit. Maybe he had a wardrobe full of nothing but identical bright yellow suits.

“Verity!” Guyard exclaimed when he saw me, as if he was surprised that I was there despite the fact that he invited, or ordered, me to be there and despite the fact that his receptionist had already called to tell him I was here. “Walk with me Verity.” Guyard commanded. It bothered me when he called me by my first name. Perhaps I’d gotten used to Tom Beckman constantly calling me “Miss Pour”… but then I didn’t get the sense that Beckman calling me by my first name would feel anywhere near as unpleasant. Nevertheless, I dutifully followed  Guyard to a lift. This was a different lift from the one I had ridden on the day I had first arrived. Like everything in the headquarters of the Church of Mammon, it required an identity card. “Now this elevator will only accept my card.” Guyard explained with pride. An entire lift for one person seemed very inefficient but I made no comment. The ride down was completely silent. Guyard just stood there smiling. He smiled almost as much as Faith, possibly more, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. The lift took us down to what appeared to be a secret exit from the building. Waiting outside was a black car with tinted windows, and smartly dressed man in a cap, a chauffeur of all things. The driver opened the back door to the car for me to climb in. He did the same for Guyard on the other side. I tensed up. I’d gotten into cars with strangers a couple of times now, and it was only just now occurring to me that I was putting myself in a lot of danger. I tried not to let any panic show in my demeanour. Guyard thought I was his god in human form, which meant he wouldn’t be planning on causing any harm to me, right? That bolstered my confidence a little and also led me to a specific realisation.

Richard Guyard was showing off. To be fair I got the sense that there was never a moment where Richard Guyard, dressed in bright yellow, flashing an even brighter smile, and working in an office literally covered in gold, was not showing off, but this evening he was trying even harder. This theory of mine gained increased support when we arrived at the restaurant and the waiter at the door immediately took us through to a back room. There was only one table in the room, and it was next to a large window overlooking Los Angeles from the hill the restaurant was on. Guyard’s private table.

“I took the liberty of selecting the menu for today.” Guyard explained. “I hope you don’t have any allergies.” That struck me as the sort of thing you’d check before you selected the meal, but luckily for him I wasn’t allergic to anything.

The food was alright, I suppose. About as good as the stuff served in the dining hall back at the headquarters of the Church of the Mammon. I found it hard to focus on the taste with Guyard sitting opposite me. We ate in silence. Guyard only spoke when a waiter had offered us coffee. He took a cup, I did not.

“Now I must admit, Verity, I did not bring you here just for the food and the view.” I resisted the urge to shudder when he called me Verity. “There are certain matters we must discuss.” Anything that Richard Guyard wanted to discuss with me couldn’t be good. “How is your training in Divitaetion going?” That was the first actual question Guyard had asked me all evening.

“Fine.” I said, then thinking that Guyard probably expected a little more, “Tom Beckman is a good teacher.”

“Ah yes, he is a great asset to the Church of Mammon.” Guyard nodded sagely. “He has said good things about your progress to me.” So Beckman had been reporting my progress to  Guyard. That made sense. Richard Guyard was likely very invested in my progress. “I just want you to think of this, Verity, when it comes time to set the world right.” Oh, that again… Was that always on his mind? “Yes, when that time comes, please remember the kindness and the support I have shown you. Remember that it was I who funded your evolution.”

So that was what this was about. Richard Guyard thought that I was here to set the world right and he was trying to ensure that when that happened, he would end up on top. He was likely already pretty confident in that, being the Grand Elder of the Church of Mammon after all, but he was just making sure that when all was said and done, he could be sure that he would benefit fully. My instinct was to smile and assure him that I would. My instinct was to promise him what he wanted. My instinct was to allay his fears and play nice and keep the charade going, all to keep this man happy.

But something was changing. Something had started changing the moment I left that small flat in Warrington and came here to this world of money and supernatural powers. And that something gripped me and said that I didn’t want to make this man happy. It told me that I didn’t want to just play along and be nice and assure this man that things were going to continue to go his way, even in the face the world being “set right”.

“My will is my own, Richard Guyard.” I heard myself say, “When the time comes I will do to this world as I see fit.”

Guyard’s smile faltered for a moment, and I felt more powerful than I ever did when wielding Divitaetion.