Steelheart (The Reckoners #1)

Nightwielder,

whose hands were clasped behind his back. According to my notes, he rarely spoke directly during business interactions. He preferred to use minions. It was some kind of Japanese culture thing.

The conversation continued, and Nightwielder continued to stand straight-backed and silent. They didn’t go look at the guns on the walls, even when Diamond hinted that they could. They made him bring the weapons to them, and one of the assistants always handled the inspection and the questions.

That’s pretty handy, I thought, a bead of nervous sweat dripping down my temple. He can focus on Diamond—study and think, without bothering to make conversation.

“Got it,” Megan whispered. I glanced back to see her twisting her mobile around, her hand shading its light, to show Abraham the map Tia had sent. Abraham had to lean in close to make anything out; she had the mobile’s screen dimmed almost to black.

He grunted softly. “Seven feet straight back, a few degrees down.

That’s going to take a few minutes.”

“You should get at it, then,”

Megan said.

“I’ll need your help to pile out the dust.”

Megan shu ed to the side and Abraham placed his hands against the back wall, near the ground, and engaged the tensor. A large disk of steel began to disintegrate beneath his touch, creating a tunnel we could crawl through.

Megan began scooping up and moving the steel dust as Abraham concentrated.

I turned back to watching, trying to breathe as quietly as possible.

The tensors didn’t make much noise, just a soft buzzing. Hopefully nobody would notice.

“… master thinks that this weapon is of poor quality,” the servant said, handing back a machine gun. “We are growing disappointed in your selection, merchant.”

“Well, you want heavy gear, but no launchers. That’s a di cult prospect to match. I—”

“What was in this place on the wall?” a soft, eerie voice asked. It sounded something like a loud whisper, faintly accented, yet piercing. It made me shiver.

Diamond sti ened. I shifted the view on the scope slightly.

Nightwielder stood beside the wall of weapons. He was pointing toward an open space where hooks jutted from the wall—where the gauss gun had been.

“There was something here, was there not?” Nightwielder asked. He almost never spoke to someone directly like this. It didn’t seem to be a good sign. “You only opened today. You have already had business?”

“I … don’t discuss other clients,”

Diamond said. “You know this.”

Nightwielder looked back at the wall. At that moment, Megan bumped a box as she was moving steel dust. It didn’t make a loud noise—in fact, she didn’t even seem to notice she’d done it. But Nightwielder swiveled his head in our direction. Diamond followed his gaze; the weapons merchant looked so nervous you could have turned milk into butter by sticking his hand in it.

“He’s noticed us,” I said softly.

“What?” Abraham said, still concentrating.

“Just … keep at it,” I said, standing. “And stay quiet.”

It was time for a little more improvising.





18

I shouldered Abraham’s gun, ignoring Megan’s soft curse. I trotted out from behind the boxes before she could restrain me, and at the last moment I remembered to pop the earpiece out of my ear and stow it.

As I left the shadows,

Nightwielder’s soldiers trained guns on me with quick motions. I felt a spike of anxiety, the prickling sensation of defenselessness. I hate it when people point guns at me … though I guess that makes me like pretty much everyone else.

I continued on. “Boss,” I called, patting the weapon. “I got it working. Magazine comes out easily now.”

Nightwielder’s soldiers glanced toward him, as if looking for permission to shoot. The Epic clasped his hands behind his back, studying me with ethereal eyes. He didn’t seem to notice, but his elbow brushed the wall and passed right through the solid steel.

He studied me but remained motionless. The goons didn’t shoot.

Good sign.

Come on, Diamond, I thought, trying to contain my nervousness.

Don’t be an idiot. Say someth— “Was it the release pin?”

Diamond asked.

“No, sir,” I said. “The magazine was bent slightly on one side.” I gave a respectful nod to Nightwielder and his unkies, then moved over to set the gun in the spot on the wall. It t, fortunately.

I’d guessed it would, considering it was close to the same size as the gauss gun.

“Well, Diamond,” Nightwielder’s female attendant said. “Perhaps you can tell us of this new addition. It looks like it—”

“No,” Nightwielder said softly. “I will hear it from the boy.”

I froze, then turned around, nervous. “Sir?”

“Tell me about this gun,”

Nightwielder said.

“The boy’s a new hire,” Diamond said. “He doesn’t—”

“It’s all right, boss,” I said.

“That’s a Manchester 451. The weapon is a powerhouse— fty caliber, with electron-compressed magazines. Each holds eight hundred rounds. The select-re system supports single shot, burst, and full auto capabilities. It has gravatonic recoil reduction for shoulder

ring, with optional

advanced

magnitude

scope

including audio receiving, range nding, and a remote

ring

mechanism. It also includes the optional

grenade

launcher.

Equipped rounds are armor-piercing incendiary, sir. You couldn’t ask for a better gun.”

Nightwielder nodded. “And this?”

he said, pointing to the gun next to it.My palms were sweating. I shoved them in my pockets. That was … it was a … Yes, I knew.

“Browning M3919, sir. An inferior gun, but very good for the price.

Also fty caliber, but without the recoil suppression, the gravatonics, or the electron compression. It is excellent as a mounted weapon— with the advanced heat sinks on the barrel, it can re around eight hundred rounds a minute. Over a mile

e ective

range

with

remarkable accuracy.”

The

corridor

fell

still.

Nightwielder regarded the gun, then turned to his minions and made a curt gesture. That nearly made me jump with alarm, but the others seemed to relax. I’d passed Nightwielder’s test, apparently.

“We will want to see the Manchester,” the woman said.

“This is exactly what we are looking for; you should have mentioned it earlier.”

“I … was embarrassed about the magazine sticking,” Diamond said.

“It’s a known problem with Manchesters, I’m afraid. Every gun has its quirks. I’ve heard that if you le down one of the top edges of the magazine, it slides much more easily. Here, let me get that back down for you.…”

The conversation continued, but I was forgotten. I was able to step back to where I wouldn’t be in the way. Should I try to slip away? I wondered. It would seem suspicious if I went to the back of the hallway again, wouldn’t it? Sparks. It looked like they were going to buy Abraham’s gun. I hoped he’d forgive me for that.

If Abraham and Megan got out through the hole, I could just wait here until Nightwielder left, then meet up with them. Staying put seemed like the best move for the moment.

I found myself staring at Nightwielder’s back as his minions continued

negotiations.





I


was … what, three steps away from him? One of Steelheart’s three most trusted, one of the most powerful living Epics. He was right there. And I couldn’t touch him.

Well, I couldn’t touch him literally, since he was incorporeal—but I meant figuratively too.

That was the way it had always been,

ever

since

Calamity

appeared. So few dared resist the Epics. I’d watched children be murdered in front of their parents, with nobody brave enough to lift a hand to try to stop it. Why would they try? They’d just be killed.

He did it to me too, to an extent.

I was here with him, but all I wanted to do was escape. You make us al sel sh, I thought at Nightwielder. That’s why I hate you.