“Megan spent all of those months with us,” I said, “and never turned against us. I saw her use her powers, and yes she got a little cranky afterward, but she was still good, Prof. And during the fight with Steelheart, when she saw me, she came back to herself.”
Prof shook his head. “She didn’t use her powers against us because she was a spy for Steelheart and didn’t wish to reveal herself,” he said. “I’ll admit, that may have led her to be more reasonable—more herself—during her time with us. But she no longer has a reason to avoid using her abilities; the powers will have consumed her, David.”
“But—”
“David,” Prof said, “she killed a Reckoner.”
“It was witnessed?”
Prof hesitated. “I don’t have all the details yet. I know there is a recording at least, taken when she was fighting one of our people. And then he was found dead.”
“It wasn’t her,” I said, then made a quick decision. “I’m going to go to Babilar and find her.”
“Like hell you are,” Prof said.
“What else will we do?” I asked, turning to leave. “This is the only plan we have.”
“This isn’t a plan,” Prof said. “It’s hormones.”
I stopped at the doorway, blushing, then glanced back.
Prof picked at the flower petals that Tia had dumped on the dresser. He looked at her, still standing with her arms crossed. She shrugged.
“I am going to Babylon Restored,” Prof finally said. “I have business there with an old friend. You may accompany me, David. But not because I want you to recruit Megan.”
“Why, then?” I demanded.
“Because you’re one of the most capable point men I have, and I’m going to need you. The best thing we can do to protect Newcago right now is keep the Epics from fixating upon it. We’ve overthrown one emperor, and in so doing made a statement: that the day of Epic tyrants is over, and that no Epic—no matter how powerful—is safe from us. We need to make good on that promise. We need to scare them, David. Instead of a single free city, we need to present to them an entire continent in rebellion.”
“So we bring down the tyrants of other cities,” I said, nodding. “And we start with this Regalia.”
“If we can,” Prof said. “Steelheart was probably the strongest Epic alive, but I promise you that Regalia is the most wily—and that makes her just as dangerous, if not more so.”
“She’s sending Epics here,” I pointed out, “to try to kill the Reckoners. She’s scared of you.”
“Possibly,” Prof said. “Either way, in sending Mitosis and the others here, Regalia declared war. You and I are going to kill her for that—just like we did with Steelheart. Just like you did with Sourcefield today. Just like we’ll do to any Epic who stands against us.”
He met my eyes.
“Megan’s not like the others,” I said. “You’ll see.”
“Perhaps,” Prof said. “But if I’m right, son, I want you there so that you can pull the trigger. Because if someone is going to have to put her down, it should be a friend.”
“A mercy,” I said, my mouth going dry.
He nodded. “Pack your things. We leave later tonight.”
7
LEAVE. Newcago.
I’d never … I mean …
Leave.
I’d just said I intended to go. That had been in the heat of the moment. As Tia and Prof pushed out of the room, I stood there in the doorway, coming to a realization of what I’d just done.
I’d never left the city. I’d never thought of leaving the city. Inside the city there had been Epics, but outside the city there was chaos.
Newcago was all I’d ever known. And now I was leaving it.
To find Megan, I thought, forcing down my anxiety and following Prof and Tia into the main room. It will only be for a little while.
Tia walked to her desk and began gathering her notes—apparently, if Prof was going to Babilar, she’d be going too. Prof started giving orders to Cody and Abraham. He wanted them to stay in Newcago to watch the city.
“Yeah,” I said. “Gather my things. Leave the city. Of course. That’s exactly what I’d been intending to do. Sounds like fun.”
Nobody paid attention. So, blushing, I went to pack my bag. I didn’t have much. My notebooks, which Tia had copied for redundancy. Two changes of clothing. My jacket. My gun—
My gun. I set my backpack on the floor and pulled out the broken rifle, then walked over to Abraham, offering it up like a wounded child before a surgeon.
He inspected it, then looked up at me. “I’ll get you one of my spares.”
“But—”
He rested a hand on my shoulder. “It is an old weapon, and it served you well. But don’t you think you should upgrade, David?”
I looked down at the broken gun. The P31 was a great rifle, based off the old M14, one of the best rifles ever made. Those were solid weapons, designed before things got all modern, fancy, and sterile. We’d made P31s at Steelheart’s munitions factory back when I was a kid; they were sturdy and dependable.