That step put her close to me. Really close. She met my eyes.
Now or never.
Heart thumping crazily, I closed my eyes and leaned in. I immediately felt something cold against my temple.
I opened my eyes to find Megan had leaned in, her lips almost to mine, but then had raised her gun and pressed it against the side of my head. “You’re doing it again,” she said, almost a growl. “Distorting the truth, making people go along with your craziness. This thing between us isn’t going to work.”
“We’ll make it work.”
“Maybe I don’t want it to. Maybe I want to be hard. Maybe I don’t want to like people. Maybe I’ve never wanted to like people, even before Calamity.”
I held her eyes, ignoring the gun to my head. I smiled.
“Bah,” she said, pulling the gun away. She stalked off down the corridor, brushing the fronds of a fern. “Don’t follow. I need to think.”
I stayed put, though I did watch her until she was gone. I fingered the batterylike item she’d given me, feeling a lingering pleasure—for as she’d left, I’d glanced at her gun.
This time, when she’d pointed it at me, she’d flicked the safety on. If that wasn’t true love, I don’t know what was.
23
EXEL strapped the spyril onto me. It was sleeker than I’d expected it to be; the only bulky parts were two large, canisterlike tubes that attached to my calves. A nozzle extended from the back of my right hand, the opening as large as a common hose; it was secured into a black glove with an attached wrist brace. The setup inhibited my wrist motion a little.
My left hand had a different kind of glove on it, with a few odd devices on the back about the shape of two rolls of coins. I prodded at these.
“I’d avoid playing with those if I were you,” Exel said affably. “Unless you want to rush your funeral along. I happen to know of a wonderful place in Babilar that sells lilies year-round.”
“You’re a strange man,” I said, though I lowered my hands to my sides per his warning.
“Mizzy?” Exel asked.
“Looks good,” she said, walking around and inspecting me. She knelt down and tugged on the line running from my foot to the back portion and nodded. She seemed to know a lot about things like this, particularly Epic-derived technology. When I’d come back with the motivator that Megan had given me—explaining that I’d followed Newton and that she’d dropped it—Mizzy had been the one to run it through tests and determine that everything was all right.
The three of us were on a rooftop in northern Babilar, away from populated areas in a section where only the rare building peeked from the surface of the water. No bridges led between them. Aside from that it was daytime, when most people would be sleeping.
I wore a wetsuit with the spyril, and I pointedly ignored how nervous that made me. Before agreeing to equip me with the device, Mizzy had insisted on teaching me some basic swimming strokes. Almost a week had passed since my meeting with Megan. I was getting pretty good at swimming—or, well, pretty good at not panicking when I got in the water. That was the majority of the battle, I supposed.
I still hadn’t figured out a design for foot spikes to stop potential shark attacks. Hopefully I wouldn’t need them.
Prof surveyed from the other side of the rooftop. He wore his black lab coat, goggles stuffed into the pocket. He didn’t believe my lie about having found the spyril’s motivator in the room after spying on Obliteration and Newton. I’d been tempted to tell him about Megan. I’d find a time soon enough. When Mizzy, Val, or Exel weren’t around. I didn’t think they’d react well to hearing that I’d had a pleasant conversation with the Epic who had supposedly killed their friend.
She didn’t do it, I thought to myself for the thousandth time as Mizzy pulled my arm strap tight. Even if she did have the spyril’s motivator.
“All right,” Mizzy said, finally. “Done!”
“Congratulations,” Exel said. “You’re now wearing the most dangerous piece of equipment we own.”
“Where are the rest of the tubes?” I asked, frowning. The canisters and gloves were each attached with some small wires—which were strapped securely to my arms and legs—to a circular device on my back, where Mizzy had installed the motivator.
“No tubes needed,” Mizzy said.
“None? No pumps, hoses …”
“Nope.”
“I’m pretty sure that doesn’t make any sense.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re wearing a freaky, Epic-derived weapon,” Mizzy said. “The tensors vaporize metal. This is a stroll in the park compared to that. Granted, our local park is completely submerged.…”