Calamity (Reckoners, #3)(19)

“At least we got something,” Abraham said, turning one of the small boxes over in his hands. “This puts us in a far better position than where we began—and beyond that, we know where Jonathan has set up base.”

“Yeah,” I said, glancing at Megan, who seemed troubled. So she felt it too. We’d gotten some weapons, sure, but we’d missed an opportunity for answers.

“Grab that stuff,” I said. “Cody, search the fridge just in case. Then let’s get out of here.”

The group moved to do as instructed, and I found myself staring out the door and into the hallway. There were still too many questions.

“So…,” Megan said, joining me. “You want me to guide the rest of the team out?”

“Hmm?” I asked.

“Remember how you chased Prof and us into the understreets of Newcago, after expressly being told you’d be shot if you didn’t stay put?”

I smiled. “Yeah. Back then, I figured getting shot by the Reckoners would be so cool. Think about showing off a bullet scar to your friends, and saying that Jonathan Phaedrus himself shot you.”

“You’re such a nerd. My point is, are you going after Knighthawk?”

“Of course I’m going after him,” I said. “Make sure everyone gets out safely, then try to save me from my stupidity if this goes sour.” I gave her a swift kiss, caught my rifle as Abraham tossed it to me, then went to chase down Knighthawk.





I didn’t have to search far.

The hallway was empty, but I stepped up to the room we’d passed earlier—the one with the trophies on the back wall—and peeked in. I was unsurprised to find Knighthawk sitting in an easy chair on the far side of the room. A gas fireplace crackled beside him, and his mannequin lay, its invisible strings cut, on the ground beside it.

At first that worried me. Was Knighthawk all right?

Then I saw his eyes—reflecting the writhing flames—staring at the silvery box in the center of the room, the one that looked like a coffin. As a tear rolled down Knighthawk’s cheek, I realized the man had probably wanted to be alone, without even the mannequin’s silent gaze upon him.

“Prof killed her, didn’t he?” I whispered. “Your wife. She went evil, and Prof had to kill her.”

I finally remembered the details of a conversation I’d had with Prof weeks ago, right outside Babilar, in a little bunker where he’d been doing science experiments. He’d told me about his team of friends, Epics every one. Him, Regalia, Murkwood, and Amala. Over time, three of them had eventually gone evil.

Sparks. Four of them, when you included Prof.

It doesn’t work, David, he’d said. It’s destroying me….

“You don’t listen to instructions very well, do you, boy?” Knighthawk asked.

I slipped into the room and walked to the coffin. Part of the lid was translucent, and I could see a pretty face lying peacefully inside, golden hair fanned out behind.

“She tried so hard to resist it,” Knighthawk said. “Then one morning, I got up and…and she was gone. She’d been awake all night, judging by the six empty cups of coffee she’d left. She’d been afraid to sleep.”

“Nightmares,” I whispered, resting my fingers on the glass of the coffin.

“I think the stress of being up all night snapped her. My dear Amala. Jonathan did us both a favor in hunting her down. I must see it that way. Like you should discard this foolish notion you have of saving him. End him, kid. For his own good, and for all of us.”

I looked up from the coffin toward Knighthawk. He hadn’t wiped away that tear. He couldn’t.

“You have hope,” I said. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have invited us in. You saw the way Megan was acting, and your first thought was that we’d found some way to beat the darkness.”

“Maybe I invited you in out of pity,” Knighthawk said. “Pity for someone who obviously loves an Epic. Like I did. Like Tia did. Maybe I invited you in to give you a warning. Be ready for it, kid. One morning you’ll get up, and she’ll just be gone.”

I crossed the room, rifle over my shoulder, and reached for Knighthawk. I wasn’t prepared for how quickly his mannequin could move. It leaped to its feet, catching me by the arm before I rested my hand on Knighthawk’s shoulder.

His eyes flickered to my hand, apparently deciding I hadn’t intended to harm him, and the mannequin released me. Sparks, its grip was strong.

That let my hand fall on his shoulder, and I squatted down before his chair. “I’m going to beat this, Knighthawk, but I need answers only you can give me. About motivators, and how they work.”

“Foolishness,” he said.

“You kept Amala in stasis. Why?”

“Because I’m foolish too. She had a hole the size of Jonathan’s fist in her chest when I found her. Dead. Pretending otherwise is stupid.”

“Yet you healed her body,” I said. “And preserved her.”

“You see those?” he said, nodding to the far side of the room. To the remnants from fallen Epics. “Those powers didn’t bring her back. Each is from an Epic with healing powers that I made a motivator out of. None worked. There is no answer. There is no secret. We live with the world as it is.”

“Calamity is an Epic,” I whispered.