Calamity (Reckoners, #3)(25)

Stealthier, I wrote back. Him sitting in the center of town like he did in Texas, glowing until he blows the place up, is going to give a big warning that people should run.

That’s downright disgusting, Knighthawk wrote.

Can you watch for him on other mobiles?

That’s a lot of data to sift, kid, Knighthawk sent.

You have something better to do?

Yeah, maybe. I’m not one of your Reckoners.

Yes, but you are a human being. Please. Do what you can. If you spot him in another city, glowing or not, send me word. We can maybe warn the people.

We’ll see, he sent.

Megan regarded my phone. “I should be creeped out by how much control he has over the mobiles, shouldn’t I?”

She and I took some more pictures of the downtown. After we sent them to Knighthawk, my entire conversation with him faded from my mobile. I showed Megan, though she was distracted, looking across the seemingly endless field of glassy rock-and-steel mounds that had once been a city.

“It would have killed me,” she said softly. “Fire. A permanent end.”

“It would have killed most Epics,” I said. “Even some other High Epics.” It was one way to get past their invulnerabilities—nuke them to oblivion. A terrible solution, as some countries had discovered. You could nuke only so many of your own cities before you didn’t have anything left to protect.

Megan leaned on me as I put my hand on her shoulder. She’d climbed into a burning building to save my life, confronting what could have killed her, but that didn’t mean her fear was gone. It was merely controlled. Managed.

Together, the two of us joined the other Reckoners, who had settled near the center of the blast—which Abraham had tested for radiation, to be sure it was safe.

“We’re going to have to do something about this one, David,” Abraham said as I walked up.

“Agreed,” I said. “Saving Prof comes first though. Are we agreed on that?”

Around the group, they nodded. Abraham and Cody had been with Megan and me from the start, willing to try bringing back Prof instead of killing him. It seemed I’d persuaded Mizzy with our conversation in the car, as she nodded vigorously.

“Is anyone else here worried about why Prof went to Atlanta?” Cody asked. “I mean, he could’ve stayed in Babilar and had all sorts of Epics obeying him. Instead, he’s moved all the way out here.”

“He must have a plan,” I said.

“He has all of Regalia’s information,” Abraham said. “She knew things about Epics, their powers, and Calamity—more, I suspect, than anyone else knows. Makes me wonder what he discovered in her data.”

I nodded, thoughtful. “Regalia said that she wanted a successor. We know she was involved in things much larger than that one city. She’d been in communication with Calamity, had been trying to figure out how his powers worked. Maybe Prof’s continuing her work, whatever she was plotting before the cancer grew too bad.”

“Possible,” Mizzy said. “But what? What was she planning—or alternately, what is Prof planning?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “But I’m worried. Prof is one of the most effective, intelligent people I’ve ever met. He’s obviously not going to sit around as an Epic and merely rule a city. He’ll have grander plans; whatever he’s up to, it will be big.”

We left Kansas City a far more solemn group than had entered. We traveled closer together this time, two jeeps driving single file. It took a sickeningly long time to reach a point where we weren’t surrounded by melted buildings and scarred ground. We kept going, though the sun had risen. Abraham figured we were close to our target, within a few hours at most.

I decided the best way to distract myself from the horror of Kansas City was to try to get something productive done. So I took out one of the boxes Knighthawk had given us. Mizzy twisted around in her seat, looking back over the headrest curiously. Abraham glanced at me in the rearview mirror but said nothing, and I couldn’t read his emotions. I’d known piles of ammunition more expressive than Abraham. The guy could be like some kind of Zen monk sometimes. With a minigun.

I lifted the lid, turning the box so Mizzy could see inside. It contained a pair of gloves and a jar filled with a silver liquid.

“Mercury?” Mizzy asked.

“Yeah,” I said, taking out a glove and turning it over.

“Isn’t that stuff, like, reaaaal bad for you?”

“Not sure,” I admitted.

“It causes madness,” Abraham said. Then, after a moment, “So no big change for anyone in this particular car.”

“Hur hur,” Mizzy said.

“Mercury is quite toxic,” Abraham said. “Quickly absorbed into the skin, and can even emit vapors that are dangerous. Be careful with it, David.”

“I’ll leave the lid on until I know what I’m doing. I’ll just see if I can get the mercury to move around in the jar.”

I pulled on the glove, eager. Immediately, lines of violet light ran down the fingers to a central pool in the palm. The softly glowing purple reminded me of the tensors, which I supposed made sense. Prof had created those to imitate Epic-derived technology. He’d probably used one of Knighthawk’s designs.

“This is going to be breathtaking,” I said, imagining the things I’d read about Rtich’s powers. I held my hand over the jar of mercury, but then paused. How exactly did I engage the abilities? The spyril had been tough to control, though easy to engage in the first place. But with the tensors, it had taken time before I’d managed to make them do anything.