“Yeaaah,” Mizzy said. “People out on Long Island had it nice, didn’t they? Beaches, big houses. We’d visit when I was a little girl, and I’d play in the sand and think about what it must be like to live in one of those mansions.” She trailed her fingers along the wall as she walked. “I took the sub past my old apartment once. That was a hoot.”
“Was it tough to see now?”
“Nah. I barely remember the days before Calamity. For most of my life I lived in the Painted Village.”
“The what?”
“Neighborhood downtown,” she said. “Good place. Not too many gangs. Usually had food.”
I followed Mizzy farther down the corridor, and she pointed toward a door in the hallway. “Bathroom. Go in the first door and always close it. Then go through the other door. There is no light; you’ll have to move by touch. There are facilities and a sink. That’s the only running water in the place. Never bring anything out; not even a cup to drink from.”
“Regalia?”
Mizzy nodded. “We’re outside her range, but even if she almost never moves, we figure it’s best to be safe. If she finds this place, after all, we’re dead.”
I wasn’t certain. As Tia had pointed out, Regalia could have killed us up above, but she hadn’t. She seemed to be holding back the darkness, like Prof. “The gangs,” I said, joining Mizzy as we kept walking. “Regalia got rid of those?”
“Yeah,” Mizzy said. “The only gang left is Newton’s, and even she’s been pretty relaxed lately, for an Epic.”
“So Regalia is good for the city.”
“Well, other than flooding it,” Mizzy said, “killing tens of thousands in the process. But I suppose by comparison to how terrible she used to be, she’s not as bad now. Kind of like the dog chewing on your ankle is pleasant compared to the one that used to be chewing on your head.”
“Nice metaphor,” I noted.
“Though shockingly bereft of lions,” Mizzy said, stepping into another larger room. How big was this place? The room we entered was circular and had a piano on one side—I’d never seen one of those except in movies—and some fancy dining tables on the other side. The ceiling was painted black, and …
No. That wasn’t black. That was water.
I gasped, cringing down as I realized that the ceiling was pure glass, and looked up through the dark waters. Some fish swam by in a little school, and I swore I could see something large cruising past. A shadow.
“This guy built a bomb shelter,” I said, “with a skylight?”
“Six-inch acrylic,” Mizzy answered, shading her flashlight, “with a retractable steel plate. And before you ask, no, Regalia can’t see through it. First off, as I’ve pointed out, we’re far enough from the city that we should be outside her range. Secondly, she needs a water surface open to the air.” She hesitated. “That said, I wish we could get the thing closed. Blasted plate is jammed open up there.”
We passed quickly through that awful room and entered another nice, windowless corridor. A little ways down it, Mizzy pushed open a door and gestured inside toward a large bedroom.
“Do I share with Exel?” I asked, peeking in.
“Share?” Mizzy asked. “This place has twelve bedrooms. You can have two, if you want.”
I hesitated, regarding the dark wood shelves, the furry red carpet, the bed as large as a really, really big piece of toast. In Newcago having a tiny, single-room flat all to myself had cost most of my life savings. This bedroom was easily four times that size.
I walked in and set my pack down. It looked tiny in the spacious room.
“Flashlight on the counter there,” Mizzy said, shining her mobile toward it. “We just got a new shipment of energy cells from your friend in Newcago.”
I walked over and prodded at the bed. “People sleep on things this fluffy?”
“Well, there’s also the floor, if you’re so inclined. The light switches don’t work, but some of the outlets do—try them to plug in your mobile, and you should be able to find one with juice.”
I held up the shattered mobile.
“Oh,” she said. “Right. I’ll fix up something new for you tomorrow.”
I poked at the blankets again. My eyelids drooped like angry drunk men stumbling down a street, looking for an alleyway in which to vomit. I needed sleep. But there were so many things I didn’t know.
“Prof had you guys observing here,” I said to Mizzy, sitting down on the bed. “For quite a while, right?”
“Yup,” Mizzy said, leaning against the doorway.
“Did he say why?”
“I always figured he wanted every bit of information he could get on Regalia,” Mizzy said. “For when we decided to hit her.”
“Doubtful. Before Steelheart, Prof never hit Epics this important. Besides, Reckoners almost never do long-term observation. They’re usually in and out of a city in under two months, leaving a few bodies behind.”
“And you know that much about how the other Reckoner cells operate?” She said it laughing, as if that were silly.
“Yeah,” I said, truthful. “Pretty much.”
“Is that so?”
“I … kind of get a little obsessive about things.” But not in a nerdy way. No matter what Megan says. “I’ll tell you about it another time. I think I’m going to turn in.”
“Sleep well, then,” Mizzy said. She turned and trailed away, her light going with her.
Prof knew, I thought, climbing into the bed. He didn’t hit Regalia because he knew she was trying to be better. He has to wonder … if there’s a way to make all of this work. To get around the powers ruining the people who use them.
I yawned, figuring I should probably change out of my clothing.…
But sleep took me first.
PART THREE
17
I awoke to darkness.
Groaning, I stirred in the overstuffed bed. It was like swimming through whipped cream. I finally managed to reach the side of the bed and sit up, running a hand through my hair. By reflex I reached for my mobile, feeling around on the bedside stand until I remembered it was broken and I’d given it to Mizzy.
I felt lost for a moment. What time was it? How long had I slept? Living in the understreets, I’d often had to rely on my mobile to tell time. Daylight had been a thing of memories, like grass-filled parks and my mother’s voice.