I stumbled out of the bed, kicking aside my jacket—which I’d taken off during the night sometime—and felt my way to the door. The hall outside was lit from one direction, and soft voices echoed distantly. Yawning, I made my way toward the light, eventually approaching the atrium—the place with the piano and the glass ceiling. It glowed with a soft blue illumination coming from above.
Filtered sunlight showed that we were about fifty feet deep. The water was murkier than I’d anticipated—not a crystalline blue, but a darker, more opaque color. Anything could be hiding in that.
I could hear the voices better now. Prof and Tia. I crossed the atrium, pointedly not looking up anymore, and found the two of them in the library.
“She sounded like she was genuinely conflicted, Jon,” Tia said as I approached. “She obviously wanted you in Babilar, so you’re right on that point. But she could have killed us, yet she didn’t. I think she does want you to stop her.”
I didn’t want to eavesdrop so I peeked into the room. Prof stood by the wall of books, one arm resting on a shelf, and Tia sat at a desk, a notebook computer open beside her and surrounded by books. She held a kind of pouch drink with a straw coming out of it—a way to drink without risking a surface that Regalia could peer through, I realized. Knowing Tia, the pouch was filled with cola.
Prof nodded toward me, so I wandered in. “I think Tia’s right,” I said. “Regalia is fighting the use of her powers and resisting their corruption.”
“Abigail is wily,” Prof said. “If you assume you know her motives, you’re probably wrong.” He tapped his finger on the shelf. “Call Exel back in from his reconnaissance, Tia, and set up the meeting room. It’s time for us to discuss a plan.”
She nodded, then closed her notebook and slipped out of the room.
“A plan,” I said, stepping up to Prof. “You mean for killing Regalia.”
He nodded.
“After all this time watching, you’re just going to up and murder her?”
“How many people died yesterday when Obliteration attacked, David? Did you hear the count?”
I shook my head.
“Eighty,” Prof said. “Eighty people burned to death in a matter of minutes. Because Regalia unleashed that monster on the city.”
“But she’s resisting,” I said. “She’s fighting off whatever darkness it is that—”
“She’s not,” Prof snapped, walking past me. “You’re mistaken. Go get ready for the meeting.”
“But—”
“David,” Prof said from the doorway, “ten months ago you came to us with a plea and an argument. You convinced me that Steelheart needed to be brought down. I listened to you, and now I want you to listen to me. Regalia has gone too far. It’s time to stop her.”
“You were friends, weren’t you?” I said.
He turned away from me.
“Don’t you think,” I said, “it’s at least worth considering whether we can save her or not?”
“This is about Megan, isn’t it?”
“What? No—”
“Don’t lie to me, son,” Prof interrupted. “In regard to Epics, you’re as bloodthirsty as men come. I’ve seen it in you; it’s something we share.”
He walked back into the room, stepping up to me. Man, Prof could loom when he wanted to. Like a gravestone about to topple on a sprouting flower. He stood like that for a moment, then sighed and reached up, placing his hand on my shoulder.
“You’re right, David,” Prof said softly. “We were friends. But do you really think I should stay my hand just because I happen to like Abigail? You think our previous familiarity condones her murders?”
“I … No. But if she’s under the sway of her powers, this might not be her fault.”
“It doesn’t work that way, son. Abigail made her choice. She could have stayed clean. She didn’t.” He met my eyes, and I saw real emotion in there. Not anger. His expression was too soft, his grimace too pained. That was sorrow.
He let go of my shoulder and turned to leave. “Perhaps she really is resisting her powers, as you say. If that’s the case, then I suspect that deep down the reason she lured me here is because she’s looking for someone who can kill her. Someone who can save her from herself. She sent for me so that I could stop her from killing people, and that’s what I’m going to do. She won’t be the first friend I’ve had to put down.”
Before I could say anything to that, he walked out of the room and I could hear him moving down the hallway. I leaned back against the wall, feeling drained. Conversations with Prof always had a distinct intensity to them.
Eventually I went looking for a way to take a shower. It turned out I had to do it in the darkness, and with cold water. Both were fine. Back in my Factory days, I’d been allowed just one shower every three days. I appreciated anything more than that.
A half hour later, I stepped into the meeting room, a chamber a few doors down from my bedroom. One entire wall was glass and looked out into the water of the sound. Delightful. And everyone sat facing it too. It wasn’t that I was frightened; I just didn’t like being reminded that we were submerged under all that water. One little leak and we’d all end up drowning in here.
Exel sat in a comfortable-looking easy chair with his feet up. Mizzy was fiddling with her phone, and Val stood by the doorway, arms crossed. The Hispanic woman looked like she had no intention to sit down and relax. She took life seriously—something I appreciated. We shared a nod as I walked in and settled myself in a chair next to Mizzy.
“How’s the city up there?” I asked Exel.
“Lots of funerals,” he said. “Attended a really nice one over near the central expanse. Flowers on the water, a beautiful eulogy. Terrible embalming, though I suppose you can’t blame them, considering the lack of resources.”
“You did reconnaissance at a funeral?” I asked.
“Sure,” he said. “People like to chat at funerals. It’s an emotional time. I caught some of Newton’s flunkies watching from a distance.”
Mizzy looked up from her mobile. “What did they do?”
“They just watched,” Exel said, shaking his head. “Can’t figure that group out, honestly. We may need to infiltrate them at some point.…”