Everything that was happening in this city was wrong.
“So, he locked you away, did he?” Regalia asked.
“Uh …” I tried to decide how to game Regalia. If that was even possible. My vague plan of acting like I wanted to defect to her side seemed pitifully obvious now.
“Yes, you are an articulate one,” Regalia said. “Well, brains don’t necessarily accompany passion. In fact, they might often have an inverse relationship. What will Jonathan do to you, I wonder, when he finds out you’ve revealed his base to me?”
“Megan already found it,” I answered. “So far as Prof thinks, this place has been exposed and is no longer a valid base.”
“Pity,” Regalia said, looking around. “This is a fine location. Jonathan always did have a keen sense of style. He might fight against his nature, but aspects of him so blatantly show his heritage. His extravagant bases, the nicknames, the costume he wears.”
Costume? Black lab coat. Goggles in the pocket. It was a little eccentric, actually.
“Well, be quick with your request, boy,” Regalia said. “It is a busy day.”
“I want to protect Megan,” I said. “He’s going to kill her.”
“And if I help you with this, will you serve me?”
“Yes.”
This is one of the most cunning Epics in the world, I thought to myself. You really think she’ll believe you’d swap sides, just like that?
I was banking on the fact that she’d shown an interest in me earlier. Of course, she had also said that she was mad at me for killing Steelheart. Perhaps, now that her plan to bring down Prof was in full swing, she’d just crush me.
Regalia waved a hand.
Water shattered the wall, ripping apart the hole I’d made and destroying the glass. I didn’t even have time to grab the gun off the desk as the water filled the room, plunging me into darkness. I sputtered and thrashed. I may have faced my fear of these depths, but that didn’t mean I was comfortable in them.
I was completely incapable of thinking or swimming consciously. I’d have died there if Regalia hadn’t towed me upward. I had a sense of motion, and when I broke the surface—gasping and cold—my ears hurt for some reason.
The water beneath me grew solid somehow. A small pedestal of water raised me up, and Regalia appeared standing beside me. I lay there, shivering and wet, and eventually I realized we were moving. The water pedestal was zipping along the surface of the ocean, carrying me with it, approaching the glowing painted walls and bridges of Babilar.
Regalia could appear wherever she wanted—or, at least, she could appear anyplace that she could see. So this wasn’t about transporting her, but about moving me.
“Where are we going?” I asked, getting to my knees.
“Has Jonathan ever told you,” Regalia asked, “what we know about the nature of Calamity?”
I could see it up there, that omnipresent glowing dot. Brighter than a star, but far smaller than the moon.
“You can view Calamity through a telescope,” Regalia continued, speaking in a conversational way. “The four of us did it quite often, back in the day. Jonathan, myself, Lincoln. Even with a telescope, it’s hard to make out details. He glows very brightly, you see.”
“He?” I asked.
“But of course,” Regalia said. “Calamity is an Epic. What else did you expect?”
I … I couldn’t respond. I could barely even blink.
“I asked him about you,” she said. “Told him you’d make a wonderful Epic. It would solve all kinds of problems, you see, and I think you’d take to it quite nicely. Ah, here we are.”
I struggled to my feet as our water platform stopped moving. We were in the lower section of Babilar, near where the operation to take out Newton would soon begin. It seemed Regalia knew about that too.
“You’re lying.”
“Do you know of the Rending?” Regalia asked. “That’s what we call the time just after an Epic first gains their powers. You’ll feel an overwhelming sensation driving you to destroy, to break. It utterly consumes us. Some learn to manage with the feelings, as I have. Others, like dear Obliteration, never quite get beyond them.”
“No,” I whispered, feeling a growing horror.
“If it’s any consolation, you’ll probably forget most of what you’re about to do. You’ll wake up in a day or so with only vague memories of the people you killed.” She leaned in, voice growing harsher. “I’m going to enjoy watching this, David Charleston. It is poetry for one who has killed so many of us