“We need to warn the others,” I said. “And, since I was stupid enough to ruin your mobile, I need to reach the submarine instead. Do you know where it is?”
“No,” Mizzy said. “Nearby, I think.”
I continued up the steps.
“He’s planning to kill her,” Mizzy said. “While we’re here, tailing Newton, Prof is going to trap and kill Firefight.”
I continued up the steps, a cold sweat chilling my brow. “I have to get to him. Somehow, I need to stop him from—”
“You won’t get there in time,” Mizzy said. “Not without this, at least.”
I froze in place. Below, Mizzy unslung the pack from her shoulder and unzipped it.
She had the spyril inside.
44
I rushed back down the stairs and helped Mizzy get out the spyril. I started strapping it on.
“I’m helping you,” Mizzy said, kneeling beside me and working on my leg straps. “Why am I helping you?”
“Because I’m right,” I said. “Because Regalia is smarter than we are—and because everything about this mission feels off, and you know something awful is going to happen if we go through with it.”
She sat up. “Huh. Yeaaah, you should have said that stuff earlier. Maybe I wouldn’t have punched you so much.”
“I tried,” I said. “The punching kind of got in the way.”
“Really, somebody needs to teach you some hand-to-hand. Your showing was pathetic.”
“I don’t need hand-to-hand,” I said. “I’m a gunman.”
“And where’s your gun?”
“Ah … right.”
I shrugged the spyril’s main mechanism onto my back and pulled the straps tight while Mizzy handed up the gloves. “You know,” she said, “I was really looking forward to using this thing to prove how awesome I was, so Prof would agree I’d make a great point woman.”
“And do you have any idea how to use the spyril?”
“I put the thing together and I maintain it. I’ve got heaps of theoretical knowledge.”
I raised an eyebrow at her.
“How hard can it be?” She shrugged. “You figured it out, after all.…”
I grinned, but there wasn’t much emotion behind it. “Do you know where Prof was going to trap Megan?”
“Down by where we’re planning to hit Newton. He set up a meeting between you and her, using your phone.”
“Down where … But that’s a long ways from where Obliteration is set up.”
Mizzy shrugged. “Prof wanted to do the Firefight hit in the same region as the Newton hit. The point is to get Regalia to manifest there, right? Giving Tia the last data point she needs to pinpoint where Regalia’s hiding. Of course, if her range is greater than we think, that’s all pointless.…”
“Exactly,” I said.
Prof’s plan made sense, though, at least with the limited information he had. If the point was to draw Regalia, then hitting two of her Epics—instead of one—would be that much more likely to get her attention.
“If Prof is down in Chinatown,” I said, “then who’s watching Obliteration?”
“Nobody. Prof said it was unlikely he’d be charged enough to release his power today. And we have the camera, so Tia can watch him.”
I felt cold. Everything we’d done could have been part of Regalia’s plan, camera included. “How quickly do you think you can get there to check on Obliteration?”
“Ten, fifteen minutes, running. Why?”
“Let’s just say I have a really, really bad feeling about all of this.”
“Okaaaay …” She stood back, the spyril strapped into place on me. “You looked far more dashing with the wetsuit, you know. It gave you a kind of crazy-Navy-SEAL-special-ops-dude feel. Without it, you have more of a crazy-homeless-guy-who-strapped-a-toaster-to-his-back vibe.”
“Great. Maybe it will make people underestimate me.”
“Prof’s an Epic, isn’t he?” she asked softly.
I glanced at her, then nodded, fitting my hands into the gloves one at a time. “When did you figure it out?”
“I’m not sure. It just kind of makes sense, you know? The way you’ve all been acting around him, the secrets, the way Tia wouldn’t explain how you rescued those people in the building. I probably should have put it together earlier.”
“You’re smarter than I am. He had to put a forcefield in front of my face before I realized what he was.”
“So this isn’t about us getting revenge or putting down Epics or even punishing criminals,” Mizzy said, sounding exhausted. “It’s a power struggle. A turf war.”
“No,” I said firmly. “It’s about making Prof be the man I know he can be … the Epic I know he can be.”
“I don’t get it,” Mizzy said. “Why isn’t he those things already?”
“Because,” I said, pulling the second glove tight, “sometimes you have to help