Megan inspected the room. “You didn’t get one with a porthole, I see. Still the new kid on the team, eh?”
“Something like that.”
“Nice, anyway,” she said, strolling forward. “Better than a metal hole in the ground.”
“Megan,” I said. “How … I mean, does anyone else out there know where our base is?”
She met my gaze, then shook her head. “Not so far as I know. I don’t meet with Regalia often—I don’t think she trusts me—but from what I’ve heard of the others, they’re searching for you. Regalia thinks your base is somewhere on the northern coast, and seems thoroughly annoyed that she hasn’t been able to find it.”
“How did you find us, then?” I asked.
“Steelheart had me bug everyone in the team,” she said.
“So you …”
“I can listen in,” Megan said, “on some of your calls. Or I could, for a while. Phaedrus is paranoid, changes both his phone and Tia’s regularly. Yours is dead. I can only listen in these days if someone calls Abraham or Cody.”
“The supply shipment,” I said. “You heard where it was, got there before us, then snuck onto the submarine.”
Megan nodded.
“I was there,” I said. “I didn’t see you at all! Were you using your powers?”
“Nah,” Megan said, flopping back onto the bed, lying across it sideways. “I only needed good old-fashioned stealth.”
“But …”
“I was about to sneak aboard after you’d been out of the sub for a while, and then Val came out following you and nearly gave me a heart attack. But I ducked just in time, then went in and hid in the bathroom.”
I grinned, though she couldn’t see it—she was staring at the ceiling. “You’re amazing,” I said.
The corners of her lips tugged up at that, though she remained staring upward. “It’s getting really difficult, David.”
“Difficult?”
“Not using my powers.”
I scrambled up to the side of the bed. “You’ve been doing what I asked? Avoiding the abilities?”
“Yeah,” she said. “I don’t know why I listen to you. Just makes life difficult. I mean, I’m basically a divinity, right? So I end up hiding in a bathroom?”
I settled down, sitting on the bed beside her. The tension in her voice, that look in her eyes. “Is it working?” I asked. “Do you feel like murdering people indiscriminately?”
“I always feel like murdering you. If only just a little.”
I waited.
“Yes,” Megan finally said with a sigh. “It’s working. It’s driving me insane in other ways, but not using my powers has removed some of the … tendencies from my mind. But I honestly don’t ever feel like killing people. For me, it manifests more as irritability and selfishness.”
“Huh,” I said. “Why do you think that is?”
“Probably because I’m not very powerful.”
“Megan, you’re a High Epic! You’re wicked powerful.”
“Wicked?”
“Heard it in a movie once.”
“Whatever. I’m not a very powerful Epic, David. I have to use a gun for Calamity’s sake! I can reincarnate, yes, but have you seen how weak my illusions are?”
“I think they’re pretty awesome.”
“I’m not fishing for compliments, David,” she said. “We’re trying to get me to not use my powers, remember?”
“Sorry. Uh, wow. Your powers are so lame. They’re like, about as useful as an eight-by-eighty mounted on a twelve-gauge firing birdshot.”
She looked at me, then started laughing. “Oh sparks. You’d have a real good view of the pheasant dying, though.”
“Up close and personal,” I said. “The way avian massacres were meant to happen.”
This made her laugh more, and I grinned. She seemed to need the laughter. There was a desperation to it; though it did occur to me that we should make sure to keep things quiet.
Megan stretched her arms back, then folded them on her stomach, sighing.
“Feel good?” I asked.
“You don’t know what it’s like,” she said softly. “It’s horrible.”
“Tell me anyway.”
She glanced at me.
“I’d like to know,” I said. “I’ve made a habit of … ending people with these powers. I don’t know if it will make me feel better or worse to know what they’re going through, but I think I should hear it either way.”
She looked back at the ceiling and didn’t speak at first. I’d left one light on in the room, a small reddish-orange lamp with a glass shade. The room was silent, though I thought sometimes I could hear the ocean outside. Waves surging, water rolling. It was probably just my imagination.
“It’s not like a voice,” Megan said. “I’ve read what some of Tia’s scholars write, and they treat it like schizophrenia. They claim that Epics have something like an evil conscience