get him to do what I want, mostly, but I think that’s because my powers seek out a reality where he was already going to do what it is I want him to do.…”
I met those burning eyes, and they seemed to be able to see me. They seemed to know me. Firefight nodded his head to me, then vanished.
“I felt heat,” I said, looking at Megan.
“That varies,” she said. “Sometimes, when I swap in the other reality—splicing it into our own—it’s shadowy and indistinct. Other times, it’s almost real.” She grimaced. “We’re supposed to be hiding, aren’t we? I shouldn’t be going around summoning High Epics that glow in the night.”
“I think that was awesome,” I said softly.
I immediately regretted my words. These were powers Megan had just said she didn’t want to have. They corrupted her, sought to destroy her. Complimenting her powers was sort of like complimenting someone with a broken leg on how white their bone was as it stuck from their skin.
But she didn’t seem to mind. In fact, I could swear she blushed a little. “It’s not much,” she said. “Really, it’s a lot of work for a simple effect. Surely you’ve read of Epics who could make illusions of whatever they want without having to pull some alternate reality out of their pocket.”
“I suppose.”
She crossed her arms, looking me over. “All right. We should do something about that outfit.”
“What? You think a guy wandering around in a wetsuit with strange Epic-derived devices strapped to his limbs is suspicious?”
She didn’t answer me, instead placing her hand on my shoulder. Jeans and a jacket—both almost exactly like ones I actually owned—faded into existence around me, covering up the wetsuit. The bottoms of the legs flared, wide enough to go around the spyril. I was pretty sure that wasn’t fashionable, but what did I know about fashion? In Newcago, the rage was outfits based on old 1920s Chicago.
I poked at the clothes. They weren’t real, though I thought I could feel them just faintly. Or, like, I felt a memory of them. Does that make any sense? Probably not.
She inspected me, raising a critical eyebrow.
“What?” I asked.
“Trying to decide if I should change your face to make it less likely you’ll be spotted sneaking up on Obliteration.”
“Uh … okay.”
“There are side effects, though,” she said. “When swapping someone’s body, I’m always worried I’ll end up swapping them out completely with the version from another reality.”
“Have you done that before?”
“I don’t know,” she said, arms crossed. “I’m mostly convinced that every time I die, my ‘reincarnation’ is really just my powers summoning out of another dimension a version of myself that didn’t die.” She shivered visibly. “Anyway, let’s leave you like you are. I wouldn’t want to swap your face and get it stuck that way. I’ve gotten used to the one you have. Shall we move on?”
“Yeah,” I said.
We left the abandoned half tent and continued walking toward where Obliteration had set up. “How are you feeling?” I asked.
“Little hungry,” she said.
“That’s not what I meant.” I glanced over at her.
She sighed as we walked. “I’m irritable. Like I haven’t gotten enough sleep. I want to snap at anyone close by, but it should fade soon.” She shrugged. “It’s better this time than it has been in the past. I don’t know why—though, despite what it might seem, I’m not really that powerful.”
“You said something like that before.”
“Because it’s true. But … well, that might be an advantage. It’s why I can do these things and not turn immediately. It’s harder for the really powerful Epics. For me, the only time it gets really bad is when I reincarnate.”
We started across a bridge. “It feels odd,” I noted, “having an Epic to talk to about all this so frankly.”
“It feels odd,” she said, “having your stupid voice say so much about my secrets.” Then she grimaced. “Sorry.”
“It’s all right. A pleasant stroll with Megan wouldn’t feel right if a few wry comments didn’t accompany us.”
“No, it’s not all right. That isn’t me, Knees. I’m not acerbic like that.”
I raised an eyebrow at her.
“Okay,” she snapped, “maybe I am. But I’m not downright insulting. Or, at least, I don’t want to be. I hate this. It’s like I can feel myself slipping away.”
“How can I help?”
“Talking is good,” she said. She took a deep breath. “Tell me about your research.”
“It’s kind of nerdy.”
“I can handle nerdy.”
“Well … I found those connections between some Epics and their weaknesses,