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As I got my balance, the bird’s form fuzzed and reshaped into a man. Knoxx’s face was pale where it wasn’t blue, and blood covered his shoulder. He stumbled back from me, clutching one hand to his shoulder, pulling out a knife with the other.

I stopped and stared at him for a moment, waiting. Then, finally, he toppled over, unconscious.

“I’ve got him,” I said, staying back in case he was faking. “At least, I think I do.”

“Where are you?” Megan asked.

I looked around, trying to orient myself after my frenzied chase. We’d curved through the streets and come back around to near where we’d begun.

“Two streets over from the building where I placed the camera. Look for a rooftop about four stories above the ocean, sparsely populated, a big mural of some people picking fruit spraypainted on the top.”

“Coming,” Megan said.

I unstrapped my gloves, then took Megan’s gun from my pocket. I didn’t want to get any closer to Knoxx without backup, but with that wound, would he bleed out on me if I didn’t do something? There was too much to lose, I decided. I needed this man alive. I inched forward and finally decided that either he was a really good faker, or he actually was unconscious. I bound his hands as best I could using his own shoelaces, then tried to bandage his wound with his jacket.

“Megan?” I asked over the line. “ETA?”

“Sorry,” she said. “No bridges. I’m having to weave all the way around to get to you. It’s going to be another fifteen minutes or so.”

“All right.”

I settled down to wait, letting my tension melt away. It was replaced by a realization of the full foolishness of what I’d just done. I’d obviously underestimated Knoxx’s transformation powers—he could turn into more than just a bird. What if he’d been even more powerful than that? What if he’d been a High Epic, impervious to bullets?

Prof had called me reckless, and he was right. While I should have felt triumphant in what I’d done, I found myself embarrassed. How would I explain this to the other Reckoners? Sparks. I hadn’t even called Tia.

Well, at least it had turned out okay.

“Listen carefully,” a voice said from behind me. “You’re going to drop the gun. Then you’re going to put your hands into the air, palms facing forward, and turn around.”

A jolt of fear washed through me. But I recognized that voice. “Val?” I said, looking back.

“Drop the gun!” she ordered. She’d come out through the stairwell that connected the top floor of this building to the rooftop. She had a rifle tucked into her shoulder, sights on me.

“Val,” I said. “Why are you—”

“Drop it.”

I dropped Megan’s gun.

“Stand.”

I obeyed, my hands out to the sides.

“Now your mobile.”

Sparks. I ripped it off my shoulder and laid it on the ground, just as Megan said in my ear, “David? What’s happening?”

“Kick it forward,” Val instructed. When I hesitated, she focused her sights right on my forehead. So I kicked the mobile toward her.

She knelt, gun still on me, and picked it up with one hand.

“Sparks, David,” Megan said in my ear. “I’m hurrying as fast as—”

She cut off as Val ended the signal, then slipped my mobile into her pocket.

“Val?” I asked as calmly as I could. “What’s wrong?”

“How long have you been working for Regalia?” she replied. “Since the beginning? Was she the one who sent you to Newcago to infiltrate the Reckoners?”

“Working for … What? I’m not a spy!”

Val swung the rifle and actually fired, planting a bullet at my feet. I yelped, jumping back.

“I know you’ve been meeting with Firefight,” Val said.

Sparks.

“You’ve been suspicious since you got here,” Val continued. “You didn’t save those people in the burning building, did you? It was a plot by you and Regalia to ‘prove’ how trustworthy you were. Did you even really kill Steelheart? You really didn’t think anyone would notice when you helped Firefight enter our base? Calamity!”

“Val, listen. It’s not what you think it is.” I stepped forward.

And she shot me.

Right in the thigh. Pain tore through me and I dropped to my knees. I wrapped my hands around the wound, cursing. “Val, you’re crazy! I’m not working for them. Look, I just captured an Epic!”

Val glanced at Knoxx lying bound on the ground. Then she swung her rifle toward him and shot him square in the head.

I gasped, growing numb despite the pain. “What …,” I sputtered. “After all I just did to—”

“The only good Epic is a dead Epic,” Val said, sights back on me. “As a Reckoner, you should know this. But you’re not one of us. You never were.” She growled that last part, and her hand tightened on her weapon, her eyes narrowing. “You’re the reason Sam is dead, aren’t you? You gave them intel on us, on all the Reckoner cells.”

“No, Val,” I said. “I swear it! We’ve been lying to you, yes, but on Prof’s orders.” Blood dripped between my fingers as I squeezed my leg. “Let’s call Tia, Val. Don’t do anything rash.” Anything else rash.

Val kept the sights right on me. I met her gaze.

Then she pulled the trigger.

38

I tried to dodge, of course, but there was no chance I could get out of the way quickly enough. Beyond that, I was worn out and had just been shot in the leg.

So, when I came out of my awkward roll, I was surprised to find myself still alive. Val was surprised too, judging by her expression, but that didn’t stop her from shooting me again.

The bullet stopped at my chest, implanting itself into my wetsuit but not breaking skin. Little spiderweb cracks of light spread out from it, then quickly faded.

Though I was glad to be alive, dread washed over me. I knew that effect—Prof’s forcefields sometimes looked like that when they absorbed a blow. I looked up and found him, a silhouette in the night, standing on the single bridge leading to this rooftop. It swung slowly back and forth in the darkness.

Prof wasn’t lit at all. He was a brick of blackness, lab coat fluttering in the lethargic breeze.

“Stand down, Valentine,” Prof said softly, drawing her attention.

Val turned to look, then visibly jumped. She obviously hadn’t figured out how I’d survived—but of course, she didn’t know that Prof was an Epic. To her the forcefields were a product of advanced Epic technology.

Prof stepped onto the rooftop, the glow of the mural beneath lighting his face. “I gave you an order,” he said to Val. “Stand down.”

“Sir,” she said. “He’s been—”

“I know,” Prof said.

Uh-oh, I thought, sweating. I started to rise, but a glare from Prof made me flop back down. The pain in my leg flared up again, and I pressed my hand back against the wound. Odd how in a moment of panic, I’d completely forgotten that I’d been shot.

I hate getting shot.

“His mobile,” Prof said, holding out his hand to Val. She produced it, and Prof typed something in. I had the screen set to lock with a passcode the moment it was turned off—so he shouldn’t have been able to get it back on. But he did.

“Text the person he’s been communicating with,” Prof said to Val. “That is Firefight. Say exactly this: ‘Everything is all right. Val thought I was one of Regalia’s men with Knoxx at first.’ ”

Val nodded, lowering the gun and sending a message to Megan.

Prof looked at me, crossing his arms.

“I …,” I said. “Um …”

“I’m disappointed in you,” Prof said.

Those words crushed me.

“She’s not evil, Prof,” I said. “If you’d just listen to me—”

“I have been listening,” Prof said. “Tia?”

“I’ve got it, Jon,” Tia answered, her voice coming in over my

earpiece. “You can listen to the entire thing again here, if you want.”

“You bugged my phone,” I whispered. “You didn’t trust me.”

Prof raised an eyebrow at me. “I gave you two chances to come clean, the latest being just earlier this very night. I wanted to be wrong about you, boy.”

“You knew?” Val asked, turning to Prof. “All along, you knew what he was doing?”


Tags: Brandon Sanderson The Reckoners Fantasy