Supernova, page 15
She swallowed. She could work with that.
She hoped.
“I don’t know what Danna thinks she saw,” she said, “but it wasn’t me. I don’t know if I’m being framed, or what, but—”
“Oh, please, Nova,” Adrian said. “The inventions? The access to the artifacts department? Knowing about Max and Agent N? I can’t believe we didn’t figure it out before. Is Nova even your real name?”
“Of course it’s my real name! But I’m not Nightmare! I’m not an Anarchist. Adrian, you know me!”
He grimaced. “Yeah. That’s what I thought, too.”
“Please, just tell me what Danna told you, and I can—”
“You can what? Lie some more? Come up with more outlandish stories about your uncle and his beekeeping? Or how about when you were so worried that your uncle wasn’t feeling well, you had to leave the gala, conveniently right before Nightmare breaks into headquarters. Or what about how your entire house was destroyed right when we were coming to arrest you! Are you going to tell me that was a coincidence, too?”
“I was designing a new weapon,” said Nova, who had had a lot of time to concoct this particular explanation. “I was working with some new chemicals, trying to build an explosive that I thought the patrols could use. But it got out of control and … well, you saw. But think about it, Adrian! If I knew you were coming to arrest me, why would I have stayed? Why wouldn’t I have run when I had the chance?”
“Because you needed to destroy evidence,” said Adrian. “It all makes sense. The only thing that doesn’t make sense is…”
He hesitated, and Nova’s pulse jumped. She waited, sure his next words would have something to do with him, with them, but his eyes were burning into her again, quickly dousing any such hope.
She shook her head. “You’re searching for evidence that isn’t there. Maybe … maybe there are some coincidences, but I swear, I’m not—”
“Just drop it, Nova.”
“But, Adrian—”
“Drop it.”
She pursed her lips together.
Adrian lifted his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m not here for your lies and excuses … I’m not even here for a confession. I just…” He dropped his hands to his sides. “I need answers. Please, Nova. If you ever … If any of it was real, then please … just tell me … who killed my mom?”
She blinked.
Opened her mouth, but found no words.
If any of it was real …
It had been real, she wanted to tell him. It had been more real to her than he could ever know.
But this? His mom? The murder?
She had no answers for him.
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
His hands balled into fists.
“Adrian, I know you don’t believe me right now, but I truly have no idea who killed Lady Indomitable. If I knew, I would have told you a long time ago, but I’m not—”
“Nightmare,” he said, spitting the name as if it tasted like sewage. “Tell me who killed her.”
“Adrian—”
“Tell me!” he yelled, pounding one hand on the glass.
Nova gasped, pushing back against the chair.
He flattened his palm on the window, as if he wanted nothing more than to snatch Nova out of the chains and shake her. “You know about the note. Nightmare said … I heard you say…”
Her brow furrowed, but Adrian seemed unable to continue.
“What?” she said, curiosity overtaking her concern. “What are you talking about?”
“‘One cannot be brave who has no fear.’”
Adrian fell silent, letting the words fill the cold chamber.
Nova gawked at him for so long, her mouth started to run dry. One cannot be brave who has no fear?
What surprised her most, what she had never expected, was that she did, in fact, know those words. She had heard them dozens of times over the past ten years, had even occasionally said them herself.
But what did they have to do with Lady Indomitable? And when had Nightmare ever spoken those words around Adrian?
Finally, when their silence had become unbearable, Nova licked her lips and said gently, slowly, “I’m sorry, Adrian, but I have no idea what that means.”
He seemed to draw inward at this statement. Perhaps he was losing hope that he might get answers today. Perhaps this interrogation was taking more out of him than he would admit.
“Those words were found on a slip of paper left on my mother’s body,” he said, watching her for a reaction.
Nova had no reason to hide her surprise from him. Why had he never told her this before?
And in that moment, it occurred to Nova that she had lied to Adrian yet again, though unwittingly this time.
Maybe, just maybe, she really did know who murdered his mother.
The thought made her veins feel brittle and cold.
If any of it was real …
Sorrow crept over her, wrapping her up like a blanket. Her feelings for him had been real. They were still real.
But … evidently, not real enough.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, almost choking on the words, “but I’m not Nightmare. I don’t know who killed your mother. I’m so sorry, Adrian. I want to help you, but I—”
“Fine,” Adrian snapped, halting her words.
Nova flinched. Tears were gathering again. It was more than she’d cried in years. At this rate, she would end up shedding more tears in this chair than she had since the day her family had been taken from her, but she couldn’t help it. Her walls were crumbling. All her years of building protective forces around her heart were under attack. A siege from every twitch of Adrian’s jaw, every furrow of his brow, every look of revulsion he shot her way.
And then, suddenly, he changed. His emotions hardened into that same neutrality that had cloaked him at the start. His shoulders pulled back. His chin lifted. He nudged his glasses farther up on the bridge of his nose and peered at her with studied indifference.
Nova shuddered.
“I’d hoped you would tell me the truth, but I’m not just here to ask about my mother. I’m here as a representative of the Renegades, and we have an offer to make you.”
Suspicion quickly began to dry up the pools in Nova’s eyes. “An offer?”
“You are aware that all villains currently incarcerated here at Cragmoor will be neutralized as a part of our public reveal of Agent N. However, the Council has decided…” His head dipped, searching for words or maybe steeling himself for what he already knew he had to say. His voice was steady, but hoarse, as he continued, “The public neutralization will also include a public execution.”
Nova’s eyebrows jerked upward. “Excuse me?”
“The villains known as Ace Anarchy and his accomplice, Nightmare, are to be executed in a worldwide broadcast, as a consequence for their crimes against society.”
Capital punishment? From the Renegades? She wasn’t sure why it shocked her as much as it did, and yet it was hard to grasp the reality of it. She was still struggling to imagine having her powers stripped from her, and now they were going to kill her?
Adrian’s face was almost sympathetic with the recitation complete. “Captain Chromium will execute Ace Anarchy.” He hesitated. Clearing his throat, he continued, “Genissa Clark has been assigned the role of executing Nightmare.”
Nova studied him, waiting for his words to make sense.
Then she laughed. She couldn’t help it.
Genissa Clark? Genissa Clark was going to execute her? It was so absurd, so unexpected.
But Adrian’s expression turned her abrupt laughter into a stilted cough.
“The Renegades don’t execute criminals,” she stammered, her breaths quickening. “They’ve never—”
“They feel…” Adrian hesitated. “We feel this is a special circumstance. The Council wants to send a message that our citizenswill never again be threatened by Ace Anarchy or his followers.”
Nova’s gaze traced the sheer, glossy black wall beneath the window, how it faded into the oblivion of shadows. It was fitting, she supposed, that Frostbite would volunteer for such a responsibility. No doubt she was eager to seek vengeance for her lost abilities, and she couldn’t very well go after Max.
Nova wasn’t afraid of dying. At least, that’s what she told herself. It might even be less painful than living with the knowledge of how she’d failed Ace and the others. How she’d betrayed kind, trusting Adrian. How she would never claim vengeance for her parents, for Evie.
She sniffed, once, and lifted her attention back to Adrian. “You said there was an offer?”
Adrian’s hands were fisted at his sides again, any signs of pity already gone. “I told my fathers how you saved Max … or, helped him, at least, after he was stabbed.”
Her lungs expanded. She hadn’t realized that Adrian knew Nightmare had done that. Genissa had been happy to let everyone believe it was Nightmare who had stabbed the boy. How could Adrian have figured out the truth?
Unless …
“Is he awake?” she stammered. “Max, is he okay?”
Adrian’s expression eased, as it always did when he talked about his little brother. “He’s out of the coma. He … he told me everything that happened. How you tried to stop the bleeding. How you forced Genissa to give up her powers to help him.”
She sank against the cold metal chair, overcome with relief.
Then, remembering who she was, who she was supposed to be, she trained her expression to be confused and doubtful again. “Nightmare helped him? I thought she was the one who stabbed him. Why would she do that?”
Adrian didn’t move for a long minute, and she wondered if that was the first speck of doubt she saw entering his eyes. Then he scoffed, though not as aggressively as before. “The point is, we’re … grateful.” It seemed to pain him to say the word, and he didn’t look at her when he did. “My fathers and I. And in return for helping Max, we’ve agreed to give you a chance to have your execution changed to a life sentence of neutralization and imprisonment.”
A sarcastic response filled her mouth. She wasn’t entirely sure which option she preferred at the moment.
But she thought of Genissa Clark, who was probably gleeful to act as Nightmare’s executioner, and she choked the sarcasm back down.
“Under one condition,” he continued. “You tell us where to find Ace Anarchy’s helmet, the Vitality Charm, and the rest of the Anarchists. Tell me where they are, and we will spare your life.”
She held his gaze and he held hers, as her heart shriveled behind her rib cage. All thoughts left her, leaving the inside of her head cavernous and echoing only with his words.
Sweet, compassionate Adrian Everhart.
Sketch.
A Renegade and, truly now, her enemy.
“Just tell me where they are, Nova. Please. I don’t…” His face crumpled, and it was as though she were watching him at war with himself. The battle between his loathing for Nightmare, and whatever he had once felt for Nova McLain.
Hatred battling affection.
Fury battling compassion.
Back and forth and back again.
“I don’t want to watch them kill you … Nova.” The whisper was so faint she barely heard it over the speaker that connected them. “Despite everything you’ve done … I don’t…”
Her pulse skipped with surprising, unwarranted hope.
Not hope that she might escape punishment, but rather, hope that Adrian might still care for her. Even believing that she was Nightmare. She’d been sure, all along, that any feelings Adrian had for her would vanish the moment he knew the truth. Was it possible there was some thorn of endearment still lodged in his heart?
He gave himself a sudden shake. “Because you helped Max,” he said again, firmly. “And because, even if you were acting as a spy, you actually did do some good as a Renegade. You killed the Detonator and protected those people at Cosmopolis. You rescued that kid from the fire at the library. Even if it was all an act, it counts for something. So just … tell us where you hid the helmet and the Vitality Charm. Tell us what you know about the rest of the Anarchists. That’s all you have to do, and you won’t have to die.”
Even though he was bargaining for her life, and even though Nova knew what her next words would be, that slim flicker of hope was persistent. She had come to know Adrian Everhart well enough to know there was more to this offer than the practical explanations he was giving her. The truth was evident behind the dark frames of his glasses, and it made her chest swell to the point of bursting.
At least a teeny, tiny part of Adrian still cared for her.
It changed nothing. And it changed everything.
Staring into the eyes that had mesmerized her for these past months, Nova was happy, so very happy, that she didn’t have to lie to him again.
“Thank you, Adrian,” she whispered. “Thank you for at least … wanting me to have a chance. You don’t know what that means to me. But the truth is, I don’t have any idea where the charm is or the helmet or any of the Anarchists. I’m sorry, but I don’t know.”
His expression fell and, after a long silence, Adrian gave a solemn nod. He started to turn away.
“Adrian?”
He paused, his gaze meeting hers after a short hesitation.
Nova swallowed. “It was real,” she whispered. “I hope you know that.”
He watched her, unflinching, expressionless. Finally, he said, “I wish I could believe that, Nova. But we both know it’s just one more lie.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“WHEN DID YOU start to suspect her?” asked Adrian. His feet were up on Max’s hospital bed, a sketchbook in his lap.
He was working on a new tattoo design. A heart surrounded by the impenetrable turrets of a stone tower.
He hadn’t figured out exactly what powers the tattoo would imbue, but the entire ordeal with Nova—no, Nightmare—had left him shaken and hollowed out and vulnerable. He’d considered transforming into the Sentinel just to feel the security of the armor on his body. The protection of anonymity. A barrier between him and the world.
“I’m not sure,” said Max. He had shredded a tissue to create a nest in the palm of his hand, where Turbo was curled up and sleeping, his tiny breaths wheezing every few seconds. Turbo was sick, and they could both tell. Max seemed to be handling the creature’s slow fading with courage, despite the attachment they’d formed.
As for Max himself, he was stronger every day—healing radically fast, perhaps in part thanks to the concoction of superpowers that filled his slight frame. Color had returned to his cheeks. Brightness to his eyes. His hair was as disheveled as ever. “There was a moment at headquarters, when I was still in the quarantine, watching Nightmare fight against Frostbite and the others. It felt so familiar, like I was watching the trials again. And at one point Nightmare looked up, right at me, and I could have sworn … but then I ignored it because, you know. It’s Nova.”
“It’s Nova,” Adrian murmured. The pencil scratched over the paper as he shaded in the details of stonework. He was tempted to add a few arrow slits along the tower’s side, like a true medieval castle, but no. He wanted this wall to be impenetrable. No weak spots. No way to get in.
“But then, when I woke up and started thinking about everything that happened, I think a part of me knew. I kept wondering, why would Nightmare protect me? The only thing that made sense was … you know, if she was someone I knew. And Nova was the only person…”
When he trailed off, Adrian glanced up. Max’s mouth twisted to one side as he considered Nova’s guilt, Nightmare’s secret. Then he gave his head a shake and reached his free hand for the small carton of chocolate milk that one of the nurses had brought along with his dinner earlier. He took a long drink through a short red straw. Setting the carton back on the tray, he leaned his head against the stack of pillows. “They’re not really going to kill her, are they?”
Adrian winced and returned his focus to the drawing. “I don’t know. Maybe. She won’t confess. She won’t give us any information. And the Council is convinced that this will show everyone that we have the Anarchists under control. It really freaked people out to know that Ace Anarchy had been alive and in hiding all these years, and they’re all wondering if there could be more villains out there, just biding their time, waiting to launch another Age of Anarchy. We need to take a strong stance here, show everyone that we won’t have mercy for criminals. At least, that’s what the Council’s been saying.”
“I guess I see their point,” said Max, “but … it’s Nova.”
Adrian sighed. “No, Max. It’s Nightmare.”
Max frowned and whispered, “How do you think Genissa will do it?”
Adrian shuddered. This question had been lingering at the back of his thoughts since Genissa Clark had first made the suggestion that she be allowed to execute Nightmare. He kept seeing her and her team at the shipping yard by the docks, torturing the villain Hawthorn. Literally torturing her. He didn’t want to believe the Council would allow anything like that to happen, especially with all the world watching, and yet … he wouldn’t have believed that they would consider capital punishment at all, especially without a trial, or allow someone like Genissa to have a hand in it.
He didn’t know what to believe anymore.
Finally, he answered, “I don’t know. But I don’t think she suggested it so she could be merciful.”
A silence draped over them, filled only by the scritch of Adrian’s pencil.
After a long moment, Max started feeding himself grapes, one by one, their crunch deafening in the small room. He stared blankly at the wall, chewing like a robot. When the tray was empty and his fingers found nothing but stems, he set to mindlessly stroking one finger along Turbo’s back. The creature mewled in its sleep. “What are you working on?”
“New tattoo idea.” Adrian angled the sketchbook to show him. Max studied it for a moment but offered no commentary on the design. Instead, an unexpected glint entered his eye. “That reminds me. I had an idea for a tattoo for you. Can I see your marker?”
