Supernova, page 21
She had begun to dream of a future for herself and the others that was different from any future she’d ever dared to envision before. And though, at the time, she’d believed she wouldn’t have any future at all, now she couldn’t help but wonder what might be possible.
But first, above all else, she needed to find a way to stop them from killing Ace. She needed to rescue him, as so many years ago he had rescued her.
The blare of a foghorn rumbled over the choppy waves. It was early morning, and the lights of the city were shimmering off the damp air. Orange floodlights shone on the outline of the pier where the boat would soon pull in to the dock. Squinting, Nova could barely make out a number of shadowy forms waiting there, but couldn’t tell who they might be. She had a brief fantasy that it would be her family, the closest thing to a family she’d ever had. Honey. Leroy. Phobia.
Well, not Phobia, so much.
Or even Ruby and Oscar. Even Danna, who Nova had found herself liking despite Danna’s obvious suspicions. Or Max, she thought. She was startled when her mind even painted Simon Westwood and Hugh Everhart into that picture. A family, waiting to welcome her home. Any family.
She sighed, knowing that all of these daydreams were flawed in one way or another. Knowing that future would never come to pass.
A hand, warm and strong, slid over hers, making the paper around the flowers crinkle in the silence. Nova flipped her hand over and laced their fingers together.
“Nova…”
“I forgive you,” she whispered, smiling at him. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”
The lines on his face slowly melted away, softening with relief. She squeezed his hand and he squeezed back, which was when she noticed the lump at the base of his wrist. Nova flipped his hand over and pushed up his sleeve, revealing a thick square bandage on his forearm. “What happened?”
“It’s nothing,” he said.
A little too quickly.
Nova frowned at him.
Adrian cringed. “I mean, it’s sort of something. I’m … trying something new. Here.” He peeled back one side of the bandage. Where she had expected to see a wound of some sort was … a tattoo.
It was fairly recent, by the looks of it. Scabs had formed over the black ink lines, and the skin around it was swollen and red.
Nova took his arm and twisted it toward the grayish light streaming through the window. The tattoo depicted a tower, like a castle turret, sitting atop a hill. The top of a heart could be seen barely visible over the wall, while the grassy slope at the tower’s base was littered with fallen arrows.
“Okay…,” Nova said, not quite sure what to make of it. “What does it mean?”
“Protection.” Adrian sounded a little sheepish as he reaffixed the bandage. “I…” He cleared his throat. “I’ve had this idea, lately, that maybe my power can transfer to tattoos. I mean, it doesn’t really matter if I draw with marker or crayon or chalk or paint … so why not tattoo ink?”
“You did this yourself?”
“Yes. And I know it might sound a little far-fetched, but … I thought I should try it and see what happens.”
“Try what, exactly?”
“To see if I can give myself a tattoo that’s … you know, more than just a tattoo.” He lightly pressed his thumb over the bandage, before pulling his sleeve back down. “I thought this one could be useful in a fight. Something that I could use for protection, if I needed it.”
Nova stared, not sure if she understood. “So … you’ve tattooed a tower on your arm, in an experimental attempt to … do what, again?”
“Well, if it works,” said Adrian, flashing her a cheeky grin, “it will be sort of like giving myself another superpower. In theory, I’ll be able to use it to create a barrier around myself and anyone who’s near me, that will deflect attacks from other prodigies.”
She leaned against the window. “That’s … an interesting theory.”
He cleared his throat uncomfortably, and Nova had the distinct impression that there was something he wasn’t telling her. “I guess we’ll see how it goes. It should be healed enough to test out in another day or two.”
“You don’t seem all that concerned that maybe you’ve just tattooed a medieval castle on yourself for no real reason.”
He chuckled, and he seemed to want to say something, but she could sense his uncertainty. Finally, he answered, “Well, also, tattoos make a guy look tough, don’t they?”
She laughed. “Sure they do.”
The roar of the engines suddenly quieted. Nova was startled to see that they were already at the dock. The fog had mostly cleared, revealing the buildings along the pier and the skyscrapers beyond. The sun had peeked over the horizon, its beams slashing through the lingering mist.
She clutched her bouquet of flowers and followed Adrian off the boat. She realized with a swell of disappointment that none of the figures she’d seen loitering on the dock had been the so-called families she’d imagined. They were all strangers—a Renegade administrator who asked her to sign a form stating she was returned safely to the mainland following her release, a dockworker who set about mooring the boat, and the media.
A few dozen journalists and photographers were gathered, already snapping pictures of Nova and screaming questions that quickly blurred into nonsense.
Adrian placed a hand on her lower back, steering her past the crowd. “You don’t have to talk to them,” he murmured in her ear, and Nova wondered just how many newspapers and tabloids would carry this picture in the coming days. Adrian Everhart whispering into the ear of the girl who was previously suspected of being Nightmare herself … not to mention the yellow daisies. She flushed, doing her best to ignore the yells behind her—Nova! Miss McLain! Insomnia!
“We have a car over there,” said Adrian, pointing to a small parking lot, as they made their way past the rows of moored boats, their wooden hulls thumping hollowly against each other in the water.
But just as Adrian was steering Nova toward the lot, an unfamiliar figure stepped out from a waiting taxicab on the other side of the street. “Nova!” he cried, rushing toward her. “Oh, thank heavens!”
Nova froze, frowning not so much at the man, but at the way he’d said her name. Like he knew her.
She scanned his face. He must have been in his late fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair and an unkempt beard. He was dressed in jeans and loafers and a sweater that was tattered and faded and almost certainly not warm enough for the weather.
Nova was sure she’d never seen him before.
She tensed, one hand reaching for the stun gun at her belt, only to remember how she’d tossed all her weapons into the duffel bag and sent it off in the trunk of Leroy’s car.
As soon as he reached her, the man grasped Nova’s hand affectionately. His skin was leathery, feeling much older than his features suggested. “I’m so relieved,” he said. “I thought I’d never see you again!”
To her surprise, there were tears in his gray-blue eyes.
Perhaps reading Nova’s bewilderment, Adrian took hold of her elbow, gently tugging her closer to him. “I’m sorry, you are…?”
“Her uncle,” said the man, beaming and holding out a hand for Adrian to shake. “You must be Adrian.”
Nova stiffened. Her uncle?
When Adrian hesitantly accepted the handshake, the man pumped it with enthusiasm. “She’s told me so much. Never stops talking about you. It’s so great to finally meet you face-to-face. And on such a happy occasion!” His smile grew wider, and before Nova could fully grasp what was happening, he had his arms around her.
Nova’s power surged to the surface of her skin, tingling with the temptation to nullify this threat, to knock him out before he could harm her. But he wasn’t hurting her, if that was his intention. Rather, he was embracing her like …
Well. Like family.
“Uncle?” she tried.
He pulled away, but kept his hands on Nova’s shoulders. “I tried to come visit after they took you away, but all our papers were destroyed in the explosion and I had no way to prove who I was. They didn’t believe me. And with them thinking you were that … that villain…” He spat the word, his nostrils flaring with disgust. “They had you under so much security, there was no way they would let me get close to you. I’m so sorry. It’s been killing me to think of you in there, all alone. I didn’t want you to think I’d abandoned you, but I couldn’t—”
“It’s okay,” she stammered. “I’m fine. I’m—” She glanced at Adrian. “I’m free, now.”
“I know. I couldn’t believe it when I heard, but at the same time, I knew this would all be sorted out. I knew they couldn’t go on believing those lies about you forever, not after everything you’ve done for them.” Releasing her shoulders, he returned his focus to Adrian. “I was so proud of her when she went to the trials and got chosen. Being a Renegade’s been a lifelong dream of hers.”
Adrian smiled, the wariness in his expression slowly fading. “We’ve been lucky to have her. I can’t possibly express how sorry we all are about this mistake. Nova deserved better from us.”
“It’s all in the past.” Reaching out, the man patted Nova on the top of her head, and she couldn’t resist snarling and ducking away. “Come on. Let’s get you home so you can have a rest. Well … not home, obviously. The explosion and all. But I’ve rented us a decent little apartment that’ll do until we can figure something out. It’s not so bad. We’ll make do, just like we always have.”
“The Renegades could provide you with temporary housing,” Adrian suggested. “It’s the least we could do, considering…”
“No, no,” said the man. “That’s very generous, but there are people in this city who need the charity more than we do. Thank you so much, but my Nova and I will be just fine.”
He started to guide Nova toward the waiting taxi, but Adrian calling her name made her pause and turn back.
He looked suddenly shy, his breaths fogging the air between them. He seemed to struggle with words he wasn’t sure how to say, while Nova waited, her heart tumbling. The world dimmed—the city, the journalists, her false uncle—everything vanishing but for Adrian and his nervous stare boring into her.
“It was always real for me, too,” he finally said, his voice barely a whisper. “I hope you know that.”
Nova shivered. Before she could talk herself out of it, she thrust the bouquet of flowers at the strange man, then closed the distance between herself and Adrian. She reached her arms around his neck, pulling him to her. Cameras flashed and journalists peppered them with eager, prying questions, but Nova barely noticed them over the sense of fullness that was coursing through her body, from her flushing cheeks to her happily curling toes. All she cared about was conveying in this moment, with this kiss, what she might never have another chance to say.
This was real. In spite of everything, her feelings for Adrian Everhart were real, and she was going to keep this moment pinned inside her heart for the rest of her life. No matter what the future held, she would cherish this kiss, and his words, forever.
Adrian was beaming when she pulled back. Nova allowed herself the luxury of cupping his face in her ice-cold hands and memorizing that smile, those eyes, those elusive, precious dimples.
Then she slipped out of his arms and peeled his coat from her shoulders. Even without it, the heat from the kiss lingered, warming her from the inside out. “Thank you,” she said, handing it back to him and hoping he knew she meant for more than just the coat. “I guess I’ll see you at headquarters.”
Adrian nodded, still grinning. “See you there.”
Without meeting the eye of her pretend uncle, Nova took back her flowers and headed across the street to the cab.
She sank into the back seat and waited for the door to shut before rounding on the stranger. “Who are you?”
The man smirked as he started to pick lint from his sweater. “A mighty fine actor, if I do say so myself. Though, perhaps, not as good as you.” He shot her a suggestive look.
But Nova didn’t care about her red cheeks or erratic pulse or whether or not this man thought the kiss had been an act. “Answer the question.”
“If you don’t like ‘Uncle,’ then you can call me Peter. Peter McLain.”
Her teeth ground, but the man pressed on.
“And I do believe I just secured the rest of your story. Strangely missing uncle—found. That should silence the rest of your doubters, at least for a while. You’re welcome.”
She gawked at him, simultaneously annoyed and a little impressed. He was right. At some point Adrian and the Renegades would have raised questions about the uncle who had never once come for her after she’d been arrested. The uncle who no one had ever met.
“Okay,” she said, “but who are you?”
“He’s an ally.”
Starting, she peered toward the front, as the driver pushed aside the plexiglass window that divided them. She caught his eyes in the rearview mirror, the skin around them mottled and scarred, the eyebrows long ago burned away. Her heart leaped. “Leroy!”
He beamed at her. “Welcome back, little Nightmare.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
NOVA’S SO-CALLED UNCLE was not staying in a shabby, rented apartment, and neither, it turned out, were the rest of the Anarchists.
Leroy drove them to the Barlow neighborhood and parked on the corner of East 16th and Skrein Avenue. Nova stepped onto the sidewalk and found herself inspecting barred windows that displayed an assortment of goods—a couple of electric guitars, a drill set, a vintage vinyl record player. A faded sign along the top of the building read, in enormous block letters, DAVE’S PAWNSHOP.
Nova took in the street, noting a nightclub closed for the night, a convenience store, and a few empty storefronts with FOR LEASE signs hanging in the windows. Judging from how the signs had yellowed around the edges, occupants hadn’t been there since the Age of Anarchy.
Her “uncle” jingled a key chain as he unlocked the door to the pawnshop, also outfitted with impressive metal bars.
“Are you Dave?” Nova asked as he and Leroy ushered her inside.
“Naw, Dave just lets us use the basement,” the man answered, bustling through the pawnshop. “For a price, that is. Anything to make a buck, right?”
The overhead lights were off, but a series of glass cases in the store had built-in lighting that cast a dim glow over the merchandise. Watches and costume jewelry in the cases, old cinema posters framed on the walls, shelves along the back stocked with computers, vacuums, and radios. There really wasn’t much in the way of household goods that Dave didn’t seem to have in stock, from practical electronics to pricey luxuries.
Pawnshops had been big business during the Age of Anarchy, when much of the financial system had collapsed and the world’s economy was largely replaced with a trade-and-barter system. These businesses had continued to do well even after the Renegades had taken over, as the economy stuttered and stammered to get going again and employment security remained virtually nonexistent. People still needed food, and sometimes the quickest and easiest way to get it was to pawn off your grandma’s antique hatpin collection for a fraction of its pre-Anarchy value.
They passed through the shop and into a back room, where utilitarian shelves were lined with more electronics and a random assortment of spare parts. It smelled of grease and must and moth-eaten clothing, which all served to remind Nova of the subway tunnels.
Leroy and the man grabbed a small worktable and together hoisted it off to the side.
A hidden door was cut out of the dingy linoleum flooring, illuminated with yellow light from below.
Grinning in a way that showed off his missing teeth, Leroy gestured for Nova to go first.
She squeezed the bundle of daisies Adrian had given her and, not sure what else to do, tucked them under one arm as she stepped onto the rungs of the ladder. The paper crinkled loudly as she lowered herself into the basement. Her boot had barely touched concrete when arms were wrapping around her and pulling her from the ladder.
“Nightmare, my darling!” Honey cooed, squeezing her from behind. “We’ve missed you so much!” She spun Nova around so she could cup her face between lacquered nails. Streaks of black eyeliner had dried and caked on her cheeks and she seemed to be covered in more of her bee friends than usual—nine or ten were caught in her blonde hair and Nova spied at least a dozen more wandering around her neck and shoulders. “If I believed in miracles, I would say we’ve accomplished one. You’re free!”
“I’m free,” Nova agreed, as Leroy dropped down beside them.
“And oh, flowers! Did Leroy think to bring you those? How thoughtful.”
Nova glanced at Leroy. Now that she was back in villain territory, the last thing she wanted to do was confess that, actually, the flowers were from Adrian Everhart.
Leroy winked at her and said nothing.
“I’ll find something to put them in,” said Honey, taking the bouquet from her. It was immediately set upon by a flurry of enthusiastic honeybees.
The pawnshop’s basement was not so much a basement as a bomb shelter, with thick concrete walls and a couple of hallways leading off in various directions. Nova surmised that the shelter must run nearly the full city block. In this central area there were some rickety folding chairs, worn rugs crisscrossing one another across the floor, and crates of food and supplies against one wall.
But what was more surprising to her than learning that her allies had taken up residence in the bomb shelter beneath Dave’s Pawnshop was learning that they were not alone.
Nova was greeted by at least thirty faces, almost all of them strangers, who stared back at her, largely expressionless. Nova recognized signs of inherent abilities. A girl a few years her senior had thick auburn hair that floated like seaweed in the air. One man had a growth of fungi covering his right arm. A boy who was probably thirteen or fourteen had gigantic eyes, with pupils shaped like six-pointed stars.
There were more subtle indicators, too. A tattoo of two arrows crossed on a paper scroll—a symbol of the Vandal Cartel, which had been the Librarian’s gang years ago. Two young boys dressed in shimmery gold robes, reminiscent of the Harbingers. Nova knew that some of the villain gangs that hadn’t been vanquished on the Day of Triumph had gone underground, still existing, still struggling to survive. They had been in hiding, stealing when they had to, fighting for their needs, existing in the shadows—many going through life hiding the fact that they were prodigies, so as not to draw the attention of the Renegades who would surely label them as villains.
But first, above all else, she needed to find a way to stop them from killing Ace. She needed to rescue him, as so many years ago he had rescued her.
The blare of a foghorn rumbled over the choppy waves. It was early morning, and the lights of the city were shimmering off the damp air. Orange floodlights shone on the outline of the pier where the boat would soon pull in to the dock. Squinting, Nova could barely make out a number of shadowy forms waiting there, but couldn’t tell who they might be. She had a brief fantasy that it would be her family, the closest thing to a family she’d ever had. Honey. Leroy. Phobia.
Well, not Phobia, so much.
Or even Ruby and Oscar. Even Danna, who Nova had found herself liking despite Danna’s obvious suspicions. Or Max, she thought. She was startled when her mind even painted Simon Westwood and Hugh Everhart into that picture. A family, waiting to welcome her home. Any family.
She sighed, knowing that all of these daydreams were flawed in one way or another. Knowing that future would never come to pass.
A hand, warm and strong, slid over hers, making the paper around the flowers crinkle in the silence. Nova flipped her hand over and laced their fingers together.
“Nova…”
“I forgive you,” she whispered, smiling at him. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”
The lines on his face slowly melted away, softening with relief. She squeezed his hand and he squeezed back, which was when she noticed the lump at the base of his wrist. Nova flipped his hand over and pushed up his sleeve, revealing a thick square bandage on his forearm. “What happened?”
“It’s nothing,” he said.
A little too quickly.
Nova frowned at him.
Adrian cringed. “I mean, it’s sort of something. I’m … trying something new. Here.” He peeled back one side of the bandage. Where she had expected to see a wound of some sort was … a tattoo.
It was fairly recent, by the looks of it. Scabs had formed over the black ink lines, and the skin around it was swollen and red.
Nova took his arm and twisted it toward the grayish light streaming through the window. The tattoo depicted a tower, like a castle turret, sitting atop a hill. The top of a heart could be seen barely visible over the wall, while the grassy slope at the tower’s base was littered with fallen arrows.
“Okay…,” Nova said, not quite sure what to make of it. “What does it mean?”
“Protection.” Adrian sounded a little sheepish as he reaffixed the bandage. “I…” He cleared his throat. “I’ve had this idea, lately, that maybe my power can transfer to tattoos. I mean, it doesn’t really matter if I draw with marker or crayon or chalk or paint … so why not tattoo ink?”
“You did this yourself?”
“Yes. And I know it might sound a little far-fetched, but … I thought I should try it and see what happens.”
“Try what, exactly?”
“To see if I can give myself a tattoo that’s … you know, more than just a tattoo.” He lightly pressed his thumb over the bandage, before pulling his sleeve back down. “I thought this one could be useful in a fight. Something that I could use for protection, if I needed it.”
Nova stared, not sure if she understood. “So … you’ve tattooed a tower on your arm, in an experimental attempt to … do what, again?”
“Well, if it works,” said Adrian, flashing her a cheeky grin, “it will be sort of like giving myself another superpower. In theory, I’ll be able to use it to create a barrier around myself and anyone who’s near me, that will deflect attacks from other prodigies.”
She leaned against the window. “That’s … an interesting theory.”
He cleared his throat uncomfortably, and Nova had the distinct impression that there was something he wasn’t telling her. “I guess we’ll see how it goes. It should be healed enough to test out in another day or two.”
“You don’t seem all that concerned that maybe you’ve just tattooed a medieval castle on yourself for no real reason.”
He chuckled, and he seemed to want to say something, but she could sense his uncertainty. Finally, he answered, “Well, also, tattoos make a guy look tough, don’t they?”
She laughed. “Sure they do.”
The roar of the engines suddenly quieted. Nova was startled to see that they were already at the dock. The fog had mostly cleared, revealing the buildings along the pier and the skyscrapers beyond. The sun had peeked over the horizon, its beams slashing through the lingering mist.
She clutched her bouquet of flowers and followed Adrian off the boat. She realized with a swell of disappointment that none of the figures she’d seen loitering on the dock had been the so-called families she’d imagined. They were all strangers—a Renegade administrator who asked her to sign a form stating she was returned safely to the mainland following her release, a dockworker who set about mooring the boat, and the media.
A few dozen journalists and photographers were gathered, already snapping pictures of Nova and screaming questions that quickly blurred into nonsense.
Adrian placed a hand on her lower back, steering her past the crowd. “You don’t have to talk to them,” he murmured in her ear, and Nova wondered just how many newspapers and tabloids would carry this picture in the coming days. Adrian Everhart whispering into the ear of the girl who was previously suspected of being Nightmare herself … not to mention the yellow daisies. She flushed, doing her best to ignore the yells behind her—Nova! Miss McLain! Insomnia!
“We have a car over there,” said Adrian, pointing to a small parking lot, as they made their way past the rows of moored boats, their wooden hulls thumping hollowly against each other in the water.
But just as Adrian was steering Nova toward the lot, an unfamiliar figure stepped out from a waiting taxicab on the other side of the street. “Nova!” he cried, rushing toward her. “Oh, thank heavens!”
Nova froze, frowning not so much at the man, but at the way he’d said her name. Like he knew her.
She scanned his face. He must have been in his late fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair and an unkempt beard. He was dressed in jeans and loafers and a sweater that was tattered and faded and almost certainly not warm enough for the weather.
Nova was sure she’d never seen him before.
She tensed, one hand reaching for the stun gun at her belt, only to remember how she’d tossed all her weapons into the duffel bag and sent it off in the trunk of Leroy’s car.
As soon as he reached her, the man grasped Nova’s hand affectionately. His skin was leathery, feeling much older than his features suggested. “I’m so relieved,” he said. “I thought I’d never see you again!”
To her surprise, there were tears in his gray-blue eyes.
Perhaps reading Nova’s bewilderment, Adrian took hold of her elbow, gently tugging her closer to him. “I’m sorry, you are…?”
“Her uncle,” said the man, beaming and holding out a hand for Adrian to shake. “You must be Adrian.”
Nova stiffened. Her uncle?
When Adrian hesitantly accepted the handshake, the man pumped it with enthusiasm. “She’s told me so much. Never stops talking about you. It’s so great to finally meet you face-to-face. And on such a happy occasion!” His smile grew wider, and before Nova could fully grasp what was happening, he had his arms around her.
Nova’s power surged to the surface of her skin, tingling with the temptation to nullify this threat, to knock him out before he could harm her. But he wasn’t hurting her, if that was his intention. Rather, he was embracing her like …
Well. Like family.
“Uncle?” she tried.
He pulled away, but kept his hands on Nova’s shoulders. “I tried to come visit after they took you away, but all our papers were destroyed in the explosion and I had no way to prove who I was. They didn’t believe me. And with them thinking you were that … that villain…” He spat the word, his nostrils flaring with disgust. “They had you under so much security, there was no way they would let me get close to you. I’m so sorry. It’s been killing me to think of you in there, all alone. I didn’t want you to think I’d abandoned you, but I couldn’t—”
“It’s okay,” she stammered. “I’m fine. I’m—” She glanced at Adrian. “I’m free, now.”
“I know. I couldn’t believe it when I heard, but at the same time, I knew this would all be sorted out. I knew they couldn’t go on believing those lies about you forever, not after everything you’ve done for them.” Releasing her shoulders, he returned his focus to Adrian. “I was so proud of her when she went to the trials and got chosen. Being a Renegade’s been a lifelong dream of hers.”
Adrian smiled, the wariness in his expression slowly fading. “We’ve been lucky to have her. I can’t possibly express how sorry we all are about this mistake. Nova deserved better from us.”
“It’s all in the past.” Reaching out, the man patted Nova on the top of her head, and she couldn’t resist snarling and ducking away. “Come on. Let’s get you home so you can have a rest. Well … not home, obviously. The explosion and all. But I’ve rented us a decent little apartment that’ll do until we can figure something out. It’s not so bad. We’ll make do, just like we always have.”
“The Renegades could provide you with temporary housing,” Adrian suggested. “It’s the least we could do, considering…”
“No, no,” said the man. “That’s very generous, but there are people in this city who need the charity more than we do. Thank you so much, but my Nova and I will be just fine.”
He started to guide Nova toward the waiting taxi, but Adrian calling her name made her pause and turn back.
He looked suddenly shy, his breaths fogging the air between them. He seemed to struggle with words he wasn’t sure how to say, while Nova waited, her heart tumbling. The world dimmed—the city, the journalists, her false uncle—everything vanishing but for Adrian and his nervous stare boring into her.
“It was always real for me, too,” he finally said, his voice barely a whisper. “I hope you know that.”
Nova shivered. Before she could talk herself out of it, she thrust the bouquet of flowers at the strange man, then closed the distance between herself and Adrian. She reached her arms around his neck, pulling him to her. Cameras flashed and journalists peppered them with eager, prying questions, but Nova barely noticed them over the sense of fullness that was coursing through her body, from her flushing cheeks to her happily curling toes. All she cared about was conveying in this moment, with this kiss, what she might never have another chance to say.
This was real. In spite of everything, her feelings for Adrian Everhart were real, and she was going to keep this moment pinned inside her heart for the rest of her life. No matter what the future held, she would cherish this kiss, and his words, forever.
Adrian was beaming when she pulled back. Nova allowed herself the luxury of cupping his face in her ice-cold hands and memorizing that smile, those eyes, those elusive, precious dimples.
Then she slipped out of his arms and peeled his coat from her shoulders. Even without it, the heat from the kiss lingered, warming her from the inside out. “Thank you,” she said, handing it back to him and hoping he knew she meant for more than just the coat. “I guess I’ll see you at headquarters.”
Adrian nodded, still grinning. “See you there.”
Without meeting the eye of her pretend uncle, Nova took back her flowers and headed across the street to the cab.
She sank into the back seat and waited for the door to shut before rounding on the stranger. “Who are you?”
The man smirked as he started to pick lint from his sweater. “A mighty fine actor, if I do say so myself. Though, perhaps, not as good as you.” He shot her a suggestive look.
But Nova didn’t care about her red cheeks or erratic pulse or whether or not this man thought the kiss had been an act. “Answer the question.”
“If you don’t like ‘Uncle,’ then you can call me Peter. Peter McLain.”
Her teeth ground, but the man pressed on.
“And I do believe I just secured the rest of your story. Strangely missing uncle—found. That should silence the rest of your doubters, at least for a while. You’re welcome.”
She gawked at him, simultaneously annoyed and a little impressed. He was right. At some point Adrian and the Renegades would have raised questions about the uncle who had never once come for her after she’d been arrested. The uncle who no one had ever met.
“Okay,” she said, “but who are you?”
“He’s an ally.”
Starting, she peered toward the front, as the driver pushed aside the plexiglass window that divided them. She caught his eyes in the rearview mirror, the skin around them mottled and scarred, the eyebrows long ago burned away. Her heart leaped. “Leroy!”
He beamed at her. “Welcome back, little Nightmare.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
NOVA’S SO-CALLED UNCLE was not staying in a shabby, rented apartment, and neither, it turned out, were the rest of the Anarchists.
Leroy drove them to the Barlow neighborhood and parked on the corner of East 16th and Skrein Avenue. Nova stepped onto the sidewalk and found herself inspecting barred windows that displayed an assortment of goods—a couple of electric guitars, a drill set, a vintage vinyl record player. A faded sign along the top of the building read, in enormous block letters, DAVE’S PAWNSHOP.
Nova took in the street, noting a nightclub closed for the night, a convenience store, and a few empty storefronts with FOR LEASE signs hanging in the windows. Judging from how the signs had yellowed around the edges, occupants hadn’t been there since the Age of Anarchy.
Her “uncle” jingled a key chain as he unlocked the door to the pawnshop, also outfitted with impressive metal bars.
“Are you Dave?” Nova asked as he and Leroy ushered her inside.
“Naw, Dave just lets us use the basement,” the man answered, bustling through the pawnshop. “For a price, that is. Anything to make a buck, right?”
The overhead lights were off, but a series of glass cases in the store had built-in lighting that cast a dim glow over the merchandise. Watches and costume jewelry in the cases, old cinema posters framed on the walls, shelves along the back stocked with computers, vacuums, and radios. There really wasn’t much in the way of household goods that Dave didn’t seem to have in stock, from practical electronics to pricey luxuries.
Pawnshops had been big business during the Age of Anarchy, when much of the financial system had collapsed and the world’s economy was largely replaced with a trade-and-barter system. These businesses had continued to do well even after the Renegades had taken over, as the economy stuttered and stammered to get going again and employment security remained virtually nonexistent. People still needed food, and sometimes the quickest and easiest way to get it was to pawn off your grandma’s antique hatpin collection for a fraction of its pre-Anarchy value.
They passed through the shop and into a back room, where utilitarian shelves were lined with more electronics and a random assortment of spare parts. It smelled of grease and must and moth-eaten clothing, which all served to remind Nova of the subway tunnels.
Leroy and the man grabbed a small worktable and together hoisted it off to the side.
A hidden door was cut out of the dingy linoleum flooring, illuminated with yellow light from below.
Grinning in a way that showed off his missing teeth, Leroy gestured for Nova to go first.
She squeezed the bundle of daisies Adrian had given her and, not sure what else to do, tucked them under one arm as she stepped onto the rungs of the ladder. The paper crinkled loudly as she lowered herself into the basement. Her boot had barely touched concrete when arms were wrapping around her and pulling her from the ladder.
“Nightmare, my darling!” Honey cooed, squeezing her from behind. “We’ve missed you so much!” She spun Nova around so she could cup her face between lacquered nails. Streaks of black eyeliner had dried and caked on her cheeks and she seemed to be covered in more of her bee friends than usual—nine or ten were caught in her blonde hair and Nova spied at least a dozen more wandering around her neck and shoulders. “If I believed in miracles, I would say we’ve accomplished one. You’re free!”
“I’m free,” Nova agreed, as Leroy dropped down beside them.
“And oh, flowers! Did Leroy think to bring you those? How thoughtful.”
Nova glanced at Leroy. Now that she was back in villain territory, the last thing she wanted to do was confess that, actually, the flowers were from Adrian Everhart.
Leroy winked at her and said nothing.
“I’ll find something to put them in,” said Honey, taking the bouquet from her. It was immediately set upon by a flurry of enthusiastic honeybees.
The pawnshop’s basement was not so much a basement as a bomb shelter, with thick concrete walls and a couple of hallways leading off in various directions. Nova surmised that the shelter must run nearly the full city block. In this central area there were some rickety folding chairs, worn rugs crisscrossing one another across the floor, and crates of food and supplies against one wall.
But what was more surprising to her than learning that her allies had taken up residence in the bomb shelter beneath Dave’s Pawnshop was learning that they were not alone.
Nova was greeted by at least thirty faces, almost all of them strangers, who stared back at her, largely expressionless. Nova recognized signs of inherent abilities. A girl a few years her senior had thick auburn hair that floated like seaweed in the air. One man had a growth of fungi covering his right arm. A boy who was probably thirteen or fourteen had gigantic eyes, with pupils shaped like six-pointed stars.
There were more subtle indicators, too. A tattoo of two arrows crossed on a paper scroll—a symbol of the Vandal Cartel, which had been the Librarian’s gang years ago. Two young boys dressed in shimmery gold robes, reminiscent of the Harbingers. Nova knew that some of the villain gangs that hadn’t been vanquished on the Day of Triumph had gone underground, still existing, still struggling to survive. They had been in hiding, stealing when they had to, fighting for their needs, existing in the shadows—many going through life hiding the fact that they were prodigies, so as not to draw the attention of the Renegades who would surely label them as villains.
