Supernova, page 42
His dad braced himself on top of the buttress. He ducked, letting the first bell sail over his head and smash into the dome, then reached up with both hands and grabbed the rim of the second bell. The clapper inside gonged against the bronze shell. Using the bell’s own momentum, he spun in a circle and threw it at Ace.
Ace dodged. The bell missed him by inches and crashed into the barrier. A jettison of debris trickled down to the wasteland.
Adrian was still holding Cyanide, still watching the bells, when the tower began to groan.
It had taken as much destruction as it could.
He looked at Nova—but she was no longer silhouetted in the next window frame.
“Nova?” he yelled, searching the inside of the tower, but there was no sign of her. “Nova!”
The roof above him gave out. The tall spire fell forward, tumbling past the demolished windows, pulling apart joists and beams. The off-kilter weight of it started a chain reaction that pulled at the weakened walls. Stones crumbled into the void. Ornate moldings broke free and disappeared into the chasm below.
Adrian was still searching frantically for Nova when the sill he was perched on tipped, and he was falling.
Please oh please let her not be doing something reckless right now, he thought, watching the fast approach of the cathedral rooftop and trying to determine a safe place to jump to. He adjusted his hold on the unconscious villain, muttering to no one in particular, “Hold on…”
They crashed into the roof and it caved from the force. Chunks from the tower hailed around them, beating against Adrian’s suit, and he did his best to shield Cyanide from the deluge.
He tried to twist his body to get his legs beneath them so he could use the springs to absorb the shock of the fall, but there wasn’t time. They crashed onto a stone floor inside the cathedral, landing with a jolt that ricocheted through his body. The rest of the falling tower tore through the weakened roof, smashing into the church’s northern wall. It exploded outward, scattering across the wasteland. The remaining bells landed with such force they cratered the floor and fractured stones.
Adrian lay amid the rubble, every inch of him aching.
“Nova,” he groaned. He checked to make sure Cyanide was okay, before stumbling to his feet. He could barely see for the cloud of dust surrounding him. “Nova!”
“I’m … fine,” came a weak reply. Heart soaring, Adrian stampeded through the debris in the direction of her voice.
He was a few feet away when a bell that had landed upside down rolled off the broken stone wall it had crashed into, striking the floor with a clang.
“Ow,” Nova groaned.
Adrian froze. He stooped to look closer, and there she was. Her body tucked inside the bronze bell, her arms and legs braced against its curved sides.
“Nova,” he whispered, sweeping forward and helping her climb free. He pulled her against his chest, though the embrace wasn’t quite the same now that he was wearing his armor.
“Your suit gave me the idea,” she said, her voice muffled against his breastplate.
“Genius,” he replied. “Are you hurt?” After a moment’s consideration, he amended, “Badly hurt?”
Nova groaned, but followed it with, “Not really. Leroy?”
“He’s alive. We should find a place to put him before the whole place caves in.”
Nova pulled away and shook some of the debris out of her hood, while Adrian scoured the dust from his helmet’s visor. They scanned the wreckage. The collapsing bell tower had torn a hole through this part of the cathedral, demolishing nearly the entire northeastern corner.
Adrian’s body stayed tense, waiting for the next catastrophe to strike. But there was only the ongoing trickle of dust and clattering debris.
“We can put Leroy inside one of the bells,” suggested Nova. “I think he’ll fit, and it will be as safe a place as any.”
Cyanide did fit inside the bell, though he would probably have a terrible crick in his neck when he came to.
“So,” said Adrian, watching as Nova grabbed a few vials off Cyanide’s bandolier and shoved them into a pouch on her belt. “How do we stop Ace?”
A frown flitted over her face. It took him a second to remember that she couldn’t see his face behind the visor. He pressed a button on the side of his helmet, retracting the face shield. “Sorry.”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure Ace can be stopped, not while he has the helmet. Unless we can find a way to neutralize him.”
“Is there any more Agent N?”
She considered this. “Do you still have my pen? I have one blow dart with Agent N in the chamber.”
“Yes, I have it. If we can get you to the roof, do you think you can get close enough to use it?”
“Maybe,” said Nova, “but if he figures out what we’re trying to do … he’ll snap that dart like a twig.”
“If anyone can do this, it’s you.”
She shot him a wry look.
“What about Oscar and Danna?” he asked. “Where are they?”
“They were locked up in the treasury when this all started. Come on.” She led him up a short set of steps and down a curved corridor, through a chapel that was only slightly less dreary than the one he’d been kept in earlier.
Then Nova froze, staring into the room attached to the chapel. It had once had doors of stained glass enclosing it, but the glass had been shattered. The room beyond was barren and tidy compared with the destruction wrought on the rest of the cathedral. And it was empty.
“They were here,” said Nova, her boots crunching over broken glass.
Adrian noticed frayed ropes tossed across the ground. “They must have found a way to escape.”
Nova seemed unconvinced. “Maybe.”
They shared a look, laced with a question.
Find Oscar and Danna … or try to stop Ace Anarchy?
Adrian sighed and tucked a hope into the back of his mind that his friends would be all right, wherever they were. “The roof?”
Nova’s expression hardened and he recognized the same resolve that had made his heart skip when he saw her at the trials.
She gave him a nod. “Let’s end this.”
They raced back through the chapel, but as they were passing the choir, a shrill scream made them both skid to a stop. Adrian peeked around the wall toward the high altar.
He gasped, pulling Nova back into the corridor.
“What is it?” said Nova.
“Birds!”
She hesitated only a moment, before shoving Adrian’s arm away and looking for herself.
The sanctuary that surrounded the altar was full of enormous black crows. Everywhere, shining black eyes and sharp black beaks and scaly black feet. They perched across the rails that divided the sanctuary from the choir, along the moldings of the grand pillars, and on the tall windowsills stretching to the top of the vaulted ceiling. Their black wings drummed against the air as they flocked in and out of the space, like a blizzard of ink-black wings. A clamor of angry caws echoed through the chamber.
In the center of the tumult, clinging to each other at the base of the altar, were Danna and, of all people, Narcissa. Danna was curled into a ball, her head in Narcissa’s lap as she tried to protect herself with her arms. Narcissa had one arm around her, though her own face was pale with terror and her other arm kept swiping aimlessly at the air to keep the birds away.
It wasn’t working. Their feet dug into her limbs. Their beaks nipped at Danna’s legs.
“Oh, come on,” Narcissa pleaded to no one. “Birds were the one thing I wasn’t afraid of!”
Adrian was still trying to figure out what he was seeing when a figure emerged from behind a pillar, wielding an antique candelabra like a sword. Oscar roared insensibly at the flock, trying to beat them back as he made his way toward the altar. “Monarch!” he yelled. “You have to get up!”
As soon as Oscar stumbled onto the dais, the crows converged into a whirlwind, trapping all three of them inside a funnel. Their wings and bodies so dense it seemed impenetrable.
And then the birds caught fire.
“It’s Phobia,” said Nova. “Danna had a fear of birds, and I’m pretty sure Oscar is afraid of fire.”
Adrian’s skin prickled at the mention of his mother’s murderer, the phantom that was so eerily similar to his childhood nightmare.
“I need something to draw on,” he said, pulling out Nova’s ink pen. “We need water. A hose or some sprinklers?”
Nova’s face pinched. “He’ll just morph into something else.”
“Then what do we do?”
“I don’t know. He isn’t a normal prodigy. As far as I know, no one’s ever managed to actually hurt him, not with weapons or even superpowers.” Her gaze grew intense. “But … Adrian … if you made him…”
“I didn’t make him!” he snapped.
Nova shrank back. “Okay,” she said, placating. “But I’m just saying, if you did, then maybe there’s some way you could destroy him?”
“Except I didn’t—”
Narcissa screamed, a sound of pure agony, as the fire drew closer. Adrian was never sure how much of Phobia’s ability was simple illusion, but the girl’s pain sounded real enough. He cringed. “I didn’t create him, and even if I did, I still wouldn’t know how to stop him.”
“Well, start thinking of something,” said Nova. “One thing I do know, the best way to fight Phobia”—she squared her shoulders—“is by being brave.” She descended the stairs into the sanctuary and stood facing the searing-hot flames. They were so bright Adrian had to lower his visor again so he could stand to look at them, but Nova didn’t flinch away.
“Nova?” He could feel the heat of the flames even through his armor, and she was standing so much closer than he was. He was amazed she could stand it.
Then, she stepped into the fire.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
“NOVA!” ADRIAN YELLED—and his scream split through the sudden, unexpected silence. The inferno had disappeared as quickly as it had come.
Nova, untouched, stood only a few feet from the others, who were clutching one another on the floor. Their faces were ashen, their hair drenched with sweat.
How long had Phobia been tormenting them? How long had they been trying to stand up to their greatest fears, as the Anarchist slowly wore them down to their greatest weaknesses?
BANG.
They all jumped at the gunshot. It was earsplittingly loud, and Adrian spun around, trying to find its source, sure the gun had been fired only inches from his head. But the sanctuary was empty.
BANG.
Nova whimpered, bringing his attention back to her. Her eyes were shut tight and she was trembling from head to foot, both hands gripping her head.
BANG!
A shadow rose up in front of Nova. For a moment, Adrian could see the hazy outline of Phobia forming, the billowing cloak, the sharp scythe, but then he morphed into something else.
A man. A mammoth of a man, towering over Nova’s small frame. His chin was rough with stubble. He had pale hair tied at the nape of his neck. There was a splatter of dried blood on his brow.
He was holding a gun, pressing it against Nova’s forehead.
A hatred like Adrian had never known surged inside him and the next thing he knew, he had crashed into the man’s side. They both fell. The man landed on his back beside the altar, but Adrian’s momentum sent him rolling across the floor. He struck a column that shook from the impact of his armor.
On the other side of the sanctuary, Nova released a shuddering breath and fell to her knees.
The man started to cackle. His body dissolved into wisps of shadowy smoke, before re-forming again into a long black cloak. The gun elongated into a staff and a hooked blade.
“Master Everhart,” said Phobia, his raspy voice making Adrian twitch with loathing. “I had hoped our paths would cross again before this night was through.”
Adrian climbed to his feet, one hand braced on an intricately carved cabinet. He peered into the blackness where a face should have been and realized this was the moment he had spent years imagining. He had found his mother’s killer. Justice was within reach.
“You killed my mother,” he said through gritted teeth. The image came unbidden to his mind. His mother’s broken body, her silent scream. Dread filled him all over again, but he needed to stall. He needed time to think.
Behind Phobia, he saw Nova urging the others to run. Narcissa seemed keen on the idea, but Oscar and Danna were staring at Nova in disbelief. They didn’t trust her. Why would they?
But then … how on earth had they come to trust the mirror walker?
“So I did,” rasped Phobia. “It might have been my favorite death of all. Do you know what her greatest fear was?”
Adrian clenched his fists.
“It’s an easy one to guess. It usually is with mothers.” Disgust and boredom oozed over the word. “She feared losing you. She feared that this dark, cruel world would ruin her darling little boy. Ruin him or kill him, whichever came first.” He chuckled. “Would you like to know what was the last thing she ever saw?”
Adrian said nothing.
“Me … holding the body of her dead son in my arms. I didn’t even have to say anything. She took one look and started to scream and then … she just gave up. I think she might have actually forgotten that she could fly.” He made a quiet tsking sound. “Her scream was a symphony. I can hear it to this day.”
With a guttural roar, Adrian grabbed the narrow cabinet beside him and flung the whole thing at Phobia.
The villain dissolved before impact, wisping away in a cloud of smoke. The cabinet crashed onto its side, its door swinging open and an assortment of chalices and urns spilling across the floor.
Phobia appeared again, rising up on top of the altar. “You’re very much like her, you know.”
Adrian ripped a statue from a nearby alcove and threw that, too. Phobia blocked it with the handle of the scythe, sending the marble figurine skittering into the choir. “You also fear losing the ones you love. It’s a common fear. One shared by prodigies and humans alike. But for you there is an added element of … responsibility. Your greatest fear is to lose your loved ones, while you are powerless to stop it.”
Adrian sprang upward, vaulting himself onto the altar. This time he reached for Phobia’s throat, as if to strangle him, but again the villain vanished the moment he touched him.
He reappeared behind Danna and grabbed her forehead with one skeletal hand. He pulled her back against his cloak, angling the scythe so that the tip of the blade pressed into the soft spot at the base of her throat.
“Nothing is quite as debilitating,” whispered Phobia, “as seeing a loved one suffer.”
Adrian called for the concussive energy beam in his arm, only too late remembering that Queen Bee had cut that tattoo from his skin. “No!”
Snarling, Danna grabbed two of Phobia’s skeletal fingers and bent them back as hard as she could. The fingers snapped off in her hand. Phobia hissed, his grip loosening enough for her to slip out from his choke hold. The moment she was clear, a volley of throwing stars sliced through Phobia’s cloak. He evaporated into the air again, as did the bones Danna had ripped from his hand. The stars struck the wall on the other side of the sanctuary—one lodging into the mortar between stones, the other two rebounding and skidding across the floor.
“Danna, Oscar, get out of here!” Nova shouted. She raced past the altar and gathered up the discarded throwing stars. “You’re not superheroes anymore, and he’s just going to keep using you against Adrian if you don’t leave!”
Oscar sent her a frazzled look, then turned to Adrian. “I’m sorry, is this a thing we’re doing again?”
“What?” said Adrian.
“Trusting her!” Oscar yelled.
Before Adrian could respond, Phobia re-formed, towering behind Oscar. He raised the scythe, and Adrian gasped, already envisioning the swing of the blade coming down on Oscar’s throat.
But then a war cry erupted through the chamber, and Danna came charging down the aisle. She launched herself into a series of forward flips that took her beneath Phobia’s outstretched arm. It happened so fast it wasn’t until Danna had lobbed herself onto a shrine, scattering unlit votive candles, that Adrian realized she had stolen the scythe.
“We may not be prodigies anymore,” Danna said, casting a glare toward Nova, “but we’re still superheroes.”
“How quaint.” Phobia jutted a pale finger toward her, and the scythe became a twisting serpent in Danna’s grip. She cried out and dropped it. The moment the creature hit the stone floor, it scattered into a million black spiders, scurrying in every direction. Narcissa and Oscar both screamed.
The spiders merged with Phobia’s cloak, and he seemed to grow taller, as if he were pulling the very shadows around him.
Adrian’s mind searched his options. He could jump high, he could lift heavy things, he could crush his gauntleted fist through concrete walls, he could … draw things. What could he draw? It all seemed useless against Phobia.
“All right, Nightmare,” said Oscar, his voice thick with disdain. “You must know his weakness, right? How do we defeat this guy?”
Phobia continued to grow, darkness surrounding him like mist. His body stretched upward until he seemed to take over the whole sanctuary. He was a giant composed of shadows and smoke, about to engulf them all.
“Well?” Oscar said.
Nova shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Her panic was evident.
How do you kill a phantom? How do you kill a nightmare?
“Helpful, as always,” muttered Oscar.
“I told you to run!” Nova shouted.
Adrian took a step back, craning his head as Phobia’s massive form expanded, a living black hole sucking the light from the room. The scythe was in his hand again, a blade hanging ominously overhead.
Blood pounded against Adrian’s temples.
