Renegades

  “Next up—Nova McLain! Alias: Insomnia!”

  She cast her gaze toward the ceiling. She didn’t have to do this. She could still leave.

  Or she could stay and try to do something worthwhile. She could make her family proud.

  She squared her shoulders and marched onto the field.

  * * *

  ADRIAN STRAIGHTENED IN HIS SEAT as a new prodigy stalked into the center of the ring. There was something familiar about her. She stopped beneath the banner and the blinding lights, looking not at the teams surrounding her, but up. At the Council.

  It was the stance that struck him first—the way she held herself, like she was preparing for an attack from all sides. Like she welcomed it. The jut of her chin, the set of her shoulders, feet firmly planted on the ground. Relaxed enough, but ready for a fight.

  His eyes widened. It was the girl from the parade. The one with the bracelet.

  She was a prodigy?

  Well. That could explain why she was so unimpressed by what he do could.

  Pushing up the bridge of his glasses, he leaned toward Ruby. “What did they say her name was?”

  “Uh…” Ruby looked down at the tablet. “Nova. Nova McLain.”

  “Insomnia,” came Blacklight’s booming voice. “You may proceed with a demonstration of your superpower.”

  Adrian scooted his chair forward, leaning his elbows on the table. His gaze kept darting between the girl on the field and the big screens above the stands that showed a close-up of her face. Wisps of wavy black hair cut just above her shoulders. A sharp nose and a sharp chin and sharp cheekbones, her determined frown making them all seem much too severe. Rich blue eyes, every bit as wary now as they had been when he’d offered to help fix the broken clasp of her bracelet.

  The overhead microphone carried her voice as she responded, “I’m afraid my superpower isn’t one that can be demonstrated on a field in thirty seconds or less.”

  A quiet titter moved through the crowd. There was something defiant in her voice, so unlike the other contestants who had been enthusiastic, and sometimes desperate, to show what they could do.

  “Then please describe it,” said Blacklight. “Succinctly, if possible.”

  She answered, simply, “I don’t sleep.”

  Adrian’s brow twitched. The crowd, too, seemed to find this explanation baffling, though after a hesitant moment, there were a few sporadic boos from the seats, and a number of ZERO cards lifted into the air.

  Blacklight asked, “Would you care to elaborate?”

  One side of Nova McLain’s mouth lifted, just a hair. “Certainly.” She cleared her throat. “I don’t sleep … ever.”

  There was some laughter from the audience. Two team leaders tapped reject into their tablet screens, including Genissa Clark.

  Adrian felt Ruby and Oscar looking at him, but he kept his eyes on Nova McLain.

  Insomnia.

  “Now,” Nova continued, “if you would like to know what useful non-super abilities I have, I can tell you that I’m adept at hand-to-hand combat and a multitude of weaponry. I can run a seven-minute mile, long-jump an expanse of eighteen feet with a running start, and I know an awful lot about physics, electronics, and renewable energy sources, among other things.”

  Oscar let out a low whistle.

  “I can’t tell if that was arrogant,” Ruby muttered, “or just … you know, honest.”

  “The two aren’t mutually exclusive,” said Oscar.

  “She doesn’t sleep,” said Adrian, tapping his marker against the table. “Could be good for surveillance, don’t you think? We might be able to use her, especially while Danna’s recovering.”

  Ruby leaned forward. “But why does she look like she has something to prove?”

  Adrian smiled wryly. “This is Renegade trials. Everyone has something to prove.”

  And with a power that couldn’t be demonstrated, that had no flash to it whatsoever, he could understand why she was acting defensive.

  Realizing the crowd had gotten louder, Adrian looked up into the stands. There was a bigger mix of ZERO and HERO signs than there had been for any of the previous contestants—a divided audience, which surprised him. It seemed her cavalier attitude was winning her support, despite her lackluster ability.

  But then he looked up at the scoreboard and realized that his was the only team who hadn’t yet responded. All the others had already put in their rejections.

  Nova McLain, too, was looking up at the scoreboard, and if she was hurt, it didn’t show. Her face became determined as she looked at their table. Their eyes locked and the expression was replaced with surprise and recognition. She straightened.

  Then, again, that slight narrowing of the eyes. That same wariness he remembered from the parade. And even though she was too far away for him to see them clearly, he realized with a start that he could recall the exact shade of her eyes. A deep cobalt, pierced through with the occasional shard of heather gray.

  He swallowed.

  “Sketch,” said Blacklight, calling Adrian by his alias and making him jump, “do you or your team have any follow-up questions before making your decision?”

  Pushing aside the bag of popcorn, Adrian pulled the table mic closer. Nova fixed him with a challenging look.

  “So,” he started, drawing out the word as he formulated his thoughts, “when you say you never sleep … you do mean never, ever, ever?”

  A few snickers passed through the audience. Beside him, Oscar muttered, “Well said, Shakespeare.”

  Nova McLain looked uncertain, like she thought maybe he was mocking her. When the audience had quieted again, she leaned forward and repeated, “Never ever, ever … ever.”

  Adrian leaned back in his chair. He stared at her across the field and she stared back, unflinching. A volley of justifications were storming through his head, each more logical than the last.

  A prodigy who never slept could be valuable—for surveillance, for security, for the simple mathematics of added work hours on the force. And they were without Danna right now. They were down a hand. They could use someone skilled in combat. She did say she was skilled in combat, right?

  Plus, she was interested in science and electronics, and their research and development division was always looking for assistance, always starting new projects and running new studies. Surely they could use someone like this. Surely the Renegades could use her.

  But all the logic in the world couldn’t smother the truth that Adrian felt in his drumming heartbeat.

  There had been something about her at the parade. He’d been watching her when Magpie had taken the bracelet—that was the only reason he’d seen it happen. Because he’d been drawn to her, even then. Not because she was pretty, though he’d definitely noticed that too. But because there was a fierceness in the set of her jaw that intrigued him. A resolve in her eyes that made him curious.

  “Uh, Sketch?” Oscar whispered. “If this is a blinking contest, you lost, like, eight minutes ago.”

  Without looking at his teammates, Adrian grabbed the tablet. It was instinct, not logic, that forced his hand. The inexplicable certainty that she was meant to be there. With him.

  Well—no, not with him. But with his team. And with the Renegades.

  A bell chimed. His response popped up on the scoreboard—ACCEPTED.

  Nova turned and stared at the board, as if in disbelief, and there was that suspicion again when she looked back at Adrian.

  “Oookay,” said Oscar. “You go ahead with that. Not like we should discuss this as a team or anything.”

  “Trust me,” whispered Adrian. “I have a feeling about her.”

  On his other side, Ruby snickered. “Yeah, I can tell exactly what kind of feeling you have about her.”

  Adrian turned toward her, annoyed. “Not like that.”

  She raised a suggestive eyebrow.

  An ear-splitting horn blared over the noise of the audience. Adrian jumped and glanced around, bewildered. It
took him a long moment to understand what the horn meant.

  Their decision was being challenged.

  A few tables down, Genissa Clark stood, hands on her hips.

  Adrian groaned and leaned back in his chair, dragging his palm over the top of his close-shaved hair. “Seriously, Clark?”

  “The acceptance of Insomnia has been challenged!” said Blacklight, to a roar of glee from the audience. Adrian glanced at Nova, but she was so lacking in expression he wondered whether she knew what that meant.

  “Oh, come on,” Ruby yelled. She pushed back her chair and stood, craning her head to look at Genissa. “You’re only objecting because it’s us.”

  Genissa sneered. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she yelled back. She pulled the microphone closer, allowing her voice to be amplified to the stands. “We challenge the acceptance of Nova McLain on the grounds that there is no way for us to validate the truth of anything she’s said. We can’t prove whether or not she sleeps, nor have we seen any evidence that she knows about electronics or physics or … any of that other stuff she said. We object to this acceptance on the basis that, from what we’ve seen from Nova McLain today—which is precisely nothing—we cannot determine that she is worthy of the title of Renegade.”

  It was everything the crowd had come for. Drama. Doubt. A potential duel.

  Adrian sighed and tried to catch Nova’s eyes, apologetically, perhaps, though he wasn’t sure what he had to apologize for. But her attention stayed fixed on Genissa. She didn’t look upset. If anything, a spark of excitement had entered her gaze that Adrian was sure hadn’t been there before.

  “There has been a challenge!” Blacklight repeated, for anyone who wasn’t paying attention. “Insomnia, in order to take your place among the Renegades, you must defeat one member of the challenging team in a one-on-one duel. You may choose your opponent. Do you accept this challenge?”

  “Wait,” said Adrian—so loud that his own voice booming back at him made him jump. “Frostbite, listen.” Genissa turned a haughty gaze on him, one eyebrow lifted. “I know we can use skills like hers, both on my team and in the broader Renegades organization. I respectfully ask that you retract your challenge.”

  Genissa laughed. “News flash, Everhart. The rest of us don’t sleep for sixteen hours of the day, either. It’s not exactly a superpower, and besides, how can any of us be sure she’s telling the truth?”

  “Why would she lie?” he said, the question echoing through the stadium.

  “Because she wants to be one of us,” responded Genissa. “Because they all want to be one of us.”

  “Then why wouldn’t she make up a more…” Adrian flipped his fingers in the air. “… super superpower? Why not—”

  “I accept the challenge.”

  Adrian’s attention darted back to the field. Nova was standing with her hands clasped behind her back, chin lifted as she stared at Frostbite. “I accept the duel.”

  Smirking, Genissa Clark pushed her chair back from the table, ice crystals already forming along the knuckles of her hands.

  “Not with you.”

  Genissa paused.

  Nova pointed a finger at the enormous figure lurking behind Genissa’s table—too big to sit with his teammates, his body too heavy for the collapsible chairs. He lumbered forward and the bright lights of the arena reflected off the rough stones implanted along his gargantuan arms.

  Adrian’s jaw dropped.

  Beside him, Oscar started to choke on his drink. “Is she nuts?”

  On the field, Nova turned her hand over and curled her finger, gesturing for the beast to come closer. “I’ll fight the Gargoyle.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  EVERHART.

  Frostbite had called him Everhart, and in the span of a single heartbeat Nova realized why he had seemed so familiar to her at the parade.

  He was Adrian Everhart. Son of Lady Indomitable, one of the original Renegades, and adopted son of none other than Captain Chromium and the Dread Warden. She felt like an idiot for not having realized it sooner. She had certainly seen his face on a fair number of tabloid covers, splattered across newsstands throughout the city, and even though she would sooner burn those periodicals than read one, she should have known. Even if she’d been too young to care when the adoption had made front-page news. Even if she believed that the public’s ongoing idolization of their family was one of the major problems facing society that day, and she outright refused to partake in the media’s obsession with them.

  He was the son of her sworn enemies, and she should have known.

  She would make up for her ignorance now, though. She had been accepted by a Renegade team. By his team, and if there were ever an opportunity for her to infiltrate their ranks and learn more about the Council and their weaknesses, surely this was it.

  But … first things first.

  The audience was in hysterics as Gargoyle lumbered onto the field, but they were muffled in Nova’s ears. In her head, she could still hear Honey’s screams as the Gargoyle tore apart her hives. She could still see the way he smiled as he did it.

  Gargoyle was systematically flexing his biceps as he approached, each one thicker than Nova’s head. The patches of stone on his exposed skin shifted and undulated, moving along with his flexing muscles.

  A hint of a smile twitched at the corners of her lips.

  She was going to enjoy this.

  The rules were explained over the loud speakers. Nova did not have to knock him down or leave him unconscious, which was good, as there was no way she’d be revealing her true power and linking herself to Nightmare while in Renegade territory. Luckily, she didn’t need skin-to-skin contact to defeat him. All she had to do was get him to touch the ground outside of the ring.

  And try not to get crushed by the behemoth in the meantime.

  “Do the contestants understand their objectives?” Blacklight asked, though the screaming from the stands was so deafening Nova almost couldn’t hear him.

  She lifted a hand into the air. “Can I have a weapon?”

  The question echoed through the arena, momentarily quieting the crowd. She dropped her hand again. “We weren’t allowed to bring non-prodigy weaponry with us today, but as my claim of being skilled with a multitude of weaponry is a part of what’s being challenged, it seems fair that I have something to defend myself with.”

  Blacklight glanced back at the rest of the Council. This must not have been a question that had come up before. Turning back to the microphone, he cleared his throat. “Gargoyle, as her opponent, you may choose to accept or deny this request.”

  Gargoyle held his hands wide. His arm span was as long as a car. “Why not? It ain’t gonna make a difference.”

  “What do you want?” yelled Frostbite. “I’ll make it myself.”

  Nova rolled her shoulders, then her wrists, working out the pops in her joints. “A knife.”

  Frostbite smirked. “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.”

  Pinching her fingers in the air, Frostbite drew them downward. A crystal-clear dagger appeared, eight inches long, handle and blade cut from glistening ice. She laughed as she tossed it at Nova, who caught it without flinching. The ice was so cold it burned. Nova tossed it from hand to hand, giving her skin time to adjust.

  “That was a poor choice,” said Frostbite, lowering herself into her seat between her teammates and throwing her feet up onto the table. “It won’t even penetrate his skin.”

  Nova returned the smile and twirled the blade in her fingers as she went to take her place. Opposite her, Gargoyle was intimidating as hell, muscles continuously turning into rock and rock turning back into muscles. Even his teeth, when he grinned, seemed to be cut from jagged gray stone.

  The horn blared, thundering over the din of the crowd.

  Gargoyle charged forward. The ground beneath him split and cracked from the pressure of his steps and clouds of dust stirred in his wake. He pulled one arm back and Nova watched as his elbow
down to his fat knuckles hardened into black-speckled stone.

  Nova feigned left. He took the bait and swung, while she turned and dived into a roll beneath his other arm. She sprang back to her feet and was turning back to face him when a battering ram crashed into the side of her skull.

  She was momentarily weightless.

  Her body struck the solid dirt with a reverberation that jolted her entire skeleton. Stars flecked before her eyes. Groaning, Nova blinked up at the paper banner fluttering overhead and listened to the cheers of the crowd and the thuds of Gargoyle’s footsteps ambling toward her.

  “Okay,” she muttered, once her head stopped ringing like a bronze bell. “Won’t make that mistake again.”

  A shadow eclipsed the blazing lights of the arena. She smiled sweetly up at Gargoyle and lifted a hand. “Help a lady up?”

  Snarling, Gargoyle bent and gathered the front of her shirt in his stone fist, hauling her off the ground.

  “Every superhero wishes they could fly, right?” he said, lips peeling back to reveal a series of chipped teeth. “Well, darling, you’re about to have the pleasure.” He pulled his arm back, preparing to hurl her body out of the ring.

  Before he had the chance, Nova swung her feet up, wrapping her ankles tightly around his bicep and locking her legs in place. When Gargoyle tried to throw her off, she clung tight. He growled and started to shake his arm, like attempting to knock off a stubborn spider.

  The audience exploded in laughter.

  He reached his other hand over to pry her legs away, and Nova swung forward, driving the tip of the ice blade into his palm.

  The ice shattered, leaving a hilt with a short, broken shard.

  He smirked. “Did you really think—”

  Nova released her ankles, dropped to the ground, and sliced the uneven edge of the blade deep across his leg—a patch of skin that hadn’t yet been transformed into stone.

  Gargoyle bellowed and kicked out on instinct, clobbering Nova in the chest. She landed on her back, just inside the edge of the ring.

  Rubbing her chest with her free hand, she rolled onto her side and climbed back to her feet. She took stock of her options as Gargoyle, huffing with renewed anger, and maybe embarrassment, prepared to charge again.