She stacked the books on the tray beside Nova’s bed.
“Thanks?” Nova said again, not quite sure how to handle this random show of kindness. “Are you fully healed now?”
Danna glanced down, rubbing her side. Beneath the uniform Nova could make out a slight bulge along her ribs, where there must still have been bandaging over the burns.
“Almost,” said Danna, pushing back her dreadlocks. “They say I’ll be able to go back on the field again in a couple days. Just a few more sessions with the healers and I should be back to … well, not a hundred percent, but as good as it’s gonna get.”
“Why not a hundred percent?” said Nova. “Everyone talks about the healers here like they’re miracle workers.”
“Well, they are—to a degree. I mean, having a doctor with supernatural healing abilities is still better than … I don’t know, applying ice packs and calendula oil, or whatever old-fashioned stuff they used to treat burns with. But they can’t bring back the lepidopterans that were incinerated in the flames, and as a result, I’ll always have some pretty gnarly scar tissue happening through here.”
Nova lifted an eyebrow. “You call them lepidopterans?”
Grinning, Danna shrugged, only slightly self-conscious. “Sometimes I worry that calling them butterflies all the time undermines how remarkable of an ability it really is. Like saying, hey, I can turn into rainbows and daisies! Cool, huh?”
The corners of Nova’s lips twitched upward, and Danna seemed to take this as a sign that it would be all right for her to sink into the visitor’s chair.
“But I prefer it this way. Gets people to underestimate you, right? And that’s an automatic advantage. You probably know what that’s like too. I mean—obviously, no one thought you would beat the Gargoyle, which makes the win so much more satisfying.”
Nova dropped the newspaper to the floor and shifted upward in the bed. “Do you ever use your gift for things beyond Renegade assignments?”
“Oh, all the time.” Danna’s grin became mischievous. “When I was a kid I was always sneaking into movie theaters. To this day I’ve never actually paid for a movie ticket.” She cringed slightly and leaned forward. “Don’t tell anyone, okay? That is definitely outside of our code.”
“Your secret is safe. But what about”—Nova glanced around, though she could see little of the medical wing beyond the enclosed curtains—“around here? There’s so much going on, so many things the Renegades are trying to build and invent and … research. I bet they’re coming up with things in R and D that would make the Sentinel look like child’s play. Do you ever get curious about all that?”
Danna groaned. “Don’t talk to me about the Sentinel. If I ever see that guy again, I’ll show him where he can put those flames.”
Nova smirked. “I know that feeling.”
Danna brought her legs beneath her, sitting cross-legged as much as she could in the small chair, her knees sprouting over the arms. “I’ve never sneaked into R and D or the quarantine labs. They’re serious about keeping their stuff confidential and even I’m not willing to risk their wrath. But”—she leaned forward conspiratorially—“when I first got here, I used to go sneaking through the air vents into the artifacts warehouse. If you ever get a chance to go inside, it’s amazing. Like a catalog of every awesome prodigy weapon you’ve ever heard of. They have Ultrasonic’s whip, and Magnetron’s shield, and Trident’s … well, trident.”
“And you never got caught?” said Nova, surprised—and even a little hopeful—to think the security on such powerful objects might be lacking.
“I never formed,” said Danna. “I mean, I stayed in swarm mode the whole time, and as long as I keep them spread out, it’s pretty easy for a bunch of butterflies to go undetected. Lots of places to hide in there too. But actually, the best artifacts aren’t even in the warehouse. A lot of people don’t know this, but they keep a small collection upstairs, outside the Council’s offices. In theory, anyone can go up and see them, but without an official appointment, not many people venture up there.”
“What do they have?” said Nova.
Before Danna could respond, Genissa Clark—Frostbite—appeared framed in the curtains. She took one look at Nova and let out a peal of laughter.
“Great powers, I thought they were joking,” she said, placing one hand on a jutting hip. “No one would be stupid enough to go into the quarantine. I mean, you do know what quarantine means, right, Miss McLain?”
Nova leaned back into her pillows, crossing her legs at the heels. “You’re right, it was stupid. Clearly, when a superhero sees a ten-year-old kid put a glass spike through his hand, the correct response is to hang out and wait for someone else to come deal with it.” She plastered a fake, encouraging smile to her face. “Yay, Renegades!”
“Actually,” said Genissa with a haughty sigh, “the correct response would be to get someone who actually knows what they’re doing. That way, when the experts arrive, they’re not stuck dealing with two unconscious bodies.”
“Here’s an idea,” said Danna. “How about you stab yourself with an ice pick, and Nova and I will make small talk while we wait for the healers to notice.”
“In case you’ve both forgotten,” said Genissa, lifting an eyebrow, “Nova didn’t actually do anything to help Max. So, if you want to go on thinking you did some heroic act, by all means, stroke that ego. But all you really did was risk your own abilities and make yourself look like an idiot.” Her voice turned singsong. “But lucky for you, we can always use a few more data-entry drones. I mean, that’s what they had you doing, anyway. You do know what they call a Renegade without any superpowers, right?”
Nova pretended to think. “Someone who still beat your pet rock at the trials?”
Danna snorted.
“Cute,” said Genissa, unperturbed. “But the correct answer is administrator. I know it’s not the exciting Renegade position you’ve probably always dreamed about, but given that sleeplessness still isn’t a real superpower, I feel like you were given a pretty good run while it lasted.” She winked and turned away.
“Tell Gargoyle I said hi,” Nova called after her.
Genissa’s jaw twitched, but she didn’t respond as she yanked the curtain shut around them.
“Charming,” Danna muttered with a sneer. “Although, she does bring up an interesting point.” She rested her elbow on the arm of her chair, cupping her chin. “You’re one of the very few Renegades whose skill as part of a patrol unit wouldn’t necessarily be impacted by losing your power.” She shrugged. “Why wouldn’t they let you stay on the team? I bet you could make a strong argument for it.”
“I should certainly hope so,” said Nova. She gestured to the curtain. “Be honest. Is she the worst of it—her and her team—or are there slews of Renegades who are far less noble than everyone wants to think?”
“Oh, there are definitely some patrol units who seem to be on a permanent power trip, but Genissa Clark is the worst. Most people here are pretty great. Though, between you and me, there is one person I try to avoid at all costs.” Danna leaned forward, dropping her voice, and Nova couldn’t help but lean toward her as well. “Thunderbird.”
Nova blinked. “Really? A Council member?”
“Ugh, she’s the worst.” Danna covered her face with her hands, as if to hide. “I don’t think she means to be scary, but I find the woman utterly terrifying. She’s so serious, and every time she’s around I feel like she’s searching for any reason to oust me from headquarters. I don’t know what it is, but I swear she hates me.”
“She does seem…” Nova contemplated, unable to find the right word, before settling on, “Critical.”
“Critical, terrifying, same thing.” Danna screwed up her face, looking momentarily embarrassed. “Though, full disclosure, it could have something to do with my inherent fear of birds.”
Nova’s eyebrows lifted. “Birds.”
Danna faked a shudder. “Ever since I was a kid. I mean, yo
u know what one of the primary predators of butterflies is, right?”
Nova chuckled. “Okay, that makes sense.” She pondered for a moment. “Did you know there are over forty species of waterfowl in this region?”
Danna gave her an incredulous look. “Seriously? Why would you tell me that? Are you trying to give me nightmares about being gobbled up by a flock of seagulls?”
“Great skies, no,” said Nova emphatically. “If anything, you should be having nightmares about the royal albatross. Their wingspans can reach up to eleven feet across.”
Danna fixed her with a cold glare. “I’m beginning to regret coming here.”
“Too much information?” said Nova, feigning a sheepish look.
“Fine,” Danna said, still glowering. “Your turn, Miss I’ll-Fight-the-Gargoyle. Do you have any phobias, or are you always as calm in the face of fear as you were at the trials?”
Any phobias?
Nova couldn’t keep her lips from stretching tight. “Just one. I have one phobia.”
And he carries a scythe and is about a thousand times scarier than Tamaya Rae.
“Go on,” said Danna. “I shared mine.”
Nova shook her head. “I didn’t ask for a full disclosure, and this is one I’m keeping secret.”
Danna huffed, but Nova’s attention caught on another figure moving past the curtains, a healer checking a clipboard as he walked past. She sighed. It had been hours since anyone had been to check on her. Clearly, they weren’t as concerned as they were pretending to be.
“So, Adrian was bringing you sandwiches, huh?”
She startled. “What?”
Danna shot her a sly look. “At three o’clock in the morning. That’s … nice.” She drew out the word, hinting not so subtly that it was an act that went beyond nice.
“Oh. Yeah.” Nova shrugged. “We didn’t actually get to eat them, though.”
“It’s the thought that counts. And it doesn’t hurt that he charged into a highly volatile situation in order to rescue you…”
Nova frowned. “Yep. He’s a nice guy. I think that’s been well established.”
Danna folded her fingers over her stomach. “He really is. No one could argue that. But you know, in all the time we’ve spent on the same team together, he never brought me sandwiches.”
Clearing her throat, Nova picked up the top book from the stack on the nightstand and started pawing through the pages. “He was just being friendly. He’s really worked hard to make me feel like I fit in here.”
This was true, she thought, though she also knew it didn’t explain the warmth rushing into her face. Or why Danna’s insinuations made her stomach flutter at the same time her jaw clenched.
The things was, when Adrian was around, she was finding it more and more difficult to keep her eyes scanning for exits and resources, or her senses attuned to potential threats, when all she really wanted to do was study him. She wanted to know how he managed to strike that balance between self-assured and humble. Relaxed, yet focused.
When he was drawing, she wanted only to watch the quick, agile movements of his hands. When he was smiling, she found herself holding her breath to see if the smile would brighten enough to show off those elusive dimples. When he was looking at her, she felt compelled to look back. And also, illogically, to look away.
All of it combined made her far too annoyed with his presence.
It was attraction, pure and simple. It was hormones. It was … biology.
And it was not a part of her plan.
“You know,” said Danna, “I don’t think Adrian’s ever had a girlfriend before. At least, no one serious. Not since I’ve known him.”
Only when this comment brought a new surge of irritation did Nova realize how much, in the brief span of Danna’s visit, she had almost started to like her.
So much for that.
But she did suddenly have an idea.
Narrowing her eyes, Nova leaned forward, inspecting Danna’s face. “Are you feeling all right?”
Danna stiffened. “Fine. Why?”
Nova crooked her finger, urging her closer. “It might just be the temperature in here, but you look a little feverish.” She reached out, setting her palm against Danna’s brow. “Maybe you should get some more rest.”
Her power flowed through her as easily and naturally as it ever had.
Danna’s eyes closed. She slumped forward, her face planting onto the blankets.
Nova sat back with a sigh, casting her gaze toward the ceiling.
Proof, at last.
Her power was fine.
And every moment spent here was a waste of time.
Nova climbed out of the bed. “Nurse!”
A moment later, the nurse who had brought her lunch pulled back the curtain, surprised when she saw Nova lifting Danna out of the chair and settling her onto the mattress.
“I don’t know what happened. She seemed fine one minute, then she just got really pale and passed out. You might want to get a healer in here. I think maybe she overexerted herself too soon?”
The nurse, bewildered, ran out to alert one of the healers.
By the time she came back, Nova was dressed again and nearly done pulling on her boots.
“And where do you think you’re going?” the nurse asked as she felt for Danna’s pulse.
“Home,” said Nova.
The nurse barked a laugh. “Absolutely not, young lady. We’ll have a new room made up for you in just a minute, but we do need you to stay put.”
Nova glared at her. “Why?”
“Because!” the nurse said, as if this were a viable explanation. “We need to keep a close watch on you after—”
“After, what? Nearly having my superpower drained out of me by a ten-year-old?”
The nurse sighed. “Not too many people have ever come in contact with young Mr. Everhart. We must be cautious.”
“Well,” Nova said, finishing the latches on her boots, “if I die, I’ll let you know. Until then, I have things to be dealing with. And”—she gestured at Danna—“apparently, so do you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“OKAY, THERE’S YOUR NEW HOSPITAL TOWER,” said Adrian, pushing the building into Max’s enclosure. “What else got broken?”
“Just those apartments you fell on,” said Max, pointing toward the exit.
“Right,” said Adrian, starting to sketch. Inside the quarantine, Max carried the new tower over to the hospital building. He set it down on the broken stump, working mostly single-handed, as his right hand was heavily bandaged. Adrian watched as Max used his forearm to hold the tower in place while wrapping his left hand around the break. Slowly, the glass began to melt together, forming a seal that wasn’t perfect—a visible crack was still evident where the material had merged—but it seemed solid enough.
Adrian swallowed. He had seen Max use that particular gift a number of times, probably more than any other power he’d absorbed. It made him think about what Nova had seen—Max using his telekinesis to hold dozens of glass buildings in the air at once. Truthfully, that mental image had not left him since Nova had told him. He’d been trying all morning to find a way to ask Max about it, but he hadn’t yet found a way to do it that didn’t sound accusatory.
Instead of asking the question he really wanted to ask, he said, “How’s the hand?”
“Could be worse.” Max looked down at his bandaged palm. “They had to cauterize the artery—that’s where all the blood was coming from. But the spire went through right here.” He lifted his left hand so he could show Adrian. “In this meaty part between my thumb and finger. So it missed all the bones and tendons.” He shrugged. “I guess it would have hurt a lot worse if the wound had been more central. And, you know, it hurt pretty bad as it was.”
“With any luck, you’ll have an epic scar to show for it.”
A fleeting smile passed over Max’s face. He stepped back to inspect the hospital, then picked his way back toward Adrian. He sat
down at the edge of the bay while Adrian sketched out the crushed apartment building.
“Hey, Adrian?” he started, cradling his bandaged hand in his lap, picking at the edges of the wrapping.
Adrian looked up, immediately hesitant. It wasn’t very often that he heard Max sounding worried about anything. “What’s up?”
Max sat up a bit straighter, but still didn’t meet Adrian’s eye. “I have Ace Anarchy’s power.”
Adrian watched him, waiting for him to say something else, but this seemed to be the extent of his confession.
“Yeah,” he finally responded. “I know.”
Max shifted slightly, clearing his throat. “Do you think…” He trailed off.
“Do I think what?”
“Do you think I might be evil?”
Adrian’s eyebrows shot up. He leaned back, pulling the marker’s tip away from the unfinished drawing.
“Or…,” Max continued, “that I have some evil powers in me?”
Adrian waited for Max to look up at him, but the kid kept his gaze resolutely on the floor. “No, I don’t.”
Max’s mouth puckered to one side, unconvinced. “I knew you’d say that.”
“Because it’s true,” Adrian said with a laugh. “Is this why you pretend you’re no good at it? Is this why you’ve hidden how strong you are, all these years?”
Max looked up, his face rife with regret. He didn’t answer, but Adrian could see the truth written plainly on his face.
Sighing, Adrian capped the marker. “For starters, most of the horrible things Ace Anarchy did, he could only do because he had that helmet. Once they got the helmet, he was … I mean, for a telekinetic he was still pretty strong and all, but not nearly like before. And more important than that, what we do—what any of us do—it’s just a series of choices, right? Take … take fire elementals. Every fire elemental has a choice. They can burn down buildings, or they can make s’mores.”