He intended it to be funny, but Max frowned, looking unimpressed at Adrian’s attempts at being clever.
“If you had the power to do everything Ace Anarchy could do, you would have chosen differently. You would build things, not tear them down.” He gestured at the glass city. “Case in point.”
This, finally, brought a small smile to Max’s mouth.
“Speaking of building things,” said Max, his eyes brightening. “I discovered something this morning. Want to see?”
Without waiting for an answer, he got up and bounded back to his rooms, returning a moment later with a slim red marker.
He crouched down in front of the wall and began to draw onto the glass. Soon he had completed a rudimentary sketch of a car. When he was finished, he capped the marker, then pressed his forefinger into the car’s center and pushed.
Adrian was already grinning by the time the car popped out of the wall, landing in the palm of his hand. It was roughly the size of his palm. A little lopsided. The wheels did not turn. It also did not have the same solid feel that one of his own glass figurines had, but rather there was a softness inherent in the material. A malleability. Like glass that was on the verge of melting.
All that aside, it was real.
“Why, you little bandit,” he said. “You stole my power.”
Max grunted. He was staring at the car with obvious disapproval. “I’m not a very good artist. And there’s something wrong with all the things I’ve made so far. They’re not stable like yours. I did some things on paper first, and they just crumple like tissue paper as soon as I pull them out.”
Adrian turned the car over, holding it by the hood, when the whole thing drooped down toward the floor, bending nearly in half. “Ah! Sorry.”
Max shrugged. “You weren’t in here for very long, so I didn’t get much of your power. Which is good. If I’d gotten it all, then I’d be stuck making new buildings for the city, and they wouldn’t be very good.”
“Maybe at first, but I could give you drawing lessons.” Adrian tried to bend the car back into shape, but it was quickly losing its form. Already it sat in his palm with the consistency of bread dough. Giving up, he set the clear blob down on the floor. “Do you know yet how much you got from Nova?”
Max shook his head. “She was in here for longer than you were, but … it still wasn’t that long. You showed up right when it was happening. But I guess we’ll see.” His frown deepened. “I wish there was a way I could turn it off. I don’t really want her power. The last thing I need is eight more hours of boredom every day.”
Nodding in sympathy, Adrian drew his own version of Max’s car onto the glass and pushed it through. Rather than picking it up, though, Max just scowled. “Show off.”
“Can’t help it.”
Max’s posture changed suddenly. His spine stiffened, his glower turned more thoughtful, but also hesitant.
“Adrian?”
The way he said it made Adrian tense up, too. “Yeah?”
“When you were in here … after you grabbed Nova…” His eyes narrowed and he wasn’t looking at Adrian, but staring blankly at the glass car. “You flew.”
Adrian’s pulse thumped. The words hung between them, solid as the wall that divided them, for far too long before Adrian forced out a small chuckle. “I think you might have been seeing things. All that blood loss, probably.”
Redness flooded Max’s cheeks and when he did lift his eyes, they were flashing with anger. “I’m not stupid.”
Adrian swallowed. “I didn’t mean—”
“Okay, maybe it wasn’t actual flying, but it wasn’t normal, either, what you did. You jumped”—he glanced back, measuring the city with his eyes—“at least fourteen feet, and you weren’t even running or anything at the time. You just took off.”
Adrian stared at him as his mind searched for an explanation, but nothing came. The silence felt impermeable and Adrian wanted to break it, but he had nothing to say.
Finally, Max sank back onto his heels. “You know, I’ve seen videos of another prodigy that can jump like that too.”
Adrian’s pressed his lips tight together, as if the confession might emerge of its own accord. Already he was debating if it would really be so bad to tell Max the truth. He could be trusted with this secret, couldn’t he? Clearly, he’d already figured it out—at least, guessed—so how much harm would there be in admitting it?
But still he hesitated. Because as much as he loved Max, he also knew that Max loved Captain Chromium, and Adrian couldn’t be sure where most of his loyalties lay, and Adrian still wasn’t ready for his dads to know that he was the Sentinel. Their expressions when they’d gotten to headquarters last night, after they heard about what happened in the quarantine, were burned into his memory. Fear and panic, relief coupled with concern. Not just for what had happened, but more for what could have happened. Adrian knew it wasn’t just the fear that he might have lost his powers, which would be hard to come to terms with at first, but wouldn’t have been the end of the world. But it was also the fact that he’d nearly died at the library that still had them shaken up. Perhaps, too, their nerves were running high from the Captain’s brush with death at the parade, even if neither of them was admitting how close it had been.
Being a Renegade was dangerous. It had always been dangerous, and few superheroes tried to persuade themselves otherwise. It was just a fact of this life they had chosen—or that had chosen them.
But if his dads found out that Adrian was also the Sentinel … had taken on Nightmare at the parade, visited the Anarchists in their tunnels, faced off against the Detonator at the library, and charged headlong into the fire … their anxiety would skyrocket. He didn’t need to put them through that.
At least, that’s what he told himself. It was for them. He was keeping this secret for their own well-being, to protect them from their own worries.
But he also knew that it was a selfish decision. He wasn’t ready to hang up the mantle of the Sentinel, and he knew they would ask him to.
What he didn’t know was whether he would listen to the request or not. Right now, it seemed easier to stay silent.
“Okay, fine,” said Max, once it became clear Adrian wasn’t going to admit to his assumptions. “You don’t have to answer. I saw what I saw.”
Adrian looked away, his shoulders weighted down with guilt. He wished he could explain to Max that it wasn’t personal. That he wasn’t ready to tell anyone.
He said simply, “It’s complicated.”
Max guffawed. “Yeah, and I don’t know anything about that.”
Adrian cringed.
“But one thing did occur to me,” said Max, tapping his marker into his palm. “This guy called the Sentinel … you might have heard of him? The Sentinel? He’s kind of been in the news a lot lately.”
Adrian shot him a wry look. “Sounds familiar.”
“Right, so as far as I know, this guy they call the Sentinel and I might be the only prodigies alive who can claim to have more than one superpower. At least, we both have multiple, totally unrelated superpowers. Not like Tsunami, who can both create water from nothing and also manipulate existing water. But he can make fire and do the whole jumping thing and now they’re saying he has some fancy new concussive energy beam. Whereas I have”—he tapped the pen against each fingertip as he counted—“telekinesis, metal manipulation, matter fusing, some invisibility, um…” He pondered. “Absorption, obviously, and now whatever it is you do. What do you call it, anyway?”
Adrian was smiling again. He knew Max was working to cross the divide caused by Adrian’s secret and his unwillingness to talk about. It felt like a compromise, and he was grateful for it. “I just call it sketching,” he said. “But I think it’s listed as ‘artwork genesis’ in my profile.”
“Artwork genesis. Cool. That’s a good list, isn’t it?”
“It’s an awesome list.” Truthfully, it was more impressive than Adrian realized. He rarely saw Max use
any of the abilities he had gathered from prodigies, most of which had been absorbed when he was a child. Telekinesis from Ace Anarchy, metal manipulation and matter fusing from his birth parents, a bit of invisibility taken from the Dread Warden before they realized what it was he could do. Now, of course, Adrian’s power, and maybe even some of Nova’s. He may not have been powerful in all of these abilities, as demonstrated by the car that was now a jiggling pile by Adrian’s ankle, but he was powerful enough. In fact, if he wasn’t trapped inside this quarantine all the time, he would have made one hell of a superhero.
Adrian opened his mouth, ready to tell him just this, when Max blurted out, “Can the Sentinel give himself any power?”
Adrian blinked.
“Don’t say that you don’t know,” Max continued hurriedly, “just … pretend you’re guessing, or whatever. That is how it works, right? You’re somehow … I mean, he’s somehow drawing the powers into reality? Or … do you … does the Sentinel actually have power mimicry, and artwork genesis isn’t the original power at all?”
Shutting his eyes, Adrian massaged his brow. “I don’t…” He paused and sighed heavily. “Okay, if I had to guess…” He returned his focus to Max, peering at him intently, hoping to convey that should anyone else ask about this, ever, it was only a guess. “He’s still figuring out how many powers he can give himself and the overall extent of the abilities. He’s … sort of making it up as he goes along.”
“I figured,” said Max, in a tone that made Adrian bristle. “But do you think … has he tried invincibility yet?”
“Invincibility?”
“You know. Like the Captain.”
Adrian leaned back on his hands. Somehow, he hadn’t given much thought to replicating either of his dads’ powers, or any of the Council’s. Perhaps it felt too much like crossing an uncrossable boundary. He could never become Captain Chromium or the Dread Warden, he could never replace them—and that’s not what any of this was about anyway. But to imbue himself with their abilities, especially the Captain’s invincibility or superstrength, would have seemed almost disrespectful to everything Captain Chromium was, everything the world admired.
But at the same time, he knew precisely why Max had asked about this power, among all the superpowers of the world.
Because of his invincibility, Hugh Everhart was the only prodigy who could get close to Max. And though Max did a good job of hiding his loneliness, and Adrian largely tried not to think too much about it, in that moment it became clear how much he must yearn for interactions that weren’t divided by a glass wall or a chromium-edged suit.
“I don’t know,” he said finally, slowly. “I honestly don’t know.”
Max nodded in understanding, and Adrian could tell he wasn’t angry at this response. It was the truth. Adrian didn’t know if he could bestow himself with invincibility, on any level, and certainly not to the level of his dad. Max must have recognized the honesty in his words.
But already Adrian’s mind was swirling. Considering. Wondering …
“You should go check on Nova.”
Adrian startled. “What?”
“I bet she’s really freaked out still. It seemed like she actually enjoyed being awake all the time.”
“I’m not sure enjoyed is the right word…,” said Adrian, trying to recall her exact words when they had talked about how she spends her time. “But I do think she’s proud of what she accomplished because of it. She doesn’t just read comics and draw, like I probably would. Instead, she made herself into a Renegade.”
“Exactly,” said Max, “and I might have taken that away from her.”
Shaking his head, Adrian moved to stand. “Never. She’s one of us now, whether she likes it or not.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
THE COUNCIL’S OFFICES had not been included in the initial tour of Renegades Headquarters on Nova’s first day, but she was aware of their existence. The floor number was posted on the directory in the lobby, and Nova had been intending to come check them out, but she’d had no reason to. Nothing she could have used as an explanation, at least, in the event that someone asked her what she was doing.
As she stepped cautiously from the elevator, though, she realized she needn’t have worried. On first arrival, the floor appeared to be deserted. At least, the central receptionist’s desk was unoccupied and Nova could hear no signs of life coming from the open doorway behind it. Her gaze darted around to the security cameras tucked obscurely around the ceiling, and she reminded herself to act natural. To pretend that she had every right to be there.
Which she did. She was a Renegade, and this floor wasn’t off-limits, according to the directory on the first floor. She wasn’t even planning to do anything while she was there other than look around, but that knowledge did little to ease the sense of paranoia flitting around inside her head.
Nova stepped around the reception desk, noting the framed photos showing a handsome, gray-haired man with his arm around Prism, the prodigy who had taken them up to Council Hall after the library incident. She passed through the large doorway into a circular lobby with glossy white floors, an elaborate blown-glass chandelier, and vast windows that overlooked the sweeping views of the city and ocean beyond. A calming fountain burbled in the center, and artwork and glass display cases lined the walls. Five corridors sprouted from the lobby like spokes from a wheel, each with a decorative plaque hung above its entry, engraved with the aliases of the Council. Tsunami. Blacklight. Thunderbird. Dread Warden. Captain Chromium.
Nova paused to listen again. When still only silence greeted her, she started picking her way past the memorabilia on display. One case held a single green stone nestled into a bed of satin, and Nova didn’t need the descriptive tag beneath it to recognize the Stone of Clairvoyance, which was credited with giving a prodigy named Fortuna the ability to describe for anyone the happiest and the saddest moments of their lives—even if they hadn’t yet come to pass. Next was the golden fan that Whirlwind could use to cut an enemy up to fifty feet away. Then a collection of large fish bones, neatly laid out on a wooden plate. It was the skeleton of a razor fish, whose spirit was said to have haunted Sandprowler and imbued him with the ability to burrow quickly into almost any type of ground.
Nova paused when she came to a wall unencumbered by display cases, and instead hung with a large painting. Her stomach squeezed as she took in an artistic rendition of the Battle for Gatlon. She recognized the steps of the cathedral in the background, though the ground was littered with destruction and debris, bodies and blood. In the foreground, atop a mountain of rubble, stood Captain Chromium. He was gripping his chromium pike, with Ace’s helmet speared at the tip.
At the bottom of the pile lay Ace Anarchy himself, his body broken over one of the shattered balustrades from the cathedral, his blood spilled across the dirt.
Nova’s mouth ran dry. The artist had captured Ace’s features perfectly—that horrible devastation, even in death. Dark eyes open to the sky, lips parted in disbelief.
It was not based on reality, she knew. This moment, caught in time, was nothing more than an artistic interpretation of what might have happened. Perhaps, in their mind, what should have happened. But in truth, there had been nothing left of Ace’s body for them to lord their victory over.
That did not make the image any less disgusting, and in that moment Nova swore that, when she brought down the Renegades, she would find this painting again and she would destroy it.
Releasing a weakened breath, she forced herself to turn away. Her boots clipped against the hard floor as she passed the next corridor, but then she paused, her heart stuttering.
She stepped back, aligning herself with the entrance of the corridor—the Captain’s corridor—and peered down its length.
Her jaw fell. Her skin tingled.
There, on a pedestal at the end of the hall, glowing copper-gold beneath a pale spotlight, was the helmet.
Ace’s helmet.
Nova had bare
ly taken a step forward when the communicator at her wrist hummed. She froze, sure in that moment the Renegades had discovered who she was and what she was planning, even though she wasn’t entirely sure she was planning anything. She only knew that guilt and paranoia had flooded her system the moment the communicator went off.
Then she lifted her wrist, looked at the glowing text on the band, and released a long sigh. It was only Adrian—not accusing her of anything, just worried that she wasn’t in the medical wing.
She allowed her racing pulse to calm before reading the full message.
Insomnia, just because you never sleep doesn’t mean you can get out of bed without the healers’ permission! (Kidding. Sort of.) I just got to med wing and the nurse says you went home. Healers seem concerned—they say there could be side effects from being so close to Max that we don’t know about yet. Can you come back to HQ? Or if you’re passed out in a ditch somewhere, let me know so I can come find you, okay? (Kidding again. Not really.)
—Sketch
Nova read through the message three times. The first time her thoughts were still tripping around the discovery of Ace’s helmet and the majority of the message lost all meaning in the mad chaos inside her head. The second time she picked up only that there could be side effects and the healers were trying to order her around, and they were using Adrian to do it, which she found remarkably annoying.
The third time, though, she could see the message not just as glowing blue text, but she could also hear it in Adrian’s voice, and by the time she got to the end she found that her irritation was gone, replaced with something almost like warm-hearted amusement. Because even if she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself and didn’t need Adrian or the healers to watch out for her, there was something in his halfhearted attempts to disguise his concern that she couldn’t help but find charming.