Supernova, p.9
Supernova, page 9
Instinct and training buckled Nova’s knees. She dropped into a crouch, then swung one leg at Narcissa’s ankles. The girl cried out and fell backward, landing on her side with a yelp of pain. She tried to clamber back to her feet, but then her spine uncurled and she let out a shrill scream. She dropped the gun and clapped a hand onto her shoulder, barely missing the yellow-spotted wasp as it darted away from her fingertips. It landed on her black sneaker and had just begun to wriggle beneath the cuff of her jeans when Nova barked, “Honey, no! Let her be!”
The wasp paused, its wings beating against the girl’s shoelaces.
Nova looked up, panting. Honey stood at the base of the staircase, her hair in massive curlers and a silk robe tied loosely at her waist. Leroy stood behind her, watching with mute interest as Narcissa writhed on the floor. A cloud of bees circled over their heads, their buzzing echoing off the confines of the stairwell.
Nova stooped and grabbed the gun, noting that the safety was still on. Smothering a sigh, she didn’t bother to take it off as she aimed the gun at Narcissa’s forehead.
Narcissa was in too much pain to notice. Fat tears were sliding down her cheeks as she pressed a hand over the sting on her shoulder.
Nova glanced at Honey. “Can you make the pain stop?”
Honey lifted an eyebrow. “Why should I? She tried to kill you.”
“Not very well.”
Honey grunted. “One does not have to be competent to be an enemy.”
“Honey.”
She rolled her eyes. “The burning from the venom will pass in a minute or two, though she’ll be sore for a few days. Unless she’s allergic. Then she’s going to die.” Honey curled one finger and the wasp flew back to her. “Do we know her?”
“Sort of.” Nova looked down again and saw that Narcissa’s long red braid had spilled out from the collar of her shirt. “This is the Librarian’s granddaughter. She can travel through mirrors.”
“The Librarian?” said Honey. “You mean the weapons salesman?”
Narcissa snarled through her pain. “He had a name. And he was more than just an arms dealer. More than the villain everyone says he was!” Her nostrils flared. “He was a good man. A scholar. Someone who cared about his community. And you killed him! Just to save your own skin!”
Nova gulped. She didn’t know Narcissa well, but during their few, brief meetings, she’d always liked her. Narcissa had seemed so unassuming. So uninterested in anything related to villains or heroes. She usually had her nose buried in a book and had seemed content to keep it there.
There was none of that now. Narcissa was too thin, too pale, and far too hostile. Clearly, those tender feelings Nova had once had for her were not reciprocated.
“I didn’t kill him,” said Nova. “The Detonator did.”
“Yeah, for you.” Narcissa used her sleeve to rub the snot from her nose. “But you Anarchists always were selfish. You never care about anyone but yourselves.” She pushed herself to her knees, flinching when she put weight on her arm, and tilted her chin up. “It’s because of you that my grandfather is dead. The library is gone. You took everything I had!”
“The Detonator did all that!” Nova repeated, louder this time. “I was trying to stop her!”
“If it wasn’t for you, she wouldn’t have targeted us in the first place. Pretending to be a Renegade.… Using my grandfather and his library as pawns in your game.… It should have been you! Not him—you!”
Clenching her jaw, Nova dropped the gun into Narcissa’s lap. The girl startled and began to back away, as if the weapon were a deadly snake. Then she caught herself and wrapped both of her trembling hands around the handle. She did not aim it at Nova again, though her expression still spoke of murder.
“Your grandfather,” said Nova, “was one of the most notorious black-market arms dealers in the city. The Renegades finally caught up to him, and Ingrid saw an opportunity to use their sting operation as a trap. None of that is my fault.”
Clutching the gun, Narcissa stumbled back to her feet. “The Renegades finally caught up to him? Yeah, because he sold you a gun, and you were careless enough to try to assassinate Captain Chromium with it.”
“Actually,” said Leroy, “he sold the gun to me.”
Narcissa spun toward him. “Then you should all be dead! But here you are, still playing games while more prodigies are suffering! Well, I made a promise that I would bring that helmet back to the Rejects, and that we would use it to restore balance to this world. The balance that’s been destroyed by desperate power-seekers like the Anarchists and the Renegades. And I’m not leaving here without it.” She planted her feet, and though she’d gone pale, whether from the beesting or her own fears, she stood straight as she faced Nova.
Dismayed, Nova threw her hands into the air. “Who are the Rejects?”
Narcissa’s nostrils flared. “Rejected by society for being prodigies. Rejected by the Renegades for not fitting their perfect heroic standards. But together—we are more than just outcasts. We are powerful, and we will tolerate this abuse no more!”
Nova waited. It was clear Narcissa had repeated this speech a time or two.
The weird thing was, it sounded an awful lot like something Ace would have said.
She was about to suggest that maybe Narcissa’s hatred was misplaced when the mirror walker continued. “You have a choice,” she said, tossing her braid over her shoulder. “Go ahead and kill me, and my people will make sure that your enemies know all your secrets by morning. Or give me the helmet and let me go, and you can live another day, as Nightmare or Insomnia or whoever it is you think you are.”
The silence was brief.
“All right, then,” said Honey, dragging a pointed nail down the back of a plump bumblebee that was crawling along her pinky finger. “Shall I have the honors?”
Leroy yawned. “I’ll warm up the car. Do you think it’s best to drop the body into the bay or the river?”
“The river is closer,” said Honey. “And I don’t really think anyone’s going to miss her, despite this talk of Rejects.” Her smile became wicked. “I’ll call the bluff.”
Narcissa’s defiance extinguished as her attention darted toward the swarming bees.
It took a lot of venom from even the most dangerous of wasps to kill a person who wasn’t allergic to them, but it could be done.
It was an awfully painful way to die.
“Death,” rasped a voice. “And bees, at least at the moment.”
Phobia’s form solidified from the shadows, filling up the doorway to the kitchen. There was a bit of moonlight coming through the windows, and a shard of light glinted along the scythe’s blade.
“Also spiders, snakes, cockroaches, rats,” Phobia went on, rattling off what fears he could detect within the recesses of Narcissa’s mind. “Scorpions. Public humiliation. Drowning.” He chuckled lowly. “Ace Anarchy.”
“Great marvels,” muttered Leroy. “She’s decent at faking courage, at least.”
“But most profoundly,” continued Phobia, and his gritty voice turned mocking, “she has an almost paralyzing fear that she will never experience true love.”
“Oh, she’s one of those.” Honey groaned dramatically. “Unfortunately, it seems that fear is going to come to pass.”
“Wait,” said Nova, lifting a hand. “Narcissa, we’re never giving you that helmet, but maybe we can help each other. Your … Rejects … it sounds like their feud is with the Renegades, not us. You don’t have to die for this.”
Narcissa fixed her with a cold glare. “You should be worrying about yourself, Nightmare. Are you really prepared for the Renegades to know who you are, after you’ve worked so hard to keep it concealed?”
Nova’s palms were sweating. The answer was no, of course she wasn’t ready. She still needed to rescue Ace. She still needed to bring her enemies down.
Then her thoughts went to Adrian. The way he smiled at her. The way he kissed her.
It would be over.
She wasn’t ready.
“It doesn’t matter,” Nova said. “They’re going to find out soon enough. It’s not the bargaining chip you think it is, Narcissa. And we need the helmet. We’re going to free Ace Anarchy, and when we do, he will use that helmet to end the Renegades and their tyranny once and for all.” She spread her fingers, almost pleadingly. “Why not help us do that?”
They held each other’s gaze a long time. Slowly, Narcissa shifted her attention to Phobia. She gulped, then looked back at Honey and Leroy, and finally to Nova again.
Nova could tell that her walls were crumbling. Despite the anger she harbored for the Anarchists and what had happened at the library, she must have seen the logic in Nova’s words, because she appeared to be wavering with temptation and uncertainty.
Whatever she would have said, though, was interrupted by the squeal of tires out on the street.
Narcissa’s lips curved with relief. “Time’s up, Nightmare.”
Something struck the front window. The glass shattered. Nova ducked instinctively, even as Narcissa shoved past her.
A huge rock tumbled a few more inches before coming to stop beside the armchair, just as Narcissa’s red braid disappeared up the stairwell.
Someone whooped outside. There were celebratory cheers, and someone yelling, “Rejects forever! Power to prodigies!” before tires screeched again and the vehicle peeled down the street.
Cursing, Nova launched herself up the stairs, taking them two at a time. She spotted Narcissa crouched on top of Honey’s vanity. One hand was holding the frame of the large mirror, the other gripped a glass mason jar. The gold-and-black butterfly flapped frantically inside.
Nova froze as Narcissa’s eyes filled with intrigue. “They’ve been talking about that Renegade on the news lately. Monarch. The one who led her team to the lair of Ace Anarchy.” She inclined her head. “Interesting coincidence.”
Pulling her arm back, Narcissa threw the jar at the bedroom’s far wall.
Nova cried out. At the same moment that Narcissa was vanishing into the surface of the mirror, Nova dove for the jar, but she knew she wouldn’t reach it in time. It seemed to move in slow motion as it tumbled through the air.
It smashed into the wall and exploded into dozens of tiny shards.
The butterfly lurched upward, spiraling toward the ceiling. It darted just beyond Nova’s grasp and took off toward the window that had been left open for the bees.
Cursing, Nova chased after it. The butterfly dipped downward. Nova lunged, arm outstretched, fingers straining.
The butterfly was flying straight for the window. Bees were clouding in around it, having noticed new prey in their midst.
The butterfly shot through the opening.
Nova dove. One knee on the window’s ledge, one hand barely catching the frame to keep from falling, one outstretched hand crushed into a fist.
She hung there, motionless but for her erratic breaths. Though wasps and hornets surrounded her, and some even dared to perch on her knuckles and inspect her squeezing fingers, there were no stings.
Trembling with adrenaline, Nova pulled herself back into the bedroom.
Dazed, Nova looked down to see one hive with a footprint shoved into its papery shell in the center of the room. She’d moved so fast, she hadn’t even noticed stepping on it. The bees who had called it home were swarming around, enraged, their buzzing deafeningly loud, but they were not the insects that worried her.
Exhaling, Nova pried open her fingers.
The butterfly’s wings were broken. Its hairy, speckled body was still twitching.
Stomach roiling, she dropped the creature to the floor. It was set upon instantly by the waiting bees.
There would be nothing left of it.
She dusted the powder from her hands. Her body was trembling.
This butterfly was dead, and while Danna wouldn’t retain the memories of what it had seen, there were hundreds of other butterflies that would be able to re-form now, to tell what they might have uncovered. What else had Danna learned from following Nova, before this one had been captured?
Nova’s heart ricocheted inside her chest. She felt hollowed out. Terrified.
She didn’t know if Narcissa or Danna would inform the Renegades first, but it didn’t really matter. Nova knew one thing for sure.
She was out of time. Danna could become human again at any minute. Maybe she already had.
How long before everyone knew the truth?
“Leroy! Honey!” she yelled, rushing back down to the ground floor. “I hope that explosive you talked about is ready to go. We need to leave, now.”
Leroy and Honey were both standing amid the broken glass in the front room. Leroy was examining the rock that had been thrown through the front window.
Snarling, Honey shook her head. “A plain old rock,” she said, aghast. “It’s practically amateur hour around here.”
“Did you hear me?” said Nova, her voice tinged with panic. “The butterfly is dead. If Monarch hasn’t already re-formed, she will soon. I’m not sure how much she knows, but…” She trailed off.
“But it’s almost certainly enough to incriminate you,” said Leroy, dropping the rock. It landed with a heavy thunk on the carpet. “And lead back to all of us. Worst-case scenario, they’ll be here in … ten minutes?”
“Sooner if they send the nearest patrol unit,” said Nova. “Maybe longer if—if the Council makes this a personal priority. But not by much.”
Leroy nodded. “I’ll set the explosive and be ready to detonate at the first sign of the Renegades approaching. Take only what we need. Don’t worry about leaving evidence behind—nothing will be recognizable when I’m done with it.”
CHAPTER TEN
THE LAST TIME Adrian had raced across the rooftops of Gatlon City in the Sentinel’s armor, he had been carrying Max, half dead, in his arms. He was only slightly less panicked now. Ruby’s message had been so emphatic, and so utterly lacking in explanation. He had immediately responded, desperate to know why she was summoning the team, but there had still not been a response.
So he ran.
Or, jumped.
Some might even say he flew. It was the closest he would ever come, at least until he could figure out how to tattoo wings onto his own back.
The springs tattooed on the soles of his feet propelled him forward, soaring over streets and skyscrapers. He wasn’t being particularly discreet, but he’d found that not many people in the city stopped to look up, and if they did, he hoped they might think the glint of his armor was nothing but an illusion in the midday sun. Even if they did recognize the infamous vigilante, he would be gone long before anyone could think to stop him.
Ruby lived with her family in a three-bedroom apartment in the Shademont neighborhood. To a lot of people in the city, three bedrooms would have seemed spacious, but for Ruby’s family it was still crowded quarters, between Ruby and her twin brothers—Sterling and Jade—along with both her parents and her grandmother. Adrian couldn’t recall ever hearing Ruby complain about sharing a bedroom with the boys, who would be twelve in a few months, but he had also never questioned why she didn’t invite the team to her place to hang out. On the rare occasions when they’d met up at someone’s house, it had always been Adrian’s.
He was panting by the time he landed on the rooftop of her apartment building, his breaths fogging the inside of his helmet. One last leap, and he landed with a shattering thump in the alleyway below. A stray cat yowled and hissed at him before fleeing around a corner.
He slapped a hand to his chest and the suit retracted, folding in on itself until he could tuck it under the skin over his sternum. He had taken to wearing long-sleeve T-shirts with three buttons at the neck, easy access for the suit, and he fumbled to secure the buttons now as he moved toward the front of the building. His legs always felt a little wobbly after all the jumping, but he ignored them.
He was steady again by the time he reached the Tuckers’ apartment on the second floor. The door opened before he could knock. Not Ruby, but her grandmother, a petite woman with streaks of gray in her once-ginger hair. Her hands were curled from arthritis, which Ruby had mentioned as being a result of years in the jewelry trade, using her fingers for the smallest, most detail-driven tasks. Still, she had a poise and strength to her expression that Adrian had admired from the first time he’d met her.
“They’re in the children’s room,” she said, stepping back to let him in. “Last door on the left.”
He thanked her and hurried down the hall. The door was cracked open and he could hear voices inside—her brothers yipping excitedly, and Ruby shushing them, sounding frantic.
Adrian opened the door. The twin boys, seated together on the upper mattress of their bunk beds, stopped talking immediately to gawp at him. Oscar was there, too, his legs also dangling from the top bunk, his cane hooked on one of the rungs of the ladder. At first Adrian was surprised that Oscar might have beat him there, until he remembered that Oscar lived not far away, whereas he had to come miles from the hospital.
“The slacker finally shows up,” said Oscar, beaming.
That smile helped calm Adrian’s racing heart.
He stepped into the room. Ruby sat on the foot of the twin bed that was parallel to the bunks. The only other furniture that fit into the room was a tall dresser and a little desk that had been crammed into the space between the beds.
And there was one other person, lying on Ruby’s bedspread.
“Danna!” he yelled, striding the whole two steps it took to reach her side.
She was unconscious, though it was a fitful sleep, her eyelids twitching and small beads of sweat dotting her forehead. She was wearing her Renegade uniform, her blonde dreadlocks spread across the pillow. “Where did she … How?”
“I don’t know,” said Ruby. “She’s been staying with me ever since we found Ace Anarchy, you know, in swarm mode.”
Adrian nodded. The butterflies had become Ruby’s shadow since the night Danna had led them to the catacombs where they had discovered Ace Anarchy.
