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Danna whistled under her breath. “You two are impossible,” she muttered. “In fact, all four of you are driving me nuts.”
Though Adrian’s mother, the brave and wondrous Lady Indomitable, had been killed when he was a kid, her cheesy sayings still came back to him sometimes. Unbidden, but when he needed to hear them most. Superheroes are only as good as their conviction. Sometimes, a smile is the most powerful weapon we have. When in doubt … fly.
Sometimes Nova felt like the Renegades of the past had more in common with the Anarchists than anyone dared to admit.
Nova felt like she’d just stumbled into one of those bizarre anxiety dreams she’d heard people talk about. The ones where you were put on display in front of your worst enemies, only to discover you’d forgotten to put on pants that morning.
“It will still be better off than it was in the hands of the villains,” said Danna. Scowling, Nova forced herself to meet her gaze and hold it this time. “And once they”—she paused—“once we have total power, what’s to keep us from becoming villains ourselves?”
“How nice to see you,” said Honey. “I was beginning to think someone might have conducted an exorcism and sent you back to the underworld.” “You believe that’s where I’m from?” said Phobia, his raspy voice eerier than usual in the dank chamber. Honey hummed to herself. “Well, I don’t think you’re from the suburbs.”
Much as she hated to admit it, even to herself, she missed him. She missed the way he used to look at her. No one had ever looked at her quite the way that Adrian Everhart did. “You are afraid…,” Phobia rasped. “Afraid to feel too deeply, afraid that the truth will—” “Okay,” Nova interrupted, almost shouting. “Don’t need the evaluation right now, thank you.”
She circled the statue. It was exactly as she remembered, if maybe sporting a touch more moss than it had back then. A hooded figure dressed in loose robes, like a medieval monk. The face carved beneath the hood was amorphous, with closed eyes and a contented smile and rounded features. Its hands were stretched toward the sky, like it was trying to catch something. She did not know how old the statue was, but it looked like it had stood there for a thousand years. Like it would stand there for a thousand more.
Here she was, dwelling on an almost-kiss, and Adrian wanted to talk about the time she’d killed someone.
Adrian held his breath. “You told me that you watched the Detonator kill Nightmare,” said Winston. “That you were there. But … I’m afraid, young Master Everhart, you were mistaken.” His eyes twinkled. “Our precious little Nightmare is very much alive.”
“The storage room?” Adrian pushed up his glasses. “If storage is code for ‘Adrian’s random drawing stuff,’ then yes.”
“A true queen is made not in times of prosperity, but in times of hardship.”
“And I think,” Nova countered, “that nothing is as black and white as people want to pretend. Doing good and doing harm aren’t mutually exclusive.”
“Neophyte?” “Sorry,” said Nova, chuckling again, and wondering if it was possible for her to be any more terrible at this. “It means amateur.”
Nova wondered how much of his confidence was an act. Or maybe that’s all confidence ever was. An act.
Because she would no longer be a Renegade. This charade would be over, and with it … any ties she had to Adrian Everhart. “Good-bye, Adrian,” she whispered into the night air.
😰
