Archenemies (Renegades #2)(117)

Squaring her shoulders, she stepped over Callum’s body and propped the pike against the shelf. She reached for the cube. As her hand neared it, the bracelet warmed against her skin. Pursing her lips, Nova rolled back the hem of her sleeve. The star was glowing brighter than it had all day—almost blindingly bright, sending deep shadows dancing over the shelves. She half expected it to explode, or maybe disappear, like it had when she had first tried to grab it out of the statue’s outstretched hands. But when it did nothing more than pulse warmly for a few seconds, she turned her attention back to the box.

Inhaling, she lifted the cube and turned it from side to side, inspecting it from every angle. Each side was identical to the others, with no apparent markings or weaknesses.

She set the cube on the floor and picked up the pike again. She took a step back and prepared herself for what she was about to do, though she didn’t have any idea what was going to happen. She’d imagined this moment a hundred times since the Captain had made that offhand remark at dinner.

Or I could make a sledgehammer to take to it, if I was feeling destructive.

She had hoped that once she was here, holding the pike and standing over the box, the next step would seem obvious. But all she had was a distant hope that this would work.

“This will work,” she murmured, tightening her grip on the pike. “Please, let this work.”

She raised the pike overhead, braced herself, and slammed the point into the center of the box.

The contact reverberated through the metal and into her arms, clattering down to her bones. Nova stumbled back.

The chromium box had skidded a few feet away but was otherwise unharmed.

Not even a dent.

Snarling, Nova tried again, harder this time. The metals pinged loudly and again her arms shook from the impact. The box crashed into the nearest shelf, making the whole unit tremble from the blow.

Still, no sign that it was weakened.

Desperation welled inside of her. No, no, no. It could not all be for nothing.

This had to work.

She turned the pike over and tried again, this time swinging it like a battle ax. It thudded hard against the box. Her body jolted from the impact. She swung it again. Again. Again.

Reeling back, Nova stared at the pike in disgust. She was panting, though as much from outrage as exertion. This had to work. She needed that helmet and she didn’t have any other options.

She couldn’t fail. Not now.

She hefted the pike over her shoulder and screamed. The star at her wrist flashed, blindingly bright. An electric current shot through her arms and into her fingers as she threw the spear as hard as she could.

As it soared down the aisle, it glowed.

Not silver, but coppery gold.

It struck the box squarely in the side.

The cube shattered.

It might as well have been made of glass.

Nova jumped back as bits of broken chromium were flung at her ankles. The pike clattered to the floor and rolled a few feet away, grayish silver once again.

Her arms tingled from the jolt of energy that had passed through them. Her chest heaved. The wound in her leg was throbbing worse than before.

But all of that was soon forgotten.

A cry of disbelief tumbled from Nova’s lips.

The helmet was there, lying on its side amid the splintered box, exactly as she remembered it. The bronze-tinged material still gleamed faintly, reminding Nova of her father, and how the threads of energy would glow like tiny strips of sunlight as he worked. There was a raised band along the center of the skull, ending in a sharp point on the brow, and the opening in the front where Ace’s eyes had once peered.

The bits of chromium crunched beneath her boots as Nova stepped closer. She knelt and picked it up, cradling the helmet in both hands.

It did not look dangerous. It did not even look foreboding.

It looked merely as though it had been waiting for her.





CHAPTER FORTY

RUBY AND OSCAR were dancing again when Adrian left the gala. Nova had been gone for more than an hour, and he’d spent some time chatting with Kasumi and her husband and mingling with a few of the patrols he’d trained with years ago but rarely saw anymore, except in passing. He’d eaten his dessert—a sweet and creamy lemon custard—and had given Nova’s to Ruby’s brothers to share. He’d danced once with Ruby and once with Oscar’s mom.

But he’d been counting the minutes since Nova had left, biding his time before he could leave without the truth being completely obvious.

Without her there, he just wasn’t interested in dancing and small talk. All he wanted was to go home, lie down in the jungle he had made, and think of the next time he would see her.

The next time he would kiss her.

He couldn’t stop grinning as he left the gala and tucked his hands into the pockets of his tuxedo pants. His marker was there and he pulled it out and rolled it between his palms.

He should draw something for Nova, to give to her when they saw each other in the morning. Just a little something to remind her of the past couple of nights. The past couple of amazing nights. Something to let her know he was thinking about her. That he was serious about her.

He knew Nova was slow to trust. Slow to let go of her uncertainties. Slow to risk getting hurt. He thought he understood her better now that she’d told him the truth of her parents, and her sister. Great skies, her baby sister. Evie.