Archenemies (Renegades #2)(121)

“Nova doesn’t know?” Ruby said, her own voice carrying a bit of a squeak.

Oscar answered for him. “Of course not. She hates the Sentinel.”

Adrian frowned, but couldn’t deny the truth of it.

Releasing a string of expletives, Oscar ran his hand through his hair. “How could you not tell us? I thought—all this time!”

“I know. I’m sorry. I wanted to. But after the parade, when Danna got hurt—”

“Because of you!” Oscar yelled. “She got hurt because of you!”

Adrian shrank back. “I know. It was an accident. I would never … I didn’t mean to.”

“And you were there,” Oscar continued, shaking his head. “At the library and … and chasing after Hawthorn. How did we not see it?”

“Because it’s Sketch,” said Ruby. “You draw things! You don’t control fire or laser beams! You can’t jump fifty feet in the air! How … How?”

“Tattoos,” said Adrian. “I draw permanent tattoos on myself, and they deliver different powers.”

They both gawked at him.

Then—

“Tattoos?” Ruby screamed. “You can’t be serious.”

Oscar, though, had turned thoughtful, his mouth rounding with comprehension. “Tattoos. Holy smokes, dude, that’s genius. Can you give me some?”

“No!” Ruby responded. “He can’t—you can’t—I still can’t believe you didn’t tell us!”

“I know. I really am sorry. I wanted to—”

“Don’t,” Ruby snapped. “Don’t you even say that. If you wanted to, then you would have.” She threw her arms into the air and began pacing, kicking debris out of her path as she went. “What are we going to do now? Next to the Anarchists, you’re, like, the most-wanted prodigy in the city. You’ve been breaking rules left and right. And we’re just supposed to become your accomplices in this? We’re just supposed to keep our mouths shut?”

Adrian’s shoulders sank. “No. I don’t know. It’s not fair of me to ask it of you—”

“But we will!” Ruby said. She was still screaming, working herself into a tizzy. “Of course we will, because we love you and you’re Adrian! I know you’re not some criminal mastermind who’s doing it for the fame or whatever. I know you’re a good person, and you must have a good reason for doing all this, I just … I just wish you would have told us.”

“Wait—Hawthorn,” said Oscar. “What the hell, Adrian? They said you—”

“I didn’t,” he said. “It was all Frostbite and her cronies. I saw them torturing her, and then they killed her so they could frame me for it. It wasn’t me.”

Oscar rocked back on his heels, considering. His face lightened. “Yeah, okay, I can believe that.”

A stream of butterflies whipped past them, then swirled over their heads and returned to the fallen statue.

Pushing her bleached bangs off her forehead, Ruby pointed her dagger toward Adrian’s face. “We are so not done discussing this,” she warned, then swiveled the blade toward Danna, “but we should probably figure out why Danna isn’t transforming.”

As if in response, the butterflies spiraled upward again, then took off in a straight line, heading not away from the wasteland, but straight for the foundation of the destroyed cathedral. They settled on an assortment of sprawled ruins—a splintered wooden door, the head of a fallen gargoyle.

“I figured she was bringing me here because of Phobia,” said Adrian, “but what if there’s something else?”

“Or someone else,” murmured Ruby.

“No way,” said Oscar. “What if Queen Bee and Cyanide are here too? What if this is their evil lair?”

“This was their evil lair years ago,” said Ruby. “Who would be foolish enough to come back to it?”

“Phobia was, wasn’t he?” said Oscar.

Adrian’s brow creased. “Unless Phobia was guarding something.”

They regarded the butterflies, their flapping wings glinting beneath the moonlight.

Adrian pulled down the visor. “There’s only one way to find out.”





CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

NOVA LAUGHED. She couldn’t contain it. The disbelief coupled with the surge of zealous pride brought the laughter tumbling from her lips as she raced up the stairwell and pushed open the door to the abandoned floor.

Leaving the building would be easier than scaling the wall had been. Her ropes were waiting by an open window, right where she’d stowed them, prepped and ready to take her weight.

She would be back on the street in two minutes.

Back in the parking garage in six.

Speeding to Uncle Ace before Stingray or Callum would begin to stir from their slumber.

She was even ahead of schedule.

The chromium pike was strapped to her back and the helmet was tucked beneath her arm as she ran, lightweight and warm to the touch. She could picture the exact smile Ace would give her.

Her body surged with the feeling of accomplishment. She had done it. She had actually done it.

She was nearly to the window when something crashed into her, knocking her off her feet. Nova cried out and rolled a couple times. The helmet fell, tumbling across the tiles. She scrambled to reach for it, but a hand wrapped around her wrist and lifted her clean off the floor.