Archenemies (Renegades #2)(88)

He cringed. “Nothing that scandalous.”

“Then what?”

He sighed. “Okay. This might be weird. I hope it’s not weird, but it might be.” He cleared his throat. “Remember that dream you told me about? With the ruins, and the statue at the park?”

Nova blinked. “Yeah…?”

“So, I had this idea, and I got really inspired, and … I thought it might be neat to…”

He trailed off.

Nova waited.

“To … create it?”

She continued to wait, but Adrian had nothing more to offer.

“I’m not following.”

“I know.” He set the tray of untouched cinnamon rolls down on the table. “It’s hard to explain. Come on. Just—if it turns out this is more creepy than artistically flattering, blame it on sleep deprivation, okay?” He hesitated, then sent her a chagrined look. “Not that you know much about that.”

She smiled. “I’m familiar with the concept,” she said, as intrigued by how uncomfortable Adrian had become as by the mystery in the next room.

He cleared his throat and opened the door to his studio. Nova followed him inside.

Her feet stumbled. She caught herself on the door.

“Sweet rot,” she whispered.

A jungle greeted her. Towering trees and lush greenery had been painted on every inch of every wall, the ceiling, the floor. Though the room smelled of toxic paint and clearly received little ventilation, the mural was so detailed and lush that Nova almost imagined she could smell exotic flowers and warm breeze instead.

Adrian stood in the center of the room. His expression was critical as he inspected his work. “I’m not really sure where the impulse came from, but … once I had the idea, it felt like something I had to do. The way you described that dream really inspired me, I guess. I’ve been working on it in my spare time.”

Nova forced herself away from the door. Noticing that the back of the door itself had been painted, too, even down to the doorknob, she shut it to complete the vision. She felt dizzy as she drifted from wall to wall, but she knew it wasn’t from the paint fumes.

Her fingers traced the painting as she went. Mostly there were plants. Exotic purple flowers spreading their giant petals like wind sails. Ancient gnarled tree trunks covered in fungi and moss, with long, looping vines trailing from their branches. Grasses and ferns sprouting from between the trees’ uneven roots, their lacy fronds bowing over little clusters of white star-shaped blossoms and fiery orange buds. A toppled tree trunk formed a lichen-covered bridge over a family of broad-leafed shrubs.

But it wasn’t just a jungle. Adrian had included hints of the ruins too. The city that the jungle had claimed. What might have been a boulder was, upon closer inspection, the corner of a building’s concrete foundation. Those ascending plateaus of plant life were thriving on an ancient staircase. Beyond those trees—the subtle arch of a doorway, leading to nothing. The beams of sunlight that filtered through the thick canopy struck the hooded torso of a long forgotten statue, its back to them, concealing what treasure might have been cradled in its hands. A startling memory of her dream came back to her. It was holding a star.

“Adrian,” she whispered, afraid to break the spell of this place, “this is amazing.”

“Did I get it right? From the dream?”

“You … yes. It’s exactly…” She realized with a start that her eyes were watering. She turned away, pressing a hand to her mouth to collect herself. As her shaking breaths evened, she dared to face him again. “You didn’t do this for me … did you?”

Adrian glanced sideways at the statue. “No…,” he began. “Although, I didn’t not do it for you either. If that makes sense. I mean, I had to do it for me too.” He shrugged. “It just seemed like a really good idea at the time.”

“It was a good idea. This is … magical.”

Adrian started to grin, and Nova braced herself. She had become familiar with that particular look. The one that said he was about to do something that would impress her, whether she liked it or not.

“I guess I figured you deserve to have good dreams once in a while,” he said. “Even if you never sleep.”

Then he pressed his hand against the nearest wall and exhaled.

The mural started to come alive, emerging around his fingers. Fronds unfolded, engulfing his wrist, and the effect spread like the ripple in a pond, outward across the wall. Tree trunks sprouted from the concrete. Grasses curled against their knees. Lazy vines trailed over their heads.

Nova moved closer to him, pressing her side against his. The hard ground under their feet transformed into squishy moss. Flowers bloomed. Mushrooms sprouted. The smell of paint was replaced with the earthiness of dark soil and a heady perfume. Though Nova hadn’t seen any birds or insects in the painting, it was easy to imagine birdsong disrupting the silence. The hum of cicadas, the clicking of beetles.

The tree canopy crowded in overhead, but sunlight was filtering down, spotlighting the statue.

Adrian lowered his hand. Nova stared at where he had touched and could no longer see the wall. Was it buried behind the panel of foliage? Were they still in his basement? The plants were so dense, the air so humid and sweet, it was almost impossible to imagine they were inside at all.