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.