“Come on,” Nova growled, yanking on his arm. He budged, but only allowed her to drag him to the other side of the street before he halted again.
“Nova, stop!” he yelled. “Listen to me! You’re—”
The explosion struck them from behind, knocking them both to the ground. Nova’s body tumbled a couple times against the concrete, and then she was on her back, her ears ringing and her body feeling like it had just been hit by a bulldozer. All she could see were hazy white dots blocking out the sky, while a deafening static roared between her ears.
She had no idea how long she lay there. How long she was incapacitated, unable to move, unable to think, until the reality of her surroundings slowly, slowly began to take shape again.
The static subsided enough to welcome in the blare of sirens and shouting voices. Her lungs gradually started taking in air, and it tasted like sulfur and ash. When her vision cleared, it was only to see a cloud of black smoke billowing over the neighborhood.
She managed to get a hand beneath her and use the leverage to peel her body from the asphalt. Adrian was only a few feet away, already sitting up and gawking at the house.
Or what remained of the house, which appeared to be little more than the exterior brickwork, and even a good amount of that was scattered in chunks of rubble down the sidewalk. The fire was mostly coming from the adjoining row houses. Nova barely had the wherewithal to be grateful they had both been abandoned.
She turned her head just as Adrian, too, tore his attention from the destroyed house and looked at her, his mouth hanging open, the back of his Renegade uniform streaked with soot.
“Are you okay?” she said. She knew she was probably yelling, and yet she could barely hear her own voice.
He didn’t answer. Just kept on staring, like she’d spoken a different language.
Then, to her surprise, he scooted closer and held a hand out to her.
Exhaling, she slipped her palm into his and together they climbed to their feet.
“Adrian … I…”
Her words caught as Adrian’s fingers tightened around hers. His other hand reached for the clasp on the bracelet.
She tried to pull away, even as the bracelet fell from her wrist. Adrian caught it and met her gaze, his expression both distraught and determined.
“What are you doing? Give it back.”
She tried to lunge for him, but her body wasn’t fully cooperating and her movements were too jerky, too slow. Adrian backed away. Nova tried again, reaching for the bracelet, when she felt cold metal latching around her now-bare wrist.
A cuff. The kind that fully enclosed the entire hand. A cuff intended for prodigies.
For villains.
Her other arm was yanked back behind her and within seconds, that hand had been imprisoned, too. She looked over her shoulder, vitriol rising through her aching chest, but the anger died away when she saw Ruby standing there, and Oscar not far behind. Both of them watching her with that same distress, and the same determination. With Nova handcuffed, Ruby couldn’t back away from her fast enough.
“I’m confiscating the bracelet as potential evidence,” said Adrian, dragging her attention back to him.
“Evidence?” she said, surprised that her voice even worked. “But that’s … My father made it. It’s all I have. You can’t … Adrian! Evidence of what?”
“Evidence of your crimes against society and the Renegades.” He winced, as though he were in physical pain, when he said, “You’re under arrest … Nightmare.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
BY THE TIME Tsunami and Torrent had doused the flames on Wallowridge, the row house was in ruins, along with most of its neighbors. Ruby had sent a message to Adrian’s dads, telling them about Danna’s return and about Nova … about Nightmare.
Adrian’s insides were still in knots and he couldn’t help the surge of denial that eclipsed his thoughts, even now. Even after having said the words himself. You’re under arrest, Nightmare. Even having sorted through all the evidence he’d been storing in his mind, that somehow made it all seem so obvious once the last puzzle piece was put into place, and yet …
Not so obvious.
It had to be Nova. Of course it had to. Who else could have such inside knowledge of Agent N and the Vitality Charm, the helmet and HQ security? Who else was so observant, so smart, so determined?
Nova adored Max. Nightmare had tried to save him.
Nightmare loathed the Sentinel. Nova had done little to disguise similar feelings for the vigilante.
Nova had been at Adrian’s house the night the Vitality Charm had gone missing and—sweet rot, he’d fallen asleep. He’d been kissing her and then he’d fallen asleep, and he was such a fantastic idiot for not drawing a connection sooner.
Even their superpowers were related. Nova never slept. Nightmare could put others to sleep. There was a harmonious balance that wasn’t uncommon in the world of prodigies.
It was so obvious.
And yet.
And yet.
Denial was still there, screaming inside his skull. His fist was wrapped so tight around the bracelet he’d taken from her that the filigree was leaving small indentations in his palm.
Not Nova. It couldn’t be Nova. The girl who had rushed into the quarantine to help Max when he hurt himself. The girl who had studied Adrian’s art with such awe. The girl who had fallen asleep in his arms.
The girl who had kissed him and he knew—he knew—the kiss hadn’t meant nothing. It couldn’t have just been a lie, a manipulation. No, he had felt it. He had been so sure she felt the same way about him as he did about her.
But then … she had put him to sleep.
That had been her. Her power. Her touch.
He groaned, rubbing a hand over his hair as he paced back and forth in front the house’s smoldering remains.
Nova … no, Nightmare. He needed to start thinking of her as Nightmare. She wouldn’t even be housed temporarily at headquarters or the medium-security prison that was a few miles outside the city limits, like criminals sometimes were while it was decided the best placement for them. No. She had been taken away in an armored vehicle bound straight for the docks, where a boat would be waiting to take her to Cragmoor Penitentiary.
There was already enough evidence piled up against her, even if, so far, it was all hearsay and circumstantial. Danna’s accusation, and a whole lot of coincidences. Too many coincidences.
All they needed now was a single piece of evidence. Real evidence. Ace Anarchy’s helmet found amid the wreckage of her home. Or the Vitality Charm or Nightmare’s mask and uniform or any number of weapons she’d used over the past years. Or something that would connect her to the other Anarchists. Proof that she was involved with Cyanide or Queen Bee, the Puppeteer or Phobia, or even Ace Anarchy himself.
He found himself wishing that Danna was there. She had intel on the Anarchists that the rest of them could only guess at so far, and her perspective could have been invaluable. But Ruby had insisted that Danna go to headquarters to be checked out by the healers while the rest of them came after Nightmare. It had been the right decision—Danna had been about to collapse again when she told them the truth of Nova’s identity—but that didn’t change the fact that Adrian wanted his full team on duty right now.
He needed to be surrounded with people he knew he could trust.
With the last of the flames finally doused, Tsunami, along with Torrent and a fire elemental who was immune to burns, made their way into the skeletal remains of the building. Adrian, Ruby, and Oscar were told to wait outside until it was declared safe to enter.
Annoyed, Adrian returned to pacing along the sidewalk, doing his best to ignore his friends’ sympathetic stares.
He didn’t have to set foot into the remains of the house to know that this had not been a normal explosion or a normal fire. He’d seen the effects that fire had left on the Cloven Cross Library, but this was altogether different. The smell of thick smoke mingled with the acrid sting of chemical compounds. The scorch marks on neighboring brick walls shimmered with a pearlescent-gray sheen and the destruction went far beyond what Adrian would have expected. It wasn’t only the flammable materials that had succumbed to the heat and flames—the curtains and floorboards, the upholstered furniture and wood-framed interior walls.
Whatever concoction had been involved with this explosion had caused such an extreme heat wave that even some of the stonework had melted from the blast. The windows had shattered, but some of that broken glass had liquefied into silvery puddles on the pavement, which were just beginning to solidify again as they cooled. Adrian may not have been allowed inside, but from what he could see, there was little left. The roof was gone—mostly disintegrated, he guessed—though there was evidence of some roofing tiles and chimney bricks scattered up and down the street. Nothing remained of the interior walls but a thick cloud of dust and the occasional chunk of plaster. Where the ground floor had been was now an empty crater revealing the basement foundation below.
If there had been any evidence in this house proving Nightmare’s identity or her connection to the Anarchists, Adrian wasn’t optimistic it was still there.
Their only hope, he thought, would be to find the helmet. He was confident that it could withstand even this trauma. If they found it here in Nova’s home, they’d have all the evidence they required.
Nightmare, the villain who had haunted them all these months, would be done for.
And if the helmet wasn’t there?
Well, there was still plenty of evidence against her. Even this explosion seemed to prove her guilt. Nightmare must have known that her identity was compromised, and so she or one of her allies had rigged this explosion to keep the Renegades from commandeering any more of their belongings.
It made sense.
But Adrian couldn’t quite tear his thoughts away from that moment when Nova had raced down the steps and shoved him out the door. The panic in her expression had been palpable. Her terror as she had dragged him away from the house was undeniable.
She could have been thinking about saving her own life, but … Adrian didn’t think that was the case. She had been trying to save him, too.