His expression fell and, after a long silence, Adrian gave a solemn nod. He started to turn away.

“Adrian?”

He paused, his gaze meeting hers after a short hesitation.

Nova swallowed. “It was real,” she whispered. “I hope you know that.”

He watched her, unflinching, expressionless. Finally, he said, “I wish I could believe that, Nova. But we both know it’s just one more lie.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“WHEN DID YOU start to suspect her?” asked Adrian. His feet were up on Max’s hospital bed, a sketchbook in his lap.

He was working on a new tattoo design. A heart surrounded by the impenetrable turrets of a stone tower.

He hadn’t figured out exactly what powers the tattoo would imbue, but the entire ordeal with Nova—no, Nightmare—had left him shaken and hollowed out and vulnerable. He’d considered transforming into the Sentinel just to feel the security of the armor on his body. The protection of anonymity. A barrier between him and the world.

“I’m not sure,” said Max. He had shredded a tissue to create a nest in the palm of his hand, where Turbo was curled up and sleeping, his tiny breaths wheezing every few seconds. Turbo was sick, and they could both tell. Max seemed to be handling the creature’s slow fading with courage, despite the attachment they’d formed.

As for Max himself, he was stronger every day—healing radically fast, perhaps in part thanks to the concoction of superpowers that filled his slight frame. Color had returned to his cheeks. Brightness to his eyes. His hair was as disheveled as ever. “There was a moment at headquarters, when I was still in the quarantine, watching Nightmare fight against Frostbite and the others. It felt so familiar, like I was watching the trials again. And at one point Nightmare looked up, right at me, and I could have sworn … but then I ignored it because, you know. It’s Nova.”

“It’s Nova,” Adrian murmured. The pencil scratched over the paper as he shaded in the details of stonework. He was tempted to add a few arrow slits along the tower’s side, like a true medieval castle, but no. He wanted this wall to be impenetrable. No weak spots. No way to get in.

“But then, when I woke up and started thinking about everything that happened, I think a part of me knew. I kept wondering, why would Nightmare protect me? The only thing that made sense was … you know, if she was someone I knew. And Nova was the only person…”

When he trailed off, Adrian glanced up. Max’s mouth twisted to one side as he considered Nova’s guilt, Nightmare’s secret. Then he gave his head a shake and reached his free hand for the small carton of chocolate milk that one of the nurses had brought along with his dinner earlier. He took a long drink through a short red straw. Setting the carton back on the tray, he leaned his head against the stack of pillows. “They’re not really going to kill her, are they?”

Adrian winced and returned his focus to the drawing. “I don’t know. Maybe. She won’t confess. She won’t give us any information. And the Council is convinced that this will show everyone that we have the Anarchists under control. It really freaked people out to know that Ace Anarchy had been alive and in hiding all these years, and they’re all wondering if there could be more villains out there, just biding their time, waiting to launch another Age of Anarchy. We need to take a strong stance here, show everyone that we won’t have mercy for criminals. At least, that’s what the Council’s been saying.”

“I guess I see their point,” said Max, “but … it’s Nova.”

Adrian sighed. “No, Max. It’s Nightmare.”

Max frowned and whispered, “How do you think Genissa will do it?”

Adrian shuddered. This question had been lingering at the back of his thoughts since Genissa Clark had first made the suggestion that she be allowed to execute Nightmare. He kept seeing her and her team at the shipping yard by the docks, torturing the villain Hawthorn. Literally torturing her. He didn’t want to believe the Council would allow anything like that to happen, especially with all the world watching, and yet … he wouldn’t have believed that they would consider capital punishment at all, especially without a trial, or allow someone like Genissa to have a hand in it.

He didn’t know what to believe anymore.

Finally, he answered, “I don’t know. But I don’t think she suggested it so she could be merciful.”

A silence draped over them, filled only by the scritch of Adrian’s pencil.

After a long moment, Max started feeding himself grapes, one by one, their crunch deafening in the small room. He stared blankly at the wall, chewing like a robot. When the tray was empty and his fingers found nothing but stems, he set to mindlessly stroking one finger along Turbo’s back. The creature mewled in its sleep. “What are you working on?”

“New tattoo idea.” Adrian angled the sketchbook to show him. Max studied it for a moment but offered no commentary on the design. Instead, an unexpected glint entered his eye. “That reminds me. I had an idea for a tattoo for you. Can I see your marker?”

Pulling a marker from his pocket, Adrian handed it to him. Max spent a moment considering the marker in his right hand and the dinosaur in his left. Finally, he slipped Turbo and the nest of tissue paper into the space between his knees. The dinosaur woke up and screeched, trying to jab Max’s fingers with its needle claws.

“Oh, calm down,” Max muttered, fluffing the tissue paper. Still sulking, the dinosaur burrowed around in the shreds a few times, adjusted the thin blanket underneath with its teeth, before lying down and dozing off again.

With both hands now free, Max doodled something onto the tips of his fingers. Adrian leaned forward, but couldn’t see what it was. After capping the marker, Max grinned mischievously and snapped.

Tiny sparks burst from his fingertips, flashing white and gold.

Adrian’s eyebrows lifted. “You know, I keep forgetting that you stole some of my power.”

“I’d say borrowed, but…” Max shrugged, then held his hand out to show Adrian the small lightning bolts he had drawn onto his skin. “I can only make sparks, but I figured you could have actual lightning bolts shoot out of your hands. Awesome, right?”

Adrian started to smile, but then the thought of lightning reminded him of Thunderbird, which reminded him of—

His smile dropped away. “Cool idea, except I try to keep the tattoos inconspicuous. Dad and Pops might start to wonder why I have lightning bolts on my hands.”

Max wilted. “Good point. Wouldn’t be the same coming out of your elbow, though.”

“Unfortunately.” Adrian thumped the eraser end of the pencil against the paper. “Have you been practicing at all with your new ice manipulation power?”

“Meh. Made a few ice cubes for my drinks. I’m not sure if it’s just because I never liked Frostbite, but … ice power isn’t one that ever interested me. But who knows? Maybe someday I’ll take up ice-skating.”

Adrian chuckled, amused at the idea of Max gliding around on ice skates. But then he thought of the construction going on back at headquarters, and again, the lighthearted moment vanished.

“Hey, Max … has Hugh talked to you about … after you leave the hospital?”

“Not really. I know I can’t come live with you guys, at least not until that Vitality Charm turns back up, for Simon. And, you know, whenever you’re able to break the news to them that you’re technically immune to me, too.”

Adrian flinched, even though Max hadn’t said it in a mean way. Still, he knew it would be easier for him to come see Max if he told their dads the truth about his tattoos and how he was able to imbue himself with this particular invincibility. But he wasn’t sure how he could do that without leaving clues about his other tattoos, too. His other powers. And his other identity.

“Remember when you sneaked me up to the thirty-ninth floor at HQ so we could all be together outside of the quarantine?”

Adrian nodded.

“I was thinking, maybe we could, like, remodel that floor into an apartment for me. We could put up big DO NOT ENTER signs, and let everyone know it isn’t safe for prodigies to come up and see me. Maybe it could work?”

Max sounded doubtful, though, and Adrian couldn’t bring himself to lie and say that, yeah, maybe it could. He knew the Council would never allow Max to roam freely around headquarters. He was too dangerous.

But thinking of the glass walls being mounted into place, forming Max’s new prison, turned his stomach.

“What’s wrong?”

Adrian jolted from his thoughts. Max was frowning at him.

“You’re not telling me something,” he said. Not a question.

Adrian swallowed, and it took him a few tries before he managed, “They’re rebuilding the quarantine.”

Max went still. He didn’t seem surprised, exactly. If anything, he appeared only mildly disappointed as he reached for the brownie on the tray. But then he set it down again without taking a bite, and set to scraping the chocolate off his fingers with his teeth instead.

“I wondered” was all he said, when he finally said anything.

“I’m going to talk to them about it,” said Adrian, dropping his sketchbook onto the floor and lowering his feet off the bed. He leaned forward, determined. “I mean, I tried once already, but I’ll try again. They can’t do that to you, Max. They can’t keep you locked up forever. You’re their son, not a prisoner. And you’re a Renegade. After the way you fought to protect the helmet, no one can deny that.”

A ghostly smile crossed Max’s lips. “I didn’t protect the helmet. Nightmare got away with it, and because of me, we lost Frostbite.”

“Who cares about Frostbite? We’re better off without her.”

Max snorted skeptically.

“You’re the Bandit. You helped defeat Ace Anarchy.”

“I was barely walking when that happened.”