IT WASN’T A LONG RUN back to the house, and yet she was breathless as she barged through the back door into the kitchen, her pulse pounding in her ears.
The mason jar of honey had been left out on the counter, the sticky spoon balanced across the top, but Queen Bee was nowhere to be seen. Nova darted across to the staircase and was halfway up the steps when she heard a knock at the front door. She squeaked and barged into Leroy’s room. His lab equipment took up half the space, some concoction left bubbling in a copper pot on an electric burner. But Leroy himself had disappeared.
Spinning around, Nova ran across the space into the second bedroom she now shared with Honey, but it, too, was empty but for their sleeping bags and Honey’s air mattress and a few pieces of lingerie tossed haphazardly across the floor.
Nova’s gaze swept up to the attic access door in the ceiling. It was meant to be Phobia’s space up there, though she wasn’t sure how much he’d actually been using it.
Another knock sounded at the door.
Gulping, Nova headed back down the stairs, stopping to peer behind every door and into every closet she passed, but there was no sign of Honey or Leroy.
She was still shaking when she finally opened the front door.
Her first impression of seeing Adrian standing on the stoop of the row house was that he was trying very, very hard not to appear awkward, and it wasn’t working.
He smiled. Uncomfortable and uncertain. Nova was still far too frazzled to return it.
“Hi,” he said.
“What are you doing here?” she blurted in response.
Adrian started, tucking his hands into his pockets. “I was worried about you.”
Those simple words shattered Nova’s mounting frustration with him, but did nothing to dissuade the panic of him being there. Her shoulders drooped slightly, but try as she might, she couldn’t rearrange her features into something calm, confident, even welcoming. So instead, she just kept staring at him, her hand unable to release the doorknob.
“I sent you about a million messages…,” Adrian added, even as his gaze slipped down to her wrist. “Somehow it hadn’t occurred to me that you might have just taken the band off.” Taking one hand from his pocket, he scratched behind his ear. “I was having visions of you passed out in a gutter somewhere.”
“Oh. Right,” Nova stammered, remembering the concerned messages she’d gotten from him while she was still at headquarters. “I, um…” She searched for an explanation. “I take it off to … shower.”
The moment she said it she became painfully aware of her very dry, unwashed hair and the fact that she was still wearing the same clothes she’d been in last night when he found her inside the quarantine. She cleared her throat and gestured vaguely back toward the house. “I was going to … but then I got distracted with some stuff…” She inhaled sharply and finally managed something close to a smile. “But I’m fine. As you can see. Not passed out. Not in a gutter.”
Adrian’s gaze slipped past her, darting around the front room. The tattered furniture, the stained carpet, the peeling wallpaper. Though he said nothing and his expression remained perfectly neutral, Nova had the distinct sense that her real home wasn’t adding up to be much better than the gutter he’d imagined.
Or maybe she was just being sensitive.
“Uh … you don’t want to come in, do you?”
“Okay.”
She gawked at him, horrified. “Really?”
Though he’d sounded eager before, Adrian now seemed to hesitate. “If that’s all right?”
It was certainly, absolutely not all right, and Nova struggled to think of a reason, but it occurred to her that it might be just as suspicious to send him away as it was to let him inside. Pressing her lips, she stepped back out of the doorway, her mind scouring through every object and possession in the house and trying to determine how any of it could be traced back to Nightmare or the other Anarchists. They had done little to the place since claiming it for themselves, other than a bit of surface cleaning to make it somewhat habitable.
Adrian stepped inside. Nova gulped and shut the door.
His focus went to the arrangement of photographs on the wall. He reached out and straightened one of the frames.
“Are you hungry?” Nova asked, before he could ask who any of the strangers in the photographs were. She trotted past him without waiting for an answer. Swooped one of Honey’s rhinestone hairpins off the coffee table as she passed, tucking it into her pocket. Gathered up Leroy’s old copies of Apothecary magazine and shoved them into a drawer.
“We have…” Reaching the kitchen, she opened a cupboard and found herself staring at half a dozen mason jars. “Honey.”
Adrian followed her into the kitchen and she could sense him behind her, staring into the mostly bare cupboard. She shut it and tried the next cupboard, discovering a box of unopened crackers and two cans of tuna fish. She dared not even pretend to look in the refrigerator—she’d opened it once when she first moved in and found the shelves mostly covered in mold. She hadn’t bothered to open it since.
She grabbed the box of crackers and held them up for Adrian to see.
“I’m okay, actually,” he said, and the look of confusion mixed with just a hint of pity was impossible not to notice.
Nova put the box back and shut the door. “We mostly eat out,” she said, by way of explanation.
Adrian’s eye caught on something through the back window and his brow furrowed.
Nova tensed, imagining that Ingrid was in the alley or that Honey or Leroy were in the yard. But when she looked, it was only …
Hives. And nests. And bees. Lots and lots of bees.
“That’s … um. My uncle’s?” she ventured. “He, uh … he heard there’s good money to be made in beekeeping these days. I guess honey is a pretty desirable … commodity. It’s”—she brushed a hand through the air—“sort of a new thing he’s trying out.”
Adrian’s eyes were still narrowed, but now there was humor along with the curiosity. “I’m pretty sure honey bees are the only ones that actually produce honey.”
She glanced out the window again. There were honey bees, but they were mixed together with a heady assortment of buzzing hornets and wasps, yellow jackets and even fat little bumblebees.
“I know. I know that,” she said. Then she threw up her hands, as if exasperated. “That’s what I keep trying to tell him, but he sort of does his own thing. Doesn’t always like to listen to me.”
“I’m very familiar with that feeling,” said Adrian. He grinned, and she could tell it was a look intended to comfort her, as if to say that he wasn’t judging her. That she could relax.
That, she thought, might be the funniest thing of all.
“Is your uncle home? I thought maybe I could introduce myself.”
“Oh. No. He’s … out.”
Adrian nodded. His gaze darted toward the small card table they were using as a makeshift dining table, even though Nova suspected not one meal had yet to be eaten there. There were chairs, too, but she dared not ask him to sit.
“I’m sorry,” Adrian said suddenly. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come.”
She stared at him, and though she could tell he was embarrassed, she wasn’t sure what was causing it—the sad state of her so-called home or her obvious lack of hospitality skills?
He fidgeted, tapping one knuckle idly against the countertop. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I just … was worried. When you weren’t responding to the messages…” He trailed off. Clearing his throat, he finished lamely, “Are you all right?”
She felt the knots in her stomach tighten even more. “Yeah, fine. I’m just not used to having company.” She was grateful that this, at least, was not a lie.
“No, I meant, are you feeling all right? The healers said they hadn’t released you yet. They were worried there might still be side effects, or even … I mean, we still don’t know for sure if…”
If Max took all your powers from you. We still don’t know if you’re a prodigy or not.
“I feel fine,” she said, trying to sound convincing. “Completely normal.” She attempted a more enthusiastic smile, eager to prove that everyone was concerned over nothing. “Wide-awake and full of energy!” She gave two encouraging thumbs-up.
Adrian grinned. “Well. If you do start to feel anything … not just tired, but … dizzy or weak or … anything. Just let me know. Or one of the healers.”
“Yeah, sure. Of course.”
He looked again at the card table and she could see him contemplating something. “Would you mind if I…” He took out his marker and motioned toward the table, as if this gesture adequately finished his question.
“If you what?”
Without responding, Adrian bent over the table and started to draw onto its dull gray surface. Nova cocked her head, mesmerized by the quick, confident movements of his hand. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty as to where to place the marker next, where to draw a line or a curve. Soon she saw a round vase emerge, overflowing with an arrangement of roses and lilies.
The moment he brought the flowers to life, their fragrance drifted through the room, pushing back the staleness of the house.
Adrian capped the marker and stepped back, frowning at the arrangement. “I really need to start carrying some more colors.”
Nova laughed. It was true that the monochromatic shades of gray lifted from the table lent a muted aspect to the blooms, but they still brightened the little table, the little kitchen, the little home.
And it was clear, to her, at least, how much they did not belong there.
“Will they die?” she said, reaching forward to feel the soft outer petals of one of the roses.
“Just like real flowers,” he said, though his mouth quirked as he glanced at her again. “But I can always make more.”
That look made warmth spread across Nova’s cheeks and she turned away, picking up the communicator band off the counter and busying herself by putting it back on. Ingrid’s words came back to her. I trust you’ve noticed how he looks at you …
“So, um, I had a thought,” said Adrian.
Nova lifted her eyebrows, but found she wasn’t quite ready to turn back to him fully. “About?”
“Winston Pratt.”
She stilled. Hesitated. Then straightened her spine, preparing for … what? An attack? An accusation?
She told herself she was being ridiculous. If Adrian had come here to cast accusations at her, it wouldn’t have taken this long for him to get around to it. And he certainly wouldn’t have drawn her a vase of flowers first.
“I think,” Adrian continued, “we should look in to Cosmopolis Park.”
One hand still tight around the band on her wrist, Nova forced herself to look at him. But Adrian was adjusting some of the blooms inside the vase.
“What?”
“Just to check it out.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I know Winston was lying about almost everything, but the carnival is one of the few possible clues he gave us. I thought maybe we could go and have a look around. Maybe you could talk to your old boss, see if he’s ever heard anything about a … a girl being abandoned there. Or if he’s ever seen anything suspicious, anything that might tie back to Nightmare or the Anarchists…” Finally, he looked up at her, and Nova couldn’t quite read his expression. The self-assuredness from when he’d been drawing was gone, replaced with something uneasy, but … hopeful?
“You sure do want to find her, don’t you?”
“Nightmare?” said Adrian, surprised. “She is Gatlon’s most wanted. Well … her and the Detonator, I guess.”
“Yeah, but … how did you get so involved with the investigation? Is it because Danna and the others fought her at the parade?”
“That’s part of it,” he said, that small crease forming between his eyebrows. “But also, she attacked the Council. She attacked my dad.”
She looked away. “So why isn’t he looking for her?”
“They don’t really do field work anymore. The Council wants to find her as much as anyone, but that’s part of why they built the Renegades. They can’t do everything themselves. Either way, finding Nightmare is a priority for everyone.” Adrian looked down, fidgeting with the marker. “It’s been years since such a blatant attack was made. In broad daylight, surrounded by both civilians and Renegades. Plus, as far as I know, no one’s ever come that close to actually killing the Captain. It shows that she’s not to be underestimated.”
Nova’s chest tightened. In a way, she felt a surge of pride to think she’d gotten closer than anyone. But at the same time, it served as a reminder that close was not success. She had failed, and now she had every superhero in the city searching for her.
And Adrian … if he knew … if he ever found out …
The spark of pride quickly extinguished.
“So…,” said Adrian, his tone brightening a bit. “About the carnival. What do you think?”
She pondered, but could think of no reason to reject the idea. If anything, going to Cosmopolis Park might serve to lead Adrian and the Renegades further away from the truth of her identity and whereabouts.
At least, she didn’t think there was any harm to it. Even if her paperwork said that she, Nova McLain, had worked there, Nightmare still had no real connection to the place.
“Sure. Okay.”
“Cool. Great. Uh … we can meet, say … tomorrow? At noon? If,” he amended, “I can get a release from the medical wing by then.”
Nova rolled her eyes. “Just let them try to keep me back.”
Adrian smiled, and Nova’s heartbeat skipped to see the hint of dimples that were usually kept hidden. “Well, I guess I should let you … rest.” His brow knitted. “Or whatever it is you’re doing.”
He did not move, though, and Nova had the distinct impression he was looking for an invitation. Some reason to linger.
She refused to give him one.
“Thanks for the flowers,” she said, ushering him back toward the front door. “And for checking up on me. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Oh, hey,” he said, stopping halfway out the door. “Are you planning to come back to headquarters tonight? Because I could, um, try bringing in some sandwiches again.”
Her chest fluttered and Nova felt almost sad as she shook her head. “I think I might take the night off.”
“Yeah. Of course. That’s definitely the right plan.”
He hesitated a moment more, then lifted a hand in a salute and stepped off the porch. Nova waited until his foot hit the sidewalk before closing the door.
She dropped her forehead against it with a groan, letting all the built-up frantic energy drain out of her.
“So that’s the Everhart boy?”
Nova spun around. Honey and Leroy were both peering around the curve of the staircase’s banner.
She waved her arms at them. “You couldn’t stay hidden until he was at least off our street?”
Honey giggled. “We were just curious,” she said. “It’s a terrible shame he’s a Renegade, isn’t it? Otherwise, you could have asked him to stay for dinner.”