Archenemies (Renegades, #2)(16)
“Not yet.” Adrian checked the time on his wristband. There were still ten minutes before the meeting was supposed to begin. He glanced through the open doors, where he could see hundreds of Renegades milling about as they waited. “Maybe she went in already?”
“We checked,” said Danna. “No sign of her. But we should go sit down before it gets too crowded.”
“We’ll save her a seat,” said Ruby. “Does anyone know what they called us in for?”
“Do you think it could have to do with yesterday?” said Oscar.
“You mean about the Sentinel being dead?” Adrian asked.
Oscar cast him a strange look as they started heading toward the doors. “No. I mean about Hawthorn getting away with all those drugs.”
“Oh, right,” said Adrian, feeling sheepish for jumping to the Sentinel thing. “They would have started questioning her accomplices already. Maybe they learned something.”
“Guys!”
A spark flickered inside Adrian’s chest. Nova was jogging toward them, her cheeks flushed.
“Oh, good,” she said, slightly out of breath. “I only saw the message an hour ago. I had to run all the way from Wallow—uh—past Wallowridge. I thought for sure I’d be late.” She drew up short as Ruby thrust the invitation beneath her nose. “What’s this?”
“My brothers are competing in the Sidekick Olympics.”
Nova made a face—instinctive, Adrian knew. But before she could say anything, Oscar piped up, “Don’t fret. We’ve been guaranteed food trucks.”
Her aversion was immediately replaced with an amused smile. “Well, in that case…”
She met Adrian’s gaze, and for the briefest of moments all he could think about was how her blue eyes were brighter than usual, from the morning air or the exercise or maybe there was just really good lighting on this floor, and …
He really needed to stop thinking about it.
Gripping the card, Nova peered into the meeting room. “Do we know what’s going on?”
“No idea,” said Danna, waving her arm. “But we’d better get in there before all the good seats are taken.”
CHAPTER SIX
NOVA HAD NEVER been inside the main conference room at Renegade Headquarters. According to the others, it wasn’t used much. Oscar had once mentioned an annual meeting in which the Council liked to bore everyone to tears with statistics on their successes over the past twelve months, and lengthy discussions of their priorities for the future. When he told her this, Nova attempted to act sympathetic—how awful, how boring, how can anyone stand it? When in truth, she would have loved nothing more than to sit in on some of the Council’s upcoming plans for Gatlon City.
Danna led the way into the room, which consisted of a platform at the front facing hundreds of plastic chairs set into rows. The seats were filling up fast as Renegades poured in. Nova tried to eavesdrop on their huddled conversations, but it seemed the rest of the organization was as baffled as to the purpose of this meeting as her team was.
Though she’d been a Renegade for months now, Nova still found herself growing anxious when she was surrounded by so many superheroes at once. She calmed herself with practice observations—counting exits, determining what objects in the room would make decent weapons, estimating potential threats, and developing a mental escape route should anything happen.
Nothing ever happened, though. She was beginning to feel like all her preparation was unwarranted—the Renegades were as clueless to her true motives as they had been the day she entered the trials. But she couldn’t make herself relax. Any small slipup could reveal her identity. Any little clue could end this charade. An attack could come the moment she let down her guard.
It was exhausting to maintain her vigilance while still acting as though she belonged there, but she was getting used to being on edge. She couldn’t imagine being any other way, at least not inside headquarters.
“There are five seats together,” said Danna, pointing toward a row not far from the front. She moved to stake their claim.
“Nova McLain?”
Nova spun around. Evander Wade, one of the five Council members who was more generally known by his alias, Blacklight, sauntered through the crowd. “Do you have a second?”
“Um.” Nova glanced at Adrian, then at the platform at the front of the room. A microphone and a stool were waiting for a presenter, but the stage was empty. “I guess so.”
“I’ll save you a seat,” said Adrian, with the faintest, almost unnoticeable brush of fingers against her elbow, before he followed the rest of the group.
Almost unnoticeable.
Nova and her traitorous nerves, of course, noticed it keenly.
“I wanted to discuss the request you submitted a couple weeks ago,” said Evander, folding his arms over his chest. The stance was not so much defensive as it was a display of innate power. Nova had seen Evander Wade standing like this a number of times—feet planted into the floor, chest ever-so-slightly lifted. Unlike the rest of the Council, who could at least feign normalcy on occasion, Evander never seemed to be able to turn off his “superhero” self. The fact that he was currently dressed in his iconic uniform made the effect even more pronounced: all black Lycra formed to each muscle, white boots, white gloves, and a glow-in-the-dark emblem on his chest.