Archenemies (Renegades, #2)(28)

Winston did not move, except for his eyelids closing and opening in slow motion.

“I know a lot of people have talked to you lately about the Anarchists, and where they might be hiding out, but there’s a different mystery that I was hoping you could maybe shine some light on.”

When Winston still didn’t react, Adrian perched on the edge of the one of the chairs, resting his elbows on his knees. “Last time I spoke to you, the Anarchists had just abandoned the subway tunnels, and most of them have not been seen or heard from since. I’m told that you’ve been questioned at length on their whereabouts and I believe you when you say that you don’t know where they are.”

No response.

He looked so different from when Adrian had interrogated him before, without the permanent etchings of marionette lines on his jaw or the circles of rouge on his cheeks, without the sinister grin. He still had the ginger-red hair, but it now fell uninspired across his forehead.

He looked so … so normal. He could have been anyone. A math teacher. A truck driver. A shop owner.

Anyone but a villain.

Adrian lifted his chin and reminded himself that, despite his harmless appearance now, the man before him had done despicable things. Losing his powers didn’t change that.

“However,” Adrian continued, “you did give me some really useful information regarding Nightmare.”

This, at last, provoked a twitch in Winston’s cheek.

“I don’t know how much they keep you informed around here, but we were able to track Nightmare down to her hiding spot at Cosmopolis Park.”

Winston’s eyes shifted toward him, then straight back to the ceiling.

“Have you heard about the fight that happened there between Nightmare and the Detonator?” pressed Adrian. “Did you know that they’re both dead?”

He waited, and after a long silence, Winston’s head listed to the side. He seemed to be considering Adrian.

“Both dead?” the villain said, feeling out the words. “Are you sure?”

Adrian’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t sure, of course, no matter how convinced of Nightmare’s death the rest of the world seemed to be. But Winston didn’t need to know that.

“The Detonator killed Nightmare with one of her explosives, and one of my teammates killed the Detonator. I saw it happen.”

Winston made a sound that suggested he was unconvinced by Adrian’s story.

“Here’s the thing,” said Adrian, leaning forward. “Before Nightmare was killed, she was overheard using a phrase. A … slogan, of sorts. She said, ‘One cannot be brave who has no fear.’ Do those words mean anything to you?”

Winston scowled. Then he sat up, without warning, and swung his legs over the side of the cot. He mimicked Adrian’s stance, leaning over his knees, studying him.

A chill ran down Adrian’s spine, but he refused to show his discomfort. Holding Winston’s gaze, he squeezed his hands together until one of his joints popped.

“Lady Indomitable,” Winston whispered. The name hung between them, filling up the silence, feeling like a shared secret somehow, until Winston leaned back and brought his knees up, crossing his legs on the cot. All signs of melancholy vanished and he sounded almost cheerful as he began to talk. “Did you know, she once got hold of my hot-air balloon and flew it all the way into the next county. I wasn’t in it at the time. Was busy robbing a bank or something.…” He snapped. “No, no, a warehouse, that’s right. The balloon was supposed to be our getaway vehicle. Didn’t quite work out that way, obviously. Took me almost a month to track it down. She’d left the thing in a cow pasture, can you believe that? Meddling little Renegade.” He stuck out his tongue.

Gaping at him, Adrian stammered, “She was my mother.”

“Well, clearly. You look just like her, you know.”

Adrian’s mouth opened and closed for a minute, trying to determine the importance of this story, if there was any. Unless …

Unless.

Rage flared in his chest. “Did you do it?” he barked, jumping to his feet.

Winston pushed his back against the wall, startled.

“Did you kill her? Did you murder her because … because she stole your balloon?”

“Did I…?” Winston let out a shriek of a laugh and clapped his hands to the sides of his face. “Did I kill Lady Indomitable? Goodness gracious, no.” He paused, considering. “That is, I would have, had the opportunity ever presented itself.”

Adrian snarled, his hands still clenched into fists.

“But I didn’t!” he insisted.

“But you know who did, don’t you? You know she was found with that note—those words on her. ‘One cannot be brave’—”

“‘Who has no fear,’ yakkity-yak. Trying a bit too hard to be profound, isn’t it?” Winston yawned exaggeratedly.

Adrian lowered himself back to the chair. “Who killed her? Was it an Anarchist? Are they still alive? Are they still out there?”

The look behind Winston’s eyes changed then. No longer hollow and distressed as they had been when Adrian had first arrived, nor jovial and worry-free.

Now he appeared to be considering something.

To be … calculating.

For the first time since he’d entered the room, Adrian could see the villain this man had once been. Or was still, despite what everyone wanted to believe.