She would bring about the end of the Renegades. She would take down the Council. She would avenge the family they had sworn, and failed, to protect. Her family.
Ingrid was an idiot for being so shortsighted, for trying to take the easy road to revenge. But then … Nova had been an idiot too. She should have known something was wrong from the moment they stepped inside the library and she saw that speechless, terrified look on Narcissa’s face. She should have reacted faster, before everything got so out of control.
But she’d been so focused on completing the mission. She’d put too much faith in Ingrid, convinced there would no longer be any incriminating evidence left behind. The Renegades would search the place and, when they came up empty-handed, this investigation would be over.
Instead, Ingrid had duped Nova, and now everything was in ruins.
Or at least, the library was in ruins. Smoke was streaming out through the lower windows. Nova could see the massive hole in the foundation where the bomb had hit. The cloud of smoke spilling out from that crater was black as pitch.
The crowd was watching her as she approached, their attention shifting from her to Ingrid to the library.
“What’s happening?” a woman demanded. “You’re a Renegade, aren’t you? Aren’t they going to do anything about this?”
Nova stopped and turned to face the woman, annoyance growing fast inside her. “Do something,” she said. “Like … catch the bad guy?” She gestured back at Ingrid.
The woman peered down her nose at Nova. “Like put out the fire.”
“Where’s Tsunami?” said a kid.
“Yeah!” another spouted. “Or someone else with water power! That’s what you need.”
Nova opened her mouth, preparing to tell them that right now, they were doing the best they could with the powers they had, but then she hesitated, remembering that the public’s favorable—or unfavorable—opinion of the Renegades wasn’t her problem.
“Whatever,” she muttered, shoving through the crowd and facing the library. She peered up through the windows. There was no sign of Adrian or the others. Had they found the missing kid? Were they still in there looking?
They must have. They were professionals. They were actual superheroes. If they hadn’t found the kid yet, they would, any minute now.
But … what about the Librarian?
Nova exhaled, struggling to retain focus in the upheaval. To not lose sight of her priorities.
The Librarian was found out. He would be arrested the moment they found him again, charged with illegal weapons dealing and conspiracy and who knew what else. Any hope of the Anarchists maintaining their connection to his distributors was gone.
Unless she could find him first. Unless she could somehow get him to safety. Maybe, just maybe, she could still right this sinking ship.
Gene Cronin was a coward. That’s what Ingrid had told her a dozen times. He would have run. He would be long gone by now, probably halfway to the city limits.
Wouldn’t he?
She massaged the back of her neck, uncertainty crowding her thoughts, when a series of explosions rumbled the foundation of the library. They were followed by the deafening creak of wood caving in on itself. The crowd pushed back as a cloud of black smoke spewed out from the windows and the massive hole in the lower wall.
Nova knew the explosions were from the stockpile of explosives in the basement, though she couldn’t be sure if there were more detonations still to come.
Then she heard the screams.
At first, she thought she was imagining it. A terrified echo coming from her still-scattered mind.
Someone shoved her from behind. The woman from before, crying, “Someone’s still in there! I heard them! Do something!”
And though it took all of Nova’s willpower not to turn around and yell at the woman to do something herself, she ignored the instinct and took off running—not into the library, but around the corner, sure the screams had come from the back.
No sooner had she rounded the far corner than she saw him. A kid, six or seven years old, hanging out of the second-story window. He had the collar of his shirt pulled up over his nose and even from down below she could see his panicked, bloodshot eyes.
Nova glanced in each direction, but there was nothing she could use to climb. No random ladder lying around, no convenient overgrown tree. She inspected the side of the building and, without giving herself a chance to overthink it, dug her fingers into the mortar of the stones and hauled herself upward.
She got only a few feet up the side of the building before her foot slipped and she crashed back to the ground, landing hard on her back. Overhead, the boy sobbed, his fingers clutching the sill of the window.