But if he did mean to follow through with such an offer, he’d be letting the Librarian go free, a man who had put hundreds of illegal weapons out into the streets. What would the Council say about that? Had they already approved this deal, all in an attempt to find Nightmare? To find her?
Nova swallowed, debating whether or not she should be flattered.
“Nightmare?” Cronin said. His eyes stayed focused on the Sentinel now and Nova could almost see his thoughts grinding inside his head as he tried to work out his best chance for long-term survival … and freedom.
“She’s wanted for an attempted assassination on the Council, though I suspect I don’t need to tell you that. You supplied the gun she used, didn’t you?” The Sentinel took a few steps closer, his feet clopping against the floorboards. “I want to know where she is and who she’s working for. Answer that and you’ll have the rest of this day to find yourself accommodations other than a prison cell.”
“Where she is,” Cronin squeaked. “Who she’s working for?”
His focus slipped off the Sentinel and settled on Nova. Her hand dropped to her belt and the stun gun holstered there.
Cronin’s Adam’s apple bobbed sharply. “Well,” he gasped. “That’s a … a complicated matter.” He cleared his throat. “You see, the girl who … who goes by Nightmare, as … as some know her … by that name … well, she—”
A flaming blue sphere soared in through the broken window. It landed on the wooden floor, bounced once—
Nova dived for cover behind a display case, throwing her arms around her head, while the Sentinel launched himself for Cronin and Narcissa, shielding them both.
The detonation blew the corner off the library, tore a hole through the floor, and heaved the walls outward. Plaster and glass and roof shingles cascaded onto Nova’s back. The floor beneath her tilted sharply toward the epicenter of the explosion. She grabbed for one of the built-in shelves, holding tight to the molding as the floor dropped out from under her feet. Books rained down around her but she swung her knee upward for purchase and held on.
The rumbling of the walls had not yet stopped when she felt a surge of heat and all the smoke released from the floor below, searing and thick. Nova coughed and looked around, trying to see through the haze. Flames were surging down below. The wall to her right was gone and she could see the theater across the alley, but at least the opening allowed for the smoke to billow outward. She coughed. Her eyes stung. There was no sign of the Sentinel or Cronin or Narcissa. Had they fallen through to the floor below? There was no sign of them down there, either.
The bookshelf she was clinging to began to cave inward, the exterior walls weakened by the explosion. She gritted her teeth and searched for a way to get out, but there was nothing else to grab on to. She sensed that to take a single step onto the splintered floorboards would send them crashing down.
Her gaze snagged on a light sconce overhead. If she could get to it, she might be able to grab on and swing her body toward the opening …
Though her palms were slick with sweat, she curled her fingers around the shelving and reached, scrambling upward, even as the shelves groaned and tipped toward the broken floor. Gravity tugged at her. She stretched, her arm reaching toward the sconce. Inches away … what might have been a mile away …
Her fingers slipped.
Nova screamed as she fell into the fire.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
SOMETHING GRABBED HER IN MIDAIR.
Nova felt her body being crushed against a hard, unforgiving shell, and she was soaring upward again. She sucked in a shocked breath and stared up at the Sentinel’s visor. The feeling of weightlessness was brief. He thudded down on the second-story floor, which cracked and groaned under the force of his landing. He turned and launched them both back toward the destroyed wall. Wind and smoke blew into Nova’s face and she turned away, shielding her eyes against the Sentinel’s chest.
This time, the sense of flying led to a sense of falling, and soon he had landed with the impact of a bulldozer on the roof of the theater. He dropped to one knee, his arms cradling her. “Are you okay?”
Nova realized that she was shaking. All of her, shaking, as she lifted her head and saw only her own stunned expression reflected back on the surface of the visor.
He was holding her. Like she was … precious cargo. Or an innocent bystander. Or … or … a damsel in distress.
Clenching her jaw, Nova slammed both palms against his chest plate and forced herself out of his arms. He fell back in surprise, catching himself on one elbow as she leaped to her feet and backed away. She grabbed the shock-wave gun from her waistband.