Not just guilt over Winston, but guilt over them all. The Anarchists were counting on her, and so far, what had she accomplished? Since she’d come here, they had been forced out of their home. Ingrid was exiled. The Librarian was dead. They were certainly no closer to destroying the Renegades.
“So,” Ruby drawled, twirling her bloodstone like a pinwheel around her finger. “Do we think a single word out of his mouth was true?”
“I don’t know,” said Adrian. “Not most of it, that’s for sure.”
Oscar nodded. “I agree, but I think he was drawing on truth sometimes, do you know what I mean? Like … there might have been kernels of truth in it.”
“Yeah, but which parts?” said Ruby.
Adrian paused and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “He mentioned Cosmopolis Park a few times, and we do know that he used to deal drugs there during the Age of Anarchy, right? Maybe there’s something there.”
“Wait,” said Ruby, with a mild laugh. “Just think about that for a second. Can you really picture Ace Anarchy finding some lost kid at a theme park, feeding her cotton candy, and deciding to bring her home and … raise her? Come on.”
Nova bristled, glowering at her, but then Adrian started to laugh too. “I know,” he said, massaging his brow. “You’re right. It’s just … what else do we have to go on? Anything?”
“Nova,” said Oscar, glancing at her, “you used to work at Cosmopolis Park.”
It sounded like such an accusation that Nova stood straighter, ready to defend herself. “So?”
“If there is a connection between Nightmare and the park … I don’t know. Did you ever see anything suspicious?”
Immediately her defensiveness started to retract. She exhaled. “You mean, did I ever see some girl walking around in a metal face mask? Um, no, can’t say that I did.”
“Not surprising,” said Adrian. “If she does frequent the theme park, which I’m still really doubtful of, but if she did, she wouldn’t be going there in full disguise, would she?”
“Still,” said Ruby, “maybe Nova can talk to her old boss or something? Encourage people to be on the lookout?”
Nova forced a smile, trying to remember the name of her so-called boss and hoping no one bothered to ask. “Yeah. Sure. That wouldn’t be a problem at all.”
“Okay,” said Adrian, scratching his jaw. “I’ll get a transcript of the interrogation sent to each of you this afternoon. Let’s all take the night to think on it, and discuss more tomorrow.” He sighed. “He was obviously hiding something, but … I don’t know. Something tells me he gave up more than we realize.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
NONE OF THEM had come up with anything new or concrete the next day, or the next.
By the third night after the Puppeteer interrogation, Nova was beginning to relax. This might largely have been because she felt like she was making progress, learning things that might actually hold value, thanks to the cataloging job.
She found that she liked headquarters best at night. It was so quiet, after most everyone had gone home. Not entirely empty—there was always security staff monitoring the building, and late-night patrol units coming and going in between jobs, but the difference when compared with daytime was striking. The tranquillity was refreshing.
Nova had long had mixed emotions when it came to those most still hours of the night. The suspension of time in which all the world became lonely and shadowed. There had been periods in her childhood when she would frequent twenty-four-hour diners for no other purpose than to feel a sense of connection to whatever other sad souls were sleepless that night, where she would eat her stacks of blueberry pancakes and concoct life stories for the delivery man slurping black coffee at the bar, or the waitress who made up for her tired eyes with effusive perkiness. Eventually, though, someone always asked where Nova’s parents were, and once their gazes turned to pitiful assumptions, she would have to leave.
There were other nights, though, when she craved that solitude. Nights when she would spend hours staring at the moon and imagining she was the last person alive on this planet. Imagining there was no one left to cause war or strife. No one struggling to claim power. No one left to fear or hate prodigies. No prodigies left to hate.
Being inside headquarters at three o’clock in the morning felt like a wholesome mix of both. The tranquillity that came with being alone, but also the knowledge that she wasn’t, not really. Even if she was surrounded by her enemies, there was a strange sort of comfort in that thought.