When the hasty drawing was finished, he looked into Nova’s face, but she was staring at the creature inked onto her palm. “He’s adorable,” she murmured.
He swallowed. “Here we go,” he said, swirling the pad of his finger over the drawing.
The creature roared to life, peeling up from Nova’s skin and perching there in the center of her hand. It looked eagerly in each direction, probably scouring the place for prey.
“He’s a nice dinosaur,” said Adrian, realizing that he was beaming only after he said it. “I’m pretty sure.”
Nova’s shoulders relaxed and she watched the beast scurry up her ring finger. It bent its head and nibbled at her fingertip, though it didn’t appear to be hurting her.
“Okay,” she breathed. Then again, “Okay. You’re okay. I’m probably okay too.”
Adrian didn’t know what to say to this. He still wasn’t sure how long she’d been in there.
The dinosaur leaped from Nova’s hand onto the rail and dashed in the direction of the staircase. Adrian wondered how good its sense of smell was, and if perhaps it had already detected the fallen sandwiches.
“Adrian?”
He met her gaze.
“Where did he get telekinesis from?”
“Telekinesis?”
“Max. He was levitating. He was … he’s powerful.”
Adrian stared at her. “Max? Powerful?”
“He must have had sixty buildings hovering in the air, in addition to himself. Do you know how rare that is?”
“I … yes,” he said, still frowning. “But Max can’t.… He can only…” He trailed off. He had only ever seen Max lift one thing at a time with his thoughts, and usually not very well. “Are you sure?”
Nova gave him a frustrated look. “I’m sure.”
His shoulders drooped. It was clear from Nova’s expression that she knew exactly what she’d seen, and he had no reason to doubt her.
Besides, he knew exactly where that power had come from.
What he couldn’t fathom, though, was why Max would hide it from him.
“Adrian?” she said again, more forcefully this time.
He swallowed. “Ace Anarchy,” he said. “He stole that power from Ace Anarchy.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
NOVA HAD BEEN CONSTRAINED to a bed in the medical wing for nine hours already and she was anything but happy about it. She hadn’t slept a wink, but the healers thought it was important to keep her for at least twenty-four hours and, ideally, up to as long as seventy-two hours, so they could see what sort of symptoms she might suffer from after being exposed to Max.
When they first told her that, she laughed. Seventy-two hours? Stuck, here, in a bed? Without sleeping? With nothing more to keep her busy than a stack of Gatlon Gazettes and a television screen that seemed to only show the news, which was itself a constant bombardment of negativity about how the Renegades had handled the situation at the library? When they couldn’t even be bothered to give her one of the private rooms?
She thought not.
She insisted that she felt fine, but they kept impressing on her that she couldn’t possibly know yet whether or not her powers were compromised. Even if she felt energized and awake now, it could be a result of adrenaline and her body’s internal clock righting itself. Most people felt perfectly fine at one in the afternoon, and most people could will themselves to stay awake for days at a time before their body forced them to take the rest they needed. It was simply too early to tell whether or not Nova was still a prodigy.
While she understood this logic, it did not temper her frustration. If she could only get out of here, it would take her about five minutes to hop on a city bus, find some unsuspecting passenger, and use her real ability to put them to sleep. Then she would know for sure whether or not her powers were functional. It would be infinitely more efficient than being stuck here, doing nothing.
On top of that, Adrian didn’t have to stay in the medical wing. They argued it was because he’d already demonstrated that his gift was intact, but Nova suspected he was being given some leeway from the rules because he was, you know, Adrian Everhart.
Nova was grumbling to herself, scanning over the newspaper headlines again in case there might be some she had skipped before but that had suddenly become more appealing in the face of her boredom, when a knock pulled her attention upward.
Monarch stood at the foot of her bed, her fist still raised against the metal framing that held the privacy curtains. “Hey,” she said with a small, uncertain smile. “I heard about what happened last night. Thought I’d bring you a care package.” She held up a paper bag.