Danna’s eyes closed. She slumped forward, her face planting onto the blankets.
Nova sat back with a sigh, casting her gaze toward the ceiling.
Proof, at last.
Her power was fine.
And every moment spent here was a waste of time.
Nova climbed out of the bed. “Nurse!”
A moment later, the nurse who had brought her lunch pulled back the curtain, surprised when she saw Nova lifting Danna out of the chair and settling her onto the mattress.
“I don’t know what happened. She seemed fine one minute, then she just got really pale and passed out. You might want to get a healer in here. I think maybe she overexerted herself too soon?”
The nurse, bewildered, ran out to alert one of the healers.
By the time she came back, Nova was dressed again and nearly done pulling on her boots.
“And where do you think you’re going?” the nurse asked as she felt for Danna’s pulse.
“Home,” said Nova.
The nurse barked a laugh. “Absolutely not, young lady. We’ll have a new room made up for you in just a minute, but we do need you to stay put.”
Nova glared at her. “Why?”
“Because!” the nurse said, as if this were a viable explanation. “We need to keep a close watch on you after—”
“After, what? Nearly having my superpower drained out of me by a ten-year-old?”
The nurse sighed. “Not too many people have ever come in contact with young Mr. Everhart. We must be cautious.”
“Well,” Nova said, finishing the latches on her boots, “if I die, I’ll let you know. Until then, I have things to be dealing with. And”—she gestured at Danna—“apparently, so do you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“OKAY, THERE’S YOUR NEW HOSPITAL TOWER,” said Adrian, pushing the building into Max’s enclosure. “What else got broken?”
“Just those apartments you fell on,” said Max, pointing toward the exit.
“Right,” said Adrian, starting to sketch. Inside the quarantine, Max carried the new tower over to the hospital building. He set it down on the broken stump, working mostly single-handed, as his right hand was heavily bandaged. Adrian watched as Max used his forearm to hold the tower in place while wrapping his left hand around the break. Slowly, the glass began to melt together, forming a seal that wasn’t perfect—a visible crack was still evident where the material had merged—but it seemed solid enough.
Adrian swallowed. He had seen Max use that particular gift a number of times, probably more than any other power he’d absorbed. It made him think about what Nova had seen—Max using his telekinesis to hold dozens of glass buildings in the air at once. Truthfully, that mental image had not left him since Nova had told him. He’d been trying all morning to find a way to ask Max about it, but he hadn’t yet found a way to do it that didn’t sound accusatory.
Instead of asking the question he really wanted to ask, he said, “How’s the hand?”
“Could be worse.” Max looked down at his bandaged palm. “They had to cauterize the artery—that’s where all the blood was coming from. But the spire went through right here.” He lifted his left hand so he could show Adrian. “In this meaty part between my thumb and finger. So it missed all the bones and tendons.” He shrugged. “I guess it would have hurt a lot worse if the wound had been more central. And, you know, it hurt pretty bad as it was.”
“With any luck, you’ll have an epic scar to show for it.”
A fleeting smile passed over Max’s face. He stepped back to inspect the hospital, then picked his way back toward Adrian. He sat down at the edge of the bay while Adrian sketched out the crushed apartment building.
“Hey, Adrian?” he started, cradling his bandaged hand in his lap, picking at the edges of the wrapping.
Adrian looked up, immediately hesitant. It wasn’t very often that he heard Max sounding worried about anything. “What’s up?”
Max sat up a bit straighter, but still didn’t meet Adrian’s eye. “I have Ace Anarchy’s power.”
Adrian watched him, waiting for him to say something else, but this seemed to be the extent of his confession.
“Yeah,” he finally responded. “I know.”
Max shifted slightly, clearing his throat. “Do you think…” He trailed off.
“Do I think what?”
“Do you think I might be evil?”
Adrian’s eyebrows shot up. He leaned back, pulling the marker’s tip away from the unfinished drawing.