He set his jaw, determined not to let her get away again.
Breaths coming in short bursts, he readied the gun and slipped back into the hexagonal room and paced across to the other door. His hand landed on the handle, but from the corner of his eye he noticed the black X he’d drawn onto the next door, and the next.
Wouldn’t Nightmare have noticed—
The gun was yanked out of his hand, and a foot slammed into the back of Adrian’s knee, knocking him to the ground.
He drove his elbow back, catching her in the stomach. Nightmare grunted and pitched forward, crashing into Adrian’s shoulder. He went to shove her back, but in that same moment she had grabbed on to the hem of his own jacket and yanked it upward, trapping his arms in the sleeves. She shoved him to the floor and he landed hard on one side. As he struggled to rid himself of the restraining jacket, he heard a door open and slam shut, her footsteps pounding away as she ran.
With a furious cry, Adrian ripped his jacket off and threw it on the ground. He was panting, though more from frustration than anything else. Snarling, he grabbed for the door he thought she’d gone through and found himself staring down a long horizontal cylinder. There was no sign of Nightmare.
Snarling, he raised his communicator. “Sketch to HQ, calling for backup. I’ve located Nightmare. She’s on the run—I’m pursuing her now.”
He ripped off his T-shirt, then, revealing the top of the Renegade uniform, and ran. He stumbled through the cylinder, which didn’t even surprise him when it started to pitch and roll under his feet, then through an obstacle course of swaying rope bridges and down a spiraling staircase. Through a gallery of animatronic marionettes that, thankfully, did not come to life as he weaved between them, then up another optical illusion ramp, until he finally shoved his way through a set of double doors and found himself outside.
It was darker now than when they had entered. Dusk came on fast this time of year, and already the shadow from the fun house stretched long across the overgrown grasses in front of him.
He paused, his eyes darting in each direction, searching and listening for any signs of Nightmare—or Nova, for that matter—but this desolate corner of the park seemed as abandoned as ever.
Nova.
He didn’t want to worry about the fact that he hadn’t seen or heard from her since they’d been separated, but now that he knew Nightmare was close, fears began to crowd into his mind. What if Nightmare had found her? What if …
What if.
There were too many what-ifs to waste time on any of them. Right now, he either had to find Nightmare or he had to find Nova.
He jogged down the exit steps and peered around to the back of the building. He saw nothing. Heard nothing.
Frowning, he turned back to the fun house. Was she still inside?
No sooner had he had this thought than his eye caught on the shadow of the fun house stretching across the ground, and the hooded figure standing at its peak.
Adrian’s eyes shifted upward.
Nightmare stared down at him, calmly posed at the edge of the pitched roof. Her hood was pulled down low over her face, and with the sun behind her she appeared almost like a shadow herself. She had a weapon in each hand—his own tranquilizer gun and a revolver.
She lifted the revolver.
Adrian glared and crouched, preparing to launch himself up toward the roof, when she fired—
And missed.
By … a lot.
The gunshot was still ringing in his ears when it was replaced with an amused chuckle. “I thought I trained you better than that, Nightmare.”
Adrian whirled around.
Directly across from the fun-house exit, perched on the stage of an old puppet theater, sat the Detonator.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
NIGHTMARE’S BULLET HAD NOT HIT the Detonator, but rather, had struck one of two drooping marionettes that hung inside the theater, marking it right between its eyes. Though Nightmare hadn’t hit either the Detonator or Adrian himself, he had a feeling she’d hit the exact target she’d been aiming for.
Whatever message she wanted to send, though, left him baffled.
“You have a lot of nerve showing your face here,” said Nightmare, her voice low and muffled behind the mask.
Adrian felt his forearms tingling, as if the tattoos themselves were preparing themselves for a fight, though he still found himself reaching for his marker—habitually or instinctively, he wasn’t sure. But when he lifted his gaze back to Nightmare, she appeared to be staring at the Detonator, not him.
“What?” said the Detonator, bobbing her crossed leg up and down. She wore the same outfit she had at the library, though Adrian saw that she had bandages wrapped around her upper arm where Nova had shot her as she tried to run. “I’m not allowed to stop and say hello to a dear friend?”