CHAPTER ELEVEN
NOVA STEPPED OFF the elevator onto the fourteenth floor of headquarters. She had expected a space as modern and chic as the main lobby downstairs, or the Council’s offices on the top floor, or the training halls in the sublevels. She’d expected glossy white furniture and industrial fixtures. She’d expected an elaborate request-and-retrieve system, automated with computers and machinery. She’d expected a bustling laboratory, where weapons were inspected and relics were preserved. Having worked in the weapons-cataloging system, she knew how expansive the collection was, and she’d imagined the actual storage facility would be as elaborate and heavily monitored as the research and development division, or the virtual-reality training rooms.
And so, from the moment she stepped onto the floor housing the weapons and artifacts storerooms, she found her lip curling with surprise—and disappointment.
The small reception area was unassuming in every way. Two mismatched wooden desks greeted her, though there was no one behind either desk. One held nothing but a computer, a jar of pens, and a clipboard. The second desk, on the other hand, was cluttered with snow globes and elephant figurines and an unhappy ivy plant in a garishly painted ceramic pot. A day-by-day paper calendar was almost a week behind schedule. A Blacklight-branded coffee mug held an array of scissors, hole punchers, and candy sticks, along with a variety of pens that sprouted fake flowers from their ends.
A small plaque read:
TINA LAWRENCE
“SNAPSHOT”
DIRECTOR, WEAPONS AND ARTIFACTS
Someone had drawn a smiley face next to Tina Lawrence’s name in glittery ink.
The two desks were hemmed in by walls on all sides, though a large door stood cracked open to Nova’s right, from which Nova heard upbeat whistling. She approached the door and nudged it open farther. The room beyond was filled with filing cabinets. A woman who must have been close to seventy was bent over a drawer, riffling through the files. She had a fringe of stark-white hair and spectacles with purple cat-eye frames. She paused at a file and dropped a small plastic baggie full of tiny stones into the folder, then slammed the drawer shut. She grabbed a clipboard from the top of the cabinet, checked something off, and turned.
Spotting Nova, she cried out in surprise and nearly toppled over, clutching the clipboard to her chest.
“Sorry,” said Nova. “I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you. I’m—”
“Nova McLain, yes, yes, of course,” said the woman, sheepishly taking off her reading glasses and setting them on top of her head. “Is it ten o’clock already?”
“Not quite. I’m early.” Nova glanced at the bin of plastic bags the woman had been sorting, but couldn’t see what was inside them. “Should I come back?”
“Oh no, you’re fine.” The woman strode toward her and offered a hand. “I’m Tina.”
Nova accepted the handshake. Though the offer of skin-to-skin contact had struck her as remarkably trusting when she first joined the Renegades, she’d gotten used to it. It was a small reminder that no one knew who she really was.
“Snapshot, right?” she said, withdrawing her hand. “I was curious about the alias.”
Tina tapped a finger against her temple. “I can tell by inspecting an object whether or not it’s been imbued with extraordinary powers. When my eyes land on a prodigious object, it is as though a shutter on a camera closes on my vision, forever storing that object in my memory. It’s handy in my line of work here, but not much else.”
Nova searched her tone for resentment, but couldn’t find any.
Tina brushed past her into the small reception area. “Let’s get you set up. You can start familiarizing yourself with the system. Callum will be in soon and he can show you around.” She dropped her clipboard on the cluttered desk and walked behind the desk that was mostly empty. “He’s in charge of stocking and maintenance. Once you’re familiar with the system, we are going to need a lot of help back in the vault.”
“Vault?” said Nova, ears perking.
Tina waved a hand absently toward the back wall. “That’s just what we call it. There’s been a surplus of new items coming in lately, what with the library and the Anarchist holdings. I’ve got an entire shelf back there full of confiscated hair accessories from Queen Bee herself, believe it or not.”
Nova coughed. “Do you?”
“Left behind when the Anarchists abandoned their lair.”
She said lair like it was an unmentionable word.
“But for now,” Snapshot continued, her tone brightening, “I think we’ll have you monitor the rentals. This is our checkout form.” She nudged the clipboard with a mostly blank chart toward Nova. “Not the most high-tech system, but you know what they say. If it ain’t broke…” She trailed off.
Nova smiled tightly. She’d always felt that, just because something wasn’t broken, didn’t mean there wasn’t room for improvement. But it didn’t seem wise to be contrary in the first five minutes of her new job.
There were half a dozen sheets of paper curled over the top of the clipboard. Nova flipped the front sheet down and scanned through the columns.
She didn’t recognize any of the names or aliases on the chart, but she did recognize some of the objects they’d checked out. Nova turned the page again and her heartbeat sped up. Suncloak. Key of Truth. Zenith’s Pocket Watch.
“I didn’t know we could rent this stuff.”
“Well, you haven’t been here all that long, have you?” said Tina. “All new recruits require a ninety-day clearance before they’re given access to the stacks.”
Nova set the clipboard back on the desk. “How do we find out what’s available to be rented? Is there a catalog or something?”
“Just the database,” said Tina. “You do know about the database, don’t you?”
Nova nodded. She had spent some time cataloging the new weapons that had been confiscated from the Librarian—a black-market arms dealer—so she was familiar with the system. But no one had said anything about the information being open to all Renegades or that they could borrow the stuff.
“But there are limitations on it, right? You wouldn’t just let anyone come in here and take”—Nova hesitated, scanning her own words to make sure she wasn’t overplaying her cards, before continuing—“I don’t know. Ace Anarchy’s helmet, or something.”
Tina chuckled and started digging through a drawer. “Oh, sure. Lot of good it would do them in its current state.”
Nova frowned. Was Tina referring to the lie that the Renegades had promoted to the public for the last ten years, that Ace Anarchy’s helmet had been destroyed?
“But you’re right,” added Tina, handing Nova a three-ring binder. “Each object is coded based on its usability and danger levels. More hazardous objects require higher clearance. This has all the information you’ll need. The code levels are explained on page four, and rental procedures on page seven. Why don’t you start going through it while you wait for Callum?”
Nova took the binder and sat down at the desk. Tina busied herself shuffling around stacks of papers for a moment, then disappeared into the back room again.