Taking a deep breath, she wrapped her hands around the chromium box. The metal was cool to the touch, and though it was heavy, she managed to lift it into the bin with only mild straining. The solution sloshed up its sides. She wasn’t sure how thick the walls of the box were, but she hoped the solution was deep enough to corrode the entire base. She hoped there would be enough time to complete the process. She hoped no one bothered to come to the restricted section while the experiment was underway.
She hoped a lot of things.
Electrolysis. The idea had struck her like one of the Sentinel’s laser beams. It was the process that was used for metal plating, and chromium was used to plate other metals all the time. Using a battery, she could alter the charge of the neutral atoms at the box’s base. The atoms would lose electrons, turning them into positively charged ions, which would dissolve right off the box. Over time, the positive chromium ions would move through the solution, attracted by the electrons that were being pushed out from the other side of battery, and be turned back into solid metal on the surface of the wheel.
The result: no more chromium box.
Or, at least, a big hole in the chromium box.
As an added bonus, she might even have a newly indestructible chromium-plated wheel once the process was complete.
It was so simple, so obvious, she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it before. She’d even begun to wonder whether the Captain himself could be weakened this way, although it would be considerably more difficult to hook him up to a battery or dunk him into a vat of chemicals.
She attached the conductors.
Crossing her fingers, Nova switched on the battery.
And hoped.
She half expected the battery to flare to life with sparks and the sizzle of energy, but of course it didn’t. Only the digital readings on its side indicated that amps were flowing through the system. Nova adjusted the dials, increasing the voltage.
She inspected the wheel, not really expecting to see any visible change. The process would take time.
“A watched cathode never plates,” she muttered to herself, then pushed the entire electrolysis cell back into the shadows of the shelving unit.
She would let it run for an hour, she decided, before coming to check on it. She knew it could take all day before there would be visible signs of the chromium eroding. Which was fine. Ace had gone without his helmet for a decade. If he could be so patient, then so could she.
As long as it worked in the end. And as long as she kept Callum or Snapshot from coming to check on the restricted collection while the process was underway. She wasn’t entirely sure how she would accomplish that, but she was considering a toxic chemical spill in the next row. Or maybe she could orchestrate a diversion on the other side of the vault. A few broken jars of radioactive rocks would keep them busy for a while …
Brushing off her hands, Nova set the bucket on the cart and started to wheel it away, leaving the chromium box and her experiment behind.
She was nearly to the end of the aisle when a sound made her ears prickle. It sounded like something was … boiling.
Frowning, Nova slowly turned around.
A cloud of steam was drifting up from the shelf where she’d left her experiment.
Her pulse skipped. “What now?” she murmured, abandoning the cart. The sound of bubbling got louder. The steam grew thicker. The air stung her throat with the tang of chemicals.
Nearing the plastic vat, she saw that the electrolyte solution was boiling—great, rolling bubbles popping at the surface and splattering the sides.
“How is that even—”
It exploded.
Nova gasped, jumping backward as the solution splattered everywhere, coating the underside of the next shelf. It flowed over the edges of the bin and splashed across the floor. One of the conductor cables snapped off the battery and was flung from the cell, nearly taking out Nova’s eye before it crashed into the wall.
With the circuit severed, what was left of the liquid quieted to a simmer and soon became still, but for the last dregs still dripping down the sides.
The chromium box sat unaffected, looking infuriatingly innocent inside the bin.
Nova gawked at the mess of chemicals. Her destroyed battery. The wheel that she had scrubbed for a solid hour to make sure it was clean enough for the chromium atoms to adhere to.
A guttural scream tore from her mouth. She grabbed the nearest thing in reach—a gemstone-encrusted brooch—and flung it down the aisle. When it struck the concrete floor, it emitted a blinding white flash. Nova threw her arms in front of her face and stumbled back, but the light disappeared as fast as it had come and the brooch clacked and skittered a few more feet. As the ghost of the flash faded from Nova’s vision, the brooch appeared, luckily, unharmed.
“Okay,” she said, rubbing her eyelids. “I probably shouldn’t have done that.”
“McLain?”
She jumped and spun in a full circle before realizing that the stern voice had been coming from her wristband.
Gulping, she lifted her hand. “Uh … yes?”
“This is Recoil in security. We just saw what appeared to be a small explosion there in the artifacts department. Is everything all right?”
Nova willed her nerve to stop trembling. “Uh—yeah. Sorry. Everything’s fine. I was just”—she cleared her throat—“cleaning a few of the objects here, and, um … must have mis-measured the … cleaning … solution. Sorry to worry you.”
“Would you like us to send down a cleaning crew?”
“No,” she said, adding a lighthearted laugh. “No, no. I’ll take care of it. You know the things in here can be … temperamental. I think it’s best if I handle it.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
The communication faded out, and Nova inspected the results of her failed—oh, so very failed—experiment.
She ran her hands through her hair and cursed.
So much for science and persistence.
Shoulders slumped, she picked up the brooch and set it gently back in its place, then went off to find a mop.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
ADRIAN’S CHEST ACHED from his newest tattoo, still sore from a thousand tiny pricks of the needle. Of all his tattoos, this had been the easiest to persuade himself to go through with. He’d known he would do it the moment the Vitality Charm had successfully admitted him into Max’s presence.
The charm worked, and this tattoo would too. After this, he would be able to come and go from the quarantine as he pleased.
With so much importance resting on this design, he had not simply copied the symbol onto his skin. He had spent hours poring through dictionaries, encyclopedias, and tomes on symbolism and ancient healing practices. The symbols that the blacksmith had long ago stamped into the medallion were found across multiple religions and cultures, often carrying messages of protection and health.
The open right hand was said to be a ward against evil, and snakes had been associated with healing and medicine for eons. The more he read, the more he understood how this design could protect someone from forces that would seek to weaken him or her.
Protection. Health. Strength.
The words came up again and again in his research, and had repeated like a mantra in Adrian’s mind as he’d worked on the tattoo.