A serpent curled inside the palm of an open hand.
The hand held up in defiance—Stop. You may not pass.
The serpent, ready to devour any affliction that dared to ignore the hand’s warning.
Together—immunity.
The tattoo, inked directly over his heart, would work. Adrian had already accomplished remarkable things by inking new designs into his skin. He had stretched the limits of his power beyond anything he would have previously thought possible. He had made himself into the Sentinel, and the scope of his abilities seemed endless, limited only by his imagination.
So who was to say that he couldn’t give himself this ability too? Not complete invincibility, like the Captain had. The only way he could think to accomplish that would have been with a tattoo that spanned the full length of his body, and he wasn’t ready for that sort of commitment.
But invincibility from Max? It could be done. It was possible. He had never been so sure of anything in his life.
He went to the mirror to inspect his work. The design looked good. Clean and sharp. Despite having had to work upside down on himself, he was pleased to see how balanced he’d gotten the overall shape. It had turned out exactly how he’d envisioned. A perfect replica of the symbol on the Vitality Charm.
Relaxing his shoulders, Adrian pressed his palm over the tattoo and let his power seep into his body. He felt the same warm, stinging sensation he had every time he did this, as the design sank through his skin and into his muscles, through his ribcage, into his steadily beating heart. As it became a part of him.
When he pulled his hand away, the ink was glowing orange, like melted gold inlaid on his skin. But it faded fast, leaving only the tattoo behind, no different than it had been when he first pulled off the bandage. Unlike his other drawings, the tattoos didn’t disappear after he willed them into reality. Maybe because they were intended to be permanent. Maybe because he wasn’t creating a physical manifestation of the drawing, but rather, using it to change himself.
Adrian was as confident in his tattoos and his new abilities as he’d ever been about anything. As he put away his tattooing kit, he found himself wishing that he could have been even half as sure about Nova and the mixed signals she’d been sending lately.
He was sure … well, pretty sure … a solid 83% sure that Nova had been flirting with him in the training hall. And at the park too. A dozen small moments kept flashing through his memory. A smile that was a bit too bright. Eyes lingering on his a second too long. The way she sat just a little closer to him than she had to. The way her fingers brushed against his back when she’d been teaching him how to shoot.
That was flirting. Wasn’t it?
And flirting meant interest. Didn’t it?
But then he remembered the carnival, and how she had pulled away so hastily when he’d tried to kiss her, and how everything had been awkward between them since, and he figured he had to be imagining things.
The biggest problem was that their time at the carnival had made Adrian painfully aware of how much he had started to like Nova.
Really like her.
He liked how brave she was—that dauntless courage she’d had when she faced off against Gargoyle at the trials. The lack of hesitation to chase after Hawthorn or take out the Detonator. The bravery that veered just a bit toward recklessness. Sometimes he wished he could be more like her, always so confident in her own motivations that she didn’t mind bending the rules from time to time. That’s how Adrian felt when he was the Sentinel. His conviction that he knew what was right gave him the courage to act, even when he would have hesitated as Adrian or Sketch. But Nova never hesitated. Her compass never seemed to falter.
He liked that she defied the rules of their society—refusing to bend for the Council, when so many others would have been falling over themselves to impress them. Refusing to apologize for their decision to go after the Librarian, despite the protocols, because she believed wholeheartedly that they made the right choice with the options they’d been given.
He liked that she’d destroyed him at every one of those carnival games. He liked that she hadn’t flinched when he brought a dinosaur to life in the palm of her hand. He liked that she’d raced into the quarantine to help Max, despite having no clue what she was going to do when she got there, only that she had to do something. He liked that she showed compassion for Max, sometimes even indignation for the way his ability was being used—but never pity. He even liked the way she feigned enthusiasm for things like the Sidekick Olympics, when it was clear she would have rather been doing just about anything else.
But no matter how long the growing list of things that attracted him to Nova McLain had become, he still found her feelings toward him to be a mystery, with an annoying shortage of evidence to support the theory that maybe, just maybe, she sort of liked him too.
A smile here.
A blush there.
It was an infuriatingly short list.
He was probably reading into things.
It didn’t matter, he told himself again and again. He couldn’t risk getting too close to anyone right now. If Nova found out about his tattoos or noticed how his disappearances coincided with the Sentinel’s actions, or if she ever stumbled onto one of his notepads detailing the Sentinel’s armor or abilities, she would figure it out. She was so observant. So quick. She would know in a heartbeat, and then how long would it be before she told the rest of the team, or his dads, or the entire organization? Nova had made her feelings for the Sentinel quite clear, and they were anything but tender.
At least his life had taken on a quieter pace since he’d put the Sentinel’s armor aside. His supposed death had been accepted as fact, even though there had been no success in dredging up his body from the bottom of the river. Adrian knew it would be easier to go on this way. To let the Sentinel die with the public’s belief.
He didn’t regret anything he had done while wearing the armored suit, and he couldn’t comprehend why the Council and the Renegades were so determined to stop him, even after all the criminals he’d captured, all the people he’d helped. They were so focused on their code, they couldn’t appreciate the good that could be accomplished when someone stepped outside of their rules.
But regrets or not, the Sentinel was considered an enemy of the Renegades, and he couldn’t stomach the thought of having to explain his secret identity to his dads, or the rest of his team. Including Nova. Especially Nova. The best way to keep his secret was to keep distance between them.
Even if she had been flirting.
Which she most definitely had been.
He knew, with a solid 87% certainty.
His thoughts spiraled.
With the tattoo finished, he needed another distraction.
Stretching the kinks from his shoulders, he went into his art studio. What had started out as a flash of random inspiration had grown into something … well, kind of spectacular, if Adrian did say so himself. What before had been a dark, windowless room, with drab white walls and concrete floors, was now a sight that would have stolen anyone’s breath.
The painting, inspired by the dream Nova had told him about from her childhood, had become a tropical paradise, spanning every wall from floor to ceiling. As the kapok trees had grown, their branches stretched outward into a tangle of leaves and vines, forming a jungle canopy that devoured every inch of the ceiling above. Down below, the floor had been overtaken with thick, tangled roots, stones and ferns, and patches of bright-colored flowers. There were also remnants of the abandoned ruins Nova had described, including a series of steps leading toward the corner where the statue could be seen, surrounded by a crumbling stone wall and encroaching plants. The statue itself was turned away, so that its hooded face and outstretched hands could not be seen, adding an air of mystery to the image. Spotted with moss and chipped with age, the statue was a lone, steadfast figure, the last remnant of a lost civilization.