“Thank you,” Nova said once the wheezing laughter had dried up. She ground her teeth behind the mask. “I’m not sure I would’ve had the guts to do this otherwise.”
She swung one frozen fist, smashing it against one of the spheres strapped to her belt. The mist-missile crunched beneath the blow and the lever sprang open. A cloud of green vapor spilled into the air, surrounding Nova’s body.
Gasping, Frostbite jumped backward, shoving Aftershock aside. “What the hell is that?”
“Your worst nightmare,” said Nova. She turned toward Gargoyle, who had stumbled back a step when Frostbite had, but hadn’t moved far enough. He was trying to scowl past his confusion. Nova batted her lashes at him. “No darts required, pebble brain.”
“Trevor!” yelled Genissa. “Move!”
He did, finally, scooting back three, four steps. Nova counted silently, waiting. They hadn’t tested it yet. Leroy’s calculations could have been off.
But Gargoyle was a big guy, and it took a long time for most things to reach his brain, so why should this be any different?
Like with the Puppeteer, it started with a surprised widening of his eyes.
Nova grinned. Leroy had figured out how to turn Agent N into a gas, and she had successfully turned it into a bomb. Ace wanted a weapon against the Renegades, and now they had one.
Frostbite cursed and moved back farther to avoid the vapor, though Nova knew it would already be too dispersed to be effective at her distance. The device was spent.
Gargoyle’s skin began to morph, losing its crusted, stony exterior, turning splotchy and baby soft. Starting with his head, then moving down his neck, into his shoulders and chest.
He gawked at Nova, stunned.
“Does that upset you?” she taunted.
Gargoyle roared and charged for her, swinging his arm—still stone. Nova lifted her hands. Frostbite screamed.
His fist smashed down onto the solid blocks of ice, shattering them.
His last act before the stone was gone completely.
Gargoyle wailed and collapsed to his knees, but Nova ignored him. With her hands free, she grabbed a second dispersal device from her belt and threw it at Frostbite and Aftershock. It struck the ground and another cloud of green smoke billowed up. Aftershock dropped the helmet and dived away from the explosion while Frostbite fled for the far corner of the lobby. She was screaming orders, but Nova doubted anyone was paying attention to her.
She cursed, doubting either of them had been caught in that cloud of vapor. She had to be more careful—she couldn’t waste them.
Reaching over her shoulder, she grasped the pike where she had strapped it to her back, relieved that Gargoyle had been too arrogant to strip her of it. Freeing it from the harness, she gripped it in both hands and drove the point into the ice at her feet. The ice chipped, then cracked. Four more swings and her legs were free.
Nova pulled herself from the ice and stumbled, crashing to her knees. Her feet were numb. Her legs unwilling to follow directions.
Scrambling on her hands and knees, she forced her limbs to cooperate. She was on her feet again, slipping and stumbling. She lunged for Ace’s helmet and snatched it off the ground. She tried to pivot, but her feet got tangled together and she fell again, slamming her knee into the tiled floor. Cursing, she used the pike as a support as she forced herself back to her feet.
Her path to the main exit was blocked, so she ran the other way. Toward the sky bridge, the stairs, a back exit. Options scrolled through her mind. A map of the building was etched into her memory. She knew every hallway, every door.
Settling on the shortest route, she swung to the left.
An earthquake rumbled beneath her. The earth split, driving a crack between her legs. Nova fell again.
The crack continued past her, burrowing through the red R in the center of the lobby, driving the foundation apart.
Nova gasped as she watched the course of the widening fault line. Straight for the sky bridge.
Straight for the quarantine.
Max hadn’t moved. He didn’t move, even as the ground beneath him split apart.
Nova screamed, but the sound was consumed by ear-splitting cracks of concrete, groans of metal, shattering glass.
One of the support columns broke—the noise as loud as a tree trunk being split by a battering ram.
The sky bridge collapsed.
The quarantine fell.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
ADRIAN STARED INTO the black hole surrounded by the cathedral’s ruins. Ruby and Oscar stood at his side, equally silent. They never would have discovered the staircase if Danna’s butterflies hadn’t clustered around it, forming a quiet, twitching guard at the entrance. The stairs were invisible until you were right on top of them, expertly disguised amid a collection of fallen wall panels and chipped stonework. It seemed random, but after the fight with Phobia, Adrian knew it wasn’t.
How long had the Anarchists been guarding this place? Since they were run out of their tunnels, or even before then? And what could be down there that they wouldn’t move to a less auspicious location? A weapon? A storehouse for stolen goods? A boardinghouse for wayward prodigies?
“Well,” said Oscar, doing a decent job of hiding his apprehension, “I guess I’ll go first.”
He took one step and Adrian clapped a hand on his shoulder, gently pulling him back. Oscar didn’t fight him.
“Oh, right,” he said, tapping his cane lightly on Adrian’s back. It made a quiet clanging noise. “It probably does make more sense for you to go. But if you change your mind—”
“Oscar,” Ruby said, warningly.
He fell quiet.
Adrian started down the stairs. The case was so narrow that he had to angle his body as he went. One flight ended in a short stone landing. He turned and headed down again. His visor adjusted to night vision in the darkness, tinting the underbelly of the cathedral an eerie green. He could hear Oscar and Ruby coming down after him, but their presence kept him tense more than comforted.
He swore to himself that after he told his dads about his secret identity, he would insist that they start incorporating armor into the Renegade uniforms. It could be heavy and clunky at times, but he would have felt better if his friends were half so protected.
A second landing gave way to a slightly wider staircase, and an arched doorway with words carved in ancient Latin.
They passed through a wide chamber. A tomb. White marble sarcophagi lined the opposing walls, watched over by stone figures shrouded in cobwebs and dust. Adrian tried to move with stealth, but his boots clomped against the floor, reverberating through the hollow grave.
A large wooden door fitted with ironwork greeted them at the end of the tomb and around its edges, Adrian detected the faint glimmer of golden light.
Oscar swirled a cloud of vapor around his fingers. At the first sign of trouble, he would fill the space with fog, disorienting potential enemies.
Ruby unhooked the gem from her wrist.
Adrian called forth the slim cylinder on his forearm. The close quarters made him uneasy. It made his springs useless, and a fireball in such a contained space was just as likely to harm his allies. He suspected he would see Queen Bee and Cyanide when he opened that door. His suit would protect him from both, at least for a while, and it would be a quick fight with Oscar and Ruby at his side.
Especially if the Anarchists were caught off guard, though every clapping footstep made that more unlikely.