CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

NOVA MEANDERED THROUGH the gift shop, her mouth open in disgust. Every piece of Renegade merchandise ever made must have been on display, with an unwholesome amount of shelf space paying homage to the Council—the beloved five.

Thunderbird alarm clocks. Tsunami lunch boxes. Blacklight night-lights. Dread Warden stickers and Captain Chromium …

Well.

Everything Captain Chromium. From themed dishes to sun visors, guitar picks to action figures, skateboards to refrigerator magnets. There was no product that someone, somewhere, hadn’t thought to put Hugh Everhart’s sparkling face on.

It was with a sick feeling that Nova realized, if someone was selling this junk, then someone else was buying it.

She picked up a snow globe with the Gatlon skyline beneath the glass, prominently featuring the headquarters tower. It made her think of the mason jar where they were keeping Danna’s butterfly, at that very moment perched on Honey’s vanity back at the house on Wallowridge.

She put down the snow globe.

“Prodigies used to be hated,” she said, her attention skipping from shelf to shelf. She inspected a set of Captain Chromium and Dread Warden salt and pepper shakers, flabbergasted. “They used to literally hunt us down and burn us alive. And now…” She held up the shakers. “Now we’re tchotchkes?”

Adrian grimaced. “Those are disturbing.”

“It’s weird though, right?” Nova put the shakers back on the shelf. “To be despised for so long … and it wasn’t all that long ago.”

“A lot changed in the last thirty years,” said Adrian, turning a rack of key chains. “Ace Anarchy showed humanity that some prodigies should be feared and hated, while the Renegades showed them that some prodigies should be loved and appreciated.”

“Appreciated,” said Nova. “But surely not … idolized.”

Adrian grinned at her. “That’s human nature, isn’t it? People want to put someone on a pedestal. Maybe it gives them something to dream about.” He started to flip through a booklet of postcards.

Nova stared at him. There was a tiny speck of lint on the sleeve of his tuxedo jacket, and it was only because her fingers itched so much to pick it off that she clenched her fist and tucked it behind her back instead.

She’d been anticipating another kiss from Adrian, which made her both excited and nervous and even guilty, knowing that this relationship was doomed. But she’d been at the gala for five whole minutes now and he’d made no move, not even to hold her hand.

The conflicting emotions were more than a little alarming.

“What would you have done if you’d been alive before the Age of Anarchy?” she asked. “Do you think you would have hidden your power? Or tried to make a living as a magician or an illusionist, even if you risked getting caught? Or would you have tried to defend yourself and other prodigies, like Ace Anarchy did?”

One side of Adrian’s mouth quirked wryly. “I definitely wouldn’t have done what Ace Anarchy did.”

“Why not?” said Nova, and though she could hear the defensiveness in her voice, she couldn’t stop herself. “Back then, you would have been afraid for your life. You would have known that if you were ever found out, they would kill you. For no other reason than…” She hesitated. “For no reason at all.”

Adrian seemed to consider her point. After a long moment, he said, “I think I would have found some cause that I could have helped. Like making artificial limbs for war veterans, or toys for children whose families couldn’t afford any, or … I don’t know, something charitable like that. And I would start making these things, and donating them anonymously, so no one would know where they came from. But I’d keep at it, and eventually they’d start to think of me as some protective guardian, and they’d be so grateful for all my help and all the things I made, that when I finally revealed myself and they learned all these things were made by a prodigy, they’d see that our powers can be used for good. And maybe it would have started to change people’s minds about us.” He glanced at a set of Council-themed shot glasses and shrugged. “Just like the Renegades changed people’s minds, by helping people, rather than hurting them.”

“And what if,” said Nova, “after you revealed yourself, they decided that all those things you made must have been the result of evil forces, and they took them away from all those war veterans or children, and they still killed you? That happened, you know. Lots of prodigies tried to use their powers to do good things. Lots of prodigies tried to show the world that we aren’t evil, and it wasn’t gratitude they got in return.”

“Maybe you’re right,” said Adrian, “but I still would have tried.”

Nova bit back her response.

Ace didn’t try to change the world. He did change it.

But she knew that Adrian meant what he said. He would have done things differently. He would have tried to change the world by helping people. He would have done what he believed was right for humanity.

And though she knew it wouldn’t have made a difference, she admired him for it.

When she and Adrian returned to the gala, she was disappointed to see that only fifteen minutes had passed. She needed to spend at least an hour here to fend off suspicion, but the longer she stayed, the more anxious she became. She felt the importance of the night hanging over her head, refusing to allow her to relax. To have a good time, as Honey had insisted.

Adrian showed her to their table and introduced her to Oscar’s mom, a plump woman with gray-speckled black hair and a smile as amiable as her son’s. Nova recognized Ruby’s brothers too, who had claimed the seats on either side of Captain Chromium and were bombarding him with questions.

Nova scanned the nearby tables. She recognized most of the Renegades by now, and it was odd to see so many out of uniform. Eating. Chatting. Enjoying one another’s company. They did not seem like superheroes.

They did not seem like the enemy.

Her mouth suddenly dry, Nova gulped down a glass of water.

It was too late to back out now. She had a job to do. Ace was relying on her.

Oscar made a joke and everyone at the table laughed, except Ruby, who turned to Nova and rolled her eyes at whatever ludicrous thing he’d said. It might have been an inside joke between them, if Nova and Ruby had any inside jokes.

If they had been friends.

The speakers squealed, drawing the audience’s attention toward the stage.

“That’s my cue,” said Hugh Everhart, flashing one more perfect smile at Jade and Sterling as he got up from the table.

Nova watched him go, remembering how not very long ago, she had tried to put a poisoned dart into his eye.

Renegades.

They. Are. Renegades.

At the microphone, Blacklight was welcoming them to the gala and explaining what their generous donations would be put toward. He did not mention the hospital heist, though of course, everyone here knew about it. Everyone here knew that they needed funding to replace the stolen drugs, for kids who were sick, patients who were dying. Here was something that the Renegades, with all their extraordinary powers, couldn’t fix. Sure, they had prodigy healers who rotated shifts at the hospital, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough to help save every person who became afflicted with every disease.

But people relied on the healers. They assumed that if they ever had to go to the hospital, a prodigy would be there to take care of them, even though statistics proved that far more people were cured through modern pharmaceuticals or preventative medicine than any amount of prodigy assistance.

There was no profit in pharmaceuticals though. Not with prodigies at the helm. Would there be now, after this theft proved the value and necessity of modern medicine?

Onstage, the rest of the Council joined Blacklight, and the whole lot of them beamed with pride. Nova was transported back to the parade, where they had stood like kings and queens atop their float, basking in the cheers from their doting public.

This was why she was here. To put an end to the idolizing of these so-called heroes and the promises they made but couldn’t keep. The heroes who had not saved her family. Who had not saved her. The heroes who had ruined Ace. Who had made society dependent on them.

Her reasons were stuck on repeat in her head, like a mantra, lest she dared forget them again.

Captain Chromium took the microphone from Blacklight, all teeth and dimples.

“I am inspired every day to be working with some of the brightest, bravest, most compassionate prodigies this world has ever seen,” he began, “and I hope each and every one of you will leave here inspired as well. Because it is together that we have restored Gatlon City from the despair that once burdened it, and it is together that we will continue to establish a city, a country, and a world that will become better and brighter than ever before. The amount of support we see here tonight is proof of that!”

The audience cheered, and Nova forced her hands together, though every clap echoed with resentment.

They had not protected her family. They had not saved Evie.

She barely heard the rest of his speech. She paid no attention as the others said a few words, and then the winners of the silent auction were announced. The applause was dim in her ears.

She glanced at the clock.

Her heart rate sped. Her blood pounded through her veins, in sync with the seconds ticking by.

A flurry of servers emerged through a side door, carrying trays laden with dinner plates. A fillet of flaky white fish was set before her, drizzled with dark balsamic vinegar and thick orange marmalade, a dollop of mashed potatoes sprinkled with rosemary, a pile of sweet roasted carrots and charred cherry tomatoes. There was even a sprig of parsley, bright green and fresh.

It was the most enticing meal Nova could ever remember having been handed to her, and she had no appetite for it.

Everyone around her was talking about the money that had already been raised for the hospital. Nova forced down a few bites, though her stomach tried to rebel.

The more she thought about it, the more her eagerness grew. Eager to get on with it. Eager for this night to be over. Eager to be on the other side, to be past the dread and the guilt and the uncertainty. Eager to have Ace look at her with shining, proud eyes and tell her it had all been worth it.