“Because it’s Sketch,” said Ruby. “You draw things! You don’t control fire or laser beams! You can’t jump fifty feet in the air! How … How?”

“Tattoos,” said Adrian. “I draw permanent tattoos on myself, and they deliver different powers.”

They both gawked at him.

Then—

“Tattoos?” Ruby screamed. “You can’t be serious.”

Oscar, though, had turned thoughtful, his mouth rounding with comprehension. “Tattoos. Holy smokes, dude, that’s genius. Can you give me some?”

“No!” Ruby responded. “He can’t—you can’t—I still can’t believe you didn’t tell us!”

“I know. I really am sorry. I wanted to—”

“Don’t,” Ruby snapped. “Don’t you even say that. If you wanted to, then you would have.” She threw her arms into the air and began pacing, kicking debris out of her path as she went. “What are we going to do now? Next to the Anarchists, you’re, like, the most-wanted prodigy in the city. You’ve been breaking rules left and right. And we’re just supposed to become your accomplices in this? We’re just supposed to keep our mouths shut?”

Adrian’s shoulders sank. “No. I don’t know. It’s not fair of me to ask it of you—”

“But we will!” Ruby said. She was still screaming, working herself into a tizzy. “Of course we will, because we love you and you’re Adrian! I know you’re not some criminal mastermind who’s doing it for the fame or whatever. I know you’re a good person, and you must have a good reason for doing all this, I just … I just wish you would have told us.”

“Wait—Hawthorn,” said Oscar. “What the hell, Adrian? They said you—”

“I didn’t,” he said. “It was all Frostbite and her cronies. I saw them torturing her, and then they killed her so they could frame me for it. It wasn’t me.”

Oscar rocked back on his heels, considering. His face lightened. “Yeah, okay, I can believe that.”

A stream of butterflies whipped past them, then swirled over their heads and returned to the fallen statue.

Pushing her bleached bangs off her forehead, Ruby pointed her dagger toward Adrian’s face. “We are so not done discussing this,” she warned, then swiveled the blade toward Danna, “but we should probably figure out why Danna isn’t transforming.”

As if in response, the butterflies spiraled upward again, then took off in a straight line, heading not away from the wasteland, but straight for the foundation of the destroyed cathedral. They settled on an assortment of sprawled ruins—a splintered wooden door, the head of a fallen gargoyle.

“I figured she was bringing me here because of Phobia,” said Adrian, “but what if there’s something else?”

“Or someone else,” murmured Ruby.

“No way,” said Oscar. “What if Queen Bee and Cyanide are here too? What if this is their evil lair?”

“This was their evil lair years ago,” said Ruby. “Who would be foolish enough to come back to it?”

“Phobia was, wasn’t he?” said Oscar.

Adrian’s brow creased. “Unless Phobia was guarding something.”

They regarded the butterflies, their flapping wings glinting beneath the moonlight.

Adrian pulled down the visor. “There’s only one way to find out.”

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

NOVA LAUGHED. She couldn’t contain it. The disbelief coupled with the surge of zealous pride brought the laughter tumbling from her lips as she raced up the stairwell and pushed open the door to the abandoned floor.

Leaving the building would be easier than scaling the wall had been. Her ropes were waiting by an open window, right where she’d stowed them, prepped and ready to take her weight.

She would be back on the street in two minutes.

Back in the parking garage in six.

Speeding to Uncle Ace before Stingray or Callum would begin to stir from their slumber.

She was even ahead of schedule.

The chromium pike was strapped to her back and the helmet was tucked beneath her arm as she ran, lightweight and warm to the touch. She could picture the exact smile Ace would give her.

Her body surged with the feeling of accomplishment. She had done it. She had actually done it.

She was nearly to the window when something crashed into her, knocking her off her feet. Nova cried out and rolled a couple times. The helmet fell, tumbling across the tiles. She scrambled to reach for it, but a hand wrapped around her wrist and lifted her clean off the floor.

Nova dangled, panting, all joy knocked out of her.

Gargoyle grinned his pebble-toothed grin.

She tried to use her power on him, but his fist was all stone and she could feel her power striking uselessly against it.

Grunting, she swung her legs, attempting to kick him in the shin, but he held her like one would hold a mouse by its tail—largely unconcerned, but kept at arm’s length all the same. He crouched and picked up the helmet, wrapping his burly fingers around its cranium.

“That was a real good try,” he said. “But not good enough.”

* * *

HE DRAGGED HER into a waiting elevator and down to the main lobby. Nova didn’t struggle. She knew she couldn’t overpower him on force alone, and it was better to reserve her strength. Wait for the right moment.

They passed in front of Max’s quarantine and Nova couldn’t keep herself from glancing up. She hoped that the lights would be out, that Max would be fast asleep, unaware of anything going on.

But her hopes had run their course for the evening. Max was standing at the window, frowning, curious. His palms were pressed against the glass, the skyline of his city glittering behind him.

Gargoyle yanked on her arm, pulling Nova’s attention toward the center of the lobby. Frostbite and Aftershock were there, smug expressions etched into their faces.

Gargoyle tossed the helmet to Frostbite. She rolled it in her hands, peering into the empty eyes.

She passed it off to Aftershock. Carelessly. Like it was nothing. Then she lifted a hand and snapped her fingers. A breeze of frosty air blew through the lobby and the quiet clacks of water freezing over echoed off the high ceiling. Nova looked down. A great block of ice was engulfing her feet. She grunted and tried to kick out of it, but it was already too late. The ice crystallized quickly up her legs and over her knees. Gargoyle released her wrist and she nearly fell, but the ice held her upright. Though her boots offered protection from the cold, her pants did not, and the ice burned.

Snarling, Nova reached for the hunting knife at the back of her belt. She lifted her hand over her shoulder, prepared to throw it end over end at Frostbite, but before the blade left her fingertips, a new block of ice formed around her hand, locking her fingers in their tight grip around the weapon. Frostbite did the same to Nova’s other hand, fully enclosing all four of her extremities, rendering her not just immobile, but freezing. Nova’s teeth began to chatter.

Frostbite paced closer to her. “Don’t worry. You’ll go numb before the frostbite sets in, and I’m sure the Council will free you when they get here. I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces when they arrive and find you so well restrained.” She sighed, feigning sympathy. “Of course, you’ll probably have to have all of your fingers and both feet amputated after the frostbite destroys them. It won’t be a pretty sight. If you’re lucky, they’ll give you anesthesia before they do it, but…” She clicked her tongue. “I wouldn’t count on it if I were you.”

She stopped a few inches in front of Nova. “Brace yourself, now,” whispered Frostbite, “because the loss of limb is about to be the smallest of your worries.” She pulled a gun from her waist, one that Nova recognized from training. Frostbite leaned in close, pressing the barrel of the gun against Nova’s chest. “You might feel a slight pinch.”

She pulled the trigger, driving the projectile straight into Nova’s heart. Nova grunted from the impact and would have fallen if the ice wasn’t holding her legs so firmly. She groaned, her chest burning from the puncture. Her hands and legs ached bone-deep from the cold.

She caught her breath and, to her own surprise, started to laugh. An exhausted chuckle that sounded borderline delirious even to her own ears.

Agent N. Frostbite was trying to neutralize her.

But she had shot Nova mere inches away from the Vitality Charm that was hidden beneath her jacket. Nova hadn’t been able to test if the medallion would protect against the serum, but now was as good a time as any.

“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.