Supernova, p.38
Supernova, page 38
But then there were times when he seemed almost hopeful.
Always so unnervingly optimistic.
Being in Adrian’s presence had left her feeling about as strong as a slug in a salt bath. Now, with some distance, she tried to focus on the sounds of war outside their protective shell, and the prodigies who were gathered at her side, preparing to win the battle that would give them all a chance at a better life.
She was here, with Ace, and she was ready to fight, as she’d always intended to do. Soon this would be over and she could be at ease again. She could be herself. She could be the Nightmare the world feared.
“I will not wax poetic about our chances for victory,” said Ace, once everyone was present. “I know we will succeed. The Renegades will fall.” He spent some time questioning everyone on their respective roles. Had Cyanide prepared the necessary chemical reactions? Had Locksmith secured the eastern entrances? And on and on until he met Nova’s eyes. At that moment, there was no familial gentleness in his expression, only an intensity that stopped Nova’s heart.
“I will commence negotiations once the Council have revealed themselves. Is our leverage ready?”
She gulped. The leverage was Adrian. He was an asset now, a bargaining chip. Just as Ace had always known he would be. For months he had encouraged Nova to get close to Adrian, knowing he could be used against his fathers.
Somehow, she’d never pictured it coming to this, though she probably should have.
The words caught in her throat, and it was Honey who answered for her. “He’ll be ready.”
Ace held Nova’s gaze another moment, before nodding. “Take your positions and await my signal.”
They dispersed. Nova dreaded going back to Adrian, to again be accosted by those looks of hope sprinkled with loathing. She was relieved when Narcissa jogged up to her in the cloister, clutching a stack of familiar comics.
Relieved for half a second, before Honey called back to her, “I’ll go ahead and check on the prisoner. You take your time, sweetness.”
Bile rose up in Nova’s mouth, thinking of Honey and that stiletto knife. But it wasn’t her concern, she told herself, fighting every instinct to chase after her.
Adrian was no longer her concern.
Burying her apprehension, she turned back to Narcissa. “Glad to see you stayed.”
“Yeah, well…” Narcissa kicked at the stone floor. “I promised the Rejects I’d help them secure a better future for themselves. We haven’t accomplished that yet.”
“You’re right,” said Nova, a little darkly. She wondered if any of them, when they’d been plotting their revolution, had foreseen this.
“You know now, don’t you? About the Sentinel?”
Nova tensed. “Yes,” she said slowly. “You knew already?”
“That’s what I wanted to show you the other day.”
Narcissa started to flip through one of the comics, but a particularly loud explosion above the barrier made her jump and she dropped the stapled pages. They fell at Nova’s feet. When she stooped to pick up the comic, the air caught in her lungs. The pages had opened to the final spread. It showed the main character, the young boy known as Rebel Z, as he transformed into a superhero. The superhero he needed to become in order to seek vengeance on the mad scientist.
In the image, he was donning an armored suit, one that was remarkably like the Sentinel’s.
Nova examined the picture, wondering if this would have changed anything if she’d seen it before the attack on the arena. She wondered if it changed anything now.
“The comics are actually pretty good,” said Narcissa. “It’s a shame he never finished the story.”
Nova swallowed, wondering if it was okay for her to hope that maybe someday he’d get a chance to. “Thanks for showing me this,” she said. “But you were right before. It doesn’t change much at this point.”
Nova started to head back to the chapel where Adrian—kind, righteous Adrian—was shackled to a cold altar, but as she rounded the nearest corner, she crashed into Honey Harper. Without pretense, Honey plucked the comic book out of Nova’s hand.
“Hey!” said Nova, too late to grab it back as Honey spun out of reach and started making her way down the corridor, flipping through the pages.
“So this is what’s caused so much interest between you and the mirror girl?” said Honey, turning the pages this way and that, inspecting the drawings with an air of derision. “What is it, exactly?”
“It’s … nothing,” stammered Nova. “Give it back, Honey.”
“I take it our young artist drew it,” she continued, ignoring Nova. “Must have been a while ago. He’s certainly improved, hasn’t he?” She chuckled. “Not that I can do any better.”
She suddenly stopped walking. She was gripping the comic in both hands, carelessly creasing the brittle pages in her fists. “Is that who I think it is?”
“Doesn’t really matter,” said Nova. “We already knew he was the Sentinel, so…” She trailed off, noticing the page that Honey had landed on. It didn’t show Rebel Z in the Sentinel’s armor. Rather, it showed a shrouded figure with bony fingertips and nothing but shadows where a face should be.
“He … drew that when he was, like, eleven,” said Nova. “He’d probably heard about Phobia, from back during the Age of Anarchy. He could have inspired this … this villain … thing.”
Honey shut the comic, her eyes shimmering with a glee that sent a chill down Nova’s spine.
“You don’t believe that,” said Honey. “I overheard you two talking. There are more drawings, aren’t there? Some not quite so recent?” She didn’t wait for Nova to answer, which was just as well because Nova wasn’t sure what to say. She didn’t want to lie to Honey, but she could already see Honey’s mind calculating what this meant.
Suddenly, Honey let out a barking laugh and clapped one hand over her mouth. “My, my,” she said through her fingers. “That little artiste … and he has no idea, does he?”
“It doesn’t matter. There’s no reason to—”
“Oh, I beg to differ!” she said, pivoting on her heels. “I cannot wait to see this.”
“Honey, no, wait!”
Nova chased after her and grabbed the comic, hoping that would stop Honey, but she hardly seemed to notice as she made her way back through the cathedral’s corridors.
“Honey, please! We need to stay focused. This doesn’t mean anything!”
Honey cast a smirk at her. “Careful, Nightmare. I’m beginning to think you might actually feel bad for the hostage.”
Nova winced and ceased her pleading, but she stayed on Honey’s heels, dread filling her with every step.
* * *
Adrian had never been afraid of bees before. But then, he’d never had the creatures crawling over him like tiny guards with fat, striped abdomens and needle-like stingers that twitched every time he moved. Though one of the villains had put gauze over the deep gashes in his arms, the blood had soaked through in spots, and the bees seemed particularly attracted to it, forming little clusters on the bandages.
He tried to distract himself by thinking of the creatures not as harbingers of venom and pain, but rather of little miracles of nature. He didn’t know how many species Queen Bee had control of, but he’d counted nine different varieties while he’d been sitting here by himself. Some all black and fluffy like a caterpillar. Others that were sleek and metallic blue, with a wingspan as wide as Danna’s butterflies. Black and yellow stripes. Black and red stripes. Long, narrow bodies that looked more like a dragonfly, and thick, shiny-shelled bodies that looked more like a beetle, and everything in between.
He was beginning to think his efforts at distraction might have been misplaced when he heard footsteps in the hall. Queen Bee appeared with a toothy grin that immediately set Adrian on edge again, wondering what new torture she was devising.
It was foolish, he knew, but he couldn’t help but be relieved when Nova came in right behind her. Not that she’d done anything to stop Queen Bee from cutting out his tattoos.
“I’ve just learned the most delectable secret about you!” Queen Bee said, clasping her hands in front of her face.
Nova opened her mouth to say something, but stopped herself and shut it again with a grimace.
“I wonder if you can guess what it is.” Queen Bee sat down beside Adrian, her arm pressed against his. Hairspray clogged his lungs and he angled his head away, but she didn’t seem to notice. “I’ll give you a hint. It has to do with our eerie skeletal friend, who likes to go on and on about fear and courage and bleh.” She rolled her eyes in mock disgust.
Jaw tightening, Adrian glanced up at Nova in disbelief, before glowering sidelong at Queen Bee. “Phobia killed my mother,” he said through his teeth. “It’s not a secret anymore, but, wow, I sure am glad it’s been so amusing for you.”
Rather than seem disappointed, Queen Bee gasped and pressed a hand dramatically to the base of her throat. “That’s right, he did kill Lady Indomitable. Why”—her eyes glinted cruelly—“that just makes all of this even richer, doesn’t it?”
“Honey,” said Nova, her voice cutting. “It’s not a game.”
“Oh, lighten up,” said Queen Bee, flicking a few fingers toward her. “You’ve been frolicking around the city with your Renegade friends for months now. It’s time I got to have some fun, too.” She winked at Adrian, but then her expression became thoughtful. She placed a hand on his forearm, right over his wound, squeezing just enough to make him flinch. A few of the bees deserted him and started making their way up her limbs instead. “I’ve just had a thought. Do you believe in archenemies? You know, that a hero and a villain are destined to be locked in an eternal battle forever and ever until they finally destroy each other? Because I always thought the idea was a bit too clean-edged, if you know what I mean—Ace Anarchy and your dear dad notwithstanding—but I’m beginning to wonder. Because it’s just so…” She tapped a finger against her shiny, sticky lips. “Perfect. Your own mother, the person you must have loved more than any other in this world, cruelly snatched away from you by … your very … own … creation.”
Adrian blinked at her and would have gone on blinking at her, except a hornet decided at that moment to try and climb into his ear and he let out a yelp and roughly shook his head.
“Oh, allow me,” said Queen Bee, scooping her finger against his earlobe and lifting the creature away.
Adrian shuddered. “What are you talking about? My creation?”
“See for yourself. Nightmare?”
Nova hadn’t moved from the entryway and for the first time Adrian noticed she was holding something. A stack of papers. She seemed reluctant to give them up. She seemed reluctant to do anything more than stand there, shoulders tensed and face borderline apologetic, but he didn’t think it was the capturing, the tying up, or the torturing that she was sorry for, which made him go cold with suspicion.
“What is she talking about?” he demanded.
Nova still didn’t move. Still didn’t speak.
“Don’t be shy. Our guest asked you a question.” Honey got to her feet and grabbed the papers away from Nova, who didn’t resist. “Now, let’s see, where was it?”
As she started flipping through pages, Adrian realized what they were. His comics.
He sneered. “The Sentinel isn’t exactly a secret anymore, either, you know.”
“Patience, patience,” said Queen Bee. She flipped through the whole comic, the third and final one Adrian had made, the one where Rebel Z first donned the armored suit and transformed himself into a superhero intent on revenge. Reaching the end, she frowned and started flipping back the other way, turning the pages carelessly in her haste. He heard some of the paper rip. She reached the front again and heaved a sigh. Holding the comic up by just the front cover, she tilted her head to the side and started flipping through the pages again, as if this new perspective would help.
Adrian raised an eyebrow at Nova.
Groaning, Nova finally stepped forward into the room and yanked the pages out of Queen Bee’s hand. Dropping to her knees in front of Adrian, she set the third issue of the comic aside and found the first issue in the stack, the one where Rebel Z was captured by power-hungry villains, kept locked up, and tortured while all his friends suffered around him.
It was all sounding eerily prophetic.
Adrian tried not to think about that as he watched his old drawings flip past. Though he knew it hardly mattered at the moment, he couldn’t help cringing at the awkward facial features and the hands that resembled pudgy starfish.
Nova stopped on a page where one of the kidnapped kids was being tortured and turned the book around, holding it up for him to see.
He took in the drawing, and couldn’t help the twinge of surprise that coursed through him. One of the kidnapped children was dead, still strapped to a medical table while the doctor and a nurse watched in the background. A shadowy figure was rising up from the boy’s body, like a wisp of formless black smoke, but with a single bony hand pointing at the boy’s dead eyes.
It had been a long time since Adrian had seen the comics. He vaguely remembered the skeletal hands, the dark shadowy cloak. He vaguely remembered how this phantom creature was intended to get stronger over the course of the series and become one of Rebel Z’s most feared enemies. He vaguely remembered what the creature became—a villain crafted from fear and death, who had no face, no soul, and a mean-looking scythe that Adrian had thought would be fun to use in future epic fight scenes.
It took only a second to guess at what Nova and Queen Bee were suggesting.
But … what they were suggesting was ludicrous.
“What’s your point?” he said, glaring at her over the top of the page.
Nova lowered the comic. “I think this is Phobia,” she said, with such tenderness that he felt his fury flare irrationally.
“That,” he said, nodding toward the book, “is the disembodied soul of a troubled kid who’s been used as a science experiment by an evil branch of the government.”
“Oooh,” said Queen Bee, clapping her hands. “I would read that.”
Sighing, Nova set the comic back on the floor. “It’s not just these comics. I’ve seen your drawings from when you were little. Really little. The phantom from your dreams? You drew it, a lot. And over time, it was turning into this.” She pointed at the page again.
Adrian let out a hoarse laugh. “Hold on. You really think I created him? Phobia?”
Nova pressed her lips until they went white. There was so much pity in her eyes that Adrian wanted to scream. Had he really been relieved to see her only a few minutes ago?
“It fits the timeline,” she said. “It fits what little we know about Phobia. It explains why no one has any idea who he was or where he came from. He just … appeared, out of nowhere, and right around the time that you would have been old enough to start drawing him.”
“I would have been four!” he said. “Maybe five. I might be good, but I’m not that good.”
She shook her head. “It’s not about skill though, is it?”
He scowled, biting back his irritation. She was right. His superpower didn’t work based on how good of an artist he was. It worked through his intention, though what he believed his drawings could become.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I would remember creating … that.”
“Would you?” interjected Queen Bee. She was still smiling, as if she were enjoying a particularly saucy soap opera. “Do you remember every drawing you made when you were four years old, maybe five?”
He glared at her, even as his breaths began to quicken.
Of course he didn’t remember every drawing. His mom had once joked that Gatlon City would have to open a new paper factory with how many pages and pages of crayon scribbles he was creating.
“There’s also that phrase he uses,” said Nova. “The one he would leave on his victims?”
Adrian glared at her. “What about it?”
“You told me it’s like something your mom used to say, about being brave. I think you fed him that line, or your brain did, when you were little. You created him with that thought in mind.”
His heart was pounding hard now, threatening to break through his own rib cage. “No,” he said firmly. “It’s impossible.”
“And … Adrian…” Nova’s face contorted, twisting with pain. “He works through people’s biggest fears, and you told me that, back then, your greatest fear was … was that someday your mother would leave, and she would never come back.”
A shiver raced down his spine. He tore his gaze away from her, staring instead into the shadowed corner where Phobia had loitered not all that long ago.
His mother’s murderer.
It wasn’t possible. Adrian didn’t … he couldn’t have …
“I’m so sorry,” Nova whispered.
“What’s to be sorry about?” tittered Honey Harper. “We should thank you. Phobia may not be the most charming of roommates, but he has proven to be an effective villain.”
“Honey, please,” said Nova. “Could you just go away?”
Queen Bee flashed Adrian a haughty, victorious smile, and it was that look, filled with such delight, that made it seem almost real.
His lungs spasmed, pushing out what little air he had left.
“Of course, Nightmare,” said Honey. “I’ll just give you some time alone, let our young hero come to terms with the fact that, when you think about it … he pretty much murdered his own mother.”
“Honey!”
Queen Bee left the chapel, her own squealing laughter echoing after her.
Nova rubbed her temple. “Adrian, it isn’t your fault. You have to know that. You were just a kid. There’s no way you could have known what you were—”
“Stop.”
The sound was so cold, so harsh, Adrian almost didn’t believe it had come from his own mouth.
But it worked. Nova fell silent.
His lungs were no longer cooperating. It felt impossible to make his chest expand enough against the ropes. Ropes that were growing tighter by the second, digging into his flesh. Cold sweat was beading across his bare back. The altar had suddenly become unbearably cold.
