“A little bit of both.” She tore her focus away from the painting. “What really happened? How did Max get Ace Anarchy’s power?”
Simon scratched his beard. “Well. It was near the end of the fight. We couldn’t bring Max into it before that, because his abilities would affect our allies as well as our enemies. But by that point, Ace Anarchy had separated himself from the rest of the gangs. He was standing up on one of the arcades of the cathedral, attacking those still on the ground. Of course, Hugh could withstand him more than anyone. Realizing this was our best chance, he went and got Max, who we’d hidden in a nearby cellar with a nurse to take care of him. Hugh strapped him to his back and returned to the battle. He’s told me it was the most difficult thing he’s ever done, knowing the danger he was putting Max into, but he didn’t think there would be any other way.”
Nova’s jaw fell open as she listened, trying to picture the scene. The righteous, invincible Captain Chromium … charging into battle with a baby strapped to his back? She didn’t know if she should find the image horrifying or hysterical.
“He scaled one of the side walls,” said Simon, his voice having gone distant. “I remember looking up and seeing him at one point and realizing what he was going to do. Hugh reached the top, and Ace realized he was there. The closer he and Max got, the weaker Ace became, but he was still strong. He still tried to fight. He knew he couldn’t hurt Hugh, so he focused his attacks on Max, knowing that must be the cause of his weakness.” Simon paused, before adding, “I remember how remarkable it seemed at the time that Max didn’t utter a sound—not a single cry.”
Nova shuddered.
“Eventually, Ace lost enough power that he couldn’t keep fighting. Hugh managed to wrestle the helmet away from him—and the moment he had the helmet, it was as if all the fight drained out of Ace Anarchy. A third of the church was destroyed by that point, one side of it was on fire, nearly all the Anarchists were dead, and Captain Chromium had his helmet. He must have known he’d lost. So … Hugh went to finish it, when Ace Anarchy simply … turned and jumped. He jumped from three stories up, right into the fire.”
Nova was looking at the painting again, and found it astounding how a piece of art that had gotten so much wrong could still be here, in such a place of honor. Maybe it was testament to how much the truth, in this case, had never really mattered.
“Thank you for telling me,” she murmured.
“No, thank you.”
Brow crinkling, she looked up at the Dread Warden. He wasn’t looking at her or the painting, but smiling softly into space. “I was never able to hold Max. Not when he was a baby, not now when he’s hurt or sad. But I still love him. He’s as much a son to me as Adrian is. So … thank you.” He met Nova’s gaze. “For trying to save him.”
“Even if I had no idea what I was doing and really just ended up making things worse?”
His smile broadened. “Even if.”
Nova cleared her throat and found herself unable to hold his gaze. “I should really get back to the medical wing.”
“Please,” he said, gesturing toward the elevator. “Don’t let me keep you another minute. The healers can be dreadfully pushy when they feel they’re in danger of being ignored.”
Not entirely sure if she should say good-bye or thank you or something else entirely, Nova lifted her hand in an awkward wave, tucked her head down, and made her way back to the elevators. She passed the reception desk again, where Prism was now seated. She chirped a good-bye to Nova as she passed.
Once the elevator arrived, Nova stepped inside and leaned against the wall, rubbing her forehead. Her thoughts swam with the Dread Warden’s recount of the Battle for Gatlon. Of Max’s involvement—how Hugh Everhart had put that innocent baby’s life at risk, and how Ace had done his best to kill him in order to protect himself.
Again and again, her thoughts circled back to that broken helmet on its pedestal, as dangerous as a child’s dress-up toy.
While somewhere within Renegade Headquarters, they had the real thing. Ace Anarchy’s helmet. Intact and waiting.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
NOVA LET THE DOOR SLAM shut behind her. Not because she was angry, but because even after the long walk back to Wallowridge, she was still dazed from the discovery of Ace’s helmet and all it meant. For her. For the Anarchists. For the Renegades, who probably had as much power contained within that one object as all their patrol units put together. They may have opted not to use it for their own purposes so far, but it still remained a possibility that they could at any time. So long as the helmet was in their possession, no one stood a chance to oppose them.
As Nova passed through the front room, Honey appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, digging a spoon into a mason jar full of golden honey. “That isn’t your normal stealthy entrance,” she said, lifting the spoon out. The honey began to drizzle down, before Honey deftly spun the spoon’s handle to catch it. “Did something happen?” She shoved the spoon into her mouth, sucking on it like a lollipop.
Nova stared at her. Did something happen? Did something happen?
“Sort of,” she said, squeezing past Honey and unwinding the communicator band from her wrist. She deposited it on the kitchen counter. It was the first time she’d taken it off since they had decided to leave their home in the subway tunnels, and her wrist felt bare without it. Bare—but also light and unencumbered.
“Uh-oh,” said Honey, lifting a penciled eyebrow at the band. “You must be going somewhere the Renegades wouldn’t approve of.” She leaned saucily against the fridge. “Do tell.”
“Later,” said Nova. “There’s something I need to do first.”
She headed toward the back door and had just grabbed the knob when a small explosion vibrated through the walls. She looked up as a few drifts from the popcorn ceiling tumbled down onto the counters.