Nova exhaled, struggling to retain focus in the upheaval. To not lose sight of her priorities.
The Librarian was found out. He would be arrested the moment they found him again, charged with illegal weapons dealing and conspiracy and who knew what else. Any hope of the Anarchists maintaining their connection to his distributors was gone.
Unless she could find him first. Unless she could somehow get him to safety. Maybe, just maybe, she could still right this sinking ship.
Gene Cronin was a coward. That’s what Ingrid had told her a dozen times. He would have run. He would be long gone by now, probably halfway to the city limits.
Wouldn’t he?
She massaged the back of her neck, uncertainty crowding her thoughts, when a series of explosions rumbled the foundation of the library. They were followed by the deafening creak of wood caving in on itself. The crowd pushed back as a cloud of black smoke spewed out from the windows and the massive hole in the lower wall.
Nova knew the explosions were from the stockpile of explosives in the basement, though she couldn’t be sure if there were more detonations still to come.
Then she heard the screams.
At first, she thought she was imagining it. A terrified echo coming from her still-scattered mind.
Someone shoved her from behind. The woman from before, crying, “Someone’s still in there! I heard them! Do something!”
And though it took all of Nova’s willpower not to turn around and yell at the woman to do something herself, she ignored the instinct and took off running—not into the library, but around the corner, sure the screams had come from the back.
No sooner had she rounded the far corner than she saw him. A kid, six or seven years old, hanging out of the second-story window. He had the collar of his shirt pulled up over his nose and even from down below she could see his panicked, bloodshot eyes.
Nova glanced in each direction, but there was nothing she could use to climb. No random ladder lying around, no convenient overgrown tree. She inspected the side of the building and, without giving herself a chance to overthink it, dug her fingers into the mortar of the stones and hauled herself upward.
She got only a few feet up the side of the building before her foot slipped and she crashed back to the ground, landing hard on her back. Overhead, the boy sobbed, his fingers clutching the sill of the window.
Nova got back to her feet, but another explosion rocked the ground, nearly knocking her over again. A window on the first floor had exploded outward, succumbing to the heat and pressure building up inside the library. Blinding orange flames roared inside, licking at the stone walls.
Nova shut her eyes, calculating the risks. Though it took only seconds to make the decision, it felt like an eternity.
Opening her eyes again, she reached into the compartment on her belt that held her handmade exothermic micro-flares. And, buried deep beneath them, her gloves.
Nightmare’s gloves.
She shoved her fingers into the black leather and strapped down the buckles, then pressed the switch that engaged the pressurized suction cups. Stomping forward, she leaped for the building, pressing her palms into the facade.
The suction held.
Nova started to climb. Press, stretch, release. Her toes grappling for purchase in the mortar. Her arms burning with exertion as she hauled herself higher and higher. Billows of smoke streamed up from the windows below, filling the air around her.
By the time she reached the window on the second story, her arms were ready to detach from her shoulders. But she made it inside, hauling herself in through the window and collapsing on the floor beside the child.
He stared down at her, lip trembling. “Help?” he said meekly.
She nodded. “Give me a second.”
One breath in. One breath out.
She sat up and staggered to her feet. This floor, too, was filling with smoke, though it wasn’t yet too thick to see. “Come on,” she said, wrapping an arm around the kid’s shoulders. He followed her without resistance through a series of archive rooms, until they reached the main staircase.
Nova drew up short, staring down toward the lobby. What had been the main lobby was now a sea of smoke and flames. The floor itself was smoldering and, even as she stared, the floor beneath the scholar statue in the vestibule gave out from the weight, collapsing in on itself.
Nova backed away, nudging the kid toward the wall.
“Okay,” she said slowly. “Won’t be going that way.”
She ushered him back the way they had come, to the open window she had climbed through. She stuck her head out and analyzed the fall. It wasn’t too bad … for her.
“Do you know how to tuck and roll?”
The kid whimpered. “Can’t you … can’t you fly?”
She stared at him. “If I could fly, why would I—” She lifted her hands, still cloaked by the gloves, then groaned. “Never mind. Listen. You’re going to climb onto my back and I’ll scale the wall back down. You’re going to have to trust me, okay?”
Though the kid’s face was full of fear, it was overshadowed by pure, inexplicable hope. “You’re a Renegade,” he said. “Of course I trust you.”
Nova’s gut clenched and every instinct wanted to argue that point. Don’t. Don’t trust them. They don’t deserve it.
But she bit back the reply and had started to crouch down so he could climb onto her back when she heard yelling.
Wrapping a hand around the kid’s wrist, Nova peered out the window again and spotted Ruby and Oscar running through the overgrown ivy below.
“Nova!” Oscar yelled, then flinched. “By which I mean, Insomnia! You need to get out of there!”
Relief pulsed through Nova’s veins. She cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled back, “I found the kid! Look!” Turning, she scooped the kid beneath his armpits and held him up in the window for them to see.
Ruby clasped a hand over her mouth. She and Oscar traded looks, but it was a short-lived silent discussion.