Holstering the gun, she took the fake helmet from the bag. In the dim lighting, the hole in its cranium was almost imperceptible, and no one would be able to tell the faint difference in color, which most people weren’t aware of. It was this helmet’s lack of luster that had first tipped off Nova to its fraudulence. A lot of prodigy artifacts, including everything her father had ever made, had a unique sheen to them. A luminescence that was hard to detect unless one was looking for it.
Lately, Nova had started looking.
“It’s all yours,” she muttered to the shadows, setting the helmet down on the vanity. Probably her blackmailer was lurking just around one of the tunnel bends, waiting for her to leave so they could sneak in and claim their prize.
Which was just fine by her. She couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
But the moment she stepped back through the door, a body slammed into her. A hand grasped the back of her neck, shoving her against the gritty wall.
“I knew you’d come back here!” roared her assailant. “I knew—” He cut off quick. “No—?”
She slammed her heel into the arch of his foot and he howled, lurching back from her. The stun gun now in hand, Nova spun around, her finger pressing against the trigger—
“No-va…”
She froze. Her arm fell limp at her side. “Adrian?”
“I’m sorry,” he groaned, sinking down to the ground and crossing his injured foot over his knee. He undid the laces of his tennis shoes. “I thought you were Nightmare.”
She gaped at him as he removed his shoe and rubbed his foot where she had stomped on him. “You’re not…” She glanced back into the room, where the helmet still sat innocently on top of the dresser. Was Adrian the blackmailer?
No. That didn’t make sense. Did it?
Her thoughts churned and she shook her head, trying to sort them. “What are you doing here?” she asked, holstering the gun.
He flexed his toes, rubbing the arch of his foot as he did. “I’ve been down here a few times since the raid, seeing if there were any clues left behind. I mean, the cleanup crews are good, but you never know.” He started to put his shoe back on. “I’m really sorry for grabbing you like that. I saw the flashlight, and in the dark, you sort of looked…”
“It’s okay. That’s what I get for creeping around dark tunnels, I guess.” She nudged the door closed behind her, hoping Adrian wouldn’t bother to go inside. She wasn’t sure how she would explain what she was doing with the forged helmet down here, of all the random places, or why she was leaving it behind.
“So what are you doing down here?” said Adrian.
“Same thing as you. After our meeting the other day, I’ve been thinking a lot about whether or not Nightmare could really be posing as one of us. I wondered if maybe there would be something down here that would indicate … you know, one way or the other.”
Adrian climbed back to his feet. “Actually, there is something the cleanup crew missed.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Oh?”
“Yeah. I’m not sure how much it helps us at this point, but come on. I’ll show you.”
He pulled a flashlight out of his back pocket and, to Nova’s relief, led her away from Honey’s room, toward an intersection of the tunnels where her train car stood against a wall. There were sheets of paper taped around the tunnel and on the windows of the car, “exhibits” left behind by the Renegades, indicating anything that might have seemed noteworthy at the time.
To her surprise, Adrian didn’t head for Nightmare’s car, but rather into the adjacent tunnel. The beam of his flashlight danced over a wall of old advertisement posters lined up side by side, each one taller than Nova. Her lungs squeezed when she realized what he’d discovered.
Approaching the last poster, an ad for a thriller novel, Adrian dug his fingers beneath the corner of the frame. The poster swung outward toward them, as it had swung toward Nova hundreds of times when she’d gone to visit Ace.
“Wow,” she mused, stepping forward as she pretended to examine it. She shone her flashlight into the narrow tunnel, the sides showing scrapes and scratches where she and the other Anarchists had passed. “Where does it go?”
“To the catacombs under the cathedral,” said Adrian.
“Really? That has to be at least a mile away.”
“Only about two-thirds of a mile,” he said. “The tunnel is a straight shot. It would take a lot longer on the surface. I think this tunnel might have been used after the Battle for Gatlon. It’s probably how the Anarchists managed to get away. And how they’ve been going back and forth, visiting Ace Anarchy and taking him food and supplies.” He shook his head. “You know, I came down here weeks ago, when I was trying to find that puppet Winston Pratt wanted? I saw this poster and … I had a feeling about it. I was so close to finding it, way back then. We could have found Ace Anarchy.”
She forced a small chuckle despite the sourness roiling in her stomach. “Good thing you didn’t. To just stumble onto Ace Anarchy like that? You would have…” She trailed off, not wanting to hurt Adrian’s feelings. But they both knew he wouldn’t have stood a chance against Ace, even if Ace was a lot weaker than he’d been ten years ago. At least, she hoped Adrian knew that. He was talented, but not that talented. “I’m shocked the Sentinel was able to capture him.”
Adrian’s mouth twisted into a frown and she could tell he wanted to say something—probably defend his own abilities—but he resisted. “Well,” he said finally, “they say Ace Anarchy was pretty weak when they found him. Without the helmet, he’s just another telepath.”
Now it was her turn to resist the urge to argue. “If you ask me, the Sentinel got lucky.”
Adrian grunted, but she didn’t think he agreed with her.
“So…,” she started, rocking on her feet. “You’ve gone to the catacombs, then?”
“Just once. But I didn’t learn anything that we didn’t already know. I’ve been down here a few times since then, though. I just keep thinking that Nightmare has to show up here again at some point, right?”
She shrugged. “Maybe not. Maybe she knows the Renegades are watching it too closely.”
“Maybe.” He fit the poster back into place. His expression changed then, the start of a teasing smile appearing at the corners of his lips. Nova immediately tensed. “Nice bracelet, by the way.”
She blinked.
Then blinked again.
She reached for her sleeve and tugged it down instinctively, but it was too late to cover the star that was inexplicably set into the prongs of her bracelet—and glowing far too obviously in these dim tunnels.
“I didn’t steal it,” she said hastily. “At least … I didn’t mean to steal it. It just kind of…”
Adrian chuckled. “I’m not mad. You can have it.” He cocked his head, eyes still twinkling behind his glasses. “I realized it was missing after you left, but you didn’t say anything, so I thought maybe I shouldn’t, either. But the curiosity is killing me.” He took her hand and gently pushed up her sleeve, revealing not just the star, but the delicate bracelet that her father had made years ago, the last thing he had ever made. “It fits the setting perfectly. Like it was made for it.” Adrian’s face was awed.