Max gave him a look that was far more suspicious than excited.
“Okay, I’ll just tell you. Guess what we found crawling through the wreckage back at headquarters? I’ll give you a hint. It’s about this tall”—he pinched his fingers an inch away from each other—“went extinct millions of years ago, and rhymes with…” Adrian paused. “Um … Burbo.”
Max was shaking his head, even as his smile returned. “Those were the worst hints in history. You could have said something like its feet are used both for running and disemboweling prey, but only if the prey is smaller than a mouse. Or, it’s likely the only one of its kind to have scales rather than feathers. Or maybe, its babies would be born from eggs, though it never was.”
Adrian’s eyebrow ticked upward. “Did you just come up with those?”
Shrugging, Max took another bite of the brownie.
“No, seriously, that’s really good. Maybe coming up with riddles is another superpower you haven’t discovered yet. Except … what do you mean by feathers?”
“Dey ad feaders,” Max said through his full mouth.
“Velociraptors?”
Max nodded and swallowed. “Don’t you know that’s where birds come from?”
“Well, yeah, but…” Adrian frowned, picturing a miniature velociraptor that was more a cross between a T. rex and a chicken. “Feathers would make him a lot less intimidating, you know? Although, Danna is afraid of birds, so I guess it’s all subjective. Still. Feathers. Who knew?”
Max finished off the brownie and inspected his plate, trying to deem what else might be safe to consume. Adrian considered telling him about Danna, that she’d been stuck in swarm mode since the night of the attack and they weren’t entirely sure why, but he thought the kid should probably stay focused on his own recovery for now.
“Anyway,” he said, “I’ll bring Turbo to see you next time I come. I’ve been taking good care of him. Discovered he really likes turkey jerky.”
“I’m not sure he’s all that discerning,” said Max. “I once saw him try to eat a pencil.”
Adrian laughed. “Seriously, I’m so glad you’re okay. When I got to headquarters and saw Nightmare crouching over you…” He stopped himself. He’d wanted to keep the mood light, but it was impossible not to think of how pale and weak Max had been. And there had been so much blood …
Max wiped his fingers on the napkin. “Yeah. It was weird, right? I know I’m lucky to be alive, but I also know that I shouldn’t be. Alive, I mean. She should have killed me. It doesn’t make sense that she didn’t.”
“Not for lack of trying,” Adrian muttered. “She ran as soon as she saw me. I would have chased after her, except … well, you were more important. Obviously.”
Max’s brow furrowed.
“But I am going to find her,” Adrian said, leaning his elbows on his knees. “I swear it. The team and I are already working on a new investigation and we have some really promising leads. I’m going to find Nightmare, and I’ll make her pay for this. She’ll never be able to hurt you again.”
Max’s face only became more confused. He blinked at Adrian a few times, then slowly pushed back the tray of food. Leaping to his feet, Adrian took it from him and set it down on the small table beside the bed. “You want some water or something?”
“Adrian…”
The tone of Max’s voice gave Adrian pause. He looked back down, but Max’s focus was on the white cotton blanket over his legs. His fingers dug into the fabric.
“Yeah?” said Adrian, sinking back into the chair. “What’s wrong?”
Max licked his lips and for the first time Adrian noticed how dry they were. He would have to mention it to the nursing staff. Maybe get some of that all-natural lip balm they sold at the higher-end drugstores.
“Nightmare didn’t try to kill me.”
Adrian stared at Max. He was still so pale. Bruises peppered the insides of his arms from where he’d had blood transfers and IV drips. The pale blue hospital gown drooped on his skinny shoulders.
“Max,” he said slowly, “she stabbed you in the stomach with a giant chromium spear. The only reason she didn’t kill you was because I showed up in time to stop her.”
Max shook his head. “Frostbite stabbed me, not Nightmare.”
The world seemed to quiet as Adrian tried to make sense of these words. “Frostbite?”
Max still wouldn’t meet his eyes, and Adrian watched his pupils dance around. He was replaying that night in his mind, seeing the battle, not the blanket. “She had Dad’s spear and was charging for Nightmare, but Nightmare ducked. I was standing behind her—I’d gone invisible—and Frostbite hit me, drove it right through me. Nightmare didn’t do it.”
Adrian’s mouth opened, then shut again. His knowledge of what had happened in the headquarters lobby that night began to reshuffle into a new order of events. A new reality.
“But, still. Nightmare didn’t exactly—”
“She tried to help me,” Max interrupted. His fingers curled into the blanket. “I asked her to take out the spear, and she didn’t want to at first because it’s not good to remove a weapon, right? But I begged her to, and she did, and when she realized the ice was helping it, she … she forced Frostbite to give her power to me. She dragged her closer so I could absorb all of it. She was trying to save me.”
Adrian’s jaw unhinged as he tried to picture it, but all he could see was Nightmare bent over Max’s body. The broken glass, her bloodied hands.
“That … doesn’t make sense.”
“I know.” Finally Max dared to look up. His eyes were shimmering.
“Are you sure? You lost a lot of blood. You could have been delirious. Maybe you’re confusing what happened—”
“I’m sure. Ask Frostbite.”
“Frostbite already…” Adrian paused. Frostbite had given an official statement, and she’d declared that Nightmare had been the one to stab the Bandit, as everyone had already assumed. Admitting that she’d actually hit Max by mistake wouldn’t have been in her best interest.
And Genissa Clark never did anything that wasn’t in her best interest.
Adrian leaned back in his chair, wanting to believe Max, but not fully comprehending what he was telling him. Nightmare was an Anarchist. She had every reason to want to kill Max—the source for Agent N and the catalyst for Ace Anarchy’s defeat during the Battle for Gatlon.
What reason could she have had for trying to help him?
Was there perhaps some sinister reason that the Anarchists could have for wanting to keep the Bandit alive? Was it possible they would try to use him for their own benefit?
It wasn’t entirely unbelievable, but such a plan was almost too devious for Adrian to wrap his mind around.
“What really doesn’t make sense,” Max said slowly, “is why she wasn’t weakened by me. I saw her put Frostbite to sleep, and that was right after she’d been trying to help me stop the bleeding. She should have been weak, if not entirely neutralized, but she seemed fine. So how…?”