“I’m not a delivery service, and I don’t respond well to threats.” Nova leaped forward and thrust her elbow against the girl’s throat, pinning her to the wall. With her other hand, she tore off the welding mask, throwing it to the ground.
She gasped. “Narcissa?”
She was thinner than before, with dark blemishes beneath her eyes. Narcissa Cronin, granddaughter of Gene Cronin, the Librarian, who had been killed during the fight at the Cloven Cross Library. Ingrid had shot him in order to protect Nova’s identity.
This information clicked into place in Nova’s thoughts and so many things began to make sense. Narcissa could travel between mirrors. That’s how she had gotten into the bedroom upstairs and Honey’s room in the tunnels, both times without being seen, without leaving a trace. That’s how she knew Nova’s identity.
Narcissa shoved against her, and Nova, weakened by surprise, took a step back. “Narcissa,” she said again, still not fully comprehending that this girl, who had always seemed so quiet, so meek, so … unvillainous, could be the one who had blackmailed her.
“How did you even find me?” said Nova.
A touch of arrogance swept over Narcissa’s face. “I knew you were masquerading as a Renegade, so I waited outside their headquarters and followed you home.”
Nova shook her head. “I would have noticed if I was being followed.”
“Are you sure?” said Narcissa, almost tauntingly. “Did you check every reflection you passed? There are a lot of mirrors between Renegade HQ and Wallowridge. Once I knew what street you were on, I moved from house to house, vanity to vanity, until I found you. And now that I’m here, you are going to give me that helmet!” Face twisting with anger, Narcissa grabbed a pistol that had been tucked into her waistband.
Instinct and training buckled Nova’s knees. She dropped into a crouch, then swung one leg at Narcissa’s ankles. The girl cried out and fell backward, landing on her side with a yelp of pain. She tried to clamber back to her feet, but then her spine uncurled and she let out a shrill scream. She dropped the gun and clapped a hand onto her shoulder, barely missing the yellow-spotted wasp as it darted away from her fingertips. It landed on her black sneaker and had just begun to wriggle beneath the cuff of her jeans when Nova barked, “Honey, no! Let her be!”
The wasp paused, its wings beating against the girl’s shoelaces.
Nova looked up, panting. Honey stood at the base of the staircase, her hair in massive curlers and a silk robe tied loosely at her waist. Leroy stood behind her, watching with mute interest as Narcissa writhed on the floor. A cloud of bees circled over their heads, their buzzing echoing off the confines of the stairwell.
Nova stooped and grabbed the gun, noting that the safety was still on. Smothering a sigh, she didn’t bother to take it off as she aimed the gun at Narcissa’s forehead.
Narcissa was in too much pain to notice. Fat tears were sliding down her cheeks as she pressed a hand over the sting on her shoulder.
Nova glanced at Honey. “Can you make the pain stop?”
Honey lifted an eyebrow. “Why should I? She tried to kill you.”
“Not very well.”
Honey grunted. “One does not have to be competent to be an enemy.”
“Honey.”
She rolled her eyes. “The burning from the venom will pass in a minute or two, though she’ll be sore for a few days. Unless she’s allergic. Then she’s going to die.” Honey curled one finger and the wasp flew back to her. “Do we know her?”
“Sort of.” Nova looked down again and saw that Narcissa’s long red braid had spilled out from the collar of her shirt. “This is the Librarian’s granddaughter. She can travel through mirrors.”
“The Librarian?” said Honey. “You mean the weapons salesman?”
Narcissa snarled through her pain. “He had a name. And he was more than just an arms dealer. More than the villain everyone says he was!” Her nostrils flared. “He was a good man. A scholar. Someone who cared about his community. And you killed him! Just to save your own skin!”
Nova gulped. She didn’t know Narcissa well, but during their few, brief meetings, she’d always liked her. Narcissa had seemed so unassuming. So uninterested in anything related to villains or heroes. She usually had her nose buried in a book and had seemed content to keep it there.
There was none of that now. Narcissa was too thin, too pale, and far too hostile. Clearly, those tender feelings Nova had once had for her were not reciprocated.
“I didn’t kill him,” said Nova. “The Detonator did.”
“Yeah, for you.” Narcissa used her sleeve to rub the snot from her nose. “But you Anarchists always were selfish. You never care about anyone but yourselves.” She pushed herself to her knees, flinching when she put weight on her arm, and tilted her chin up. “It’s because of you that my grandfather is dead. The library is gone. You took everything I had!”
“The Detonator did all that!” Nova repeated, louder this time. “I was trying to stop her!”
“If it wasn’t for you, she wouldn’t have targeted us in the first place. Pretending to be a Renegade.… Using my grandfather and his library as pawns in your game.… It should have been you! Not him—you!”
Clenching her jaw, Nova dropped the gun into Narcissa’s lap. The girl startled and began to back away, as if the weapon were a deadly snake. Then she caught herself and wrapped both of her trembling hands around the handle. She did not aim it at Nova again, though her expression still spoke of murder.
“Your grandfather,” said Nova, “was one of the most notorious black-market arms dealers in the city. The Renegades finally caught up to him, and Ingrid saw an opportunity to use their sting operation as a trap. None of that is my fault.”
Clutching the gun, Narcissa stumbled back to her feet. “The Renegades finally caught up to him? Yeah, because he sold you a gun, and you were careless enough to try to assassinate Captain Chromium with it.”
“Actually,” said Leroy, “he sold the gun to me.”
Narcissa spun toward him. “Then you should all be dead! But here you are, still playing games while more prodigies are suffering! Well, I made a promise that I would bring that helmet back to the Rejects, and that we would use it to restore balance to this world. The balance that’s been destroyed by desperate power-seekers like the Anarchists and the Renegades. And I’m not leaving here without it.” She planted her feet, and though she’d gone pale, whether from the beesting or her own fears, she stood straight as she faced Nova.
Dismayed, Nova threw her hands into the air. “Who are the Rejects?”
Narcissa’s nostrils flared. “Rejected by society for being prodigies. Rejected by the Renegades for not fitting their perfect heroic standards. But together—we are more than just outcasts. We are powerful, and we will tolerate this abuse no more!”
Nova waited. It was clear Narcissa had repeated this speech a time or two.
The weird thing was, it sounded an awful lot like something Ace would have said.
She was about to suggest that maybe Narcissa’s hatred was misplaced when the mirror walker continued. “You have a choice,” she said, tossing her braid over her shoulder. “Go ahead and kill me, and my people will make sure that your enemies know all your secrets by morning. Or give me the helmet and let me go, and you can live another day, as Nightmare or Insomnia or whoever it is you think you are.”