Renegades by Marissa Meyer
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.
“Hold on,” said Ruby, unwinding the wire from her wrist. She stepped away from Oscar and started to twirl it like a lasso in the air. “Stand back!”
Nova jumped away from the window, pulling the kid with her. A second later, Ruby’s bloodstone flew over the sill. As soon as it jolted backward, the points of the gem peeled open, transforming it into a grappling hook that snagged tight to the windowsill.
“Cool,” the kid murmured.
“Have you ever done a zip line?” said Nova, peeling off her gloves and stuffing them back into her satchel.
“A what?”
“Nothing. Come on, it’s just like playing on the monkey bars. Hand over hand. If you fall, that guy with the cane will catch you, okay?”
The kid peered at the thin wire, then down at Oscar, his brow creased with uncertainty.
“He’s a Renegade too,” said Nova. “He can bench-press, like…” She considered. “I don’t know. A lot. More than you weigh, for sure.”
Seemingly comforted, the boy swung one leg over the sill. Nova helped him get started, showing him how to reach out with his hands while keeping his ankles locked around the rope.
He was halfway down and she was just beginning to relax, debating whether she would traverse the rope, too, or take the faster route of jumping, when Oscar yelled up to her, “Where’s Adrian?”
She tensed. “He’s not with you?”
Oscar shook his head. “We haven’t seen him since you came out of the basement.”
Nova leaned back from the window and glanced around. The air inside the library made her feel like she was inside a sauna. A smoky, stifling sauna.
Adrian wouldn’t still be in here, would he?
Unless the smoke had gotten to him. Unless he was unconscious somewhere, dying of smoke inhalation, or trapped beneath a burning bookcase, or—
A scream cut over the roar of the fire. Nova stilled. It wasn’t Adrian.
But that only meant that someone else was still in the library.
She followed the screaming to the far corner of the third floor, where a walled-off room stood off from the main stacks, its contents visible through a glass window in the shut door. A sign beside the door read RARE BOOKS AND FIRST EDITIONS. Nova threw it open and found a room mostly clear of the smoky haze that had filled up the rest
Gene Cronin and Narcissa stood before an open window. Narcissa spun toward Nova and shrieked, “Shut the door!”
Nova did, slamming it with a defiant shove.
The Librarian did not even glance over at her. He was too busy pulling books out of glass cases and hastily wrapping them up in paper towels, before throwing them out the window in great armfuls. “Help me!” he cried. “Narcissa—quick! The manuscripts case. We have to save the manuscripts!”
“They’re just books!” Narcissa yelled back. “We have to save ourselves!”
“Just books?” Cronin roared. “My life’s work! Some of these are the only known copies left in the entire world! First editions … signed copies…”
“Narcissa is right,” said Nova, stepping farther into the room. She scanned the space again, thinking Adrian would appear from behind one of the cases, but it was only the Librarian and his granddaughter. Adrian wasn’t there. She gulped, and tried not to picture him trapped in the fire below. “The ground floor is compromised. The whole building is going to collapse in on itself any minute. You have to get out of here.” She scanned the room. Two walls held double-hung windows, all of which had already been opened, perhaps in an effort to let out what smoke seeped through the cracks in the door. A brick fireplace stood on the western wall, looking ironically as though it hadn’t seen fire in decades, with an ornate mirror hung over the mantel. Nova guessed this decorative element was intended more for Narcissa’s convenience than an attempt at decorative elegance.
Otherwise, there were four glass cases displaying ancient books, scrolls, journals, and manuscripts, and even an assortment of antique scribing and printing tools, from ink wells to lead type. More bookcases along the walls, crammed full of works that weren’t quite as rare or valuable as those in the cases. There was the door Nova had entered through, and … that was it. No other escape routes. They would have to go through the window.
“Why did you bring them here?” Narcissa wailed, furious.
Nova spun to face her. “What?”
“You did this! You and the Detonator—you tricked us. Why?” Frightened tears were pooling in Narcissa’s eyes and her fists were clenched so tight they were shaking. It occurred to Nova that she, at least, was not trapped here. There was a mirror. She could leave anytime.
But she hadn’t left yet. She was still trying to save her grandfather.
Nova bit the inside of her cheek, trying to think clearly, while Narcissa’s hateful look cut into her. She’d always liked the Librarian’s granddaughter. She didn’t know her well, but she’d always seemed nice enough when Nova had come with Ingrid to conduct their business. Though she was the Librarian’s granddaughter and obviously knew about his activities, she’d never struck Nova as particularly … villainous.
For the first time, she started to wonder what Narcissa thought about her. In their few interactions she’d seemed quiet, even meek. Nova had assumed that was just her personality, but now she questioned if Narcissa might be afraid of her.
Because she was Nightmare?
Or because she was Ace’s niece?
“You need to leave,” Nova said, pacing to the nearest window. “Can you take your grandfather through the mirror?”
“It doesn’t work like that,” Narcissa snapped.
“Well then, you get out through the mirror while you can. Gene and I will go out through the window.” She looked down at the two-story drop. “I think.”
This side of the room looked out onto the street in front of the library, where the crowd of civilians had continued to grow.
A quick glance to the office building showed her that Ingrid was gone. The handcuffs lay on the sidewalk beneath the small smoldering crater where Ingrid had set off an explosion between the wall and barred window.
The other two windows opened toward the side alley and the theater. If they jumped, they could aim for the nearest dumpster, which would take the blow easier than concrete would. But Nova doubted Gene Cronin could handle that fall, even if she did instruct him in the basics of tuck and roll.
“He’s seventy-four years old!” cried Narcissa. “You really think he’s going to jump out a window?”
Nova sighed. Where were Winston and his hot-air balloon when she needed them?
A crash resounded behind her and Nova spun around, worried that the building was starting to collapse on them. But no—a window had broken. Shards of glass were flying through the air, scattering across the floor, following the trajectory of the figure that had just launched through the window.
Nova’s jaw dropped as she watched the figure pull off a perfect tuck and roll before bounding effortlessly back to his feet. He spun around, armored body braced for an attack and daylight glinting off the blank visor.
“Seriously?” Nova drawled. She’d known it was only a matter of time before more Renegades started to show up, but she hadn’t expected their secret warrior. Like those onlookers outside had said—a water elemental would have been nice.
But maybe it made sense. The Council knew about this mission, and had a vested interest in Adrian’s well-being. Maybe they’d sent the Sentinel to observe their progress. In which case, the question wasn’t, what was he doing here? But more, what had taken him so long?
The Sentinel’s head swiveled toward her and he said in a deeply concerned voice, “Is everyone all right?”
Nova spread her arms wide. “We’re trapped in burning building. What do you think?”
“I’ll get you to safety,” he said. “All of you. On one condition.” He turned his focus toward the Librarian, who had stopped tossing books out the window to gape at the newcomer. “I want to offer you a trade, Gene Cronin.”
Cronin’s mouth worked in silence. He held a leather-bound book to his chest, squeezing it like a life preserver. “I … who are you?”
“I am the Sentinel.”
It was said in that same righteous tone Nova remembered, and she couldn’t help rolling her eyes.
“Answer me quickly,” said the Sentinel. “We don’t have much time.”
“I … a trade? Yes. Yes, all right. I am a fair businessman. But … everything’s been destroyed. If you’re here for guns or explosives, it will have to wait until I can reestablish connection with my—”
“That doesn’t interest me,” said the Sentinel. “I’m here for information.”
Nova frowned, her suspicions growing. Outside, she heard someone calling her name and she turned to see Ruby and Oscar racing through the alley, each carrying one end of a long aluminum ladder. Relief swelled through her chest. She wondered where they had gotten it from, though at the moment it didn’t much matter.
“Information?” said Cronin. “Well, that I have in spades.”
“I’m looking for Nightmare.”
Her heart jolted and she spun back to face the Sentinel. He wasn’t facing her and she could see the visor only in profile. But Cronin—she could see him just fine, and the way his stunned eyes shifted toward her made her pulse thunder beneath her skin. She gave a quick, desperate shake of her head.
“Tell me where I can find her,” said the Sentinel, “and I’ll not only get you safely out of this building, but I’ll take you somewhere that will give you a significant head start when the Renegades come looking. You and your granddaughter can leave this city and never come back.”
Narcissa’s gaze swiveled from the Sentinel to Nova, her eyes wide. It was impossible to tell if the Sentinel meant what he was saying, or if the offer was merely a ploy to get the Librarian to talk. Perhaps the Sentinel would betray their deal as soon as he had the information he wanted. That’s what a villain would have done. But a Renegade? Who were all about honesty and integrity?
But if he did mean to follow through with such an offer, he’d be letting the Librarian go free, a man who had put hundreds of illegal weapons out into the streets. What would the Council say about that? Had th
Nova swallowed, debating whether or not she should be flattered.
“Nightmare?” Cronin said. His eyes stayed focused on the Sentinel now and Nova could almost see his thoughts grinding inside his head as he tried to work out his best chance for long-term survival … and freedom.
“She’s wanted for an attempted assassination on the Council, though I suspect I don’t need to tell you that. You supplied the gun she used, didn’t you?” The Sentinel took a few steps closer, his feet clopping against the floorboards. “I want to know where she is and who she’s working for. Answer that and you’ll have the rest of this day to find yourself accommodations other than a prison cell.”
“Where she is,” Cronin squeaked. “Who she’s working for?”
His focus slipped off the Sentinel and settled on Nova. Her hand dropped to her belt and the stun gun holstered there.
Cronin’s Adam’s apple bobbed sharply. “Well,” he gasped. “That’s a … a complicated matter.” He cleared his throat. “You see, the girl who … who goes by Nightmare, as … as some know her … by that name … well, she—”
A flaming blue sphere soared in through the broken window. It landed on the wooden floor, bounced once—
Nova dived for cover behind a display case, throwing her arms around her head, while the Sentinel launched himself for Cronin and Narcissa, shielding them both.
The detonation blew the corner off the library, tore a hole through the floor, and heaved the walls outward. Plaster and glass and roof shingles cascaded onto Nova’s back. The floor beneath her tilted sharply toward the epicenter of the explosion. She grabbed for one of the built-in shelves, holding tight to the molding as the floor dropped out from under her feet. Books rained down around her but she swung her knee upward for purchase and held on.
The rumbling of the walls had not yet stopped when she felt a surge of heat and all the smoke released from the floor below, searing and thick. Nova coughed and looked around, trying to see through the haze. Flames were surging down below. The wall to her right was gone and she could see the theater across the alley, but at least the opening allowed for the smoke to billow outward. She coughed. Her eyes stung. There was no sign of the Sentinel or Cronin or Narcissa. Had they fallen through to the floor below? There was no sign of them down there, either.