Page 91 of Renegades

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

THEOAKDOORSSLAMMED SHUTbehind them and Adrian found himself engulfed by stale air and the aroma of leather and brittle pages. He paused in the vestibule, taking in the entryway and the lobby beyond. He had never been to this library before, and now he was wishing he would have come inside when he’d scouted out the area before. He wouldn’t have felt quite so vulnerable now, to be going into a place completely blind, having very little knowledge of its floor plan or exits. He could have come inside during business hours, attempted to be discreet…

The problem with that was, thanks to his dads, it was too likely he would be recognized.

So, he took the time now to observe what he could. Inside the entrance hall, two alcoves stood to either side, each containing a marble statue. To his left, a noble scholar held an open book in one hand, the other raised up in a gesture of brilliance, as if the book had just revealed to him the secrets of the universe. In the other alcove, a scribe noted his thoughts into a journal with a long, feathered pen.

Worn wooden floorboards stretched ahead into a central lobby, where a silhouette on the floor indicated where the old administration desk had once been bolted down. A cheap banquet table stood off in one corner, framed by dark wainscoting on the wall and a large antique mirror that reflected what little daylight reached this central room. The beams of light that did enter through a couple of smartly placed upper windows illuminated drifts of thick dust circulating through the space.

Adrian moved forward, one hand taking the marker from his back pocket and clutching it instinctively. Beside him, Nova gave his hand a curious look, before meeting his gaze with something almost like teasing.

He looked away. It may not be a gun or a knife, but it was still the most effective weapon he had.

Tattoos notwithstanding.

His jaw tensed as he approached the table, where the lobby’s only occupant sat on a stool entranced by what appeared to be a romance novel. The girl was perhaps a year or two younger than him, with ginger hair braided thickly over one shoulder.

“Excuse me,” Adrian said, sounding ridiculously polite even in his own head.

The girl, though, did not even look up. Just reached across the desk and slid a clipboard toward him—a form for checking out books.

He cleared his throat and, this time, tried to sound not like a concerned citizen, but like a Renegade. A superhero. “We’re here for the Detonator.”

The girl’s head shot upward. She blinked at Adrian, then took in the others, her gaze lingering longest on Nova, long pale eyelashes fluttering over grayish eyes. Her lips parted as she turned back to Adrian and squeaked, “I beg your pardon?”

“The Detonator,” Adrian said again. “We saw her come in here, not ten minutes ago. Where is she?”

The girl’s mouth opened. Closed. Her eyes darted once more to Nova, then back. “You… Aren’t you…” She looked at Nova again, dumbfounded. “Are they Renegades?”

It wasn’t really a question. Adrian wasn’t sure how she could tell without the uniforms—maybe she recognized some of them from the media. Maybe they simply had alookto them. He liked to think so.

What was odd, though, was the way she was staring at Nova, almost like she recognized her.

“We sure are,” said Nova, her voice run through with assertive pride. “Renegades. All of us. Bold, valiant, and… um…”

“Just,” whispered Ruby.

Nova nodded. “That’s the one. Now tell us where—”

“Are we in trouble?” the girl said, slamming shut her book and clutching it against her stomach, mostly covering the depiction of a shirtless swashbuckler on the cover. “We haven’t done anything, I swear. Is this because we’ve been stocking that cookbook again? Because we were told it was within our rights to—”

“The Detonator,” Adrian said, more forcefully now. “Stop stalling and tell us where she is.”

The girl hesitated. Looked once more at Nova, and this time Adrian frowned and followed the look. Nova turned to him and shrugged, apparently as baffled as he was.

“I… I don’t know who that is,” the girl stammered. Her face was red as a cherry now, and Adrian doubted it had much to do with her reading material. “I’m sorry. I can’t help you.”

“A woman, about this tall,” Adrian deadpanned, indicating her height. “Wears lots of armbands and can make explosives appear out of thin air. Sound familiar?”

The girl gave a weak, apologetic smile. “Not really?”

“How about the Librarian,” said Oscar, stepping closer to the desk. “Where’s he?”

“He’s in the… uh… the back,” the girl said, her attention darting over all four of them again. “Cataloging new… reference… materials.”

“Take us to him,” said Adrian. “Now.”

“Oh, you can’t go back there,” the girl said. “He doesn’t like to be disturbed.”

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