Page 137 of Archenemies

A second landing gave way to a slightly wider staircase, and an arched doorway with words carved in ancient Latin.

They passed through a wide chamber. A tomb. White marble sarcophagi lined the opposing walls, watched over by stone figures shrouded in cobwebs and dust. Adrian tried to move with stealth, but his boots clomped against the floor, reverberating through the hollow grave.

A large wooden door fitted with ironwork greeted them at the end of the tomb and around its edges, Adrian detected the faint glimmer of golden light.

Oscar swirled a cloud of vapor around his fingers. At the first sign of trouble, he would fill the space with fog, disorienting potential enemies.

Ruby unhooked the gem from her wrist.

Adrian called forth the slim cylinder on his forearm. The close quarters made him uneasy. It made his springs useless, anda fireball in such a contained space was just as likely to harm his allies. He suspected he would see Queen Bee and Cyanide when he opened that door. His suit would protect him from both, at least for a while, and it would be a quick fight with Oscar and Ruby at his side.

Especially if the Anarchists were caught off guard, though every clapping footstep made that more unlikely.

Adrian placed a hand on the door and braced himself. Behind him, he pictured Smokescreen and Red Assassin taking up position.

Setting his jaw, he yanked open the door.

A skeleton stood on the other side.

Ruby squeaked and swung her gem at it—instinct, Adrian guessed, as much as anything. It struck the skeleton between two rib bones and the whole thing shattered, collapsing to the stone floor with a melody of wooden knocking. Its skull rolled against Adrian’s foot.

Heart pounding, he swept his gaze upward. They were in the catacombs. More coffins were surrounded by walls of bones, shelves of skulls. Two standing candelabras held white taper candles that were nearly burned through and a curtain of femurs and clavicles hung across the space, obscuring what was kept behind it.

Phobia? Is this where he returned to when he evaporated like that? Adrian pictured a video-game character being sent back to the start of a level each time they were killed and a laugh stuck in his throat, turning into a choking cough.

The bones at his feet began to shake. They shuffled across the floor and gradually reassembled, until the skeleton stood upright before them again. Its hollow eyes and toothy grin were unchanged, and Adrian wondered if it was only his imagination suggesting irritation coming from the figure.

The skeleton bowed low at the waist and, without lifting his head, gestured dramatically toward the bone curtain.

Adrian stepped inside, giving the skeleton a wide berth. As soon as Ruby and Oscar were inside, the creature climbed up onto a wooden board hung over a sarcophagus, crossed its arms over its chest, and fell asleep. Or, died.

Adrian was still studying the skeleton when the entire curtain of bones fell, crashing into the stone foundation. They scattered to each corner.

He spun around. Air left his lungs. Disbelief mottled his thoughts.

Ace Anarchy.

Ace Anarchy.

He didn’t fully trust his eyes. He couldn’t be entirely sure. There were few photos of the villain without his helmet, and those were largely from his youth—before his rise to power. This man was not young. He did not look powerful either. His pallor was gray and cracked with wrinkles. His hair thin, his body more reminiscent of the skeleton who had welcomed them than the broad-shouldered prodigy who had overthrown an entire government and cast the world into a period of fear and lawlessness.

But his eyes. Dark, nearly black, and every bit as keen as Adrian would have imagined.

He was levitating, his legs crossed like a meditating monk as he hovered over the floor of fallen bones.

And his voice was strong, if also laced with a bone-deep weariness.

“Charmed,” said Ace Anarchy, baring his teeth, “I’m sure.”

Adrian was thrown against a wall. His back struck the stone so hard it sent rivulets of dust raining from the ceiling. He grunted andstrained to move, but while his limbs inside the suit were free, the armor itself was immobilized.

Adrian cursed.

Telekinesis.

He’d thought the suit would protect him, but of course it wouldn’t, not against a telekinetic like Ace Anarchy.

The catacombs filled with white smoke, so thick Adrian couldn’t see past his visor. He struggled harder. If he could just move his arm, he could get to the switch on his chest that would retract the suit—

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