Page 133 of Supernova

The clatter of Honey’s shoes reverberated through the chapel again, and she appeared in the doorway a moment later.

“I know that probably wasn’t enough time to come to terms with this dreadful new information,” she said, smiling sweetly at Adrian. “The good news is, you’ll soon be put out of your misery.” She beamed at Nova. “Ace wants us in the bell tower.”

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

NOVA SEEMED SENSITIVEto the ragged wounds on Adrian’s forearms, but Queen Bee showed no qualms about grabbing his bare arms as they hauled Adrian to his feet.

“What’s happening in the bell tower?” he asked.

“Only yourdoom,” Honey said with a giggle.

Adrian glowered at her. “Is that a dressy occasion? Because someone sort of destroyed my shirt.”

“Believe me, that’s the least of your worries,” said Honey, patting him on the shoulder.

Nova took a handgun from her belt, and though she didn’t aim it at him, the threat was implied.

Adrian shook his head at her, still reeling from the absurd suggestion that he might have created Phobia. “You’re not going to shoot me.”

Nova gave him a look, and it was so hollow and unfamiliar that Adrian immediately wanted to take the words back.

At least she was looking at him, though, and with somethingmore than just pity over his supposed creation. He held the gaze until she was forced to turn away.

Despite everything, it remained impossible for him to imagine Nova shooting him. He had been wrong about her, in so many ways. But this, his mind refused to compromise on.

Nova was not going to kill him. This much, he had to believe.

But would she stand by and do nothing once the other Anarchists decided he’d served his usefulness? That, he couldn’t be so sure about.

It was very likely that he was going to die in this cathedral. Maybe it would be Ace Anarchy himself who did the honors. Or even Phobia.

Phobia. His mother’s murderer. An abomination, maybe, but not one that Adrian had anything to do with. He was sure of that.

Wasn’t he?

He couldn’t fend off a sting of doubt. Honey and Nova had been persuasive, and the drawingsdidlook like the villain… but Phobia had been tormenting Renegades for years. Probably Adrian’s art had been inspired by the villain, on a subconscious level. It didn’t prove anything. Besides, nothing he’d made had ever lived half as long before. Why would Phobia be different?

He shuddered at the very implication—that if Nova was right, he had created his mother’s killer.

But it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true.

He tightened his jaw and tried to convince himself that this was just a mind game they were playing with him. Something to distract him. To leave him disheartened and hopeless. That’s all this was.

Nova and Queen Bee took him down a corridor of watchful statues and past the main altar, then into the north transept. Queen Bee carried the lantern, which offered them enough light to see by, if notenough to fully illuminate the shadowed corners. Nova pulled open a heavy wood door and cocked her head, indicating for Adrian to go first.

He found himself trudging up a marble staircase that wrapped the walls of a large square tower. He could hear the Renegades from here, their attacks drumming against the erected barrier. Though the leaded windows were too narrow to escape through, he kept searching the world beyond them for any sign of what was happening outside. But all he could see were glimpses of the dome and the darkness that filled it. The Renegades hadn’t breached it yet.

They passed two stories and then ducked through another narrower door into the top half of the tower. The steps changed from marble to wood. They had reached a place where visitors and worshipers would not have entered, where only bell ringers might once have trod.

The staircase seemed to spiral into eternity, disappearing into shadows overhead. The windows were still Gothic style—leaded glass surrounded by stone moldings—but otherwise, this section of the tower was simple and utilitarian. Undecorated walls and supportive wooden beams crosshatched between the rickety stairs.

Adrian climbed. The wood beneath his bare feet was worn to velvet smoothness and he was grateful that Honey hadn’t started her mutilations with his feet, otherwise this trek would have been torturous. They rounded a corner to another flight of steps and he took the chance to glance back at Nova. She bristled and jabbed the barrel of the gun into his back.

At the top of a particularly steep, narrow section of the staircase, they came to a solid wooden platform overhead. Nova reached past Adrian to push up the trapdoor, doing everything in her power to avoid touching him as she did.

The door fell back with a thud and a cloud of dust rained down through the opening. Adrian angled his face away, coughing.

“Heroes first,” cooed Honey Harper.

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