Page 73 of Supernova

“Are you Dave?” Nova asked as he and Leroy ushered her inside.

“Naw, Dave just lets us use the basement,” the man answered, bustling through the pawnshop. “For a price, that is. Anything to make a buck, right?”

The overhead lights were off, but a series of glass cases in the store had built-in lighting that cast a dim glow over the merchandise. Watches and costume jewelry in the cases, old cinema posters framed on the walls, shelves along the back stocked with computers, vacuums, and radios. There really wasn’t much in the way of household goods that Davedidn’tseem to have in stock, from practical electronics to pricey luxuries.

Pawnshops had been big business during the Age of Anarchy, when much of the financial system had collapsed and the world’s economy was largely replaced with a trade-and-barter system. These businesses had continued to do well even after the Renegades had taken over, as the economy stuttered and stammered to get going again and employment security remained virtually nonexistent. People still needed food, and sometimes the quickest and easiest way to get it was to pawn off your grandma’s antique hatpin collection for a fraction of its pre-Anarchy value.

They passed through the shop and into a back room, where utilitarian shelves were lined with more electronics and a random assortment of spare parts. It smelled of grease and must and moth-eaten clothing, which all served to remind Nova of the subway tunnels.

Leroy and the man grabbed a small worktable and together hoisted it off to the side.

A hidden door was cut out of the dingy linoleum flooring, illuminated with yellow light from below.

Grinning in a way that showed off his missing teeth, Leroy gestured for Nova to go first.

She squeezed the bundle of daisies Adrian had given her and,not sure what else to do, tucked them under one arm as she stepped onto the rungs of the ladder. The paper crinkled loudly as she lowered herself into the basement. Her boot had barely touched concrete when arms were wrapping around her and pulling her from the ladder.

“Nightmare, my darling!” Honey cooed, squeezing her from behind. “We’ve missed you so much!” She spun Nova around so she could cup her face between lacquered nails. Streaks of black eyeliner had dried and caked on her cheeks and she seemed to be covered in more of her bee friends than usual—nine or ten were caught in her blonde hair and Nova spied at least a dozen more wandering around her neck and shoulders. “If I believed in miracles, I would say we’ve accomplished one. You’re free!”

“I’m free,” Nova agreed, as Leroy dropped down beside them.

“And oh, flowers! Did Leroy think to bring you those? How thoughtful.”

Nova glanced at Leroy. Now that she was back in villain territory, the last thing she wanted to do was confess that, actually, the flowers were from Adrian Everhart.

Leroy winked at her and said nothing.

“I’ll find something to put them in,” said Honey, taking the bouquet from her. It was immediately set upon by a flurry of enthusiastic honeybees.

The pawnshop’s basement was not so much a basement as a bomb shelter, with thick concrete walls and a couple of hallways leading off in various directions. Nova surmised that the shelter must run nearly the full city block. In this central area there were some rickety folding chairs, worn rugs crisscrossing one another across the floor, and crates of food and supplies against one wall.

But what was more surprising to her than learning that her allieshad taken up residence in the bomb shelter beneath Dave’s Pawnshop was learning that they were not alone.

Nova was greeted by at least thirty faces, almost all of them strangers, who stared back at her, largely expressionless. Nova recognized signs of inherent abilities. A girl a few years her senior had thick auburn hair that floated like seaweed in the air. One man had a growth of fungi covering his right arm. A boy who was probably thirteen or fourteen had gigantic eyes, with pupils shaped like six-pointed stars.

There were more subtle indicators, too. A tattoo of two arrows crossed on a paper scroll—a symbol of the Vandal Cartel, which had been the Librarian’s gang years ago. Two young boys dressed in shimmery gold robes, reminiscent of the Harbingers. Nova knew that some of the villain gangs that hadn’t been vanquished on the Day of Triumph had gone underground, still existing, still struggling to survive. They had been in hiding, stealing when they had to, fighting for their needs, existing in the shadows—many going through life hiding the fact that they were prodigies, so as not to draw the attention of the Renegades who would surely label them as villains.

But she’d never heard of them banding together into a unified group. Had this been happening without the Anarchists’ knowledge all this time?

She spotted Phobia lurking in a back corner, his scythe glinting over the heads of the crowd. Nova gulped. Adrian’s words, coursing with anger, came back to her.

One cannot be brave who has no fear… Those words were found on a slip of paper left on my mother’s body.

How many times had she heard Phobia say that? It was a phrase she had grown up with, one that had struck her as both truthful and encouraging. It was okay to be afraid sometimes, for only then could you choose to be brave.

But the words held a very different meaning for Adrian.

Had Phobia killed Lady Indomitable? Hadhemurdered Adrian’s mom?

Nova wondered whether she would ask him if ever given the chance. She wondered how much she really wanted to know.

Turning to Leroy, she asked, “Does someone want to explain to me what’s going on?”

But it was not Leroy who answered.

“Maybe we should start with the enormousthank-youyou owe us.”

Nova spun around.

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