Page 9 of Supernova

“Yikes,” muttered Oscar. “That was weird.”

“Danna,” said Adrian. “I’m right? Do you know who it is? Or how we can find her?”

And though Nova had been sure that Danna wasn’t supposed to be able to hear, let alone comprehend spoken language, in swarm mode, they must have understood well enough. As one, the butterflies lifted into the air, circled once beneath the ceiling, then came to settle.

Directly on Nova.

She squeaked and stiffened as the butterflies and their dainty feet perched on her shoulders, her hair, her arms and knees and toes. Those who couldn’t fit on her body surrounded her, taking up residence on the cushions and the back of the couch.

Nova held her breath, suddenly too afraid to move. She wasn’t the only one who had gone motionless. Adrian was gawking at her, his mouth hanging open.

The butterflies lingered only a moment before they took to the air again and found their way to the distant corners of the room.

Heart thudding, Nova dared to look at Ruby. Then Oscar. And back to Adrian. They were all watching her… not accusatory, not yet. But uncertain, for sure.

Her brain scrambled for words… any words, and—“The vault!”she said, launching to her feet so fast Adrian took a hesitant step back from her. “I think Danna is telling me… us… that’s it. It makes so much sense. So many of the clues pointing toward Nightmare lead to the vault. And I work in the vault!” She forced a grin, as brilliant as she dared. “I can search the records. Talk to Tina and Callum. If Nightmare knew about the mist-missiles and… all that other stuff… then she must have left some sort of trail. Either in the paperwork or on the security tapes…” She pounded a fist into her open palm. “If she’s been there anytime in the last six months, I can find out about it. If she is a spy, then I can figure out her identity. I know it.”

Adrian relaxed. “You’re right. Danna’s right. By pinpointing the exact items she used and stole, we should be able to track who it is.”

“Also,” said Ruby, “we can compare them with the trial records. Probably Nightmare hasn’t been in our ranks for long. She might have just joined up at the most recent trials… or maybe last year. We can compare what Nova finds with the newest recruits.”

Nova’s head started to bob as if it were no longer attached to her spine. “Great. Yes. Excellent. I won’t let you down.”

All the while, her head was throbbing. Panic surging through her veins.

Time was running out. She would be discovered any day, anyminute.

How was she possibly going to free Ace before it happened?

CHAPTER FOUR

“HERE’S WHAT WEhave,” said Nova, clearing mason jars full of honey from their small dining room table. Leroy, Honey, and Phobia stood watching as Nova took the rubber band from a large roll of paper and spread it out across the surface. She replaced a couple of the honey jars at the corners to hold it down flat.

The paper, which she had printed at a twenty-four-hour, low-budget print shop the night before, showed old blueprints of Cragmoor Penitentiary, downloaded from the Renegade database. They were, however, very old blueprints, and Nova knew they weren’t accurate. Still, she had been unable to find updated records. If anything, it appeared that the Renegades had intentionally kept records of any penitentiary remodels secure and private… perhaps to avoid prison breaks.

“These exterior walls are unchanged,” she said, pointing to the outline of the prison cell block and the stone security wall that enclosed it. “Satellite imagery confirms it, as well as the placement of these guard towers and the boat dock. There are still buildingshere and here…” She pointed to two structures just inside the wall. “But I can’t say for sure what they contain. They used to be administration, guard housing, a small medical office, and the cafeteria, but we can’t confirm any of that. We do know that prisoners are transferred to terrain vehicles just off the dock and taken up this road onto the island, where they pass through this security checkpoint, manned by Renegades. Let’s assume they’re heavily armed.”

“Possibly,” said Leroy. He was leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping from a snifter glass full of brandy. He did not imbibe regularly, but this bottle seemed to be one that he had sequestered for years, and Nova had noticed him emptying it faster than usual these days. “But it’s more likely they choose prodigies who have powers that can act as long-distance weaponry, rather than arming them with guns that could potentially be taken and used against them.”

“Let’s hope so,” said Honey. “A few doses of Agent N will solve that problem.”

Nova didn’t respond. The same thought had occurred to her, but she didn’t want to get cocky. After her infiltration of Renegade Headquarters, they knew that Nightmare and the Anarchists had at least some supply of Agent N, and that they’d found a way to weaponize it in gas form. They could be expecting it. She doubted she would get the chance to surprise them with their own substance again.

“And where is Ace in all this?” said Honey. Leaning over the table, she drew a bloodred fingernail along a line of cells inside the block. “Somewhere in here?”

“Doubtful,” murmured Phobia. He swirled the blade of his scythe once over his hood, before tipping it forward and touching the point to the blueprint. “They will have him here.”

Beneath the blade’s edge was a short hallway tucked away in thebuilding behind what may or may not be the cafeteria. Only four tiny cells were printed there, along with the wordSOLITARY.

“If that’s where they still keep solitary confinement,” said Nova. “We know the Renegades have made extensive renovations to the prison, but I can’t find any records of what they’ve done.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming on. “And as far as current security protocols, cell placements, areas of restricted access…” She shrugged. “We can make guesses, but that’s all they’ll be. Guesses.”

“So if we’re going to get Ace out of there,” said Honey, “we’ll be going in blind.”

“Exactly.”

Honey hummed as she surveyed the blueprints. “I’m beginning to understand the value of our little butterfly friend’s ability more and more.”

Nova’s cheek twitched, though she tried not to let the others see her discomfort. She tended to flinch every time Danna was mentioned. She’d done her best to ignore the glass jar that sat on Honey’s vanity in their shared bedroom, with pinprick holes for oxygen punctured into the tin lid, and the occasional cutting of ironweed dropped inside so it wouldn’t starve. Nova’s guilt over keeping Danna imprisoned was profound. She often wondered if Danna’s consciousness was somewhere inside that tiny little insect brain, experiencing what it experienced.

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