Page 90 of Supernova

Phobia was her ally.

So why did it feel like her heart was breaking, to know how much pain it would cause Adrian to ever learn the truth of their connection?

“I’m sorry,” she said. “You can show me later, okay? I just… I really need to talk to Millie about some stuff. It’s important.”

Fingers tapping on the comic’s cover, Narcissa slowly nodded. “Sure, it can wait. It doesn’t change much at this point anyway.”

Nova had a long list in her head of everything she needed to do and everyone she needed to talk to in order to make sure all was going according to plan—the plan that was still forming by the minute. Especially now that she knew not all of Narcissa’s Rejects would be willing to pull their weight as she’d been led to believe.

But she wanted to talk to Millie first. She hoped the psychometrist might offer answers that Nova doubted she’d find anywhere else.

The basement beneath the pawnshop was divided into a series of large rooms, where a few members of their fledgling alliance had staked out a corner here or set up a cot for themselves there. There was one toilet and a shower with running water that never truly got warm, and so it was only the prodigies who were wanted by the Renegades who spent much time in the underground hideout. Many of the others still had their own homes to return to, though Nova had insisted they meet at particular times to hash out the details of her burgeoning plan.

Of the prodigies who were more permanent fixtures in the shelter, Millie had been given her own space, sharing a converted closet with the power generator that rumbled and cranked incessantly. When Nova arrived at the room, she saw Millie sitting cross-legged on an old sofa cushion, cradling a teacup in the palms of both hands. Her eyes were closed almost blissfully, but one popped open in annoyance when Nova knocked at the plywood door.

“Could you look at something for me?” said Nova, stepping into the room before Millie could shoo her away.

Grunting, Millie peered down into the cup, which Nova realized was empty. “I’m busy.”

“This is important.”

“You young people think everything is important.”

Nova tensed, annoyed at the idea thatherproblems might be trivial. “If we fail, Ace Anarchy is going to die. Or am I the only one who cares about that?”

Millie hummed, unflustered, as she turned the teacup upside down, examining it. “Eighteenth-century bone porcelain. Gilt edging. Hand-painted botanical motif.” She rubbed her thumb over a red imprint on the bottom. “Clear backstamp. Back when pretty things were valued more highly than they are today, this would have sold for upward of two thousand dollars.”

Though Nova was irritated at Millie’s willful ignorance of her statement, at this, her eyebrows rose in mute surprise. She studied the teacup more carefully now, but to her, it continued to look like an antique, useful only for holding tea.

With a crooked grin, Millie set the teacup on her table. “At least, that’s what it wants you to believe. Alas, it’s a fake. A quality replica, but still an impostor. It’s interesting, don’t you think, how an impostor, no matter how good it is, can never be as highly valued as the original.” Her expression turned faintly mocking. “I suppose you know something about that, don’t you, Young Renegade?”

“I suppose I do,” Nova muttered. “Is that from the pawnshop?”

“Was brought in to be pawned yesterday morning. Dave’s been hiring me to do appraisal work for years. People bring in a lot of random stuff to sell, and it can be hard to sort the gold out of the dung heap. Luckily, that’s where I excel.”

“Coming here was your idea?”

She shrugged. “Miss Cronin tracked me down at my boat and told me what she was planning, trying to bring together the old cohorts of her grandfather’s. I liked the idea—it’s been getting harder and harder to conduct business, with the Renegades always breathing down everybody’s necks. But we weren’t all going to fit on my littlehouseboat, so I suggested Dave’s place. The Ghouls and a few of the other gangs used to have meetings down here.”

“What about your boat?” Nova asked. “Aren’t you worried about leaving it unprotected while you’re here?”

“It’ll be fine,” said Millie, her eyes sparking. “Leroy helped me set up some defenses. If anyone tries to steal my treasures, they’ll have regrets.” Setting the cup on the floor, she folded her hands on her lap and turned her full attention to Nova. “What is it you wanted me to look at?”

Nova shut the door behind her. Stepping across the room, she unlatched the bracelet, her fingers fumbling with the clasp Adrian had once drawn for her. The chain slid from her skin. The star brightened momentarily before returning to its faint glimmer.

“I want to know more about this,” she said, holding it out to Millie. “When I stole the helmet, my bracelet reacted to it, almost like the two were magnetized. And the”—she stumbled on the wordstar, instead saying—“jewel had some sort of reaction, too. It helped me break into the chromium box that the helmet was being kept in. I feel like they’re connected somehow.”

Millie’s face as she stared at the bracelet was akin to a curator admiring a fine piece of art, and yet she didn’t reach out to take it. “I haven’t touched the helmet, so I may not see any shared history, if that’s what you’re hoping for.”

“I can have Phobia bring you the helmet, if you need it,” said Nova. “I’ve been thinking maybe we should all try it on, anyway, to see how it affects our powers. It’s supposed to amplify any prodigy ability, which could be useful. And we’re going to need every advantage we can get.”

Millie guffawed. “You go right ahead, but I’ve seen enough hardship in my life.” Standing, she paced to a small table littered with a mishmash of dishes. She selected a chipped ceramic coffee mug, but rather than coffee, she grabbed a green bottle and filled the cup with red wine, nearly to the brim. “The destruction wrought from a thousand relics, the tragedies of too many family keepsakes to count.” She sat down again, cradling the mug in both hands, and took a sip, eyeing Nova. “I don’t need to see what that helmet has seen.”

Nova tried not to think too much about the early days of the Age of Anarchy. The sacrifices that Ace had made in service to his vision. The people who had been killed, the devastation wrought on this city and the world as other prodigies followed his example.

She supposed she couldn’t blame Millie for not wanting to think about those things, either.

“Can you look at this, at least?” she said, holding out the bracelet again. “What is it? What is it made out of? Anything you can tell me might help.”

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