Renegades

by Marissa Meyer

  “Don’t press your luck,” said Simon, making up a plate for himself.

  “So,” said Hugh, dumping a stack of junk mail into the garbage bin. The Council kept saying they were going to start up a citywide recycling program one of these days, but it, like so many of their aspirations, had yet to become a reality. “Are you looking forward to having a new teammate starting today?”

  Adrian blinked. He’d been so focused on the tattoo he’d nearly forgotten about Nova McLain.

  Nearly.

  “Yeah,” he said, breaking open his scone and slathering it with butter. “I think we’re all really excited to have her.”

  Simon shook his head. “When she opted to go against Gargoyle, I thought she was out of her mind. But I was impressed with how she handled it. We need people who can be resourceful like that, who can think fast during an altercation.”

  Adrian smiled wryly at the term altercation. At some point his dads had gone from talking like superheroes to talking like police chiefs, and he wasn’t entirely sure when it had happened.

  “I just hope you all work well together,” said Hugh, shredding open an envelope. “Chemistry is important on a team. And you all seem to have a good thing going so far. Hopefully she’s a good fit.”

  “But if not,” said Simon, “we’ll be able to find a place for her. She was a good choice, Adrian. I’m not sure what made you accept her, but I don’t think anyone will be questioning whether or not she deserves to be a Renegade after that showing.” Reaching across the counter, he nudged the pile of mail aside and replaced it with a plate of food. “Hugh. Eat.”

  Hugh glanced down, momentarily surprised, then picked up a strip of bacon and chomped it in half.

  “Out of curiosity,” said Simon, buttering his own scone, “what made you pick her? I didn’t think you were looking to add to the team.”

  Adrian took a big bite and realized after the fact that it might have been a subconscious attempt to give himself a bit of time before responding. He took a swig of his long-cold coffee and shrugged. “Intuition, I guess.”

  “Intuition,” parroted Hugh, nodding, as if Adrian had just spoken with great wisdom. “It’s important to listen to those feelings when you have them. Strong intuition can save lives, especially in our line of work.”

  Adrian set down his mug. “Right. On that note … how’s the Nightmare investigation going?”

  Simon picked up his plate and came around the bar, claiming the stool beside Adrian. “You’re still concerned about her?”

  “Concerned that there’s a would-be assassin on the loose in our city and we have no idea what she’s capable of or what sorts of connections she might have? A little, yeah.”

  Simon cast him a vexed look. “We might have received a promising new lead yesterday, as a matter of fact. We’ll be looking into it more this afternoon.”

  “The gun?” said Adrian, attempting nonchalance. “The one that’s been linked to Gene Cronin?”

  Hugh glanced up. “You were eavesdropping.”

  “I was getting a snack. If it was top secret, you shouldn’t have been talking about it in the dining room.”

  Hugh and Simon exchanged glances.

  “Yes,” said Simon. “We can’t say for sure if the Librarian sold her that gun, but we’ll be looking into it.”

  “You’re going to question him?”

  “Not immediately,” said Hugh. “If he’s still involved in illegal weapons dealing, then to approach him too soon, without sufficient evidence, could put him on the alert. Could make him halt whatever dealings he’s involved with.”

  “That gun isn’t considered sufficient evidence?”

  Simon shook his head. “It could have been making its way through criminal rings for the last ten years. Until this gun came into our possession, we had no reason to believe that Gene Cronin was still in the trade. As far as we can tell, the Vandal Cartel disbanded after most of their members were killed in the Battle for Gatlon, and Gene Cronin hasn’t shown any sign of participating in illegal activity since. That gun could have passed through countless hands before making its way to Nightmare.”

  “But you don’t think that’s the case,” said Adrian. “You do think he’s still trading, right?”

  Hugh smiled wanly. “We think it warrants looking into.”

  “We’ll probably start with surveillance on his library,” said Simon. “He’s a recluse, so if he is still working on the black market, chances are good that any business happenings are taking place there. We’ll scout out the place for a while, watch for any indications of illegal activity.”

  “But that could take days … weeks, even. Why not just go in and search the place?”

  “Without significant evidence that he’s committed a crime?” said Simon, sounding offended at the idea.

  “Oh, come on,” said Adrian. “He’s a gun dealer. He’s a criminal. Why defend him?”

  “He was a criminal,” said Hugh, “in a different time, a different society. If we started punishing everyone for crimes committed a decade ago, we’d have no one left in this city to defend.”

  “We’re still recovering from the Age of Anarchy,” added Simon. “The code authority protects the rights and privacies of everyone, even those who were once involved with the villain gangs. Because how can we expect people to change if we don’t give them the chance to?”

  Adrian glowered, unconvinced. It seemed to him that having a gun that could be traced back to Gene Cronin was plenty reason to search his library, but he could see he wouldn’t be making headway in this argument anytime soon. “Have you picked a team for the surveillance yet?”

  “No, but we’ll probably use—”

  “We volunteer.”

  Simon hesitated, his fork halfway to his mouth with a strawberry speared on its tines. “What?”

  “Adrian—” started Hugh.

  “Don’t say no,” he insisted, his gaze swiveling between them. “Just listen. We want to be involved with the Nightmare investigation, and this would be an easy way for us to do that. Nobody else is going to want to sit outside a public library all night, waiting for something exciting to happen. And we’ll have the new girl—Nova. She doesn’t even need to sleep.”

  Simon’s brow furrowed thoughtfully and Adrian could see that this, at least, seemed to carry some merit with him.

  “Why are you so interested in the Nightmare case?” said Hugh, throwing another batch of mail into the garbage bin.

  “My team has faced off against her twice now,” said Adrian. “It’s starting to feel a little personal. Besides … she attacked you.”

  Hugh snorted dismissively, and Adrian couldn’t tell if it was a show, or if he really didn’t feel that Nightmare’s attack warranted concern.

  “I’m serious, Dad. If you hadn’t noticed, she almost killed you.”

  A muscle flexed in Hugh’s jaw.

  “And she took down Tamaya with … with a fishing net,” Adrian went on. “Not to mention being partially responsible for Monarch’s injuries, and managing to evade Oscar and Ruby and”—he inhaled sharply, rolling one hand through the air in a gesture that he hoped showed some amount of indifference—“that Sentinel guy too. Her power might not seem like much, but she is a threat. We can’t underestimate her again.”

  “We’re not underestimating her,” said Simon. “We are taking the attempted assassination very seriously. So seriously, in fact, that it would be irresponsible to send an inexperienced street patrol unit to do an investigative job.”

  Adrian tensed, heat rising into his cheeks. “Over the last year I think our team has more than proved our ability to handle any assignment sent our way.”

  “Except for the two times Nightmare got away?” said Simon.

  Adrian scowled. “Low blow, Pops.”

  Simon’s expression softened. “Look, we’re not saying that we don’t think you could handle this. If anything, we’d rather keep you out on patrol duty, where your skills are truly used to ev
eryone’s advantage. Did you know crime rates went up eight percent last quarter? We need every unit on the streets we can get.”

  “And how much could a guy like Gene Cronin be playing into those rates?” Adrian said, forcing himself to speak slowly. To sound rational. “If he really is selling illegal weaponry to criminals, how much good could be done just by capturing this one guy?”

  “And for that,” said Hugh, “we’ll be sending an investigative unit.”

  Adrian sighed in frustration. “Come on, give it to us. Please.”

  “Adrian, what does it matter?” said Simon. “You said yourself, no one wants to be staring at a library all night when they could be out helping people.”

  “Because I want to be a part of this,” said Adrian, losing the battle to keep his voice even. “Because I want to find Nightmare.”

  Simon drew back, his head tilting to one side, and Adrian noticed for the first time just how unruly his beard had gotten. He glanced at Hugh and saw that his own hair was in need of a cut, his face in need of a shave.

  When was the last time either of them had taken a day to just relax? To just be? It was always the Council, the city, the Renegades. Adrian could only imagine the pressure they were under, along with the rest of the Council. The whole world was looking to them for guidance and protection, for security and stability and justice.

  He sighed, dragging his fork through the crumbs that had fallen from the scone. “Oscar heard her say something during their fight on the rooftop,” he said, hoping beyond hope that they would never bother to confirm this lie. “She said … one cannot be brave who has no fear.”

  He didn’t need to look up at his dads to feel the shift in the air. Hugh inhaled sharply. Simon sank away from the bar, leaning against the back of his stool.

  Hugh drummed his fingers against the countertop. “You don’t think Nightmare was connected to her death, do you? From what I can tell, she’s much too young to have been involved.”

  “No, I know she is,” said Adrian. “But what if she knows who did it? What if they’re still alive?”

  “It could be a coincidence,” said Simon.

  “Or it might not,” countered Adrian.

  Simon massaged the spot between his thick eyebrows, where he always rubbed when he was deep in thought. “Cards like the one found on Georgia were also found on countless bodies during the Age of Anarchy. Maybe Nightmare read about them somewhere and is … adopting the phrase for herself.”

  Adrian looked away. There was a logic to this suggestion, and it probably should have occurred to him as a possibility much sooner. But … somehow, it didn’t feel right. When Nightmare had said it, she hadn’t been using it as a catchphrase, something she hoped would be quoted in the newspapers the next day. Rather, it had seemed so flippant, so unplanned. Words that came naturally, in the way that things heard repetitively over time often did.

  “It would be out of character,” said Hugh, “for a villain to stop leaving their mark like that, if they were still around.”

  “I know,” said Adrian. “But not impossible.”

  It was the reason everyone had been so quick to assume that Lady Indomitable’s murderer had been killed in the Battle for Gatlon. After that, those mysterious notes had stopped showing up on bodies. Overnight, those dreadful clues vanished. It made sense that whoever had been leaving them was gone.

  But Adrian was no longer sure.

  “Please,” he said. “I just want to find her. I need to know where she heard those words. I need to know what they mean to her. And you’re sending a team to investigate anyway, right? Give us a chance. That’s all I’m asking.”

  Hugh picked up his still-steaming coffee and drank it all in three large gulps, which was how Adrian knew he was considering his request, though the action itself made Adrian flinch. Like so many things, Hugh was invincible to something as simple as burning his tongue on a scorching cup of coffee.

  When he set the cup back down, Hugh looked across at Simon.

  And that look, blank as it was, told Adrian all he needed to know. It was a struggle to bite back the smile that threatened to emerge.

  Simon wilted. “Your team may be excused from street patrol for two weeks in order to assist with the Nightmare investigation. We’ll have surveillance protocols sent to you by noon, and we expect regular reports on any findings, no matter how trivial they may seem. After two weeks, we’ll determine if you can continue this investigation or be returned to your city patrol.”

  Adrian started to smile, but Simon held up a hand, halting it halfway up his face.

  “But I mean this, Adrian. At the very first indication that Gene Cronin is involved in any sort of illegal activity, or should you find any evidence suggesting a connection to Nightmare or any other villain, you are to request backup from an experienced investigative team. You are not to engage Cronin on your own. Understand?”

  “Yes, absolutely,” said Adrian, allowing that grin to shine through. “We will. Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank us yet,” said Hugh. “You haven’t yet learned just how painfully tedious this sort of work can be.”

  Adrian shrugged. “Oscar will be there. How boring can it possibly be?”

  Hugh smirked. “Good point.”

  “We need to get going,” said Simon. “A full roster of Council petitions today, and countless meetings with research and development, and working out details on next month’s gala…” He groaned. “Sometimes I think it will never end.”

  “It’s not easy, leading the world into a new age,” said Hugh. He shoveled the rest of his food into his mouth, then dumped his empty plate into the sink.

  Adrian watched his dads gather up their things, donning black blazers and scarves over their uniforms in a way that seemed laughable—like kids putting winter jackets on over their Halloween costumes.

  They were about to leave when Simon paused and glanced back, his eyes speculative. “Adrian…”

  Adrian sat up straighter, preparing himself as he watched Simon wrestling with whatever it was he wanted to say.

  “I want you to tread carefully with this, all right?”

  Adrian’s brow knit. “What do you mean?”

  “No matter what happens, no matter what you find, nothing is going to bring your mom back. I know you want answers. We all do. But it won’t change the fact that she’s gone.”

  “This isn’t about wanting her back,” said Adrian. “It’s not really about wanting answers, either. If anything, I just want the same thing every Renegade does.” Adrian allowed a faint smile. “Justice.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  NOVA STOOD ON THE SIDEWALK outside Renegade Headquarters for longer than she probably should have, ignoring the people that moved around her, grumbling at the girl in their way or the tourists who clustered beside the bus stops to take pictures of the red letters hung over the massive glass doors.

  Even tilting her head back she could only barely see the top of the building. It was practically a haze, so far up in the sky, towering over the rest of the cityscape. She had seen the building from afar a thousand times, stared at it from rooftops across the city and imagined how she could scale the walls, slip inside, take revenge against the Council and so-called heroes who treated it like their palace. But she had never pictured herself entering through the revolving main entrance. Never once thought she would be welcome there.

  Those revolving doors had been spinning incessantly since she’d arrived. She didn’t think everyone who worked in the building was a prodigy, but there were certainly plenty of people coming and going who wore the signature gray uniforms, though just as many in suits and casual business clothes. Some of the Renegades stopped to smile and wave at the tourists, and were always greeted with a flurry of squeals and camera flashes. All the worshipers come to gawk.

  Nova’s brow tightened as she glanced around, realizing that she was among the awestruck gawkers. Huffing, she tore her feet from the sidewalk and forced them to move forward
. Her palms were sweating as she neared the doors. A woman emerged in a sleek pantsuit. She didn’t even glance at Nova as she took off down the sidewalk, speaking into a device around her wrist and leaving the door to spin leisurely behind her. The gap between the glass barricades yawned open in admittance.

  Nova swallowed and stepped inside.

  Her heartbeat was a rapid staccato as the doors enclosed around her, then circled open on the other side.

  Just like that, she was inside Renegade Headquarters. She dodged out from the revolving door and froze, every muscle braced, but not a single alarm sounded.

  She was on a landing that overlooked a bright and sprawling lobby, where the Renegade R greeted her, inset into the glossy white floor. A staircase led down to the lobby on her left, a curving ramp to her right, both dropping toward a half-moon desk with the word INFORMATION bolted to the front in large steel letters.

  The Anarchists had contemplated an attack on Renegade HQ a thousand times, but they had always known it would be too much risk to try to infiltrate it. There would never be a time when they weren’t vastly outnumbered, as hundreds of prodigies worked and trained inside the building on any given day. Nova could see now that what they’d assumed was true—the Renegades had not left themselves vulnerable to attack. After a quick scan of the lobby she had already pinpointed more than a dozen cameras and sensors and alarms, along with, of course, the armed and uniformed Renegades posted at practical intervals around the space, including one on either side of the landing where she stood. She wondered if guard duty was a full-time gig around here, or if it was a role they rotated people in and out of. She would have to find out. That was precisely the type of information Leroy had meant when he suggested she could make a good spy for them.

  Everyone else seemed to be ignoring the guards, so she did, too, though her nerves twitched as she passed one on her way toward the staircase. An ominous chill went down her spine as she had the premonition that she was about to be tackled from behind. That she would be arrested, bound, made to answer for her crimes against the Council. That maybe her acceptance into the Renegades had been nothing but a ploy to lure her here.