Supernova - Marissa Meyer Page 0,128

Sentinel pressed a hand to his chest, and the armored plates started to condense, the suit folding in on itself. It was like watching an origami doll as it got smaller and smaller, then disappeared altogether into the chest of a human boy.

Nova froze.

The world faded, a tunnel around her vision. Like peering through narrow binoculars, bringing the world into sharp focus, yet being unable to comprehend what she was seeing.

The boy …

The Sentinel …

It was Adrian.

Even as she stared, trying to comprehend, her uncle was lifting a thousand weapons from the debris, surrounding Adrian and his dad with everything from abandoned blades to splintered wooden beams.

“No…” Her voice broke.

Ace didn’t hear.

She staggered forward. She couldn’t quite align the identity of Adrian with the Sentinel, but she could see that Ace intended to kill him. There would be no surviving the attack of so many weapons at once.

She couldn’t watch it. Not him, too. Anyone but Adrian—

“Ace!” she cried. “Ace, wait!”

He didn’t wait.

With the twitch of a finger, he sent the amassed shrapnel flying at Adrian.

Nova screamed.

Adrian thrust out his left hand.

Something erupted from his palm, expanding outward, encapsulating him and Simon before Nova’s scream had broken.

The spears, the daggers, the broken pieces of concrete, all struck it with deadly force and ricocheted harmlessly away.

Nova’s scream stammered and fell silent. In shock. In utter disbelief.

What was it?

A wall of sorts. A protective barrier made of invisible bricks, each held together with glowing copper-colored mortar. It stood like a circular tower around Adrian and his father. A medieval turret, imbued with some sort of force field …

How had he done it?

For that matter, how did he do any of the things the Sentinel could do? He was Adrian. He was Sketch.

Ace, too, seemed surprised. He inspected Adrian through the shimmering wall that divided them. “You are full of tricks,” he mused. “But don’t get cocky. I’ve yet to meet a wall I couldn’t bring down.”

“The tattoo?” Nova murmured, remembering the tattoo he’d given himself on his inner wrist. The castle turret. In theory, I’ll be able to use it to create a barrier around myself and anyone who’s near me.…

She tore her gaze away from Adrian and stumbled toward her uncle. “Ace,” she panted, grabbing his arm. He startled, as if he’d forgotten there was anyone here but his enemies. “We need to leave.”

Through the slitted hole of the helmet, he considered her. “Leave? Things are just getting interesting.”

“Ace,” she said, more insistent now. “You have your freedom. You have your helmet. We all sacrificed a lot for that. We need to take care of our injured. We need to regroup.”

He snorted derisively. “We need to finish what we’ve started.” With a roar, Ace reached one hand toward the sky, then pulled his fist back down.

Steel beams erupted from the walls. Concrete blocks blew up from the floor. A cyclone of stone, wood, plaster, and glass spun through the arena, crashing into the iridescent barrier. Adrian was motionless, his expression hinting at only the slightest bit of fear as his barrier was pummeled from every side, as Ace Anarchy did his best to destroy the wall.

But Adrian’s wall held.

“Ace!” Nightmare yelled, her voice barely carrying over the storm he’d created. “Stop! Uncle Ace, please!”

The chaos shuddered, slowed, and finally stilled. Ace’s expression was still full of vitriol, his face contorted with loathing. “If this is about him—”

“It’s about us,” she said, only half lying. “Your allies and friends. Your family. Look around. We’ve done enough today. Now, we need to take care of our own.”

Ace did look around, and Nova could only guess what he was seeing. The ravages of battle, the destruction he and his helmet had wrought, the bodies—so many bodies …

A loud hiss sent a shiver along her spine. Nova spun to see the boa constrictor rising up, its eerie white eyes meeting hers. Then the snake’s body melted into a sludgy liquid and Phobia emerged once more, his cloak shimmering briefly like snakeskin before solidifying around his body. The hood wavered from his raspy breaths, his nonexistent mouth.

Nova could feel his accusations before he spoke, and she didn’t want to hear them. She didn’t want Ace to hear them.

The truth.

She was terrified that Ace Anarchy would win this fight.

She lifted a hand toward Phobia, her lips curving into a snarl. “Not now,” she said, before fixing her attention back on her uncle. “Ace, please. We came here for you, and we succeeded. Remember your purpose. A world

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