do you think’s gonna happen to us when they get here? You can talk all you want about peace and forgiveness. They’ll slaughter us on sight.”
“And any they don’t,” said a man with neon-yellow skin, “will be shipped right back to Cragmoor.” He shook his head. “I can’t go back there. I’d rather die.”
“So, pretty Everhart boy with the pretty words,” said the older woman, tapping the gun against her shoulder. “You got any other options for us? Because we’re not looking to die today any more than you are.”
Adrian’s mouth had run dry. They were right. He could plead for a truce all he wanted, but as soon as the Renegades arrived, they wouldn’t stop to listen to these prodigies or their requests. They didn’t care about revolution or freedom or acceptance. This was a war. Their enemies must be vanquished, before they could do any more damage.
Would he be able to stop the Renegades? Could he persuade them to put their hatred aside long enough to find resolutions beyond death and imprisonment?
Not today. Not so soon after the battle at the arena. Not with the deaths, the neutralizations, the fight still raging between Ace Anarchy and Captain Chromium. The hatred ran too deep, and change would take time.
But things had to change. And if he wasn’t the one to start it, then who would?
“You can escape through the catacombs,” he said. “Go out through the tunnels into the subway. You’ll be long gone before the Renegades realize it. And if our paths ever cross again … maybe it won’t be as enemies.”
“We can’t go out through the catacombs,” said Narcissa. “Ace closed off the tunnel, piling up a bunch of those marble coffins. To get through there, we’d need—”
“Dynamite?” said a tired, scratchy voice.
Adrian wheeled around. Cyanide was sitting cross-legged inside the bronze bell, his fingers drumming against his knees. When they had been in the bell tower, Cyanide had been intent on killing Adrian. Now he was watching him with an appraising look.
“Uh … yeah,” stammered Narcissa. “Dynamite would probably work.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t have any,” said Cyanide. “But I have a few other concoctions that will do just as well.”
“Settled, then,” said Adrian. “You all get out of here and when this is over, I’ll be the first among the Renegades to advocate for tolerance … or prodigy rights … or whatever it takes to end this war between us. For good.”
Cyanide flashed him a lopsided smirk that showed a few missing teeth. He peeled himself out of the bell and limped toward Adrian, then settled a hand on Adrian’s shoulder. “Just remember. If Nightmare gets killed out there today, I will find you, and I will douse your extremities in an acid that will eat away at your flesh until all that’s left is those fine pearly teeth of yours.”
Adrian pressed his lips together, not so much from fear, but rather to keep from smiling. Funny how a threat could suddenly make him like a guy. “Duly noted.”
Cyanide led the group of villains toward the staircase and the catacombs.
Narcissa hesitated, caught between old allies and new. It was with an apologetic look that she faced Adrian and the others, with a particularly regretful glance at Danna, one that made Adrian suspect the trauma of the past hours had done more to draw them together than any amount of talking ever could.
“I have to go with them,” said Narcissa. “I know I’m not much of a leader, but … I made a lot of promises when I brought them together, and I want to keep those promises. I’m supposed to make sure things change for us, for the better.”
“You will,” said Danna. “And you won’t be doing it alone.” She held out a hand. “Friends?”
Narcissa wilted with relief and took the hand. “Friends.”
After she had gone, Adrian said, “You two could go with them, you know. Might be safer down there.”
“Yeah, nice try,” said Oscar. “Ruby’s somewhere on the other side of that barrier. When it comes down, I’ll be waiting.”
Danna grinned determinedly. “Heroes to the end.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
NOVA SPRINTED UP the steps to the northwest tower. When she reached the roofline, she peered through one of the narrow windows. Ace and the Captain were on a flat rooftop that ran beneath a series of Gothic-style flying buttresses. The Captain’s head was lowered as he slammed his way through every obstacle Ace put between them, his fists shattering stones and lobbying thick pillars halfway across the cloister. Despite