the wasteland lit up the metal driven through his chest.
Ace Anarchy tipped forward and fell.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
“EVERYONE OKAY UP there?” called a ragged voice.
Nova peered over the ledge, avoiding the sight of Ace’s broken figure below. A surge of relief rushed through her to see Hugh Everhart on his feet, if only barely.
With an exhausted grin, he wiped an arm across his brow. “I once swore to protect you. I’m sorry it came so late.”
She laughed, half delirious with gratitude that it wasn’t her broken body at the base of the cathedral.
“Dad!” cried Adrian, throwing himself against the balustrade a few feet away. “You’re alive!”
Hugh chuckled. “Yes. But not invincible anymore, I don’t think.” He tried to disguise the pain that flashed over his features as he shifted his attention to the other side of the roof. “How’s Max doing?”
Nova studied Max, taking in his shuddering limbs and the helmet that was far too big for him. Little ten-year-old Max, who was clever and brave and now might very well have stolen the superpowers of Ace Anarchy and Captain Chromium, arguably the two strongest prodigies in the world.
And Nightmare’s, too, she knew with absolute certainty. There was no need to test the theory. When she called for her power, that subtle strength that had always pulsed beneath the surface of her skin, it was no longer there.
She would never put anyone to sleep again.
But what surprised her more than anything was that she suddenly recognized Max in a way she had never recognized him before. Watching him was like watching an illusion.
He stood as still as the gargoyles that surrounded them, his face shrouded by the helmet, his arms stretched out like offering a gift to the world. The star hovered a few inches above his cupped palms.
He looked like the statue. The one she had once conjured in a dream. The one who had held a star in its hands.
The star brightened, and for a moment, she saw the flash of energy lines again, the coppery-gold strings her father could manipulate, the remains of a supernova that had brought superpowers to humanity. The lines were still there, but more sparse now than she’d ever seen before and—unnervingly—they were all flowing in one direction.
They were all flowing into Max.
She blinked, and the vision was gone. She was left gaping at the boy, afraid of what it could mean.
“Adrian,” she whispered. He was focused on his brother, his face pinched with concern. Nova stepped closer and tucked a hand into his, but he hissed in pain and pulled away. Nova started. Adrian flashed her a sheepish look and flipped his hand over, showing her the blisters on his palm where the star had burned him. “It’s not so bad.”
She linked their elbows instead. “Don’t panic,” she said, “but I think Max might be absorbing all the superpowers that are left … maybe, in the whole world.”
Adrian frowned. “What?”
“The helmet is amplifying his power,” she explained. “He took my power already, and your dad’s.”
His eyes widened.
“I think he’s taking them all.”
In the distance, the final building fit into place. Shattered concrete and snapped rebar melded back together. The skeletons of broken scaffolding and discarded fire escapes climbed back up their facades. Erupted asphalt streets sunk into smooth, level grades. Collapsed walls righted themselves. Bricks and mortar fused like puzzle pieces. Sludge-filled water drained into the sewers. The whole world knit itself back together, as if the wounds caused by Ace Anarchy had been nothing but a long nightmare they could finally awake from.
Electricity had not been restored, leaving a city that would once have been aglow with a million golden windows instead awash in the light of a million stars and an indigo sky. The horizon was glowing with the promise of dawn. It was absolutely breathtaking.
“He did it,” Nova whispered.
Adrian didn’t respond.
She cast a look up into his face and saw that he wasn’t witnessing the same amazing sight she was. His attention was trained on his little brother, his lips parted with growing horror. “What’s happening to him?”
She followed his gaze.
Shining rivulets appeared beneath the skin of Max’s hands, like veins of melted gold disappearing into the cuffs of the Renegade uniform. More were on his throat, where the helmet didn’t cover. They glowed with an iridescence that was both beautiful and terrifying, its warmth pulsing in time with the star.
The star, too, had begun to change. It was larger now, roughly the size of a walnut, and its color had