The tone of Max’s voice gave Adrian pause. He looked back down, but Max’s focus was on the white cotton blanket over his legs. His fingers dug into the fabric.
“Yeah?” said Adrian, sinking back into the chair. “What’s wrong?”
Max licked his lips and for the first time Adrian noticed how dry they were. He would have to mention it to the nursing staff. Maybe get some of that all-natural lip balm they sold at the higher-end drugstores.
“Nightmare didn’t try to kill me.”
Adrian stared at Max. He was still so pale. Bruises peppered the insides of his arms from where he’d had blood transfers and IV drips. The pale blue hospital gown drooped on his skinny shoulders.
“Max,” he said slowly, “she stabbed you in the stomach with a giant chromium spear. The only reason she didn’t kill you was because I showed up in time to stop her.”
Max shook his head. “Frostbite stabbed me, not Nightmare.”
The world seemed to quiet as Adrian tried to make sense of these words. “Frostbite?”
Max still wouldn’t meet his eyes, and Adrian watched his pupils dance around. He was replaying that night in his mind, seeing the battle, not the blanket. “She had Dad’s spear and was charging for Nightmare, but Nightmare ducked. I was standing behind her—I’d gone invisible—and Frostbite hit me, drove it right through me. Nightmare didn’t do it.”
Adrian’s mouth opened, then shut again. His knowledge of what had happened in the headquarters lobby that night began to reshuffle into a new order of events. A new reality.
“But, still. Nightmare didn’t exactly—”
“She tried to help me,” Max interrupted. His fingers curled into the blanket. “I asked her to take out the spear, and she didn’t want to at first because it’s not good to remove a weapon, right? But I begged her to, and she did, and when she realized the ice was helping it, she … she forced Frostbite to give her power to me. She dragged her closer so I could absorb all of it. She was trying to save me.”
Adrian’s jaw unhinged as he tried to picture it, but all he could see was Nightmare bent over Max’s body. The broken glass, her bloodied hands.
“That … doesn’t make sense.”
“I know.” Finally Max dared to look up. His eyes were shimmering.
“Are you sure? You lost a lot of blood. You could have been delirious. Maybe you’re confusing what happened—”
“I’m sure. Ask Frostbite.”
“Frostbite already…” Adrian paused. Frostbite had given an official statement, and she’d declared that Nightmare had been the one to stab the Bandit, as everyone had already assumed. Admitting that she’d actually hit Max by mistake wouldn’t have been in her best interest.
And Genissa Clark never did anything that wasn’t in her best interest.
Adrian leaned back in his chair, wanting to believe Max, but not fully comprehending what he was telling him. Nightmare was an Anarchist. She had every reason to want to kill Max—the source for Agent N and the catalyst for Ace Anarchy’s defeat during the Battle for Gatlon.
What reason could she have had for trying to help him?
Was there perhaps some sinister reason that the Anarchists could have for wanting to keep the Bandit alive? Was it possible they would try to use him for their own benefit?
It wasn’t entirely unbelievable, but such a plan was almost too devious for Adrian to wrap his mind around.
“What really doesn’t make sense,” Max said slowly, “is why she wasn’t weakened by me. I saw her put Frostbite to sleep, and that was right after she’d been trying to help me stop the bleeding. She should have been weak, if not entirely neutralized, but she seemed fine. So how…?”
“I don’t know this for sure,” said Adrian, “but I think she might have the Vitality Charm.”
Max’s eyes widened in surprise, but the look quickly turned to a frown. “Shame. Her power is one I wouldn’t mind having.”
Adrian cocked his head. “Really? When would you want to put people to sleep?”
“I just think it could come in handy. You know, like when those scientists come to take more blood samples. It’d be nice to be able to knock them out for a while when I don’t feel like cooperating.”
Adrian smirked. “You know, you have more rebellion in you than anyone wants to give you credit for.”
“Yeah…” Max’s mouth twitched, barely revealing the dimple in his right cheek. “I get it from my big brother.”
CHAPTER NINE
NOVA EXAMINED THE old blueprint of Cragmoor Penitentiary, her hands fisted on her hips, a headache pounding