The man smirked as he started to pick lint from his sweater. “A mighty fine actor, if I do say so myself. Though, perhaps, not as good as you.” He shot her a suggestive look.
But Nova didn’t care about her red cheeks or erratic pulse or whether or not this man thought the kiss had been an act. “Answer the question.”
“If you don’t like ‘Uncle,’ then you can call me Peter. Peter McLain.”
Her teeth ground, but the man pressed on.
“And I do believe I just secured the rest of your story. Strangely missing uncle—found. That should silence the rest of your doubters, at least for a while. You’re welcome.”
She gawked at him, simultaneously annoyed and a little impressed. He was right. At some point Adrian and the Renegades would have raised questions about the uncle who had never once come for her after she’d been arrested. The uncle who no one had ever met.
“Okay,” she said, “but who are you?”
“He’s an ally.”
Starting, she peered toward the front, as the driver pushed aside the plexiglass window that divided them. She caught his eyes in the rearview mirror, the skin around them mottled and scarred, the eyebrows long ago burned away. Her heart leaped. “Leroy!”
He beamed at her. “Welcome back, little Nightmare.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
NOVA’S SO-CALLED UNCLE was not staying in a shabby, rented apartment, and neither, it turned out, were the rest of the Anarchists.
Leroy drove them to the Barlow neighborhood and parked on the corner of East 16th and Skrein Avenue. Nova stepped onto the sidewalk and found herself inspecting barred windows that displayed an assortment of goods—a couple of electric guitars, a drill set, a vintage vinyl record player. A faded sign along the top of the building read, in enormous block letters, DAVE’S PAWNSHOP.
Nova took in the street, noting a nightclub closed for the night, a convenience store, and a few empty storefronts with FOR LEASE signs hanging in the windows. Judging from how the signs had yellowed around the edges, occupants hadn’t been there since the Age of Anarchy.
Her “uncle” jingled a key chain as he unlocked the door to the pawnshop, also outfitted with impressive metal bars.
“Are you Dave?” Nova asked as he and Leroy ushered her inside.
“Naw, Dave just lets us use the basement,” the man answered, bustling through the pawnshop. “For a price, that is. Anything to make a buck, right?”
The overhead lights were off, but a series of glass cases in the store had built-in lighting that cast a dim glow over the merchandise. Watches and costume jewelry in the cases, old cinema posters framed on the walls, shelves along the back stocked with computers, vacuums, and radios. There really wasn’t much in the way of household goods that Dave didn’t seem to have in stock, from practical electronics to pricey luxuries.
Pawnshops had been big business during the Age of Anarchy, when much of the financial system had collapsed and the world’s economy was largely replaced with a trade-and-barter system. These businesses had continued to do well even after the Renegades had taken over, as the economy stuttered and stammered to get going again and employment security remained virtually nonexistent. People still needed food, and sometimes the quickest and easiest way to get it was to pawn off your grandma’s antique hatpin collection for a fraction of its pre-Anarchy value.
They passed through the shop and into a back room, where utilitarian shelves were lined with more electronics and a random assortment of spare parts. It smelled of grease and must and moth-eaten clothing, which all served to remind Nova of the subway tunnels.
Leroy and the man grabbed a small worktable and together hoisted it off to the side.
A hidden door was cut out of the dingy linoleum flooring, illuminated with yellow light from below.
Grinning in a way that showed off his missing teeth, Leroy gestured for Nova to go first.
She squeezed the bundle of daisies Adrian had given her and, not sure what else to do, tucked them under one arm as she stepped onto the rungs of the ladder. The paper crinkled loudly as she lowered herself into the basement. Her boot had barely touched concrete when arms were wrapping around her and pulling her from the ladder.
“Nightmare, my darling!” Honey cooed, squeezing her from behind. “We’ve missed you so much!” She spun Nova around so she could cup her face between lacquered nails. Streaks of black eyeliner had dried and caked on her cheeks and she seemed