“No, it’s a formal parlor,” said Adrian. “My dads hired a fancy interior designer to put it together a few years ago, and I don’t think we’ve used it since. They insist it will come in handy, though, once we start inviting foreign dignitaries to visit and they need a place to ‘host’ them.” He made quotes in the air.
Nova expected to be taken to a kitchen, but instead Adrian led her down a narrow staircase into some sort of basement. The aroma of cinnamon grew thicker around them.
Nova realized with a start, as her foot landed on plush carpet, that she was in his room.
His bedroom.
She must have hesitated in the doorway a second too long, because when Adrian turned back and noticed her expression, he tensed himself. “We can take these back upstairs, if you want,” he said, lifting an aluminum tin full of sticky-sweet cinnamon buns. “I was just going to … um”—he gestured toward a shut door on the other side of the room—“work on this project … thing. But we could go watch a movie or something…” He hesitated, a crease forming between his brows. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
“I just … wanted to see you,” said Nova. Adrian’s eyes widened behind his glasses, almost imperceptibly. She had been practicing those words the entire walk, trying to find a way she could say them without blushing. She was not entirely successful. “Are your dads home?”
He shook his head. “Still at headquarters.”
Good. She would have full access to search the house, though she hoped the medallion would be found here, in his room. She just had to knock Adrian out first.
“Is everything okay?” Adrian asked.
“Yeah. Yeah,” she said. “Just … curious. A movie sounds nice.” She meant it. A movie was easy. Comfortable. Completely without pressure.
Not to mention that people fell asleep during movies all the time, and there was nothing at all suspicious about it. All she needed was an excuse to put her hand on his. A brush of a finger against his knuckle. That was all she needed.
“Okay. Cool. There’s a TV upstairs.”
Nova nudged her chin toward the TV set on top of a small entertainment console. “That one doesn’t work?”
“Uh … it does. I just … didn’t want to assume … I mean, whatever you want to do.”
For the first time in what felt like days, Nova felt the tension in her chest start to loosen. She had been frustrated over her failed attempts to flirt with Adrian, to get close to him. But she’d just gotten here, and it was obvious that her presence flustered him.
The thought of it sent a satisfying surge through her veins. That must be what Honey felt like, to know the sort of power she wielded over people. Nova even dared a small, teasing smile, and thought Honey might have been proud.
She took a step closer to Adrian. “Are you not allowed to have girls in your room?”
He chuckled. Then he took a step back, though it was subtle. “Wouldn’t know. I’ve never had one.”
Nova flushed, that moment of confidence gone as quickly as it had come. “Well. I trust you not to try anything … inappropriate.”
He chuckled, but it was as awkward as Nova felt, and Nova was suddenly reminded of all the times she’d practically thrown herself at him these past weeks, and how he’d ignored every one of her advances.
She tucked her hands into her pockets. She would wait until they were sitting down. It would be easier to find an excuse to touch him then. It would be easier to be bold when she wasn’t looking him in the eye.
Adrian grabbed the remote and the TV flickered to life. Nova started to pace around the room. It was a lot more casual than the house above. His bed; the blankets tussled and half draped across the floor; a small, worn couch; a painting easel and a desk; the entertainment center; and a bookshelf in the corner overflowing with comics, drawing guides, and an assortment of sketchbooks. A handful of drawings and video game posters were tacked to the walls.
“This whole huge house, and they make you sleep in the basement?”
“It was better than one of the upstairs rooms. That’s where the murders happened.” He glanced at her. “You know about the murders?”
“I read about them. On the plaque.” And I’m pretty sure Ace was here that night.
Adrian nodded. “Besides, this way I get twelve hundred square feet to myself.”
“This,” said Nova, gesturing, “is not twelve hundred square feet.”
Adrian pointed at a door. “Bathroom through there, then a bunch of unfinished basement space. And”—he gestured at a second door on the far wall—“that’s my art studio.”
“You have an art studio?”
“It’s a big house.”
“Can I see it?”
Adrian opened his mouth, but shut it again, hesitant.
“What?” said Nova. “Have you been practicing nude portraits or something?”
He cringed. “Nothing that scandalous.”
“Then what?”
He sighed. “Okay. This might be weird. I hope it’s not weird, but it might be.” He cleared his throat. “Remember that dream you told me about? With the ruins, and the statue at the park?”
Nova blinked. “Yeah…?”
“So, I had this idea, and I got really inspired, and … I thought it might be neat to…”
He trailed off.
Nova waited.
“To … create it?”
She continued to wait, but Adrian had nothing more to offer.
“I’m not following.”
“I know.” He set the tray of untouched cinnamon rolls down on the table. “It’s hard to explain. Come on. Just—if it turns out this is more creepy than artistically flattering, blame it on sleep deprivation, okay?” He hesitated, then sent her a chagrined look. “Not that you know much about that.”
She smiled. “I’m familiar with the concept,” she said, as intrigued by how uncomfortable Adrian had become as by the mystery in the next room.
He cleared his throat and opened the door to his studio. Nova followed him inside.
Her feet stumbled. She caught herself on the door.
“Sweet rot,” she whispered.
A jungle greeted her. Towering trees and lush greenery had been painted on every inch of every wall, the ceiling, the floor. Though the room smelled of toxic paint and clearly received little ventilation, the mural was so detailed and lush that Nova almost imagined she could smell exotic flowers and warm breeze instead.
Adrian stood in the center of the room. His expression was critical as he inspected his work. “I’m not really sure where the impulse came from, but … once I had the idea, it felt like something I had to do. The way you described that dream really inspired me, I guess. I’ve been working on it in my spare time.”
Nova forced herself away from the door. Noticing that the back of the door itself had been painted, too, even down to the doorknob, she shut it to complete the vision. She felt dizzy as she drifted from wall to wall, but she knew it wasn’t from the paint fumes.
Her fingers traced the painting as she went. Mostly there were plants. Exotic purple flowers spreading their giant petals like wind sails. Ancient gnarled tree trunks covered in fungi and moss, with long, looping vines trailing from their branches. Grasses and ferns sprouting from between the trees’ uneven roots, their lacy fronds bowing over little clusters of white star-shaped blossoms and fiery orange buds. A toppled tree trunk formed a lichen-covered bridge over a family of broad-leafed shrubs.
But it wasn’t just a jungle. Adrian had included hints of the ruins too. The city that the jungle had claimed. What might have been a boulder was, upon closer inspection, the corner of a building’s concrete foundation. Those ascending plateaus of plant life were thriving on an ancient staircase. Beyond those trees—the subtle arch of a doorway, leading to nothing. The beams of sunlight that filtered through the thick canopy struck the hooded torso of a long forgotten statue, its back to them, concealing what treasure might have been cradled in its hands. A startling
memory of her dream came back to her. It was holding a star.
“Adrian,” she whispered, afraid to break the spell of this place, “this is amazing.”
“Did I get it right? From the dream?”
“You … yes. It’s exactly…” She realized with a start that her eyes were watering. She turned away, pressing a hand to her mouth to collect herself. As her shaking breaths evened, she dared to face him again. “You didn’t do this for me … did you?”
Adrian glanced sideways at the statue. “No…,” he began. “Although, I didn’t not do it for you either. If that makes sense. I mean, I had to do it for me too.” He shrugged. “It just seemed like a really good idea at the time.”
“It was a good idea. This is … magical.”
Adrian started to grin, and Nova braced herself. She had become familiar with that particular look. The one that said he was about to do something that would impress her, whether she liked it or not.
“I guess I figured you deserve to have good dreams once in a while,” he said. “Even if you never sleep.”
Then he pressed his hand against the nearest wall and exhaled.
The mural started to come alive, emerging around his fingers. Fronds unfolded, engulfing his wrist, and the effect spread like the ripple in a pond, outward across the wall. Tree trunks sprouted from the concrete. Grasses curled against their knees. Lazy vines trailed over their heads.
Nova moved closer to him, pressing her side against his. The hard ground under their feet transformed into squishy moss. Flowers bloomed. Mushrooms sprouted. The smell of paint was replaced with the earthiness of dark soil and a heady perfume. Though Nova hadn’t seen any birds or insects in the painting, it was easy to imagine birdsong disrupting the silence. The hum of cicadas, the clicking of beetles.
The tree canopy crowded in overhead, but sunlight was filtering down, spotlighting the statue.
Adrian lowered his hand. Nova stared at where he had touched and could no longer see the wall. Was it buried behind the panel of foliage? Were they still in his basement? The plants were so dense, the air so humid and sweet, it was almost impossible to imagine they were inside at all.
Adrian shuffled his feet and Nova realized he’d been watching her, but she couldn’t strike the disbelief from her face.
“Cool trick?” he ventured.
Nova’s heart thumped loudly.
“All of this,” she said, speaking slowly, “and the best alias you could come up with was Sketch?”
His lips curled upward, and it was clear how much this small comment pleased him. “Better to under-promise and over-deliver.”
“Well, you succeeded.” Her cheeks were warm as she turned in a slow circle. “Where did the room go? Where are we?”
“We haven’t left. If you pull some of these leaves aside, you’ll be able to see the walls, but they’ll be plain white again. I made sure to cover them with paint so they wouldn’t be visible when you were standing in the middle like this.” He gestured around at their mystical patch of jungle. “You can walk around, if you want. Nothing here will hurt you.”
Nova kept her hands close to her body, in part to avoid taking Adrian’s hand. She couldn’t imagine putting him to sleep now, and without that singular purpose, the thought of touching him terrified her.
She paced herself, reveling in every step. Her fingers danced along each flower petal, glided across the blades of willowy grass, twined around a series of low-hung vines. It was uncanny how much it reminded her of the dream, or what she could remember of it. She was sure she hadn’t gone into that much detail when she described it to Adrian, yet he’d captured it down to the smallest element.
She paused as her attention landed on the statue. It was turned away, so she could see only the back of its hooded cloak, its narrow stone shoulders green with moss, patches of stone having chipped off with age.
Nova dared to approach it, feeling the squishy ground give beneath her footsteps. She braced herself as she walked around the statue. Its outstretched hands came into view.
Her breath hitched, even though, somehow, she had expected it.
She could feel Adrian watching her, and she wondered if he knew. If this had been a part of his plan as he’d painted the mural.
“How?” she whispered.
To his credit, Adrian frowned in confusion. “How what?”
“Adrian … how did you make a star?”
CHAPTER THIRTY
“HUH,” SAID ADRIAN, coming to stand beside her. “Would you look at that.”
He sounded as astonished as Nova felt, but that couldn’t be. This was her dream, but it was his painting. His vision. His magic.
His star?
Nova frowned.
It was a star too. At least, she thought it must be. A single bright orb hovering between the figure’s grasping hands. It was no larger than a marble, and no more difficult to stare at than the brightest star in the night sky. Its light subtly illuminated the fantastical world around them.
It was magnificent, and it was exactly like Nova’s dream. As a child, in her delirious subconscious state, she had known it was a star, and she felt it just as strongly now, though everything she knew about astrophysics told her it wasn’t possible.
But then, a lot of what Adrian could do didn’t seem possible.
A star.
Neither she nor Adrian spoke for a long time. The room was silent, but there was something about the jungle he had created—the jungle, Nova thought with bewilderment, the jungle he created—that gave the impression of life and noise, of warmth and growth, of thriving permanence.
Finally, Adrian cleared his throat. “That wasn’t in the mural.”
“I know,” said Nova, remembering the statue in the painting, and how Adrian had drawn it so that they could only see its back, not its hands. After another thoughtful moment, she said, “Intention?”
“Maybe,” said Adrian. “I was thinking about your dream when I did it.”
“What does it do?” said Nova, which might have been a strange question. What did any star do?
But Adrian merely shrugged. “It’s your star. You tell me.”
She bit the inside of her cheek. Was it her star?
“I don’t know. I woke up before anything happened.”
A part of Nova wanted to reach out and touch it. The star emanated a comforting warmth, and she didn’t think it would burn her, like a real sun out in the real universe. But she was worried that she would ruin the spell if she touched it. Maybe it would fade away. Or, perhaps worse, maybe nothing would happen at all. She didn’t know which of them was more responsible for dreaming this star into existence—her or Adrian—and she didn’t want to tempt disappointment by finding it was nothing more than a pretty visual effect.
She breathed in the aroma of dew-soaked leaves and intoxicating flowers. Shutting her eyes, Nova sank down, sitting cross-legged on the soft moss. It was easy to fall into the tranquility of this place. To believe this was the real world, hundreds of years in the future. The city had fallen, and there were no more villains and no more superheroes. No more Anarchists, no more Renegades, no more Council. No more struggles for power.
Just, no more.
She opened her eyes as Adrian lowered himself to the ground beside her, a little stiffly, she noticed, as he tried not to bend around the wound on his side.
“Is it terrible,” she said, “that it might take the fall of humanity to make me feel this relaxed?”
It took Adrian a moment to respond, but he sounded serious when he said, “A little.”
Nova laughed, a real one this time. He chuckled too.
“Why?” he asked. “Why is it so hard to relax?”
She dared to look at him. She knew he wasn’t prying, and that he wouldn’t push her, despite his curiosity.
She braced herself.
She thought it would be hard to form the words, but it wasn’t. Not really. They’d been perched in the back of her throat for ten years, wait
ing for her to speak them. She thought back to the first night she had sat and talked with Adrian, really talked to him, when they were running surveillance on Gene Cronin and the Cloven Cross Library. She hadn’t told Adrian about her family then. She hadn’t confessed her complete origin story. But somehow, she felt like she’d always known that she would tell him, eventually.
“When I was six years old, I once fell asleep holding my baby sister. Evie.” Her voice was low, barely a murmur. “When I woke up, I could hear my mother crying. I went to our door and I looked out into the hallway and a man was there, holding a gun. I later found out my dad was being blackmailed by one of the villain gangs, and when he didn’t fulfill part of their bargain, they hired this guy to … punish him.” She frowned, her gaze lost in the shadows between ferns and fallen tree trunks, her memory trapped in that apartment. She scrunched her shoulders against her neck, once again paralyzed with fear. “He shot my mom,” she whispered, “and then he shot my dad. I watched it happen.”
Adrian’s hand twitched, drawing her focus out of the shadows and down to his graceful fingers, his dark skin. He didn’t reach for her, though she thought he would hold her hand if she moved first.
She didn’t.
“I ran to my bedroom and hid in the closet. I heard him come inside, and … then I heard…” Tears began to fill her eyes. “I heard Evie. She woke up and she started to cry, and … and he shot her too.”
Adrian jerked involuntarily, a flinch that shuddered through his whole body.
“She wasn’t even a year old yet. And when he found me in the closet, I looked in his eyes and I could tell, I could just tell that he didn’t feel an ounce of remorse. He’d just murdered a baby, and he didn’t feel anything.”
This time, Adrian did reach for her hand, slipping his fingers between hers.
“He aimed the gun at me, and…”
Nova hesitated, realizing at the last moment that she couldn’t tell Adrian this part of the story. The shock of being on the verge of speaking an unspeakable secret startled her from the memory.
“And my uncle showed up,” she said, swiping at her nose with her sleeve. “He killed the man. He saved me.”
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