By the time she reached HQ, Maggie's whole body was shaking uncomfortably. She hated it. Hated herself for being so weak. More than once on the long walk through the city, she'd considered turning back. It probably wouldn't be worth it. The items probably wouldn't even be there, and even if they were, they probably wouldn't work for anyone but Nova. And if Nova somehow got wind of the fact that Maggie was collecting artifacts made by her dad, she'd probably spout some mumbo-jumbo about how since her dad had made them, she was the rightful owner, and then she'd get the Renegades involved and they'd all side with her because somehow they'd forgotten that she used to be an Anarchist.
But every time these thoughts—or worse—had started invading, Maggie had convinced herself to keep going. She told herself it was for her gang. She hadn't been carrying her weight lately; while the rest of her team had been doing last-minute preparations for the biggest event of their entire lives, she'd been off making jewelry and eating dinner with rich people. It was about time she did something productive.
Even if the real thing that kept her heading in the direction of HQ had a lot more to do with making jewelry and eating dinner with rich people than it had to do with her gang.
She stepped inside, peering down into the lobby at the reception desk. As usual, it was occupied by Sampson Cartwright, who was talking to a tall woman with a fluffy tail sticking out the back of her jogging pants. Maggie meandered down the stairs toward the desk, her mind at war with itself the entire time. It's better if he doesn't see you. You already know where you're going, just slip over to the elevator while he's talking to that lady, and get up to the fourteenth floor. You know if he sees you he's going to want to talk.
And you know he's probably going to say something about Max.
Her feet pulled her in the direction of the desk, and she stood there, scowling and pretending to look at the map, until Sampson spoke up. "Magpie! The Bandit was just asking about you a couple hours ago!"
Warmth flooded through her body, combined with an unexpected swoop of pleasure. Even though she'd sort of hoped Sampson would say something about Max, she hadn't expected him to say that.
"The Bandit? What was he asking?" she asked as nonchalantly as possible.
"Well, I guess he wasn't really asking anything. We were driving through town and he mentioned wanting to check on you and make sure you were okay. I told him I saw you yesterday morning—you know, when you came in with your friend—and he was really glad to hear that."
Yesterday morning. The morning after she'd sneaked out of his house in the middle of the night. She supposed it made sense that he'd wanted to make sure she was okay.
It still made her heart hiccup. Max cared that she was okay.
But she wasn't about to let Sampson see that she cared about that. "I'm fine," she scoffed. "I don't know why he'd think I wouldn't be. Is he still here? I guess if you see him you can tell him you saw me again."
"I'll just let him know you're here," Sampson countered, already tapping on his communication band. "Send message to the Bandit: Magpie is here to see you."
Her face flushed. "I'm not here to see him. I'm actually just here to pick something up at the Artifacts Warehouse."
"You mean the Callum Treadwell Museum? They redesigned the whole place after the Supernova. Rather than keeping everything behind locked doors, all the artifacts are now on display for the public to learn about and marvel at. Snapshot said Callum would've loved it that way."
Her heart thudded. Now that he'd said it, she remembered looking at the directory and noticing that they'd renamed the fourteenth floor. It was still jarring to hear the name spoken out loud.
But—if all the artifacts were now on display, it might actually make her quest easier. As long as they still allowed people to borrow the displayed items.
"Did you ever meet him?" Sampson asked, oblivious to her discomfort. "Callum Treadwell? I never got to know him on a very personal level, but I do remember his face. That boy had the most infectious smile. And no matter whether it was six in the morning or nine in the evening, he'd stroll in here with that ear-to-ear grin and greet me like it was his birthday or something. Always took the time to ask me how my day was going and share some crazy fact about prodigy history. I miss him."
Maggie swallowed to dispel the lump in her throat and focused on glaring at the glossy R embedded into the center of the floor. She was so focused on trying not to think about Callum, she barely noticed when a door on the far end of the room burst open and someone came running out. "Maggie!"
She looked up. There was Max, running across the lobby toward her. She stiffened, wondering if he was going to hug her, annoyed at herself for half hoping he would. But he stopped a few feet away, his expression sheepish as if he'd just realized how he must look.
"Hi," was all Maggie could think of to say.
"Hi," he echoed, shifting his weight awkwardly and placing his hands in his pockets, then taking them out again and clasping them in front of him, then returning them to his pockets. "Um… it's good to see you. Did you ever manage to track down Nova?"
Maggie's mind flashed back to the strange scene from the day before: Nova stepping into August Pawn, holding out her hand and just giving the bullet back to her. Saying weird stuff about how they should try to get along. She still didn't know what to make of the whole thing.
"Yeah," she mumbled. "I got it back. The thing she took from me."
Max's brow furrowed, but he only nodded and said, "Okay. That's good." He took his hands out of his pockets and started fidgeting with his fingers. "So… did you come here to visit?"
"No." Her answer was immediate, and his face fell just as quickly, cheeks flushing, eyes downcast. "I mean, that wasn't my original reason for coming," she amended. "I didn't know whether you were here or not. But I'm glad you are."
His face raised a little, his expression brightening as his eyes met hers. She forced herself not to look away. She hadn't exactly meant to say that last part, but it was true. She was glad he was here, and that she was here with him.
"Okay," said Max. "So… did you already do whatever it was that was your original reason for coming?"
She shook her head. "I'm about to do it right now." She hesitated, then offered, "You can come with me if you want."
She hadn't been planning on him coming with her, and now she'd have to come up with some excuse as to why she was looking for a spoon, a jaguar, and a ring. But seeing his expression brighten even more made it all worth it.
"Where are we going?" Max asked as they stepped into the elevator.
"The Artifacts Warehouse," she told him. "Or—you know. The museum."
"Ah. Okay. Cool." He didn't ask why, which was good because she was still trying to fabricate her story.
Maggie noticed the differences as soon as they got off on the fourteenth floor. Back when she'd been a Renegade, the elevator doors had opened up to a room with a reception desk, beyond which was a door that led to the filing room, through which one would have to walk to get to the vault.
Now, the reception desk was where it had always been, but the filing room had been taken out completely, making the reception room feel much larger. Benches had been set up around the room, and the walls were plastered with what looked like maps of the museum and informational posters about some of the artifacts. Hung right in the center of the most prominent wall, where nobody could miss it, was a large picture of Callum.
Maggie's heart squeezed. She could feel her breathing start to become shallow, and her eyes suddenly felt hot. She darted her eyes around from poster to poster, bench to floor, anywhere but at that picture.
"Are you here to see the museum?" The woman at the reception desk was unfamiliar, not the scatterbrained Snapshot Maggie was used to seeing there.
Maggie didn't answer. She could feel Max looking at her, probably wondering why she was so quiet. She gave herself a few more seconds to get herself under control before speaking up. "Actually, I was wondering if you still let people borrow things? Like they used to be able to before it was a museum?"
"It depends," the woman replied. "On what the object is, what the person wants it for, and who's asking. I'd say we're probably stricter about it now than we used to be, but it's still possible in most cases."
Maggie tried not to scowl. This was good news. At least she most likely wouldn't have to steal the items.
"Okay," she said. "Can we go into the museum now?"
"Of course. Just sign your names in the guest log, and then you can walk in. It's free admission," the lady said, waving her hands toward the set of large metal doors behind her, engraved with the words CALLUM TREADWELL MUSEUM – THERE IS WONDER IN EVERYTHING.
Ordinarily Maggie would scoff at these words, but seeing them etched on the door just made her remember how excited Callum had always gotten whenever she'd brought boxes of new items from her scavenging missions. "Remember that box you brought in yesterday, from the old police station over on Houghton Street? Guess what was in there—Shackle's handcuffs! The ones that only work if the person you're putting them on is actually the one who committed the crime you're accusing them for. Isn't that cool?"
Maggie had always rolled her eyes or given some sort of snarky response about Callum being a nerd or about how she was only there to do her job and didn't actually care what she brought in.
"Are we going in?" Max asked, his voice jolting her out of her thoughts.
"What? Oh. Yeah. We're going in." She signed her name on the sheet, then stared stoically at the bottom half of the metal doors as they walked toward them, avoiding looking at the engraving, that dumb picture, and the plaque placed beside the doors. Great powers. There was so much to avoid looking at in this place.
Max pulled open the door, and they stepped inside. Maggie braced herself for the memories that were sure to assault her as soon as she saw the room, but to her relief, it looked different than it had the time Callum had taken her inside. Artifacts were still stored on just about every rung of the tall industrial shelves arranged throughout the room, but they seemed to be arranged differently, laid out so everything could be seen from the red-carpeted walkways which now snaked across the floor. The walkways were bordered with ropes designed to keep people on the path, with intermittent signs reminding patrons not to touch the artifacts and that they were under video surveillance.
Great. Video surveillance would make it a lot harder if she did end up having to steal something.
A tall girl with braided hair and a friendly smile walked over to greet Max and Maggie. "Hi. My name's Jacquie. We're working on getting the artifacts labeled, with descriptions of what everything is and why it's significant, but we haven't gotten too far with that yet, so I'm here if you have any questions. I can be your tour guide, which is what's recommended, or you can travel through on your own and just let me know if you need me. Which would you prefer?"
"We'll go through on our own," Maggie answered immediately. "Although—is there a particular way all this stuff is organized?"
"Yes," Jaquie replied, holding out a sheet of paper. "Here's a map showing how everything's laid out."
Maggie's eyes darted around the different sections of the map, reading the labels. Costumes… Protective Gear… Non-Prodigious Historical Artifacts… Weapons… Entertainment… Prodigy Craftsmanship…
Her eyes locked on that one. Prodigy Craftsmanship. That was what David Artino's items would be, right? It didn't sound like any of them were weapons or protective gear in and of themselves, and they certainly weren't costumes or non-prodigious artifacts.
The Prodigy Craftsmanship section was Aisles M-P, which meant that they were located off to the right a short ways down. "So…" Max spoke up as she led the way. "Are you looking for something in particular that you want to borrow?"
"Maybe," she replied. "If I find something cool enough."
"So you're not looking for something specific?"
Maggie debated with herself about how much she should tell him. Finally, she said, "Chester likes animals. If we can find some kind of prodigy-made animal-looking object, I think that'd be cool to show him. Or, really, anything made by a famous prodigy would be interesting. You know, if it's someone we've heard of."
They reached Aisle M and slowed down. Maggie glanced up and down the tall shelf, taking in the items labeled with index cards to explain what they were, and the paper sign taped to the top of the shelf explaining that they were in the process of designing official plaques for each item but to please be patient because the department was very busy. She snorted. Typical Renegades.
As she searched with her eyes, she also quested out with her powers, seeking out that particular ethereal signature, the one she'd come to recognize as David Artino's specific mark. She didn't feel it, although it was maybe a little hard to tell exactly what she was perceiving, seeing as there were so many valuable items in such a close vicinity.
"There's an animal."
She turned eagerly to see where Max was pointing, but her excitement wilted when she saw it was just a tiny dolphin, doing perpetual flips in a sphere of water hovering in midair. "Hmm. That's cool," she remarked, keeping up the pretense that she didn't have a specific object in mind. "Maybe I could bring that one to show Chester. But he really likes big cats in particular. I wonder if there's anything big cat-themed."
"You know, you could just bring him here to tour the whole museum instead of taking one thing home to show him," Max pointed out. "Seeing all this stuff at once, he'd probably think that was really cool."
Maggie's mind raced to come up with an excuse for why that wouldn't work. When she came up empty, she decided to just ignore the comment and continue to the next shelf.
They looked in silence for a few moments, and then Max spoke up again, his voice darker. "Oh, hey—did Sampson tell you we overheard Flamethrower having a secret meeting with Frostbite earlier today?"
Her head snapped around to face him, all thoughts of David Artino's artifacts fleeing her brain. "With Frostbite?"
He nodded vigorously. "I had a hypothesis that there were only certain buildings that Flamethrower would feel comfortable hunkering down in. We decided to scope them out, and in the second one we visited… we heard him, talking in the basement with Frostbite. Talking about—about really evil stuff. Plans to double-cross someone and to try to 'dispose of' the Council and—get this—dig up Ace Anarchy's helmet."
Her stomach did a lurch. Really evil stuff. That's how Max was describing Frostbite's plans. Describing her plans.
But—Frostbite was planning on digging up Ace Anarchy's helmet? Maggie had never told her that was part of the plan. As far as Frostbite's gang knew, the plan was simply to wreak as much havoc as possible on the parade and then declare themselves the new rulers. Well, Frostbite probably assumed she would be the new ruler, since Maggie and her gang had always intentionally kept the helmet part of the plan a secret.
But it sounded like Frostbite was planning the same thing. Had this been part of her plan all along? Or had one of Maggie's gang members let something slip?
"They want to dig up Ace Anarchy's helmet?" She tried to make her voice as scathing as possible. "How exactly do they think they're going to do that? Isn't that thing, like, hidden deep within the catacombs or something?"
"I think so," said Max. He lowered his voice. "From what we overheard, it sounded like she's been working with some other group of people who are going to do all the actual work of finding it and whatever, and then she's going to take it from them and declare herself leader and give Flamethrower free reign over the whole city."
Her stomach lurched again. Frostbite knew about their plan. The real plan. The one they'd always been so careful not to let anyone outside the gang know about.
Who had said something? Had Gargoyle overheard the morning Kevin accidentally started saying the word helmet, despite Kevin's assurances that he was asleep? Had he overheard something else, some conversation between gang members that Maggie hadn't been around for?
Or… Did Zoridel betray us?
She turned her gaze back toward the shelf of prodigy artifacts, hoping Max hadn't seen any telltale signs in her face. "She's delusional. And dumb. Why would she be telling all these plans to Flamethrower, of all people? Couldn't he just go steal it from the people who are trying to find it, and then turn against her and name himself Supreme Villain Leader over the city?"
Max shrugged. "Probably. I don't know. We didn't hear very much of the conversation, because I tried to start an audio recording for evidence, and my wristband beeped. Then we had to get out of there quick."
Maggie shuddered, glad Max hadn't been caught. The idea of him being close enough to Flamethrower to have overheard a conversation he was having made her insides all twisty-turny. What if he hadn't been able to get away in time?
Another thought hit her, another violent jab of relief mixed with horror at what could have been. Frostbite wanted me to attend that meeting. If I'd been there… Max would've known I'm in cahoots with them!
Except she wasn't, really. She definitely wasn't in cahoots with Flamethrower. And if Frostbite was planning on stealing the helmet from her as soon as she dug it up, then it sounded like they were on opposing sides as well.
That's the thing about villains. You can never really trust them.
Just like Max couldn't really trust her. The thought made her sick and she moved several paces away from him, down the next aisle.
She walked up and down the entire Prodigy Craftsmanship section, keeping her eyes and powers on the lookout for any David Artino items.
Nothing.
"How's this?" Max asked, pointing to a wolf figurine labeled Weather Forecasting Wolf, made by Art Artisan—he will howl when rain is coming. "It's not a cat, but it's kind of cool."
"I think I'm done looking. At least in this section." There were still a lot more sections of the museum she hadn't checked out yet, and she wanted to give them all at least a quick run-through, to see if her powers would pick up on anything.
She led the way down the winding corridors, through each section at a brisk pace, doing her best to ignore the multitude of valuable objects clamoring for her attention as she sought out that one particular signature. "How come you're going so fast?" Max asked eventually, keeping pace with her even as he gave her a bewildered look. "We might walk right by something cool and not even know it."
"I know." She slowed down. They'd made it back to the entryway, having just canvassed one half of the museum. The idea of going through the other half right now, with Max wondering why she was going so fast and with all these other pressing issues on her mind, was not appealing. "I'm ready to go."
She could feel Max's unasked questions, but neither one spoke until they reached Jacquie, who was still standing where she'd been before. "I hope you enjoyed your time at the museum!" Jacquie told them with a smile. "Did you have any favorite exhibits?"
"I liked seeing Magnetron's shield," Max replied. "It's smaller than I expected it to be based on the stories, but it's kind of cool to think that something that small was able to protect from so much."
Jacquie nodded enthusiastically. "My brother really liked that one. Of course, he was pretty enamored with everything in here, so I guess I could say that about pretty much anything."
Maggie was hit with an unpleasant jolt. "Your brother?"
"Oh—yeah. Sorry, I don't think I mentioned that before. I'm Callum's sister. When the Renegades decided to turn their old Artifacts Warehouse into a museum to honor his memory, they asked if I'd be interested in helping out. You know, in case people wanted to know more about who he was. We were always pretty close growing up."
The room was spinning and Maggie felt like she was about to throw up. The girl in front of her was Callum's sister. Someone who'd always been close to him.
Someone who, because of Maggie, no longer had a brother.
Maggie looked into the girl's face, noticing the similarities now that she knew. Same hair color. Same freckles. Similar body shape and way of holding herself. Similar enthusiastic personality and smile.
Am I supposed to say "I'm sorry"? Would she even know what I was apologizing for?
Would she hate me?
Maggie hurried past Jacquie and toward the elevator without a word to anyone.