Nova
The sunlight is a lot.
I squint until my eyes stop screaming and the Hollow comes into focus around me. Smoke still drifting. A section of fence down. Scorch marks along the storage building that weren’t there this morning.
The fighting’s over. I can tell by the sounds — slower, heavier. People calling to each other instead of at each other.
I start walking.
The guys are behind me. I can hear them. I try not to smile and fail horribly.
Then I see Brent.
He’s sitting against the Community Hall wall with his hand pressed to his stomach. Cal’s crouched in front of him talking. There’s blood soaking through Brent’s shirt and I change direction without deciding to.
Someone’s already there with water and cloth by the time I reach them. I take it from her.
“Nova…” Cal says like he knows.
“I’ve got it.”
He nods and steps back.
Brent looks up at me. Doesn’t tell me to stop.
I crouch down and get to work. It’s bad — a long cut across his side, deep — but it’s not the worst I’ve seen. I’ve patched worse with less on my own body. I press the cloth down.
He doesn’t make a sound.
“Nova,” Trey says behind me.
“I’ve got it,” I say again.
Someone sighs and then I hear footsteps scatter in different directions. My guys. Going to be useful somewhere else.
Good.
My guys… yeah.
Brent and I don’t say anything for a minute. Just the wound and the cloth and the sounds of the Hollow pulling itself back together.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “That this happened. Because of me.”
“Don’t.” His voice is rough. “I’m the one that owes you an apology.”
I shake my head. Keep cleaning.
“I saw you once,” he says quietly.
My hands go still.
“You were maybe fifteen. Sleeping in an alley just outside of Shadow. I almost walked past you.” He’s looking somewhere past me. “We’d had an anomaly flagged for a few years. A girl. Eleven when she disappeared from the records. No mark, no file after that.”
I look at my hand on the cloth. Keep it there.
I can’t look at him right now.
“I was supposed to bring her in,” he says. “If I found her.”
I don’t say anything.
“I was about to.”
I look up at him.
He doesn’t look away.
“And then you opened your eyes.” His voice goes rougher. “Those blue eyes. Same ones that looked up at me from that basket.” He shakes his head. “I’d only seen them for a few seconds that night. But you don’t forget eyes like that.”
Neither of us says anything.
Then he tries to sit up a little straighter.
“Ouch.”
“Don’t.” I press down on the cloth. “Lay back, you idiot.”
And suddenly we’re both laughing. He moves a little too much. He winces and that makes it worse somehow and we’re both trying to stop and neither of us can quite manage it.
Eventually something almost like relief crosses his face. And he settles.
“I kept looking for you after that,” he says when he can. “On my own. Not for the Order. I don’t know what I thought I’d do. But I didn’t give up.”
I go back to cleaning.
“That first time in the forest — when you came out of the trees — I was so focused on your mark I didn’t even think. It wasn’t until Minerva said eleven.” He shakes his head. “I should have known. I should have put it together sooner.”
“Brent.”
He looks at me.
“It wasn’t your fault.” I sit back on my heels. “None of it. No reason for you to blame yourself.”
He holds my gaze for a moment. “I promise. Whatever I can do to keep you safe — I will. I swear it.” His voice drops. “You never deserved any of this.”
I open my mouth.
Close it.
Look back at the wound.
My eyes are burning. I’m not going to cry in the middle of the street.
I’m not.
“You’re a good man, Brent.”
He laughs. Short and a little pained.
“I’m not.” He looks at his hands. “But I’m trying to be.”
I press my lips together.
“Good enough,” I say.
And I keep cleaning.
A tear drops before I can stop it.
Then another.
Brent makes a sharp sound.
I watch as they fall onto the wound.
And the edges start to knit together slowly.
I’d forgotten…
“Nova?” He says quietly grabbing my wrist, squeezing once.
I let the tears come.