The Fall of Five

5

The new day’s first rays of light slip between the buildings, beating back the cool night air, turning Chicago’s sky first purple and then pink. From the roof of the John Hancock Center, I watch the sun slowly rise over Lake Michigan.

It’s the third night in a row I’ve come up here, unable to sleep.

We made it back to Chicago a few days ago, the first half of the journey in a stolen government van, the second onboard a freight train. It’s pretty easy to sneak across the country when one of your companions can turn invisible and another can teleport.

I walk across the rooftop, peering over its edge as Chicago starts coming to life. The streets, the arteries of the city, are soon pumped full of bumper-to-bumper traffic and commuters hustling across the sidewalks. I shake my head as I look down at them.

“They’ve got no idea what’s coming.”

Bernie Kosar ambles over to me in beagle form. He stretches, yawns and then nuzzles my hand.

I should feel happy to be alive. We battled Setrákus Ra in New Mexico and didn’t suffer any casualties. What’s left of the Garde—with the exception of the still missing Number Five—are all downstairs, safe and sound, mostly recovered from their injuries. And Sarah, she’s down there, too. I saved her.

I look down at my hands. Back in New Mexico, they were covered with blood. Ella’s blood and Sarah’s blood.

“They’re so close to their world ending and they don’t even know it.”

Bernie Kosar transforms into a sparrow, flies out over the gap between the John Hancock Center and the nearest building, and finally lands on my shoulder.

I’m looking at the humans down below, but really I’m thinking about the Garde. Everyone’s just been chilling out since we came to Nine’s tricked-out penthouse. A little rest and recuperation was definitely in order; I just hope they haven’t forgotten how close to ultimate defeat we came back in New Mexico, because it’s all I can think about.

If Ella hadn’t somehow wounded Setrákus and that explosion in another part of the base hadn’t driven off the rest of the Mogs, I’m not sure we would’ve made it out. If I hadn’t developed a healing Legacy, Sarah and Ella would have died for sure. I can’t get the image of their burned faces out of my mind.

We’ll never get that lucky again. If we go in unprepared the next time we face Setrákus Ra, we won’t all survive. By the time I come down from the roof, most of the others have woken up.

Marina’s in the kitchen, using her telekinesis to whisk a bowl of eggs and milk while simultaneously wiping some smudges from what used to be a spotless tile countertop. Since the seven of us (and BK) moved in, we haven’t exactly taken the best care of Nine’s fancy apartment.

Marina waves when she sees me. “Good morning. Eggs?”

“Morning. Didn’t you cook last night? Someone else should take a turn.”

“I really don’t mind,” Marina says. She cheerfully pulls a smoothie blender down from a shelf. “I still can’t believe this place. I’m kinda jealous Nine got to live here for so long. It’s so different from what I’m used to. Is it weird that I just want to try everything out?”

“That’s not weird at all.” I help her finish wiping down the counter. “As long as we’re staying here, we should at least start taking turns cooking and cleaning.”

“Yeah.” Marina nods, glancing at me sideways. “We should figure that out.”

“What’s with the look?”

“It’s nothing, dividing up chores is a good idea,” Marina says, then nervously looks away. She definitely has something else on her mind.

“Come on, Marina. What’s up?”

“I just—” She picks up a dishtowel, wringing it while she speaks. “For so long, I was living without direction, not really knowing what a Garde should be like. Then, Six came to find me in Spain and showed me. And then we met up with you and Nine, right before you led us into battle against the most evil Mogadorian in existence. It was like—wow, these three really know what they’re doing. They can handle themselves.”

“Uh, thanks.”

“But now it’s been days since we got back, and I’m starting to get that feeling again. Like we don’t know what we’re doing. So I guess, what I’m wondering, is if there’s a plan beyond chore duties?”

“Working on that,” I mumble.

I don’t want to tell Marina that our next move—or lack thereof—is what’s been keeping me up at night. We have no idea where Setrákus Ra might be holed up after the fight in New Mexico and, even if we did, I still don’t feel like we’re ready to take the fight to him. We could go looking for Number Five; the locater tablet we found in Malcolm Goode’s underground bunker showed us a dot off the coast of Florida that pretty much has to be him. And then there’s Sam. Sarah swore that she saw him in New Mexico, but we never came across him at Dulce. With Setrákus Ra apparently able to take on other people’s forms, I’m starting to believe that’s who she saw, and that Sam’s being held somewhere else. Assuming he’s still alive.

So many decisions to make, not to mention the training we should be doing. Yet I’ve been dragging my feet these last few days, too stuck on our near defeat in New Mexico to focus on making a plan. Maybe it’s the comfort of Nine’s penthouse after a near-death experience, not to mention years on the run for all of us, but it seems like the entire group needs a breather. If any of them have been beating themselves up over not having a proper plan, they haven’t shown it.

Oh, and there’s something else distracting me too. I guess it’s sort of like Marina wanting to try out all the appliances in Nine’s fancy kitchen; I want to spend some time just being with Sarah. I wonder what Henri would think of that. He’d be disappointed in my lack of focus, I know that, but I can’t help myself.

As if on cue, Sarah wraps her arms around my waist from behind, nuzzling her face into the back of my neck. I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I didn’t even hear her pad into the kitchen.

“Good morning, handsome,” Sarah says. I turn around and give her a slow, sweet kiss.

Stressed out as I’ve been, I’m sort of getting used to mornings like this. Mornings where I get to wake up and kiss Sarah, then have a normal day with her, and go to bed knowing she’ll be there when I wake up.

Sarah puts her face close to mine, whispering. “You were up early again.”

I grimace; I thought I’d been quiet sneaking out of bed in the morning to go think things through on the roof.

“Is everything all right?” Sarah asks.

“Yeah, of course,” I say, trying to distract her with another kiss. “You’re here. How could it not be?”

Marina clears her throat, probably worried we’re going to start making out right in the kitchen. Sarah winks at me and turns away, plucking Marina’s floating whisk out of the air and taking over on the eggs.

“Oh,” Sarah says, looking back at me. “Nine’s looking for you.”

“Great,” I reply. “What’s he want?”

Sarah shrugs. “I didn’t ask. Maybe he wants to share some fashion tips.” She touches a finger to her lips thoughtfully, studying me. “Actually, that probably wouldn’t be so bad.”

“What do you mean?”

Sarah winks at me. “He lost his shirt. Again.”

I groan, heading out of the kitchen to go find Nine. I realize the penthouse is his home and he has a right to make himself comfortable, but he’s been strutting around shirtless almost every opportunity he gets. I’m not sure if he expects the girls to suddenly start fawning over him, or if he’s just doing the whole gun-show thing to annoy me. Probably both.

I find Six sitting in the penthouse’s spacious living room. Her legs are tucked underneath her on a plush white couch, a cup of coffee cradled in her hands. We haven’t talked much since coming back from New Mexico. I’m still not totally comfortable being around her and Sarah at the same time. I think Six might feel the same, because I definitely get the sense that she’s avoiding me. Six looks up when I enter, her eyes half opened and drowsy. She looks as tired as I feel.

“Hey,” I say. “How was she last night?”

Six shakes her head. “She was up all night. She’s just now getting some good rest.”

Add Ella’s nightmares to the list of problems we need to deal with. They’ve been a nightly thing ever since we left New Mexico, so bad that Six and Marina have been alternating sleeping in her room, trying to make sure she doesn’t get too freaked out.

I lower my voice. “Does she tell you what she sees?”

“Bits and pieces,” Six says. “She hasn’t been real talkative, you know?”

“Before New Mexico, Nine and I had visions that seemed a lot like nightmares,” I say, trying to think this through.

“Eight mentioned something similar.”

“At first we thought they were Setrákus Ra taunting us somehow, but they also seemed like some kind of warning. At least, that’s how I thought of them. Maybe we should try figuring out what Ella’s mean.”

“Sure, I guess they could be some coded message,” Six says dryly, “but have you considered there’s a simpler explanation?”

“Like what?”

Six rolls her eyes. “Like she’s a kid, John. Her Cêpan just died, she was almost killed herself just a couple days ago, and who knows what’s in store for her next? Hell, I’m surprised we don’t all have nightmares every freaking night.”

“There’s a comforting thought.”

“These aren’t real comforting times.”

Before I can reply, Eight appears on the couch next to Six. She jumps, nearly spilling her coffee and immediately fixes Eight with a steely glare. Eight puts his hands up defensively.

“Whoa, sorry,” he says. “Don’t kill me.”

“You have got to stop doing that,” Six replies, setting down her coffee.

Eight is dressed in workout clothes, his curly hair shoved underneath a fuzzy sweatband. He nods to me, then aims his most disarming smile at Six.

“Come on,” Eight says, “you can take it out on me in the Lecture Hall.”

Six stands up, pleased by the idea. “I’m going to pummel you.”

“What’re you guys working on?” I ask.

“Hand to hand,” answers Eight. “I figured since Six pretty much murdered me back in New Mexico—”

“For the last time, that was not me,” Six interrupts, annoyed.

“—the least she could do is show me some new moves so I can defend myself the next time she attacks.”

Six tries to punch Eight in the arm, but he quickly teleports behind the couch.

“See?” Eight grins. “I’m already too quick for you!”

Six bounds over the couch after him and Eight sprints off towards the Lecture Hall. Before giving chase, Six looks back at me.

“Maybe you should try talking to Ella,” Six says.

“Me?”

“Yeah,” she replies. “Maybe you can decide if her visions mean something or if she’s just traumatized.”

As soon as Six leaves the room, there’s a heavy thud on the floor behind me. I turn around to find Nine grinning at me, shirtless just like Sarah said he’d be, gripping a sketchpad in his meaty hands. I glance up at the ceiling.

“How long were you standing up there?”

Nine shrugs. “I do my best thinking upside down, dude.”

“I didn’t realize you did any thinking.”

“Okay, fair point, you usually do enough thinking for all of us.” He thrusts the sketchpad at me. “But check this out.”

I take the sketchpad and start thumbing through the pages. They’re covered with floor plans drawn in Nine’s precise hand. It’s like the architecture of some military base, yet it looks strangely familiar.

“Is this—?”

“West Virginia,” Nine declares, proudly. “Every detail I could remember. This should come in handy when we make our assault on the place. I’m sure it’s where that fat jerk- off Setrákus is hiding out.”

I sit down on the couch, tossing the sketchpad on the cushion next to me. “When I wanted to attack the cave, you were totally against it.”

“That was after you’d run into a force field like a dummy,” he replies. “I said we needed numbers. We’ve got numbers.”

“Speaking of which, did you check the tablet this morning?”

Nine nods. “Five’s staying put for now.” We’ve been keeping an eye on our locater tablet since returning to Chicago. Five—the one Garde we haven’t made contact with— has been on an island off the coast of Florida for the last few days. Before we left for New Mexico, he was in Jamaica. His moving around is standard Loric on-the-run protocol. Finding him, even with the tablet to point us in the right direction, might not be easy.

“Now that we’ve had a chance to rest up, I think we should make it a priority. The more of us the better, right?”

“And maybe while we’re searching for Five, Setrákus Ra mounts a full-scale invasion of Earth.” Nine slaps the front of his sketchpad for emphasis. “We’ve got him on the run. We should finish it off now.”

“On the run?” I ask, staring at Nine. “That’s not exactly how I remember it.”

“What? He did retreat, didn’t he?”

I shake my head. “You think you’re ready for a rematch?”

“You tell me.” Nine curls one of his arms behind him and juts the other out overhead, a bodybuilder pose. I can’t help but laugh.

“I’m sure he’ll be intimidated by flexing.”

“It’s more intimidating than sitting around, anyway,” counters Nine as he flops down on the couch next to me.

“You really think we should go storming West Virginia? After the beating we took at Dulce?”

Nine looks down at his fists, clenching and unclenching them, probably remembering how close he came to being finished off by Setrákus. How close we all came.

“I don’t know,” he says after a pause. “I just wanted to give this to you so you know it’s an option, all right? You might not think I’m, like, capable of learning my limitations and shit like that—but, back in New Mexico? I was maybe, just slightly, over my head trying to fight Setrákus alone. Six went off on her own too, Eight got wrecked, and everyone else was getting shot up. But you kept it together, man. You kept us together. Everyone knows it. I still don’t buy your bullshit about being Pittacus reincarnated or whatever, but you’ve got that team-captain vibe. So you do the leading and I’ll do the ass kicking. It’s what we’re best at.”

“Best? I don’t know—Six is pretty good at ass kicking, too.”

Nine snorts. “Yeah, she was super-badass in her freaking ceiling cocoon. That’s not the point, Johnny. The point is, I need you to tell me what to punch. And I need you to tell me soon or I’m gonna go stir crazy up in here.”

I take another look at Nine’s sketchpad. From the look of it, he probably got right to work on these drawings as soon as we returned from New Mexico. For all his bluster, at least he’s been trying his best to come up with a way to take the fight to the Mogadorians. Meanwhile, I’ve been stuck in this rut, unable to sleep, thinking myself in circles alone on the rooftop.

“I wish Henri was here,” I say, “or Sandor. Any of the Cêpans, really. Someone that could tell us what to do next.”

“Yeah, well, they’re dead,” replies Nine, bluntly. “It’s up to us now, and you’re always the one with the ideas. Hell, the last time I wouldn’t go along with your plan, I almost had to throw you off a roof.”

“I’m not a Cêpan.”

“No, but you’re a freaking know-it-all.” Nine pats me hard on the back, which I’ve come to realize is as close as he gets to real affection. “Quit whining, cut down on the snuggling with your little human girlfriend, and come up with some brilliant plan.”

A week ago I would’ve bristled at Nine calling me a whiner and needling me about Sarah. Now, I know he’s just trying to motivate me. This is his version of a pep talk and, embarrassing as it is, I sort of need to hear it.

“What if I just don’t have a plan?” I ask quietly.

“That, John-boy, is simply not an option.”