The Revenge of Seven

Their scuffle opens up a path for me. Let these two crazies duke it out. All I have to do is make a

break for it, dive into the open blue sky, and hope the Xitharis stone does what Five said.

Just when I start to make my move, I notice Setrákus Ra’s eyes flash. I feel an invisible field of

energy pass over me, almost like the pressure in the room has changed. As he’s in the middle of

throwing a punch, Five’s skin turns back to normal. His fist crunches against Setrákus Ra’s upraised

cane. At the same moment, Five falls out of the air with a shout.

It’s just like at Dulce Base. Setrákus Ra has created some kind of field that cancels Legacies. He’s

an Aeturnus like me, and now I know that Setrákus Ra and I also share Dreynen. His technique is

different from anything I’ve been able to learn. It’s like he’s charged the molecules in the air around him, creating a radius where Legacies are useless.

Except it doesn’t work on me. I can still feel my Dreynen lurking within me, and I know that I could

use my Aeturnus if I wanted. Somehow, I’m immune to Setrákus Ra’s version of Dreynen. Is it

because we’re related? Or is one of my Legacies an immunity to Setrákus Ra? He said all that crap

about our Legacies coming randomly and Lorien being nothing but chaos. But what if he’s wrong and

my Legacies have been specifically chosen to destroy him? More important – does Setrákus Ra know

that his power doesn’t affect me?

In that moment, Setrákus Ra isn’t paying me any attention at all. He’s completely focused on Five. I

know I should make a break for it, but I find myself rooted in place. Even after everything he’s done, can I really leave Five behind?

Five is on his knees in front of Setrákus Ra, clutching his injured hand to his belly. Setrákus Ra’s

unimposing human form has grown by a few feet – he’s taller and broader now, inflated in a way that

is vaguely grotesque. He reaches down and palms Five’s head in one unnaturally large hand.

‘All you needed to do was follow orders,’ Setrákus Ra seethes at Five. He jerks Five’s head back

so he can look him in the face. ‘We could have walked into the Sanctuary together, if you’d only

brought me that damned pendant. And now, this – you dare raise a hand against your Beloved Leader.

You disgust me, boy.’

I don’t know what Setrákus Ra means by Sanctuary, but I make a mental note of it. I also take a step towards him and Five, still torn between fleeing and helping, and uncertain of what I could even

do in a fight against the Mogadorian ruler.

Five’s head is cocked at an awkward angle, so he can only gurgle in response to Setrákus Ra’s

ranting.

‘I should have known that no member of the Garde could truly be salvaged,’ Setrákus Ra continues.

‘You are my greatest failure, Five. But you will be my last.’

Five cries out as Ra’s hand tightens on his skull. My stomach turns over as I realize he’s literally

going to crush Five’s head. I can’t let that happen.

With all the telekinetic force I can muster, I shove Setrákus Ra towards the open docking-bay

doors.

His eyes widen in surprise as he stumbles backwards, the open air tugging at his fancy suit, which

is now bulging at the seams from his inhuman growth spurt. Setrákus Ra loses his grip on Five’s head,

his nails scratching divots into his scalp. He manages to stop himself before I push him off the Anubis, and I can feel his telekinesis battle back against mine.

‘Ella, how –’ he starts to ask, surprise mixing with frustration.

But then Five is charging at him, his forearm blade extended.

‘Die!’ Five bellows. Setrákus Ra tries to step aside but can’t entirely avoid Five. The blade

plunges into his shoulder.

I scream as a piercing jolt of pain courses through me.

A hole in my shoulder opens up, warm blood pouring down my front. I stagger against one of the

nearby ships, clutching the wound, trying to stop the bleeding with my fingers.

Five recoils from Setrákus Ra, his eyes wide. The Mogadorian looks unharmed. Setrákus Ra

smiles as Five turns to gape at me. I’m run through right where he should’ve stabbed Setrákus Ra.

‘Now look what you did,’ Setrákus Ra chides.

The Mogadorian charm, I realize, even as I start to feel faint. Any damage done to Setrákus Ra is

instead done to me.

Five looks horrified by what he’s done. Before he can react, Setrákus Ra picks him up by the throat

and slams the back of his head violently against the hull of the nearest ship. He does this again and

again, until Five’s body is limp.

Then, callously, Setrákus Ra tosses his unconscious body out the open doors of the Anubis. I try to reach Five with my telekinesis, but I’m too weak. His body plummets out of sight, towards the Earth

below.

I collapse to the floor, blood seeping through my fingers. All the strength has gone out of me. I

won’t be escaping from the Anubis today. My grandfather has won.

Setrákus Ra stands over me, his human form returned to normal, although his suit is ruined. He

shakes his head, his smile like a disappointed teacher.

‘Come now, Ella,’ he says. ‘We must put this episode behind us.’

I hold up my blood-covered hand for him to see. ‘Why? Why did you do this to me?’

‘It was the only way for you to learn that Mogadorian Progress is more important than even your

own life,’ he replies. Setrákus Ra gathers me up in his arms. As I start to lose consciousness, he

whispers gently, ‘You won’t disobey Beloved Leader again, will you?’

2 3

Adam’s flight plan is to take us down the Atlantic coast until we hit Florida, then dip back west over the gulf and finally arrive at the southeastern tip of Mexico. With the Skimmer flying at maximum

speed and staying low enough to avoid any other aircraft, the trip should take about four hours.

It’s a quiet ride. I lean back in my seat and watch the coast ebb and flow beneath us. Adam doesn’t

say much of anything; he keeps his eyes straight ahead, occasionally adjusting our course when his

systems pick up another aircraft. Dust naps on the floor at his feet. As for Marina, she remains

typically rigid, her whole fear-of-flying thing not getting any better with a Mogadorian at the controls.

‘You know, you can rest for a few hours,’ Adam suggests eventually, his tone cautious. I’d already

been close to dozing off, so he must be talking to Marina. She’s sitting straight backed, a slight chill coming off her. She must be looming right in the corner of Adam’s eye.

Marina seems to consider this for a moment, then leans forward so that her head is nearly on

Adam’s shoulder. He raises an eyebrow, but otherwise keeps his hands on the controls.

‘The last trip Six and I made south was less than a week ago,’ Marina says, her voice measured.

‘We found out too late that we had a traitor traveling with us. I ended up stabbing him in the eye. That was me being merciful.’

‘I know what happened in Florida,’ Adam says. ‘Why are you telling me this?’

‘Because I want you to know what will happen if you betray us,’ Marina replies, leaning back.

‘And don’t tell me to rest.’

Adam looks over at me for help, but I shrug my shoulders and turn away. Marina’s still figuring out

just how angry she wants to be, and I’m not going to get in her way. Besides, I don’t think putting a

little fear in our Mogadorian companion is such a bad thing.

I assume he’s just going to let the conversation die, but after a few minutes Adam speaks up.

‘Yesterday, for the first time I picked up a sword that’s been in my family for generations. I’d never been allowed to touch it before, only admire it from afar. It belonged to my father, General Andrakkus Sutekh. He was fighting Number Four – John. I drove that sword through my father’s back and killed

him.’

Adam delivers this speech matter-of-factly, like he’s reading the news. I blink at him, then glance

over my shoulder at Marina. She’s looking down at the floor, deep in thought. As the chill rising off

her begins to die down, Dust picks himself up and goes over to her. The wolf rests his head in

Marina’s lap.

‘Cool story,’ I say to Adam when it becomes painfully clear that someone needs to break the

silence. ‘I’ve never known anyone who carried around a sword before.’

‘ Cool,’ Adam repeats, frowning. ‘My point is, you don’t need to doubt my loyalty.’

‘I’m sorry you had to do that to your father,’ Marina says after a moment. ‘I didn’t know.’

‘I’m not,’ Adam replies brusquely. ‘But thanks for the sympathy.’

To break the tension, I start messing with some of the dials on the Skimmer’s console. ‘Does this

thing have a freaking radio, or what? Are we just going to tell death stories the whole way?’

Adam is quick to readjust the dials right after me. I think I catch him smiling a little, probably

relieved that the death-threat portion of the trip is over.

‘There’s no radio,’ he says. ‘I can hum some Mogadorian standards, if you’d like.’

‘Oh, barf,’ I reply, and Marina snickers in the backseat.

I realize Adam is giving me a funny look, his angular face more open than I’ve seen, that defensive

stoicism he wears stripped away. For a moment, he almost looks comfortable being up here with two

of his mortal enemies.

‘What?’ I ask, and he hurriedly looks away. I realize his mind was elsewhere.

‘Nothing,’ he says, almost wistful. ‘For a second there, you just reminded me of someone I used to

know.’

The rest of the flight south is uneventful. I manage to doze off once or twice, although never for

long. With Dust snuggled up against her, it seems like Marina is finally able to relax. Adam refrains

from humming any Mogadorian anthems.

We’re flying over the tropical forest of Campeche, Mexico, just another hour away from the Loric

Sanctuary supposedly hidden amid the ruins of an ancient Mayan city, when a red warning light

begins to flash on the Skimmer’s translucent windshield. I only notice it when Adam tenses up.

‘Damn it,’ he says, and immediately starts flicking switches on the Skimmer’s control panel.

‘What is it?’

‘Someone’s locked on to us.’

The cameras mounted on the Skimmer send images to our screen, views from the underside of the

ship and behind us becoming visible. I don’t see anything but cloudless blue sky and the dense canopy

of the forest beneath us.

‘Where are they coming from?’ Marina asks, squinting as she peers through the window.

‘There,’ Adam says, jabbing his finger at the screen. On it, a Mogadorian scout ship just like ours

drifts slowly towards us from below. Its roof is painted in overlapping shades of greens, camouflaged

to match the forest it detached from.

‘Can we outrun it?’ Marina asks.

‘I can try,’ Adam replies, pulling down the lever to give our Skimmer some more juice.

‘Or we can just shoot it down,’ I suggest.

As we pick up a little speed, the blinking red light on the console multiplies into four blinking red

lights. There are more of them. Two identical Skimmers rise up from the jungle right in front of us,

another along our side. The first still sits right on our tail. Hemmed in, Adam has no choice but to

stop. The other Skimmers surround us.

‘They all have guns, too, right?’ Marina asks.

‘Yes,’ Adam replies. ‘We’re at a distinct disadvantage.’

‘Not quite,’ I say, and focus on the sky outside. What was cloudless a moment ago slowly begins to

darken, clouds rolling in at my beckoning.

‘Hold on,’ Adam warns. ‘We don’t want to give away you’re all on board.’

‘You’re sure they won’t shoot us down?’

‘Ninety per cent,’ Adam says.

I let go of the storm I was whipping up, allowing the clouds to drift through the sky along their

natural course. A second later, a shrill beep emanates from our dashboard.

‘They’re hailing us,’ Adam says. ‘They want to talk.’

Another plan has occurred to me, one that doesn’t involve fighting a midair battle against bad odds.

‘You said you’re some general’s kid, right?’ I say to Adam. ‘So can’t you, like, throw your weight

around or something?’

As Adam considers this, the dashboard communicator bleats again.

‘I should tell you, I’m not exactly well liked among my people,’ he says. ‘They might not listen to

me.’

‘Yeah, well, that’s a risk,’ I admit. ‘Worst-case scenario, they take you prisoner, right?’

Adam grimaces. ‘Yeah.’

‘So, we let them take us where we’re going. Don’t worry. We’ll rescue you.’

‘Uh, you need to do something,’ Marina says, waving towards the windshield. The ship directly in front of us, getting impatient or suspicious, has brought its blaster turret around to aim at us.

‘All right, go invisible,’ Adam says. I reach around my seat and grasp Marina’s hand, disappearing

the both of us. Sensing the situation, Dust shrinks down into a tiny gray mouse and skitters under

Adam’s seat.

Adam hits a button on the console, and a video feed crackles to life on our screen. A nasty-looking

Mogadorian scout, his empty eyes too close together, his teeth short and sharp, stares at Adam with a

look of fierce annoyance. He barks something in harsh Mogadorian.

‘Immersion protocol dictates we speak English while on Earth, you vatborn cretin,’ Adam replies

coldly. He draws himself up in his chair, suddenly so regal that I kinda want to slap him. ‘You are

addressing Adamus Sutekh, trueborn son of General Andrakkus Sutekh. I am on urgent business from

my father. Lead me to the Loric site immediately.’

I have to give it to Adam, he’s an excellent bullshitter. The scout’s expression goes from annoyance

to confusion and finally to outright fear.

‘Yes, sir, right away,’ the scout replies, and in response Adam immediately cuts off the

conversation. One by one, the Skimmers break up the ring they had us trapped inside and let us get

back on course.

‘That worked,’ Marina says, sounding a little stunned as she lets go of my hand.

‘For now,’ Adam replies, frowning uncertainly. ‘He was low ranking. Whoever’s in command will

be a different story.’

‘Can’t you just tell them your dad sent you down here to check their progress?’ I ask.

‘Assuming they don’t know I betrayed our people and that my father essentially sentenced me to

die? Yeah, that might work.’

‘You only need to distract them for a little bit,’ I say. ‘Long enough for Marina and me to figure a

way into the Sanctuary.’

‘There it is,’ Marina says, watching through the window as the Skimmers begin to descend towards

Calakmul.

There are a bunch of ancient little buildings below, all of them constructed from limestone that’s

been eroding for centuries, the jungle creeping in to reclaim them. My eyes are drawn to the huge

pyramid-shaped temple that towers over them all; built on a low hill, the temple is blocky, covered in steep and crumbling staircases that are chiseled right into the stone. I can’t quite make it out from this distance, but there appears to be some kind of door at the top of the pyramid.

‘How much you want to bet we need to climb up to that thing?’ I say.

‘It’s the Sanctuary,’ Marina replies. ‘I’m certain of it.’

‘So are my people, obviously,’ Adam says.

The Mogadorians have cleared the jungle around the Sanctuary in a perfect ring, the trees all

chopped down, an entire fleet of Mogadorian scout ships parked on the naked soil. Besides the

dozens of Skimmers, I can make out an array of tents where the Mogs must be camping. There’s also

what looks to be a couple of heavy-duty missile launchers and blaster turrets, all of these weapons

aimed at the temple, and yet the structure looks completely untouched. Oddly, at the base of the temple and creeping up the sides, there are still overgrown trees and vines, untended for years. It’s a stark contrast to the severe neatness of the Mogadorian perimeter, where everything natural has been

cleared away.

‘It’s like something kept them from getting too close,’ Marina says, noticing the same thing as me.

‘Malcolm did say that only the Garde could enter,’ I reply.

Our escort of Mog ships float down to the makeshift airfield and Adam lands a few yards away

from them. The Sanctuary looms in the distance. The only thing standing between us and the Loric

temple is a strip of wide-open land and a small army of Mogadorians, many of whom have begun

gathering in the airfield, all of them armed with blasters.

‘Some welcoming committee,’ I say, glancing at Adam. He watches his people mass on the

monitor, swallows hard and unbuckles himself from the pilot’s seat.

‘All right, I’ll go first. Lead them away somehow. You guys get into the Sanctuary.’

‘I don’t like this,’ Marina says. ‘There’s a lot of them.’

‘It’ll be fine,’ Adam says. ‘Just get inside and do what you have to do.’

With that, Adam opens the cockpit and hops on to the Skimmer’s hull. There are about thirty

Mogadorians down below, waiting on him, with more walking over from the tents. Marina and I

hunker down inside the Skimmer, my hand close to hers in case we need to go invisible.

‘Who’s in charge here?’ Adam yells, standing tall and rigid, again putting on his trueborn airs.

A tall female warrior dressed in a sleeveless black overcoat steps forward. She has two thick

braids that start on the sides of her head and wrap around it, encircling the traditional Mogadorian

tattoos on her scalp. Her hands are wrapped in dusty white bandages, like they’ve recently been

injured or burned.

‘I am Phiri Dun-Ra, trueborn daughter of the honorable Magoth Dun-Ra,’ the warrior shouts to

Adam. Her posture is nearly as imposing and rigid as his. ‘Why have you come here, Sutekh?’

Adam hops down from our ship, tossing his head to flip his hair out of his eyes.

‘Orders from Beloved Leader himself. I am to inspect this site to prepare for his arrival.’

A tremor passes through the crowd when Adam mentions Setrákus Ra. Many of the Mogs exchange

nervous glances. Phiri Dun-Ra, however, appears nonplussed. She strides forward, letting her blaster

dangle idly next to her hip. Something tightens up in my stomach at the sight of her. The predatory way she moves, the glint in her eye like trouble could spark at any moment. She’s way sharper than the

other Mog warriors I’ve encountered.

‘Ah, Beloved Leader. Of course,’ Phiri says. She waves to the temple in the distance. ‘What would

you like to see first, sir?’

Adam takes a step towards the Mog camp and opens his mouth to speak. Smoothly, without

warning, Phiri lifts her blaster and cracks Adam across the mouth with the handle. As he falls to the

ground, the rest of the Mogadorians level their blasters at him in unison.

‘How about the inside of a cell, traitor?’ Phiri snarls, standing over Adam, her blaster pointed at

his face.

2 4

I extend my hand to Marina and she grasps it immediately. Invisible, we carefully climb out of the

ship, synchronizing our movements. Behind us, I hear a sudden flapping of wings. Dust takes flight in

the shape of a tropical bird, his wings flecked with gray. None of the Mogs notice him soar out of the cockpit, and they don’t hear Marina and me leap down to the ground.

They’re too distracted by the show Phiri Dun-Ra is putting on with Adam.

‘I know your father, Sutekh,’ Phiri is saying, projecting her voice so that the Mogs gathered in a

semicircle around her and Adam can all hear. ‘He’s a bastard, but at least he’s noble. He believes in

Mogadorian Progress.’

If Adam manages a reply, I can’t hear it over the murmur of agreement that comes from the other

Mogs. I catch a glimpse of him through the crowd – he’s crumpled at Phiri’s feet, scrabbling in the

dirt, trying to regain his feet but probably still seeing stars.

‘In fact, your father gave me this assignment,’ Phiri continues. ‘I was responsible for a team that

allowed a Garde to escape from the West Virginia stronghold. The punishment was either death or a

journey here. Not much of a choice, really. You see, if we fail, we’ll all be executed anyway. The

only way to live is for us to deliver the Sanctuary.’

At the word ‘Sanctuary,’ Phiri makes a sarcastically dramatic gesture with her two bandaged hands

that encompasses the whole of the temple. I hesitate for a moment to listen to what else she has to say.

‘There’s not a day goes by that I don’t wonder if I made the wrong decision. Maybe a quick death

would have been better. You see, Sutekh, all of us were sent here as punishment,’ Phiri explains. It

occurs to me that she’s not just talking to Adam – she’s also trying to fire up her troops. Maybe

morale gets low in the jungle. ‘We were sent to this forsaken place to bring down the impenetrable

shield that surrounds whatever spoils the Loric have hidden within. For all of us, it is our last chance to impress Beloved Leader. It’s the perfect place for a traitor like you.’

Phiri crouches down in front of Adam.

‘So do you know the secret to the Sanctuary? Have you come here to redeem yourself at last?’

‘Yeah,’ comes Adam’s groggy reply. ‘If it’s a force field, try throwing yourself at it.’

Phiri actually laughs at Adam’s quip. It’s that laugh that gets me moving again – it has an air of

menace to it, like her little sideshow is about to wrap up. That means we have to hurry.

I tug Marina and we slip behind the gathered Mogadorians. Adam’s created one hell of a diversion

– if we were sticking to the plan, we could make it inside the perimeter of the Sanctuary easily. But

I’m not willing to leave Adam to his fate, and I don’t think Marina is either. Instead of heading for the temple, we move swiftly towards one of the mounted blaster turrets that the Mogs have been using to

fruitlessly fire at whatever force protects the Sanctuary.

‘Throw myself at it,’ Phiri is repeating, her laughter dying down. ‘That isn’t such a bad idea,

Sutekh. Why don’t you go first?’

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Phiri signal to a couple of the warriors in her command. They

hustle forward and wrestle Adam to his feet. With Phiri leading the way, the Mogs drag Adam

towards the invisible line that divides the cleared Mogadorian section of jungle with the untouched

portion surrounding the temple.

‘We’ve tried everything short of atomic bombardment to cross into the Sanctuary,’ Phiri says,

conversationally. ‘It’s said Beloved Leader knows a way in. It involves the Garde and their little

pendants. As you know, they’ve proven to be … elusive. But if you believe the Great Book – and I do

– then you know nothing can stand in the way of Mogadorian Progress. Which means this damned

force field will come down. I intend to trample whatever Loric magic is keeping us out, in the name

of Beloved Leader.’

‘Then why haven’t you done it already?’ Adam replies. ‘If nothing can stand in the way of

Mogadorian Progress, why aren’t you making any?’

‘Maybe because I never had a pretty trueborn boy’s face to use as a battering ram.’

Marina and I reach the nearest turret. Together, we climb up the steps on the back of the blaster.

The thing looks like a mounted jackhammer. There is a windshield with a crosshairs placed over the

barrel. There are two handles for turning the gun, with triggers that look like the brakes of a bicycle set next to them.

‘Will you be able to fire this thing?’ I whisper to Marina.

‘Aim, squeeze, shoot,’ Marina whispers back. ‘It’s pretty intuitive, Six.’

‘All right,’ I reply. ‘Hold on.’

The gun turret requires two hands to operate. Even though all the Mogs are facing away from us, I

don’t want to go visible and chance one of them glancing back and ruining our ambush. I carefully

place my hand on the back of Marina’s neck before letting go of her hand. This way, she’s able to

operate the turret while the two of us still remain invisible. Slowly, Marina starts moving the turret so that it’s pointed at the Mogs. The gun needs oiling – it makes a metallic whine when she moves it. I

wave my free hand in the air and quickly summon a strong gust of wind to cover the sound.

‘Let me give you a preview of what you’re in for,’ Phiri is saying. She’s got Adam right in front of

the invisible barrier now, her goons forcing him on to his knees. She unwraps the bandages around

one of her hands, revealing horribly charred flesh. ‘This is what the Loric shield does when we

mistakenly run up against it.’

‘You should be more careful,’ Adam replies.

At a nod from Phiri, the two warriors grapple Adam into a half-bent position, securing his arm so

that they can press it against the force field.

Phiri leers down at Adam. ‘There are rumors about you, Sutekh. They say you’re part Garde now.

Maybe you’re just what we need to get into the Sanctuary. Maybe a freak like you will short-circuit

the force field and today will be the day we enter the Sanctuary in the name of Beloved Leader.’

‘One way or another, today’s your last day at the Sanctuary,’ Adam replies through gritted teeth. ‘I

promise you that.’

Adam’s words make Phiri hesitate. She glances back towards our ship, suddenly realizing that

maybe Adam didn’t come alone. She’s too late.

Marina has the turret lined up on the crowd of Mogs.

‘Ready?’ she whispers to me.

‘Light ’em up.’

Marina’s invisible hands squeeze down the turret’s triggers. The gun roars to life with such force

that I’m nearly knocked off the back. I manage to cling to Marina so that she doesn’t turn visible. The closest group of Mogs don’t even have a chance to turn around as glowing columns of sizzling blaster

fire pummel their backs, turning them immediately to ash.

As soon as Marina opens fire, Dust comes screeching down from the sky. Now in the shape of a

gray-winged falcon, the Chimæra rakes its talons across the face of one of the warriors holding

Adam.

The Mogs shout and scatter. They’re totally confused – it must look like their turret has been

possessed by a ghost. Phiri Dun-Ra has the presence of mind to squeeze off some blaster fire that

deflects off the turret’s windshield, but then she ducks for cover. Marina continues to strafe them,

although she’s careful to avoid the area around Adam.

With Dust taking down one of the warriors, Adam elbows his second captor in the stomach. When

he doubles over, Adam shoves him backwards, right into the invisible border around the Sanctuary.

With a flare of cold, blue energy, the shield surrounding the temple reveals itself – it’s like a giant electrical web stretched into the shape of a dome. The Mog flares up like the tip of a matchstick when he hits the force field. His body leaves a coating of ash that seems to float in the air once the shield disappears again, until a gentle gust of wind blows it away.

Freed from his captors, Adam throws himself on to his stomach. Right away, Marina swings the

turret around to take out the Mogs cluttered around him. A few of them, including Phiri Dun-Ra, have

made it to the cover of one of the parked ships. Even though they can’t see us, they return fire on the turret. Our gun soon begins to belch smoke and rattle dangerously.

‘It’s overheating!’ I yell. ‘Jump!’

Marina and I dive in opposite directions as the turret explodes in a cloud of acrid black smoke.

We’re visible and without any cover to speak of.

Before the surviving Mogs can take aim, Adam pounds his fist against the ground. A tremor ripples

in their direction and knocks the Mogs off their feet. I use the distraction to roll beneath one of the other ships, already channeling my Legacy to call down a storm.

The sky darkens and it begins to rain. Out here in the jungle, it’s a cinch to call up this kind of

weather, but I’m still a few seconds away from channeling lightning and I’m not sure I’ll be quick

enough. Phiri and her troops are already drawing a bead on me, their blaster fire scoring the wet dirt in front of my position.

That’s when a fist-sized hailstone strikes Phiri right in her bald head. She falls back, shielding

herself.

I notice Marina hiding behind a stack of crates. She’s focusing intently on the raindrops, turning

them to ice around the Mogs and knocking them senseless with hail. I feel the storm above reach a

boiling point and let loose with a jagged stripe of lightning. Phiri manages to dive aside at the last second, but her last two warriors are electrocuted into dust.

And then, to my surprise, Phiri Dun-Ra runs. Without even a look over her shoulder, the Mog

trueborn bolts into the nearby jungle.

Adam leaps to his feet. Both his lips are split open where Phiri clubbed him, blood trickling down

his chin. Otherwise, he looks unharmed and alert. He starts to run after Phiri, his feet sliding through the reddish-brown mud my storm has created. Phiri is out of sight before Adam can get very far. He

pulls up short a few yards away from me.

‘Let her go,’ I tell him, willing the storm I whipped up to taper off.

‘Shouldn’t we go after her?’ Adam asks, spitting blood into the dirt. His eyes scan the nearby ruins

and tree line, and I can tell he’d like a fair fight against the other trueborn. Dust, back in wolf form, lopes over and sits down next to Adam, lapping gently at his hand. He glances back to me. ‘Thanks

for the save, by the way.’

‘Yeah, I figured since the whole distraction thing was my call, I kinda owed it to you to not let you

get slaughtered.’

‘Glad you saw it that way,’ Adam replies, then looks back towards the ruins around the Sanctuary.

‘We should catch her. She’s dangerous.’

‘Forget about Phiri what’s-her-face,’ I say, turning away from the jungle and gazing up at the

waiting temple.

‘We’ve got more important things to do than chase down one Mog,’ Marina puts in as she walks

over to join us. ‘No matter how nasty she might be.’

I nod in agreement. ‘She’s alone out there. Maybe something will eat her. We’ll leave Dust back

here to keep watch over the ships, in case she tries to double back.’

Adam continues to stare into the jungle. After a moment, he finally nods his head. ‘Fine. I’ll keep

an eye on things while you guys go inside.’

I exchange an inquiring look with Marina to make sure she doesn’t have any misgivings with what

I’m about to say. She shrugs her shoulders in response, then starts towards our ship to begin the

unloading. I cock my head at Adam.

‘You don’t even want to try coming in with us?’ I ask.

Adam stares at me. ‘Are you joking? Did you see what contact with that field did to Phiri Dun-Ra?’

‘I’ll heal you if that happens,’ Marina offers over her shoulder.

‘I don’t understand,’ Adam says. He turns to look up at the temple, his hands on his hips. He looks

nervous. ‘Why would you even want me to go in there? It’s a Loric place.’

‘Like that Phiri bitch said, you’re part Garde now,’ I explain. ‘You’re not Loric, but you’ve got

Legacies.’

‘I’ve got one Legacy,’ Adam clarifies. ‘And it wasn’t even mine to start with. I – I’m not even sure

if I’m supposed to have it.’

‘Doesn’t matter. If I understood what Malcolm told us – and I guess that’s maybe a big if – there’s

a living piece of Lorien in that temple. That’s where our Legacies come from. Which means you’re

connected to it, just like us.’

‘Everything has happened for a reason,’ Marina says as she climbs up on to our ship’s hull. She

looks back at us, a thoughtful frown straining her soft features. ‘Just look at Eight’s prophecies.’

Adam looks unconvinced. He swallows hard.

‘We don’t know what’s waiting for us in there or what to expect. We might need you in there. So

man up.’

I’m not sure how Adam will respond to being called out. A smile flickers across his face, like that

one in the cockpit when he was spacing out.

‘I’m in,’ he says. ‘Assuming that invisible wall doesn’t burn my face off.’

We walk over to the ship to help Marina. She pulls the Chest with our gathered Inheritance out of

the cockpit and floats it down to me with telekinesis. Then, she carefully floats Eight’s body out of the ship. She has him hover right in front of her, almost like she was carrying him in her arms. To my

surprise, she unzips the top half of the body bag. There’s Eight, looking just as he did when he was

alive, those Mogadorian electrodes preserving him.

‘Marina? What are you doing?’

‘I want him to see the Sanctuary,’ she says, then gently smooths some of Eight’s curly hair back

from his forehead. ‘You’re going home,’ she whispers to him.

Marina climbs down from the ship, focusing her telekinesis so that Eight’s body stays with her the

entire way. There’s a look of deep purpose on her face, and she doesn’t even look at me or Adam

before walking towards the temple. I realize that she’s been waiting days for this moment, the time

when she can properly lay Eight to rest. Wordlessly, Adam and I join her somber procession.

As we approach the edge of the land the Mogs cleared, the wild and overgrown temple looming

before us, I feel a strange tickle against my chest. I look down to find John’s pendant glowing brightly and rising up against the front of my tank top. I adjust my shirt and the pendant floats out in front of me, straining against its chain. It’s like it’s magnetically drawn to the Sanctuary. The two pendants

Marina wears are doing the same thing.

Adam gives me a look and arches an eyebrow at my gravity-defying jewelry. I shrug in response.

This is all new to me, too.

Marina is the first to pass over the threshold. The force field appears again, cobalt and electric,

and there’s a static popping as she passes through it. Loose tangles of her hair charged by the energy float up around her head, but otherwise nothing happens.

I’m only a few steps behind her. The force field gives my skin a fizzy feeling. It only lasts a second and then I’m standing on the other side, the cracked and vine-riddled steps of the Sanctuary rising up before me.

I turn back to check on Adam. He’s stopped right in front of the force field. Cautiously, he extends

his index finger and makes contact with the energy. It pops loudly and he jumps back, but he isn’t

scorched like the other Mogadorian was.

‘You’re sure this is a good idea?’

‘Don’t be a wimp,’ I reply.

Adam sighs, steels himself, and reaches forward again, this time with his whole hand. The energy

crackles and sparks against his pale skin way more than it did with Marina and me, but it lets him

through without incinerating him. I grin at him and he gives me a relieved look, wiping some sweat

off his forehead.

‘Now what?’ he asks.

Marina has paused a few yards in front of us, still floating Eight’s body. She reaches behind her

head and takes off one of her pendants. Loosed from her neck, the pendant bobs slowly towards the

stone steps of the temple, and then begins to rise up them.

‘We climb,’ Marina says.

Her pendant glints blue in the sunlight and it occurs to me that the Loralite is glowing a little

brighter. Like it’s charged up or something. I feel it, too. The Sanctuary is giving off some kind of

energy beyond just the force field. There’s a sense that every cell in my body has been suddenly

invigorated. I glance up to the sky and know that I could call up a larger storm than ever before. I feel more in touch with my Legacies. And somehow, it all seems so natural – like I’ve known this feeling

before.

Marina was right, I realize. We’re home.

2 5

It takes us about thirty minutes to climb to the top of the Mayan pyramid. I try passing the time by

counting the steps, but I lose track somewhere around two hundred. There are sections where the

stone steps have crumbled into ankle-twisting crevices, and other spots where rain has eroded the

ancient stonework down to smooth slopes. We use the overgrown vines that spill forth from the jungle

to assist us over the difficult parts, ascending hand over hand. We don’t talk much, except to tell each other when a particularly tricky section of steps is coming. Somehow, it seems rude to disturb the

silence of the Sanctuary.

We take a break once we reach the top of the temple. Marina is sweating from the heat, the climb

and the exertion of using her telekinesis to carry Eight’s body for so long. I set down the Chest I’ve been carrying and flex my fingers. Adam stands with his hands on his hips and gazes out over the

temple’s edge.

‘Some view,’ he says.

‘It’s beautiful,’ I agree.

At the temple’s pinnacle, we are above the treetops. It’s possible to see beyond the overgrown

trees that crowd the pyramid, beyond the stripped ring of land the Mogs cleared and out to the rest of the Mayan ruins and the thriving jungle beyond. I imagine some old Mayan ruler standing up here and

gazing out at his domain. And then, I imagine that same ruler turning his eyes to the heavens as a Loric ship descends from the clouds. The image seems so real and vivid; I get the strange feeling that my

imagination didn’t just conjure it up. Centuries ago, something like that really happened here – the

Loric visited, and the Sanctuary remembers.

‘You guys, look at this,’ Marina calls to us.

Adam and I turn away from the view and walk across the flat roof of the temple. At the centermost

point is a stone door. At first, I think the door is carved from the same pale stone as the rest of the pyramid, but as I draw closer it becomes obvious that the door is smooth and unblemished, the ivory-colored material not showing the same effects of age as the rest of the temple. The door may have

been here for some time, yet it’s apparent that it was plunked down on top of the already built

pyramid.

The door doesn’t lead anywhere, a fact Marina demonstrates by walking in a circle around it. Her

floating pendant hovers in front of the door, waiting for us to catch up.

I stop in front of the door and examine its surface. It is completely smooth – no handles, knobs, or

anything like that – with the exception of nine round divots arranged in a circle at the door’s center.

‘The pendants,’ I say, brushing my fingers over cool stone.

Marina plucks her pendant out of the air and guides the stone into one of the notches. It fits

perfectly and emits a crisp clicking sound. The door doesn’t move, though.

‘We only have three,’ I say, grimacing. ‘It isn’t enough.’

‘We have to try,’ Marina says, already pulling off her remaining pendant.

She’s right. We’ve come too far to turn back now. I pull off John’s pendant and fit it into the

notches on the stone door.

‘Here goes nothing,’ I say, as I push the final pendant home.

Immediately, the Loralite stones begin to glow with the same energy as the force field. The glow

spreads between the stones, connecting them, the energy filling the gaps where we’re missing

pendants. The circular symbol that takes shape on the door reminds me of the scars we get on our legs

when one of the Garde dies.

And then, with an ancient grinding noise, the stone door slides down into the temple, leaving

behind only a thin frame. Instead of jungle through the doorframe, I see a dusty room lit by the dim

blue glow of Loralite.

‘I thought we’d need more,’ I say. ‘We don’t even have a majority.’

‘Or maybe the Sanctuary knows how badly we need to enter,’ Marina suggests.

‘It’s some kind of portal,’ Adam says, squinting into the room beyond the doorframe. ‘Is that inside

the temple?’

‘Let’s find out,’ I say. I pick up Marina’s Chest and step over the threshold.

Immediately, I get that disorienting, end-over-end, roller-coaster feeling that I used to have

whenever Eight would use his teleportation Legacy. It only lasts a second, and then I’m blinking my

eyes to adjust to the dimmer lighting of this inner sanctum. My ears pop from the pressure change, and I get the sense that I just stepped through a portal into the middle of the Mayan temple. Or maybe,

considering the way the jungle sounds have been completely sealed out, we’re even deeper than that.

Maybe this Sanctuary is completely beneath the pyramid.

Marina – with Eight’s body in tow – and Adam follow me through, the both of them squinting to

adjust to the lower light. When they’re on the other side, the doorway blinks out of existence. There’s no exit in its place, only a solid limestone wall, although a circle of notches just like the one from the door are carved into it. Our pendants clatter to the floor and I hurriedly pick them up.

‘The Sanctuary,’ Marina breathes.

‘How long ago did your people put this here?’ Adam asks.

‘Hell if I know. We heard they’d been coming to Earth for centuries,’ I reply absently, peering

around. ‘I guess this is what they were doing.’

‘They were preparing for this day,’ Marina adds, that eerie certainty back in her voice.

‘What’d they leave us, though?’ I ask, a little disappointed as I look around. ‘An empty room?’

The Sanctuary is one long, rectangular room with high ceilings and absolutely no doors or

windows. It’s as if our ancestors teleported into a solid chunk of rock, somehow managed to carve

out a room, and then forgot to furnish it. There’s nothing here. Veins of glowing Loralite are threaded through the stone walls and ceiling in chaotic patterns that cast the entire room in a cobalt hue. My

eyes glide over the swoops and swirls of Loralite – there’s something vaguely familiar there,

something that I’m just not seeing.

‘It’s the universe,’ Adam says. ‘It’s … more than we even know about. The Mogadorian star maps

don’t cover this much.’

It takes me a moment to realize what he’s saying. But then I notice the way the Loralite veins pool

into circles at some spots and I recognize the other veins as the swirling stars of the cosmos and

beyond. It’s just like the Macrocosms, only way bigger and covering way more universe. I find Lorien

on one wall, the glowing puddle of Loralite at its heart shining much dimmer than some other spots.

‘Our home,’ I say, and touch Lorien gently with my finger. A chill goes through me as the Loralite

seems to pulse in answer, almost as if it recognizes me.

‘My home,’ Adam says dryly. He points to an area that’s notable only for its complete absence of

Loralite, like a void existing in the glowing universe. He frowns. ‘At least your ancestors got the

whole forbidding-darkness thing right.’

‘Those aren’t our homes, not anymore,’ Marina says, tracing her fingers across the wall, following

the exact trajectory our ship took from Lorien to Earth. ‘This is our home now.’

The Loralite outline of Earth glows much stronger than any other section of the wall. Marina

presses her fingers against it and the Loralite crackles and vibrates.

Something below us is moving.

Dust and dirt shake loose from the ceiling, the motes sparkling in the suddenly hypercharged light

of the Loralite. I know I shouldn’t be scared – this is a Loric place, it won’t hurt us – but I can’t help backing up to the nearest wall, the Sanctuary suddenly feeling very claustrophobic now that it’s

shaking around me. Adam stumbles in next to me, his eyes wide.

With an ancient groan and a grinding of stone, a circular section of the floor at the room’s center

rises up. It’s like an altar or a pedestal extending up from the floor. The room stops shaking when the thing has risen to about waist high. This new extension is made from pure Loralite. The slab of plain

limestone floor sits atop the Loralite cylinder, almost like a seal holding in whatever might be down

below. Cautiously, the three of us approach.

‘It looks like this piece comes off,’ I say, touching the limestone seal, but not yet removing it.

‘It almost looks like a well,’ Adam says, musing. ‘What do you think is down there?’

‘No clue,’ I reply.

‘Look,’ Marina says. ‘The drawings.’

I see them. They’re similar to the cave paintings that Eight showed us back in India, except these

are carved directly into the well’s Loralite sides. I have to walk a circle around the well to take all the images in.

Nine silhouettes looming over a planet that looks like Earth, with nine smaller silhouettes standing

on the planet below them.

A person – I can’t tell if it’s a male or female – standing in front of a hole in the ground and

dumping the contents of a box into the opening.

Nine silhouettes again, this time arranged in front of a castle, fending off something that looks like a tidal wave or maybe a three-headed dragon.

‘More prophecies?’ I ask.

‘Maybe,’ Marina replies. She is paused in front of the carving of the person with the box. ‘Or

maybe they’re instructions.’

I stand next to her. ‘Do you think this is the place? Where we, uh, commit our Inheritances to the

Earth?’

Marina nods. She sets Eight’s body gently down to the ground, then uses her telekinesis to push the

slab of limestone that seals the well aside. It crumbles on to the ground with a huge thud, the old stone instantly breaking apart.

A column of pure blue light flows up from the well, so bright that I have to shield my eyes. It’s like a spotlight. I can feel the warmth from the light deep in my bones.

‘This is …’ Adam trails off, unable to complete his thought. There’s profound amazement in his

dark Mogadorian eyes.

Marina kneels down in front of her Chest and opens it up. She cups her hands and removes a

handful of Loric gemstones, then drops them into the Sanctuary’s well. They glitter and flash as they

slip through her fingers, falling into the light. In response, the whole room seems to get a little

brighter. The Loralite veins in the walls pulse stronger.

‘Help me, Six,’ Marina says excitedly.

I grab the pouch of soil from the Chest, open it up and dump the contents down the well. A fragrant,

greenhouse-like aroma fills the dusty chamber, and the light grows stronger still. Marina follows the

soil with the bundle of dried branches and leaves. In that moment before they leave her hand, while

they’re bathed in the light, I could swear the branches look green and alive again. As they drop out of sight, a swirling breeze fills the chamber, cooling us down.

‘It’s working,’ I say, even though I’m not sure what exactly we’re doing. I’m only sure that it feels right.

When we’ve emptied out the Chest of everything else, I pick up the can of Henri’s ashes. Carefully,

I remove the lid and empty it into the light. Each of the ashes briefly sparks as they swirl downward

into the well. I wish John could’ve been here to see this.

I turn back to Marina, inclining my head gently towards where Eight’s body rests on the ground.

‘Should we …?’

Marina shakes her head, looking down at Eight. ‘I’m not ready yet, Six.’

I take a moment to sweep my gaze over the room, checking to see if anything’s changed. The light

from the well is nearly as bright as the sun, but it doesn’t really hurt my eyes anymore. The Loralite veins in the walls pulse with energy. Our Chest is empty and Henri’s ashes have been spread.

‘There’s nothing else to do,’ I say to Marina. ‘It’s time.’

‘The pendants, Six,’ Marina says. ‘We have to give it the pendants.’

‘Hold on,’ Adam says, stepping forward for the first time. He’s been watching all this take place

with awe, but Marina’s words snap him back. ‘If you drop those pendants down there, we’ll have no

way out of here.’

I’m still holding all of our pendants. I clutch them tightly as I think it over.

‘We have to have faith, right?’ I say, shrugging my shoulders. ‘We have to trust that whatever’s

down there, whatever the Elders left for us, that it’ll show us a way out.’

Marina nods. ‘Yes.’

Adam looks at me for a moment, then to the light. Everything he’s seen today must go against his

Mogadorian instincts. But he has Garde in him, too.

‘All right,’ Adam says. ‘I trust you.’

I hold on to the pendants for a moment longer. I’ve worn an amulet around my neck for most of my

life. There were many times that it reminded me who I was, where I was from, and what I was

fighting for. It was heartbreaking to lose two pendants and I’ve never felt right without one. It’s as much a part of who I am – who we all are – as the scars on our ankles. But it’s time to let that go.

I drop the three pendants into the well.

The response is immediate and blinding. The light from within the well goes supernova. I shout and

shield my eyes, and I’m pretty sure Marina and Adam do the same. There is a whooshing sound from

down below, like thousands of wings taking flight, or a miniature tornado touching down beneath the

Earth. There is a loud, baritone thump that sends vibrations through my teeth. A few seconds later, the sound repeats.

Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

The rhythm gets faster and stronger. Steadier.

It’s a heartbeat.

I’m not sure how long I’m bathed in that pure blue light, how long I listen to the sonorous heartbeat

of Lorien. It could be two minutes or it could be two hours. The experience is hypnotic and

comforting. When the light begins to die down and the volume of the heartbeat lowers to a steady

thrum in the background, I almost miss it. It’s like waking up from a warm dream that you don’t want

to leave.

I open my eyes and immediately gasp.

Eight’s body hovers upright over the Sanctuary’s well, the column of blue light surrounding him. I

snatch at Marina’s hand.

‘Are you doing this?’ I ask, unintentionally shouting.

Marina shakes her head and squeezes my hand. There are tears in her eyes.

A few steps behind us, Adam is on his knees. He must’ve collapsed during the light show. He

looks up at Eight, completely mystified.

‘What’s happening? What is this?’

‘Look at him,’ Marina says. ‘Look.’

I’m about to tell Adam I have no idea what’s going on when I see Eight’s fingers move. Was it just

a trick of the light? No – Marina must have seen it too because she makes a little squeaking sound and covers her mouth with her free hand, her other squeezing down hard on mine.

Eight wiggles his fingers. Floating, he shakes out his arms and legs. He rolls his head as if working

out a crick in his neck.

Then, he opens his eyes. They are pure Loralite. Eight’s eyes glow the same cobalt shade as the

deepest veins in the wall. When he opens his mouth, blue light comes flooding out.

‘Hello,’ Eight says, in an echoing voice that doesn’t belong to our friend. It’s a melodic, beautiful

voice, like nothing I’ve ever heard before.

It is the voice of Lorien.

2 6

Most people have the sense to run. These New Yorkers have seen enough movies to know what

happens when an alien spaceship parks itself over your city. They stream down the sidewalk in

droves. Some even abandon their cars in the middle of the avenues, which makes it slow going for

our convoy of black SUVs. Luckily, outside Sanderson’s hotel, Agent Walker was able to convince

the local cops who showed up in response to the shooting to help us. When it comes to alien

invasions, I guess there’s something about a federal agent in a black suit and sunglasses.

Even with the added sirens and flashers of the NYPD, it’s hard cutting through the city. Through the

chaos.

And yet, some people aren’t running away from the East River, where the Mogadorian warship

hovers ominously over the United Nations. They’re running towards it. People with their phones out,

recording, eager to catch a glimpse of alien life. I can’t make up my mind if they’re brave, crazy or

just stupid. Probably a combination of the three. I want to shout out the window for them to turn and

run, but there’s no time.

I won’t be able to save all of them.

‘Michael Worthington, a senator representing Florida.’ Agent Walker barks the name into her cell

phone, reading it off a yellow legal pad. She’s in the passenger seat, looking harried and wild. She

knows there’s not enough time for her orders to make a difference, but she’s giving them anyway.

‘Melissa Croft, she’s on the joint chiefs of staff. Luc Phillipe, the French ambassador.’ Walker

pauses, reaching the end of her list. She glances into the backseat, where Bud Sanderson is

sandwiched in between me and Sam. ‘Is that everyone?’

Sanderson nods. ‘Everyone that I know of.’

Walker nods and speaks into the phone. ‘Arrest them. Yes, all of them. If they resist, kill them.’

She hangs up the phone. The list of politicians associated with MogPro – dozens of names relayed

one by one by Walker to her contacts – came courtesy of Sanderson. Even if the rogue agents Walker

has in her command can pull it off, the arrests might not do much good now, at the zero hour. At the

very least, we have to hope Walker and her people will knock the Mog-friendly traitors out of power,

leaving behind a government that’s ready to resist. Although how much resistance they’ll be able to

mount remains to be seen.

How long did Henri tell me it took the Mogs to conquer Lorien? Less than a day?

Through the windshield, the Mogadorian warship is visible. It makes the city’s skyscrapers look

like toys and casts blocks-long shadows in every direction. The thing looks like a giant roach poised

over New York. There are hundreds of blaster turrets along its sides and on its belly, and I think I can make out openings where smaller Mog ships are probably docked. Even with the full Garde, Legacies

blazing, I’m not sure we could take down that hulk.

Agent Walker is staring at the ship, too. I guess it’s probably impossible to ignore the massive,

alien object that crowds the horizon. She turns to look at me.

‘You can destroy that thing, right?’

‘Sure,’ I reply, trying to mimic Nine’s casual bluster. He’s in the SUV behind ours, probably

explaining to his escort of agents how he’ll rip apart that warship with his bare hands. ‘We got this.

No problem.’

Next to me, Sanderson chuckles darkly, but shuts up when Walker fixes him with a menacing look.

On the other side of the disgraced secretary of defense, Sam finally looks up from the cell phone he

‘borrowed’ from that innocent bystander outside the hotel.

‘The upload is done,’ he says to me. ‘Sarah’s got the footage.’

‘Thanks, Sam,’ I reply, and pull my own phone out from my pocket, immediately dialing Sarah’s

number.

I wonder what Henri would think of me and Sam uploading footage of me using my Legacies to the

website of They Walk Among Us. In my wildest dreams, I don’t think I could’ve concocted a scenario

where I’d willingly take my powers public. But here we are.

Sarah answers on the first ring. I can hear activity in the background – people talking, a television

blaring.

‘John, thank God! The Mogs are all over the news! Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine,’ I tell her. ‘Just making my way towards the biggest Mogadorian ship I’ve ever seen.’

‘John, I hope you know what you’re doing,’ Sarah replies, worry in her voice.

‘It’s nothing we can’t handle –’ I start to reassure her, until a blast of static cuts me off. ‘Sarah?

Are you still there?’

‘I’m here,’ she replies, sounding a little more distant than before. ‘I think something’s interfering

with the connection, though.’

It must be the warships. I’m sure those huge things coming down from orbit aren’t doing any favors

for the cellular networks. Not to mention all the panicked phone calls like this one that must be going on around the country. I have to talk quicker in case I lose service.

‘Sam just sent some video files to Mark’s website. Did you guys get them? I think they could be

useful.’ I remember what Sam said to me outside the gas station. ‘We don’t want to just scare people.

We also want to give them hope.’

Next to me, Bud Sanderson snorts. I guess the old man doesn’t have too much faith in anything

we’re doing on They Walk Among Us. I don’t know if it’s going to work either – like Walker’s

arrests, like anything we do today, it might be too late for it to matter. But we’ve got to cover every possible angle of fighting back against the Mogs.

‘I’m looking at it now,’ Sarah says, and her breath catches. ‘John, it’s – you’re amazing. But I’m a

sucker for handsome aliens performing miracles.’

I’ve been trying to look stone-faced in front of my uneasy allies, so I have to turn away from

Sanderson to hide my smile.

‘Uh, thanks.’

‘We can definitely use this,’ Sarah says, and I can hear her already tapping out keystrokes. ‘What

are you going to do now, though? That ship looks huge.’

I glance at the chaos outside the window. ‘We’re going to try to end this war before it gets started.’

Sarah’s voice sounds concerned. She knows I’m about to tell her something crazy. ‘What do you

mean, John? What’s the plan?’

‘We’re going to the Mogadorian warship,’ I tell her, trying to sound confident about a plan that

seems more desperate the closer we get to that looming warship. ‘We’re going to lure Setrákus Ra

out. And we’re going to kill him.’

Our convoy has to stop ten blocks short of the United Nations when the traffic becomes impassable.

The streets are clogged with people trying to get a closer look at the warship. Some of them are even

standing on top of cars or, in one case, a stalled city bus. There are cops everywhere trying their best to restore some order, but I doubt they’re trained for first-contact scenarios; most of them are busy

staring up at the ship, too. The crowd is buzzing and there’s a lot of excited shouting.

Just a bunch of easy targets for the Mogadorians. I dread the moment those cannons along the sides

of the warship open fire on this crowd. I want to tell everyone to run, but that might just start a panic.

If anyone would even listen to me.

‘Move! Get out of the way!’ Walker screams as she gets out of the SUV. She’s got her badge in the

air, although no one’s really paying attention to her.

The agents from the two SUVs along with the cops Walker recruited back at the hotel form a tight

perimeter around me, Sanderson and Sam. Nine shoves his way in next to us, glaring at a group of

teenagers cheering encouragement at the spaceship.

‘Idiots,’ he grumbles, then looks at me. ‘This is nuts, Johnny.’

‘We need to protect as many as we can,’ I reply.

‘They need to protect themselves,’ Nine says, then shouts over the shoulder of one of our agents.

‘Go home, you morons! Or get some guns and come back!’

Walker glares at him. ‘Please don’t encourage the civilians to get armed.’

Nine gives her a wild look and keeps shouting. ‘It’s war, lady! These people need to get prepared!’

Some of the people around us have overheard, or maybe they’re just unnerved by the growing

police presence. I notice a few exchange nervous looks and people begin trickling back the way we

came. Walker grimaces at Nine, then slaps one of the agents on the shoulder.

‘Forward!’ she shouts. ‘We need to move forward!’

There’s still a mob separating us from the UN, and it shows no signs of really thinning out.

Walker’s agents and the cops start muscling through and we’re carried along with them.

‘Watch it, dude! No cutting in the line to get beamed up!’ shouts one bystander.

‘Holy shit! It’s the Men in Black!’ screams another.

‘Are they going to hurt us?’ a woman we pass yells at Sanderson, maybe recognizing him as

someone important looking. ‘Are we in danger?’

Sanderson averts his eyes and soon the woman is lost in the crowd. It’s slow going, even with a

dozen cops and agents bull-rushing ahead of us. These people need to get out of our way.

A wild-eyed guy with a scraggly beard who looks like the type to be waving handmade signs about

the end of the world barrels right into Agent Walker. She’s thrown off balance, and I reach out to

steady her. Walker doesn’t thank me – there’s fury and frustration in her eyes. Fed up with the crowd, she reaches for the gun holstered on her hip, maybe thinking she’ll fire a few shots in the air to clear the area. I stop her arm and shake my head when she glares at me.

‘Don’t. You’ll start a panic.’

‘This is already a panic,’ she replies.

‘Personally, I’d be panicking more if someone was shooting,’ Sam chimes in.

Walker makes an annoyed noise and goes back to pushing her way through the crowd. I elbow Nine

in the ribs. ‘Let’s help them,’ I tell him, adding, ‘But don’t hurt anyone.’

Nine nods and we begin using telekinesis to move people out of our way. Nine’s gentler than I

would have expected. We create a sort of telekinetic bubble around us, the nearby bystanders sliding

off it. No one gets trampled, and slowly the path starts to clear for Walker and the rest of our escort.

As we move closer to the UN, we come directly under the shadow of the Mogadorian warship. A

chill goes through me, but I try not let it show. There are flags of every nation planted in the ground on both sides of the road we’re pressing down, all these symbols flapping in a gentle spring breeze,

caught beneath the looming Mogadorian vessel.

Up ahead, I see that a stage has been hastily erected at the front entrance of the UN. There is a more organized police force there – both local cops and the UN’s private security. They keep people away

from the stage and from storming the entrance to the main building. There’s a concentration of press

up ahead, too, all of them with cameras eagerly swinging between the stage and the hovering

spacecraft.

I grab Sanderson around the shoulders and yank him close, pointing to the stage.

‘What’s the deal with that? What’s supposed to happen here?’

Sanderson grimaces at me but doesn’t try to wriggle away. ‘The Beloved Leader has a taste for

theatrics. Did you know he wrote a book?’

‘Reading is stupid,’ grunts Nine, more focused on the crowd.

‘I don’t care about his propaganda. Explain the stage, Sanderson.’

‘Propaganda, like you said,’ Sanderson replies. ‘Myself and some of the others from MogPro – the

ones our dear friend Walker probably had arrested – we were supposed to greet Setrákus Ra. He was

going to demonstrate the gifts the Mogadorians could offer humanity.’

I remember the state we found Sanderson in, all black veined and nearly keeled over, all strung out

on the Mogadorian’s so-called medical advancements.

‘He was going to heal you,’ I say, putting it together.

‘Hallelujah!’ Sanderson says, bitterly. ‘Our savior! Then, we’d invite him inside the UN for

discussions and, come tomorrow, a peaceful resolution would be adopted to allow the Mogs into the

airspace of every member nation.’

‘And that’s it,’ Sam says. ‘Earth would be surrendered.’

‘At least it would be peaceful,’ Sanderson says.

‘Don’t you think people would freak out?’ I ask Sanderson. ‘I mean, look around. Imagine what

will happen when the Mogs actually show themselves? Start walking around? Taking things over?

There’d be panic, riots – even with your bullshit diplomacy. How was your plan ever going to

work?’

‘Of course he thought of that,’ Sanderson says. ‘That’s how Setrákus Ra plans to identify the

dissidents. The problem elements.’

‘So he’ll know who to kill,’ Nine grunts.

‘That’s sick,’ Sam says.

‘A small price to pay for humanity’s survival,’ Sanderson argues.

‘I’ve seen the future under Mogadorian rule,’ I tell Sanderson. ‘Believe me. It’s a bigger price than

you’re willing to pay.’

Sam gives me a worried look and I realize how cold I must sound, like war with the Mogadorians

on Earth is inevitable, like there’s nothing we can do at this point to keep people from getting hurt. In truth, I’m not sure that there is a way to resolve this without bloodshed. The war is here and it’s going to be fought. But I need the others to keep up hope.

‘It doesn’t have to be that way,’ I add. ‘We’re going to stop Setrákus Ra before this goes any

further. But you have to help us.’

Sanderson nods, his eyes fixed on the stage. ‘You want me to go through with it.’

‘Draw him out, just like he wants,’ I say, pulling up the hood on my sweatshirt. ‘And we’ll take

him down.’

‘You’re powerful enough for that?’

As I look over at Sanderson to respond, I can see the same question in Sam’s eyes. He wasn’t at

our last fight with Setrákus Ra, but he knows it didn’t go well. That was with the whole Garde – now

it’s just me and Nine. Well, and all the guns Agent Walker can bring to bear.

‘I have to be,’ I tell Sanderson.

As we get closer to the front of the UN and the stage, we pass by a guy dressed like a bike

messenger surrounded by a few news cameras. It’s noticeable because he’s the only thing

commanding any press attention around here besides the giant Mogadorian warship. I focus my senses

to hear what he’s saying.

‘I swear, the guy fell out of the sky!’ the bike messenger exclaims to a skeptical press corps. ‘Or

maybe he floated down, I don’t know. He hit the ground hard, but his skin was, like, covered in armor

or something. He looked all sorts of messed up.’

Nine’s hand clamps down on my shoulder. He heard it, too, and he’s so distracted that he stops

telekinetically pushing people aside. The agents escorting us shuffle and groan as the crowd surges in, but they manage to keep them back.

‘You heard that, right?’ Nine asks, his eyes practically glowing with bloodlust.

‘He could just be some nutjob,’ I say, referring to the bike messenger, although I don’t really

believe it. ‘This kind of thing definitely brings them out.’

‘No way,’ Nine says, excitement in his voice. His eyes dart around the crowd with a renewed

interest. ‘Five is here, man. Five is here, and I’m going to smash his fat face in.’

2 7

I feel numb.

In the docking bay, I catch a glimpse of myself in the pearl-colored armor paneling of the small

ship we’ll be taking to Manhattan. I look ghostly. There are huge bags under my eyes. They dressed

me up in a new formal gown, black with red sashes throughout, and pulled my hair back in a ponytail

so severe that my scalp feels like it’s peeling away from my skull. Princess of the Mogadorians.

I don’t really care. I’ve got a cloudy feeling, like I’m just floating along. A part of me knows that I should be focusing up, getting my head straight.

I just can’t.

The entrance to the transport ship opens and a small staircase unfolds for me to climb up. Setrákus

Ra gently places his hand on my shoulder and urges me forward.

‘Here we go, dear,’ he says. His voice sounds far away. ‘Big day.’

I don’t move at first. But then a pain starts up in my shoulder where I was stabbed. It feels like

little worms wiggling around under my skin. The ache only subsides when I put one foot in front of the other, climb up the steps and flop into one of the vessel’s bucket seats.

‘Good,’ Setrákus Ra says, and follows me aboard. He sits down in the pilot’s seat and the ship

seals up behind us. His human form has been restored after his scuffle with Five, and he’s dressed

himself in a sleek black suit with crimson flourishes. The color scheme doesn’t complement the

fatherly human face he’s wearing – it makes him look stern and authoritative. I don’t tell him that, both because I don’t want to help him and because it seems like too much effort to talk.

I wish I could just sleep through this.

They did something to me after the gash opened up on my shoulder. I was in and out of

consciousness from blood loss, so my memory is foggy. I can remember Setrákus Ra carrying me

down to the medical bay, a place on the ship I hadn’t had the bad luck to explore until then. I

remember them injecting my wound with something black and oozing. I’m pretty sure that I screamed

from the pain. But then my wound started to close. It wasn’t like the times I’d been healed by Marina

or John. In those cases, it felt like my injuries were knitting back together, like my flesh was

regrowing. Under the Mogs’ ‘care,’ it felt like my flesh was being replaced by something else,

something cold and foreign. Something alive and hungry.

I can still feel it, crawling around beneath the perfect, pale skin of my now uninjured shoulder.

Setrákus Ra flips a few switches on the console, and our little spherical ship powers up. The walls

become translucent. It’s the Mogadorian version of tinted glass, though – we can see out, but no one

can see in.

I turn my head to study the docking bay that’s crowded with combat-ready Mogadorians. They all

stand perfectly still, hundreds of them arranged in orderly lines, all of them with their fists clenched over their hearts. They’re saluting their Beloved Leader as he sets out to conquer Earth. I look at their pasty, expressionless faces and their dark, empty eyes. Are these my people? Am I becoming one of

them?

It seems easiest to give in.

Setrákus Ra is about to get us moving when a red light flashes on one of his video screens and a

shrill buzzing sounds. The noise wakes me up a little. Some unlucky underling is trying to call

Setrákus Ra right in the middle of his big day. Setrákus Ra’s jaw sets in annoyance at the incoming

message and, for a moment, I think he might ignore it. Finally, he jabs a button and a frazzled

Mogadorian communications officer appears on-screen.

‘What is it?’ snarls Setrákus Ra.

‘Deepest apologies for the interruption, Beloved Leader,’ the officer says, keeping his eyes

downcast. ‘You have an urgent message from Phiri Dun-Ra.’

‘It had better be,’ Setrákus Ra grumbles. He waves a hand impatiently at the screen. ‘Very well.

Put her through.’

The screen flashes, crackles, and then a Mogadorian woman appears. She has two long braids

pinned up around her bald head and a sizable cut above her eyebrow. She’s surrounded on all sides

by jungle. Apparently, a message from this trueborn is important enough to delay our flight down to

New York. I try to sit up a little bit in my seat, fighting through the fog to pay attention.

‘What is it, Phiri?’ Setrákus Ra says, coldly. ‘Why have you contacted me directly?’

The Mog woman, Phiri, hesitates before she speaks. Maybe she’s taken aback by the human face

addressing her with such authority. Or maybe she’s just scared of her Beloved Leader.

‘They’re here,’ Phiri says at last, a note of triumph in her voice. ‘The Garde have activated the

Sanctuary.’

Setrákus Ra leans back in his seat, his eyebrows arched in surprise. He laces his hands in front of

him in consideration.

‘Very good,’ he replies. ‘Excellent. Your orders are to keep them there, Phiri Dun-Ra. On your

life. I will join you shortly.’

‘As you wish, Belo –’

Setrákus Ra severs the connection before Phiri Dun-Ra can finish. The mentions of the Garde and

the Sanctuary have me a little more aware. I try to think of Six and Marina, of John and Nine – I know they would want me to fight through this. It’s just so difficult to keep my mind from going blank, to

keep my body from slouching.

‘For years I’ve pursued them,’ Setrákus Ra says quietly, almost to himself. ‘To wipe out the last bit

of resistance to Mogadorian Progress. To take control of what those Elder fools buried on this planet.

Now, the day has come when everything I’ve fought for will be mine, all at once. Tell me,

granddaughter, how can there be any doubt of Mogadorian superiority?’

He doesn’t really want a response. Setrákus Ra just likes to hear himself talk. I let a slow,

medicated smile form on my face. That seems to please him. My grandfather reaches out and pats me

on the knee.

‘You’re feeling better, aren’t you?’ he says. He flips a few levers on the console and our ship’s

engines vibrate to life. ‘Come. Let us go take what is ours.’

With that, Setrákus Ra navigates the ship forward. We zip through the docking bay, past the rows of

Mogadorian warriors. They thump their fists against their chests as we go, shouting out gravelly

Mogadorian encouragement. We exit through the same passage as Five’s body. That part – seeing him

brutalized and then tossed aside like so much garbage – I’m glad to lose to the fog.

We descend on Manhattan. I can see all the humans gathered below. There are thousands of them

crowded in front of a fancy-looking set of buildings and its surrounding campus. I can make out a

stage down there, too. It’s all built on the bank of a gray, choppy river. I remember the Washington

from my vision, the smoky smells that choked the air. That will be New York soon. I wonder if these

people will throw themselves into the river when their city begins to burn.

The people below point up at our ship. I can hear them shouting and screaming out greetings. These

humans – the ones who came closest to the Anubis – they don’t think they’re in any danger.

It occurs to me that we’re traveling into this throng of people without any Mogadorian guards. I loll

my head towards my grandfather, wet my lips and manage to find words.

‘We’re facing them alone?’ I ask him.

He smiles. ‘Of course. I mean to elevate these people, not harm them. We have nothing to fear from

the humans. My servants on Earth have arranged for a greeting that I find more than suitable.’

He’s up to something, obviously. Probably already has this whole event planned out. I know it’s

unlikely even a crowd of humans this size would stand a chance against Setrákus Ra and all his

powers, but part of me hopes maybe one of them will see through whatever sideshow he’s got

planned and take some shots at the scary alien.

Of course, that would mean my death before they could stop Setrákus Ra. At this point, it seems

almost worth it. I feel whatever the Mogadorians injected into me crawling around beneath my skin. I

can’t endure any more of that.

The descent is over. We hover about fifteen feet above the stage. A nervous-looking older man in a

suit, some kind of politician, waits for us there. There are flashbulbs going off like crazy. I blink my eyes and try to keep from sleepwalking through this.

‘Come, Ella. Let us greet our subjects,’ Setrákus Ra says. He picks up his golden cane, the

obsidian Eye of Thaloc catching the light. I’m not sure why he brought that with him. I guess he

doesn’t want to face our so-called subjects completely unarmed. Or maybe he thinks it makes him

look noble – like a king with a scepter.

I stand up, slightly unsteady. Setrákus Ra offers me his arm. I hook my hand through it.

The door of our transport ship opens and a glowing staircase extends outward, creating a path for

us to the stage. The crowd gasps as we emerge. Through my bleary eyes, I can see dozens of TV

cameras trained on us. The crowd is hushed in amazement. What do we look like to them? Aliens …

aliens that look exactly like humans. A handsome older man and his pale granddaughter.

Setrákus Ra raises his hand and waves to the people. It’s a royal thing, courtly and showy. When he

speaks, his voice booms like he’s hooked up to a microphone.

‘Greetings, people of Earth!’ he bellows in perfect English, his voice firm and reassuring. ‘My

name is Setrákus Ra and this is my granddaughter, Ella. We have traveled a great distance to come

humbly before you with wishes of peace!’

The crowd actually cheers. They don’t know any better. Setrákus Ra gazes beatifically across all

their upturned faces. But when his eyes settle on the old man standing on the stage, I feel a tension go through his arm.

‘Hmm,’ Setrákus Ra says under his breath. Something isn’t right. The greeter isn’t what he

expected. Or maybe there were supposed to be more humans waiting onstage with outstretched arms.

Maybe there were supposed to be bouquets of flowers.

Undeterred, Setrákus Ra draws himself up a little taller and proceeds down the rest of the steps.

‘We have much to offer your people!’ he continues in his booming, charitable voice.

‘Advancements in medicine to heal your sick, farming techniques to feed your hungry and technology

that will make your lives easier and more productive. All we ask in return, after our long journey, is shelter from the cold of space.’

I glance over the crowd to see if any of them are buying it. I end up locking eyes with a young guy

in the front row, pushed up right next to some TV cameras, his dark eyes seeking mine. He wears a

hooded sweatshirt, long black hair spilling out from inside, and he’s tall and athletic, and –

In my condition, it actually takes me a moment to recognize him. Not so long ago, I balanced on his

shoulders and he taught me how to fight.

Nine.

Seeing him, knowing that I’m not alone, that all isn’t lost just yet – it makes me snap back to my

senses. The pain in my shoulder increases exponentially, like something is trying to crawl its way out of me. Whatever’s inside me doesn’t want me to use my Legacies. I ignore it and reach out with my

telepathy.

Nine! His cane! It’s how he changes forms! Get his cane and smash it!

A feral grin spreads on Nine’s face and he nods to me. My heartbeat quickens.

Next to me, Setrákus Ra’s posture has stiffened. My hand is trapped in the crook of his elbow. He

knows that something is up, yet he proceeds with the show all the same.

‘I expected more of them to be here on this momentous occasion, yet I see one of your leaders has

come out to greet me!’ Setrákus Ra extends his hand to the old man. ‘I come to you in peace, sir! Let

this cement the friendship between our two great races.’

Instead of clasping Setrákus Ra’s hand, the old man takes a step away. There’s deep fear in his

eyes, but it’s not run-and-scream fear. It’s cornered animal fear. The old man has a microphone of his own and, as the TV cameras swing in his direction, he begins to yell.

‘This man – this thing – is a liar!’

‘What –’ Setrákus Ra takes an aggressive step towards the old man, and I’m loosed from his

elbow. For the first time since I’ve been in his company, the Mogadorian leader actually looks

surprised.

Surprised and furious.

A murmur of uncertainty passes through the crowd. The old man shouts something else – I hear the

words ‘enslavement’ and ‘death,’ but otherwise I can’t really hear him. No one can. Setrákus Ra has

used his telekinesis to crush the old man’s microphone.

‘You must be confused, my friend,’ Setrákus Ra says through gritted teeth, still trying to salvage

this farce. ‘My intentions are pu –’

Setrákus Ra is suddenly knocked off balance. I know why. A telekinetic attack. I watch as his

golden cane is ripped out of his hand. Nine plucks it out of the air as he hops on to the stage, grinning at Setrákus Ra.

I sense movement to my left. I turn my head to see John also hop on to the stage. They’re flanking

him, just like we practised in the Lecture Hall. Peppered throughout the crowd, I see men and women

in dark suits, all of them slyly pulling firearms into view. The crowd is beginning to buzz as some

civilians – the smarter ones – begin to back away from the stage.

It’s a trap, I realize gleefully. The Garde are here!

Now, Setrákus Ra really looks surprised. And, dare I say, a little frightened.

‘You have been led astray!’ Setrákus Ra screams, pointing his now empty hands at Nine and John.

‘These boys are fugitives! Terrorists from my home world! I don’t know what they’ve told you –’

‘We haven’t told them anything,’ John says, interrupting. His voice doesn’t carry like Setrákus

Ra’s, but people in the crowd crane their necks to listen. ‘We’ll let them make up their own minds. A

genocidal maniac is easy to spot.’

‘Lies!’

Do it now! I urge Nine telepathically.

‘I wonder what will happen if I do this?’ Nine asks, fiddling with Setrákus Ra’s cane. Before

Setrákus Ra can lunge in his direction, Nine raises the cane over his head and smashes it down on the

stage. The obsidian eye in its center explodes in a cloud of ash.

Things happen quickly after that.

Setrákus Ra’s body begins to thrash and spasm. The handsome human form he’s been so attached to

begins to slough off him, like a snake shedding its skin. The real Setrákus Ra – pale verging on

bloodless, ancient and hideous, tattooed across his bald skull, a thick scar around his neck, clad in

spiky Mogadorian armor – stands revealed on the stage.

Many in the crowd scream. Even more recoil in horror and turn to run. A gunshot goes off – I hear

the bullet whistle past my ear before it ricochets harmlessly off the Mogadorian ship behind me. The

gunshots only frighten people more and now it’s a full-blown stampede in front of the stage. More

shots are fired, this time into the air. One of the agents taking aim on Setrákus Ra goes down, bull-

rushed by the terrified spectators.

It’s chaos.

With a monstrous howl, Setrákus Ra grows to fifteen feet in size. The stage beneath us groans. The

old man who was onstage with the Garde tries to run into the crowd, but Setrákus Ra grabs him with

his telekinesis and hurls him like a missile into Nine. The two of them fall off the stage in a heap.

Fireballs come to life in John’s hands. They go out immediately as Setrákus Ra triggers his

Dreynen field. That doesn’t stop John from charging in, pulling his Loric dagger out of his sheath as

he comes.

‘Yes!’ Setrákus Ra screams, beckoning John in. ‘Come racing towards your death, boy!’

Unaffected by Setrákus Ra’s version of Dreynen, I pick up a broken piece of his cane. My fingers

are clumsy and I nearly drop it twice before I’m able to grasp it tightly enough. I concentrate, ignore the shredding pain under my skin and charge the shrapnel with my Dreynen.

When the broken shard glows bright red, I jab it into the back of Setrákus Ra’s leg.

The Mogadorian overlord cries out and shrinks down to his normal size. I sense the Dreynen field

canceling Legacies lift. Too late, Setrákus Ra stumbles forward in a futile attempt to get away from

me. The Dreynen-charged cane is buried an inch deep in the back of his calf. When Setrákus Ra yanks

it out, a trickle of night-black blood darkens his trouser leg. Now that it’s off him, I’m not sure how long the effects of my Dreynen will last.

Wait a second. He’s bleeding. The damage wasn’t transferred to me. Every charm has a weakness,

that’s what Setrákus Ra said right before he burned the terrible thing into my ankle.

I can hurt him. I’m the only one who can hurt Setrákus Ra.

I barely have time to process this information before Setrákus Ra rounds on me, his eyes wide with

outrage. He backhands me, hard, and I’m tossed into the air. The wind goes out of me when I hit the

stage, my head swimming again. He must’ve known that even if I figured out the loophole with the

Mogadorian charm, I wouldn’t be strong enough to fight him.

Setrákus Ra stands over me, his hideous features creased with fury. He reaches down, fingers

grasping for my throat.

‘You treasonous little bi –!’

John barrels into him shoulder-first and knocks Setrákus Ra off his feet. Setrákus Ra lands hard on

his side and I feel bruises puff up immediately on my own elbow. I accept the pain. There’s more to

come.

I’m not strong enough to fight him, but I’ve done my part. I drained his Legacies.

Now, the others can do what has to be done.

John doesn’t let up. He pounces on Setrákus Ra, who tries to scramble away. The Mogadorian

ruler doesn’t look so frightening now, trying to crab walk away from John. I’m happy to see him so

pathetic and desperate. He should know how that feels before he dies.

Before we die.

John manages to straddle him. He raises his dagger above his head. I take a deep breath and brace

myself.

‘This is for Lorien! And for Earth!’

I know what happens next. John will stab Setrákus Ra, and I’ll die. It will break the Mogadorian

charm, and then the Garde will be able to kill Setrákus Ra for real. It’s worth it. I’ll gladly die if it means ending Setrákus Ra’s miserable life.

Do it! I scream at John telepathically. No matter what happens! Do it!

As John brings his dagger down, I hear a whooshing sound. Something is flying in this direction.

Fast.

A bead of blood tickles my throat, a small cut opening up. That’s how close John’s blade comes

before a chrome-plated cannonball flies through the air, knocks him off Setrákus Ra and sends him

crashing through the stage.

Five. He’s alive and he just saved my life.

Saved my life and doomed us all.

Before I can react, the stage creaks and collapses. I slide down the tilted piece of wood and land

hard on the pavement below. All around me, people are running and screaming.

Setrákus Ra lands next to me.

He reaches down and grabs me by the hair, yanking me viciously to my feet.

‘You’ll die for this embarrassment, child,’ he snarls, and begins dragging me over the wrecked

stage towards his ship.

Nine stands in his way.

2 8

My shoulder is dislocated, that much I know for sure. I’m on my back with jagged pieces of the

destroyed stage digging into me. I’m seeing double and it’s hard to breathe. I feel like I just got hit by a car.

Not a car. Five.

The traitor stands over me, gulping down deep breaths. His skin is metallic, but he still looks badly

injured. He’s wearing an eye patch, for starters. One side of his face looks swollen, and I think I

actually see dents in the metal carapace that covers his skull. He’s missing a couple of teeth. I’m not sure where he picked up those injuries, and I don’t care.

The bastard blindsided me. I was so close. Setrákus Ra was as good as dead.

My dagger is still attached to my wrist, but it’s the arm that’s dislocated. I grope for it, trying to switch hands. Before I can manage it, Five lifts me by the front of my tattered sweatshirt.

‘Listen to me!’ he shouts in my face.

‘Go to hell,’ I reply.

With my working arm, I grab Five’s metal forearm and heat up my Lumen as hot as it can go.

Whatever metal he’s turned into, it definitely has a boiling point. I wonder if I can get his metal shell to melt off before he can do whatever he’s got planned.

‘Stop it, John!’ Five yelps, shaking me.

‘You murdered Eight, you son of a bitch!’

Noxious-smelling steam curls up from between my fingers. Five’s eye widens a fraction, but he

doesn’t let me loose and he doesn’t pull away. I’m hurting him and he’s just taking it.

‘You arrogant asshole,’ Five snaps, and he cocks back his fist like he’s going to strike me. I’m not

sure I have the strength to stop him. His clenched fist trembles, and he seems to reconsider. ‘Listen to me, John! If you hurt Setrákus Ra, the damage will be done to Ella!’

I let the heat of my Lumen die down a fraction. My hand feels sticky with molten metal.

‘What? What are you talking about?’

‘It’s a charm, like the one the Elders used on us,’ Five says. ‘He’s twisted it somehow.’

I turn off my Lumen entirely. Is Five trying to help us now? Did he knock me off Setrákus Ra not to protect his Beloved Leader but to save Ella? I don’t know what to think.

‘How do we break it?’ I shout at him. ‘How do we kill him?’

‘I don’t know,’ Five replies, glancing over his shoulder. His expression suddenly goes dark again,

that fury I’d seen when he was about to punch me reignited. ‘Damn him!’

Five rips away from me and takes flight. I climb back to my feet just in time to see Nine charging at

Setrákus Ra. He holds a broken piece of the stage out in front of him like a spear.

‘Nine! Don’t!’

Nine doesn’t hear me, probably because he’s too busy getting sideswiped by Five. The two of them

go crashing into the wreckage of the stage, broken pieces of wood flying everywhere. Once they hit, it looks like Five tries to take flight again, but Nine gets hold of his ankle.

‘Where you going, fat boy?’ I hear Nine yell.

Nine gets back to his feet, still holding Five’s ankle, and then swings him with all his might. Five

flaps his arms in a futile attempt to get some momentum, but he’s overpowered. Nine slams Five face-

first on to the pavement. Chunks of concrete fly up from the impact, and Five’s head makes the sound

of a bell ringing when it hits. I notice his metallic shell momentarily switch back to normal skin – that must’ve hurt Five enough to make it hard to focus on his Externa.

‘Nine! Enough!’ I shout, pushing loose of my own pile of broken wood.

Nine glances in my direction, and that’s when Five uppercuts him. With a roar, Nine dives back at

him, and they slam together. They hurl punches at each other, a tangled mess of limbs that I lose sight of when they go crashing through the front window of the United Nations building.

I can’t worry about them now. I have to get to Setrákus Ra.

I have to save Ella. I won’t let her be taken for a second time.

My left arm hangs limp at my side. I’d need to pop my shoulder back in before I could heal myself,

but I don’t have time for that. I shake crusty flakes of metal off my hand and strap my dagger to the

wrist of my working arm. I’ll have to do this one handed.

Surprisingly, Setrákus Ra doesn’t seem the least bit interested in staying to fight. He drags Ella

through the rubble, heading for the pearl-shaped ship he arrived in. Ella looks a lot like she did in that vision we shared of Washington, D.C. – like she’s been drained of something essential. I wonder

what they did to her on that warship.

No matter what happens! Do it! Ella had shouted in my mind. No matter what happens. Five must not be lying. Ella knew what the consequences of me stabbing Setrákus Ra would be, and she

accepted them.

Whatever they did to her, the Mogs didn’t break her. She had enough fight left in her to help us. It

was like Dulce Base all over again. She stuck Setrákus Ra with a glowing piece of debris, and my

Legacies instantly came back.

She drained Setrákus Ra’s powers, I realize. And, judging by his cowardly retreat, they still

haven’t returned to him.

I might not be able to kill Setrákus Ra, but that doesn’t mean I can’t subdue him. Let’s see the

Mogadorians invade while I’m holding their Beloved Leader hostage.

I race across the lopsided and broken stage, trying to cut off Setrákus Ra before he can reach his

ship. Ella sees me coming and digs her heels in. She struggles against Ra’s grip and this slows him up just enough. I’m going to catch him.

‘Setrákus Ra!’

Damn it. Not now.

The Mogadorian leader doesn’t even acknowledge Agent Walker as she comes at him from his

other side. Does she expect him to freeze? It’s her and two other agents who have managed to

extricate themselves from the riotous, panicking crowd. Sam is with them. They stop a few yards off,

their guns leveled. Even Sam looks ready to fire – his eyes narrowed, his mouth pressed into a firm

line. I remember those acid burns on Sam’s wrists. They came courtesy of Setrákus Ra. I’m sure he’s

ready to settle that score.

‘Wait!’ I yell at Sam and Walker, but I’m too late.

Setrákus Ra jerks his head in the direction of the agents and Sam, like they’re an annoying bug that

needs to be swatted. With the hand not holding Ella, Setrákus Ra produces that three-headed whip of

his from where it’s hidden under his torn uniform. Before he can lash out at them, the agents and Sam

open fire.

I can’t believe what I’m about to do.

I stop the bullets in midair with my telekinesis. I’m not sure if they would have even penetrated

Setrákus Ra’s armor, but I can’t risk it. I don’t let Sam and the others have a chance to realize all their shots have missed. Instead, I shove the entire group backwards with my telekinesis. Not hard enough

to hurt them, but hard enough to knock them over some of the broken stage debris. It’s also enough to

put them out of range of Setrákus Ra’s whip. I’ll apologize later.

Setrákus Ra doesn’t give the agents a second look. The brief distraction was all he needed to reach

the steps of his ship ahead of me. He bounds up them, dragging Ella along behind him, and disappears

into the vessel.

I sprint forward, determined not to let him escape. The ship begins to rise up before the staircase

has fully folded back into its smooth body.

I can still catch them. I can still stop him. I’m so close.

I dive forward and manage to grab the bottom step with my good hand.

The ship continues to rise while the steps recede back towards the open doorway. They pull me

closer towards Setrákus Ra and Ella, even as the ship rises farther away from the Earth. I swing one

of my legs up so that I’m hooked around the bottom step. Soon, we’re almost a hundred feet in the air, getting closer and closer to the warship above.

The steps fold up like an accordion into a panel at the base of the ship’s entrance. I push off the

step I’d been grasping before I’m crushed in the mechanism and lunge for the open doorway. It isn’t

easy to do with only one good arm. I end up hanging from the doorway’s edge, my good arm starting

to feel hyperextended. My legs dangle above what is now a two-hundred-foot drop.

Setrákus Ra stands over me. His three-headed whip dangles in my face, the tips alive with

crackling fire. I don’t think he plans to pull me the rest of the way in.

I catch a glimpse of Ella through his legs. She’s slouched in one of the cockpit’s chairs, looking

totally sedated. I won’t be getting any help from her.

‘John Smith, isn’t it?’ Setrákus Ra asks conversationally. ‘Thank you for the help down there.’

‘I wasn’t trying to help you.’

‘But you did, regardless. That is one reason why I will let you live.’

I grimace. My grip slips a little. I need to come up with a play soon. It’s hard to chuck a fireball

with one arm dislocated and the other holding on for dear life. It’ll have to be my telekinesis. Maybe if I can push him back …

It’s gone. My telekinesis is gone. Drained, just like before.

Setrákus Ra smiles at me. His Legacies are returning. I’ve failed.

He crouches down so he can get right in my face.

‘The other reason,’ he hisses, ‘is so you can see how I make this planet burn.’

Setrákus Ra straightens up again and nonchalantly flicks his whip at me. The three heads strike me

right across the face. I’m immune to the fire, but the lashes still dig three grooves across my cheek.

It’s enough to make me lose my grip. I’m falling.

As I plummet towards the river below, I feel my Legacies snap back on. I must be far enough away

from Setrákus Ra. Quickly, I push down with my telekinesis, doing everything I can to slow my fall.

I still hit the East River hard. It’s like getting slapped across my whole body. Dirty water floods

my lungs and for a terrifying second I’m not sure which way is up, which way to swim. I manage to

resurface, choking and spitting, and trying to swim against the current with only one arm. I end up

doing an awkward backstroke, gasping for breath the entire way. I’m exhausted by the time I reach the

bank, slightly downriver from the chaos at the UN, surrounded on all sides by trash and dead fish.

‘John! John! Are you all right?’

It’s Sam. He runs across the mud towards me. He must have seen me fall and followed me here. He

skids into the muck next to me. I can only manage a groan by way of greeting. I think some of my ribs

are broken.

‘Can you move?’ Sam asks, gingerly touching my screwed-up shoulder.

I nod. With Sam’s help, I make it back to my feet. I’m soaked, bruised, broken in places, with three

long cuts across my face. I’m not sure what to heal first.

‘Where’s Nine?’ I manage to ask.

‘I lost him in the chaos,’ Sam replies, his voice breaking. ‘He and Five were killing each other.

Walker and her people are trying to evacuate civilians. It’s crazy up there. John, what do we do?’

I start to open my mouth, hoping a plan will come to me if I just start talking, but a nearby explosion cuts me off. The impact is powerful enough that my teeth click together.

I look up at the sky just in time to see the Mogadorian warship open fire on New York.

2 9

Eight’s eyes, brightly glowing embers of pure Loralite, assess each one of us in turn. They linger for a particularly long time on Adam – long enough to make our Mogadorian ally take a nervous step

backwards. Like Marina, I’m rooted in place, staring at our friend brought back to some kind of life.

Eight floats over the Sanctuary’s well in a column of unleashed energy. No, he doesn’t just float in the energy. The energy is a part of him.

Or it. I’m pretty sure that’s not our sarcastic, goofy friend floating up there. Whatever it is, I feel a strange kinship with the entity, almost like the same energy now reanimating Eight is flowing through

me, too. It’s the same electric rush I get when I use my Legacies. Maybe I’m looking at the essence of what makes me Loric, what makes me Garde.

Maybe I’m looking at Lorien itself.

‘Two Loric and a Mogadorian,’ the entity says at last, its appraisal of us complete. Its voice is

nothing like Eight’s used to be – it’s like a hundred voices speaking at once, all of them perfectly in tune. The flashing pools of energy where Eight’s eyes used to be linger on Adam again and the

entity’s lips purse in curiosity. ‘Except not quite. You are something different. Something new.’

‘Uh, thank you?’ Adam replies, and takes another step backwards.

Marina clears her throat and steps closer to the well. There are tears in her eyes. Her hands extend

out in front of her, like she wants to grab at the entity’s hand and make sure he’s real.

‘Eight? Is that you?’ Her voice is hard to hear over the rhythmic pulsing beneath the well.

The entity turns his gaze on Marina and frowns. ‘No. I am sorry, daughter. Your friend is gone.’

Marina’s shoulders heave with disappointment. The thing in Eight’s body reaches out to comfort

her, but energy crackles between them and it ends up pulling back.

‘He is with me now,’ the entity says, soothingly. ‘He does me a great service, letting me speak

through him. It has been a long time since I had a voice.’

‘Are you Lorien?’ I ask, at last finding my own voice. ‘Are you, like, the planet?’

The entity seems to consider my question. Through the thin fabric of Eight’s shirt, I can see his

wound light up. It glows cobalt blue like the rest of him, his entire body filled up with the energy. It’s seeping out of him.

‘I was called that once, yes,’ the entity says, and waves its hand at the glowing carvings on the

walls. ‘In other places, I was called other things. And now, on this planet, I will be called something new.’

‘You’re a god,’ Marina breathes.

‘No. I simply am.’

I shake my head. God or not, we need this thing’s help. We don’t have time for riddles. I’m

suddenly really, really tired of cave drawings and prophecies and glowing people.

‘Do you know what’s happening?’ I ask Eight – Lorien – whatever it is. ‘The Mogadorians are

invading.’

The entity’s eyes turn once again to Adam. ‘Not all of them, I see.’

Adam looks uncomfortable. The entity quickly turns away. It stares up at the ceiling and it’s as if

those crackling eyes can see outside of the temple. Like it can see everything.

‘Yes. They are coming,’ the entity says, his echoing voice apparently bemused by the impending

Mogadorian invasion. ‘Their leader has chased me for a very long time. Your Elders foresaw the fall

of Lorien and chose to protect me. They hid me here in hopes that it would delay him.’

‘It didn’t go so hot,’ I reply. Marina elbows me.

The entity’s eyes slowly turn to the ceiling again. For a moment, a deep sadness passes across its

face.

‘So many of my children gone forever,’ the entity muses. ‘I suppose you would be the Loric Elders

now, if such a thing still exists.’

‘We’re Garde,’ I say, correcting this billion-year-old godlike energy force, because what the hell,

we’ve come this far. ‘We’re here for your help.’

The entity actually chuckles. ‘It does not matter to me, daughter. Elders, Garde, Cêpan – these

words are how the Loric chose to understand my gifts. It does not have to be that way here. It does not have to be any way.’ The entity pauses thoughtfully. ‘As for help, I do not know what I can offer, child.’

More confusion, more riddles. I didn’t think coming to the Sanctuary would go like Nine had joked

– that we’d unleash some massive power that would wipe out all the Mogadorians. But I expected to

find something that could help. Our friends could be dying right now in the first wave of a

Mogadorian invasion, and I’m down here making small talk with an annoyingly mysterious immortal.

‘That’s not good enough,’ I say.

Frustrated, I take a step towards the entity. Energy crackles around me and I feel my hair stand up

from static.

‘Six,’ Adam whispers, ‘be careful.’

I ignore him, raising my voice to yell at the all-powerful Lorien. ‘We’ve come far to awaken you!

We’ve lost friends! You have to be able to do something. Or are you cool if Setrákus Ra just marches down here and destroys this planet? Kills everyone on it? You’re going to let that happen twice on your watch?’

The entity’s brow furrows. A crack opens in the skin on Eight’s forehead, and energy begins to

spill forth. Marina covers her mouth but manages not to cry out. It’s like Eight’s body is hollow inside and the energy is gradually breaking it down.

‘I am sorry, daughter,’ Eight says to Marina. ‘This form cannot hold me for long.’

Then, the entity turns back to me. There’s no sign that my words have offended it, or had any effect

at all. Its voice is as melodic and patient as ever.

‘I do not condone the senseless destruction of life,’ the entity explains. ‘But I do not choose fates. I do not judge. If it is the will of the universe that I cease to be, then I will cease. I exist merely to bestow my gifts upon those who are open to them.’

I spread my arms. ‘I’m open to them. Load me up. Give me enough Legacies to destroy Setrákus Ra

and his fleet and I’ll leave your glowing ass alone.’

The entity smiles at me. More cracks form along the backs of Eight’s hands. The energy is

escaping.

‘It does not work that way,’ it intones.

‘Then how the hell does it work?’ I shout. ‘Tell us what to do!’

‘There is nothing left to do, daughter. You have woken me and restored my strength. I am of the

Earth now, and so are my gifts.’

‘But how will that help us win?’ I yell. ‘What was all this shit for?’

The entity ignores me. I guess that’s all the wisdom it’s willing to impart. Instead, it gazes upon

Marina.

‘He won’t have long, daughter.’

‘Who won’t?’ she replies, puzzled.

Without another word, the entity’s eyes close and Eight’s body begins to tremble. To my surprise,

the energy actually recedes from his body. The cracks along the backs of his hands stop glowing and

close up, as does the one that opened across his forehead. After a few seconds, the only thing left

glowing on Eight is the wound over his heart. He floats out of the column of energy and ends up right

in front of Marina.

When Eight opens his eyes, they don’t glow. They’re green, just like I remember them, serene, but

with a spark of that old mischief. Eight’s lips curl into a slow smile as he sees Marina.

‘Wow, hi,’ Eight says, and when he speaks it’s with his own voice.

It’s him. It’s really him.

Marina nearly doubles over with a delighted sob. She collects herself quickly, though, and grabs

Eight first by the shoulders, then on the sides of his face. She pulls him in close.

‘You’re warm,’ she says in wonder. ‘You’re so warm.’

Eight laughs easily. He puts his hand over Marina’s and gently kisses the side of it.

‘You’re warm, too,’ he says.

‘I’m so sorry, Eight. I’m sorry I couldn’t heal you.’

Eight shakes his head. ‘Stop, Marina. It’s okay. You brought me here. It’s – I can’t even describe it.

It’s amazing in there.’

Already, I see the energy spreading outward from Eight’s heart. It races through his body, fissures

opening on his arms and legs. He doesn’t seem to be in any pain. He just smiles at Marina and looks

at her like he’s trying to memorize her face.

‘Can I kiss you?’ Marina asks him.

‘I really wish you would.’

Marina kisses him, pressing in close, squeezing him. As she does, the energy swells up from within

Eight and, slowly, his body begins to break apart. It’s different from when a Mogadorian

disintegrates. It’s as if, for a moment, I can see every cell in Eight’s body and see how the energy

from the well glows in between each of them. One by one, those pieces of Eight dissolve, and he

becomes one with the light. Marina tries to cling to him, but her fingers pass right through the energy.

And then, he’s gone. The light flows back to the well and recedes deep under the ground. The

heartbeat we triggered grows fainter. I can still hear it, but only if I really listen. The chamber is peaceful again, lit only by the glowing Loralite carvings on the wall. I feel fresh air on my back and turn around to see that a door has opened up in the wall. It leads to a staircase, sunlight coming in

from the outside.

Marina collapses against me, a sobbing wreck. I hug her close and try not to break down myself.

Adam watches us without staring too hard and wipes at something in the corner of his eye.

‘We should go,’ Adam says quietly. ‘The others will need our help.’

I nod at him. I wonder if we even accomplished anything down here. It was beautiful seeing Eight

again, even for a few fleeting moments. Yet my conversation with the intergalactic entity that grants us our Legacies sure didn’t yield a lot of answers. Meanwhile, the time until a Mogadorian invasion is

probably running out, if it hasn’t already.

Marina squeezes my arm. I look down at her.

‘I saw it, Six,’ Marina whispers to me. ‘When I kissed him, I saw inside the thing – Lorien, the

energy, whatever you want to call it.’

‘Okay,’ I say, wanting to be gentle with her, but not sure we have time for this. ‘And?’

Marina grins at me. ‘It’s spreading, Six. Through the Earth. It’s spreading everywhere.’

‘What does that mean?’ Adam asks.

‘It means,’ Marina says, wiping her face and standing up straight, ‘that we aren’t alone anymore.’

3 0

Skyscrapers burn.

We run.

The Mogadorian warship crawls across New York’s skyline, its massive energy cannons

bombarding the blocks indiscriminately. The warship already disgorged dozens of armed scout ships,

the smaller vessels zipping up and down the avenues, ferrying warriors to the ground, where they

blast whatever civilians they come across.

Other things leaped down from the ship, too. Hungry, angry things. I haven’t seen any yet; I’ve only

heard their terrible howls rising above the explosions.

Piken.

New York City is lost, that much I know for sure. There’s no turning back the Mogadorians at this

point. I have no idea how the other cities where Mogadorian warships were spotted are doing. The

network is down in New York, and my satellite phone sunk to the bottom of the East River.

All we can do is run. Just like I’ve been doing my entire life. Except now, unfortunately, there are a million people running with me.

‘Run!’ I shout at anyone we come across. ‘Run until you can’t see their ships! Survive, regroup and

we will fight them!’

Sam is with me. His face is ashen and he looks like he’s going to be sick. He never saw what the

Mogadorians did to Lorien. He’s been through some hard times with us, but never anything like this. I

think he always believed that we would win. He never thought this day would come.

I’ve let him down.

I don’t know where Nine and Five are. There aren’t any new scars burning their way across my

ankle, so they haven’t killed each other yet.

I lost Agent Walker, too. She and her agents are on their own. I hope they make it out alive. If they

do, maybe they’ll be smart enough to meet us back at Ashwood Estates.

If Sam and I can even make it that far.

We run down streets filled with smoke, darting around overturned cars, climbing over fallen

chunks of buildings. When one of the scout ships cruises by, we duck into alleys or hide in doorways.

I could fight them. With all the anger I’m holding on to, I’m sure I could rip through them in no time.

I could easily take down one of the scout ships on my own.

But I’m not on my own.

There are about twenty survivors following me and Sam. A family I pulled off a burning balcony

with my telekinesis, a pair of blood-splattered NYPD officers who saw me take down a pair of Mog

warriors, a group that came out from hiding in a restaurant when I flashed my Lumen inside, and

others still.

I can’t save everyone in this city, but I’ll do what I can. That means not picking fights with the

Mogadorians. At least not until I can get these people to safety.

I avoid trouble wherever I can. It isn’t always possible.

We cross an intersection where slashed power lines are draped across the burned husk of a city

bus, and we run right into a dozen Mogadorian warriors. They bring their blasters around on us, but I

blow them back with a fireball before they can squeeze off any shots. The ones who aren’t

immediately incinerated get popped by the cops standing behind me.

I look over my shoulder, nodding to the officers. ‘Nice shooting.’

‘We’ve got your back, John Smith,’ one of them says.

I don’t even think to ask how he knows my name.

Our group runs a few more blocks before I’m drawn to the sound of nearby screaming. Around the

corner, we find a young couple trying to escape from their burning apartment building via the fire

escape. The bolts look like they’ve come unmoored from the wall near the roof, and now the whole

fire escape hangs like a crooked finger over the street. Still five stories up, the guy has fallen over the railing. His girlfriend desperately tries to pull him back over the side.

Sarah’s face flashes into my mind. Just stay alive, I think. Survive this, and we’ll be together. I’m going to make it back to her.

I run towards the fire escape, bracing it from a distance with my telekinesis.

‘Let go!’ I shout up at the couple. ‘I’ll catch you!’

‘Are you freaking nuts?’ the guy yells back.

None of us have time to argue, so I reach out with my telekinesis and just yank the couple off the

fire escape. As I’m lowering them to the ground, I hear the beats of heavy footfalls bearing down on

me.

‘John!’ Sam screams. ‘Look out!’

I turn my head. It’s a Piken. The beast gallops towards me at full speed, its jaws covered with

slobber, its razor-sharp teeth bared. I hear screams from my group. The cops take some shots at the

monster, but they don’t even slow it down. The others have the good sense to run from the rabid

Mogadorian beast.

Except the direction they run in puts them right beneath the fire escape. Which, of course, chooses

that exact moment to tear fully away from its building and come clattering down into the street.

I’ve still got the couple suspended in the air, and now I’m holding up the fire escape with my

telekinesis, too. I try to divide my focus enough to turn on my Lumen, but it’s just too much. I’m too exhausted, the strain is more than I can manage.

The Piken is almost on top of me.

Sarah’s face flashes again to the forefront of my mind. I have to try. I grit my teeth and dig down

deeper.

With a massive woomf, a wave of telekinetic force hits the Piken and knocks it into the air. The beast’s muscular legs flail wildly. It lands back-first on top of a stop sign, the pole impaling the beast right through the heart.

That didn’t come from me.

I lower the couple safely to the ground, toss the fire escape aside and turn in the direction the

telekinetic blast came from.

Sam stares at me. He’s frozen. His hands are extended out in front of him like he just shoved the

Piken and still hasn’t finished with the follow-through. Slowly, he blinks his eyes. Sam looks down at his hands, then over at me.

‘Holy shit,’ he says. ‘Did I just do that?’

THE BEGINNING

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First published in the United States of America by HarperCollins Publishers 2014

First Published in Great Britain by Michael Joseph 2014

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Typeset by Jouve (UK), Milton Keynes

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

ISBN: 978-1-405-91363-8