CONTENTS

Cover

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Excerpt from Generation One

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Excerpt from Fugitive Six

About the Author

Books by Pittacus Lore

Back Ads

Copyright

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

SIX

POINT REYES, CA

“SIX?”

Six heard someone calling from far away. The voice, faintly familiar though she couldn’t identify it, floated through the fog that surrounded her.

“Six, wake up.”

She struggled to open her eyes. Lights flashed, blinding her, and she shut them again. Then she tried once more, squinting until she adjusted to the brightness. After a few seconds, a room came into focus around her. She was in a bed. Someone was standing beside her.

“Did you have a nice nap?” Nine said.

Six groaned. Her head ached. “Where am I?”

“HGA,” Nine said. “The infirmary.”

Images came flooding into her mind: being strapped to a table, a syringe, a face looking down at her. She recalled the feeling of something sticky and burning flowing into her veins. Her brain felt as if it was still swimming in it. She strived to force her way out of it.

“Try to relax,” Nine ordered.

Six ignored him, attempting to sit up. Nine helped her, putting a pillow behind her. Six leaned back, exhausted. Her body felt drained of energy. Then she remembered something else. Her hand flew to her head.

“He put something in me,” she said. “A device of some kind. He showed it to me.”

Her fingers found nothing, though. No shaved area. No incision.

“Where the hell is it?” she asked Nine.

“Nothing turned up on the scan we did,” he said.

Six let her hand fall to her side. “That bastard was lying.”

That bastard was Drac. And if he hadn’t implanted something in her, what had he done? She knew he’d injected her. She had no idea what it was he’d put into her, though, or what it had done. But she felt different. And that worried her.

“We don’t know exactly what he did,” Nine answered. “Yet,” he added. “He hasn’t said much.”

“He’s here?” said Six.

Nine nodded. “We grabbed him and that woman who was hunting the kids.”

Now Six started to remember. Rena and Nemo. A lodge in the mountains of Montana. It was all coming back to her, and as it did, she found herself becoming enraged.

“Kirk,” she said. “They killed him.”

She looked at Nine, who nodded. A dark look clouded his face.

“Who else?” Six asked. Suddenly, fear gripped her heart. “Sam?”

“No,” Nine said. “Yo-Yo.”

Rena’s friend. The one she had gone there to try and help escape. Six had been against the plan from the beginning, and this was exactly why.

“The girls are both okay,” Nine continued. “Rena’s taking Yo-Yo’s death hard, of course, but she’s a tough one.”

Another thought came to Six. Another jolt of worry. “If Sam is all right, why isn’t he here?”

“Dennings used a kid with a teleportation Legacy to escape,” Nine said. “He took Sam with him.”

“Then you don’t really know that he’s okay,” said Six.

Nine started to answer, then grinned weakly. “It’s Sam,” he said. “He’s okay.”

“You can’t even convince yourself of that,” said Six. “You’re sure not convincing me.”

“He’s alive,” Nine said more confidently.

“He was,” Six countered. “How long have I been out?”

Nine looked at his watch. “About twelve hours.”

Twelve hours. Half a day. A lot could happen in that amount of time. Six tried not to think about the more terrible things on that list.

“You know I’m not Little Mr. Sunshine,” Nine said.

Six looked at him.

“But I really do think Sam is all right,” Nine continued. “And we’re going to find him. Okay?”

Six thought of several responses to this but said nothing. Instead, she just nodded.

“Good,” Nine said. “Now that that’s settled, I want you to do something for me. Use your telekinesis to hold this in the air.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a quarter, which he held up between his thumb and forefinger.

Six focused on the quarter. She imagined it hovering in the air.

Nine let go of the coin. It fell to the floor with a dull clink.

“What the hell?” Six said.

Nine bent down and retrieved the quarter. He put it back into his pocket. “Your Legacies are being blocked,” he said.

“How?” Six said. “By what?” She recalled again the injection that Drac had given her. What had he done to her? Apart from the headache thundering through her skull, everything seemed normal.

“The injection . . .” she said. “Did he—”

“Whatever he put in you, it’s interfering with your abilities.”

“Interfering?” said Six, thinking back to something she’d seen Drac do to a kid in Texas when he’d appeared to remove her Legacy from her.

“Like I said, we’re not certain,” Nine answered. “He hasn’t explained very much about what he did.”

Six threw back the blanket that covered her and swung her legs off the bed. “Then he’d better start talking,” she said as she attempted to stand up. “Where is he?”

She got to her feet, then began to fall sideways. Nine caught her and made her sit back down. Six shook him off. “I’m fine,” she insisted. “Just give me a minute.”

“You need to rest,” Nine said.

“I can rest when I’m dead,” said Six, standing up again. “Take me to him.”

Nine started to argue, but Six looked at him. “Take me to him,” she repeated. “Now.”

Nine laughed. “Okay,” he said. “I know that tone. Come on. But if you start to faint, I’m not catching you.”

Six staggered to the door of the room. She had to fight to stay steady, but she was determined, and angry, and she used that as fuel to keep going. Nine opened the door, then led her into a hallway.

“We don’t have a jail here,” he said as they walked. “Not officially, anyway.”

“But?” said Six as they stopped at an elevator and Nine pushed a button.

“But I might have put in some, shall we say, secure holding areas,” he said. “You know, just in case any of the kids got too rowdy.”

The elevator door opened, and they got in. Nine pressed a sequence of numbers on the keypad inside.

“Let me guess,” said Six. “They’re on a floor that doesn’t technically exist.”

“Something like that,” Nine said as the elevator descended. “We can’t have students accidentally stumbling into areas they shouldn’t be in.”

“Of course not,” she said.

The elevator came to a stop and opened onto another hallway. This one was lit by overhead lights, and Six got the feeling that they were now underground. She followed Nine as he moved down the corridor, which was lined on each side with steel doors. Each one had a small window in it, as well as serious-looking locking mechanisms.

“How many cells do you need?” Six asked.

“Secure holding areas,” Nine corrected her. “And they’re not all used for that purpose.”

“Oh?” she said. “What else is happening down here?”

Nine glanced at her. “Secret things,” he said. “Midnight dance parties and whatnot. You’re not on the guest list.”

“Fine,” said Six. “Don’t tell me.”

Nine stopped at a door. He peered through the little window, then tapped his fingers on the nearby keypad. There was a click, and the door swung inward. “After you,” he said to Six.

She went in. There was already someone in there, a man, and he turned to look at her.

“What are you doing up?” Peter McKenna asked.

Six, startled to see her boss there, said the first thing that came to mind. “Why aren’t you in New York?”

McKenna looked at Nine, who had shut the door and was standing next to Six. “It’s difficult to interrogate someone over Skype,” he said.

Now Six noticed the man sitting in a chair behind McKenna. It was Drac. And he wasn’t just sitting in the chair; he was secured to it with restraints on his wrists and ankles. He looked tired, but other than that, it didn’t seem as if he’d been roughed up at all. Yet.

“Have you tried knocking a few of his teeth out?” she asked McKenna.

She stormed over to Drac and punched him, hard. “What did you do to me?”

Blood dripped from Drac’s nose. Unable to wipe it away, he sniffed. “Having some trouble working your magic?” he asked, then chuckled.

Six hit him again, harder. His head snapped back. He screamed. “You broke my nose!” he whined.

“You took away my Legacies,” said Six. “Not my strength. And I’m just getting started.”

She reached down and took his right index finger in her hand. “I hope you’re a lefty,” she said. “Because these aren’t going to work for a while.”

“Tell her to stop!” Drac wailed.

Nine laughed. “Tell her to stop?” he said. “Have you met her?”

Six applied pressure to Drac’s finger. “Okay!” he squealed. “Just let go!”

“I can talk and hold hands at the same time,” Six said, not releasing his hand.

Drac glanced over at McKenna and Nine again. They shrugged. “Better listen to the woman,” McKenna said. “She’s gone rogue.”

“It’s only temporary,” he said. “That’s what you wanted to hear, right?” he added when Six didn’t respond.

“Is it the truth?” Six asked.

Drac nodded. Six let go of his finger. Drac curled his hand into a ball as if this would prevent her from coming after his helpless digits again.

“How long?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Drac answered. “In the kids I’ve tested it on, up to a week. But I’ve never tried it on an original Garde, someone who’s had Legacies for so many years. You’re stronger. It might not last as long.”

“Might,” Six repeated.

“It’s all experimental.”

“What exactly is it?” said Six.

Drac didn’t answer right away. He looked like a little kid who was being forced by bullies to hand over his lunch money. Six reached towards him.

“It’s a substance taken from the Mogadorians,” Drac spat out.

Six froze. “What?”

“Their black ooze,” Drac said. “Black goo. Whatever you want to call it.”

Nine had advanced to stand beside Six. “Where did you get it?” he asked. His voice was tight, and Six knew that, just as she was, he was thinking about their encounter with the pool of black ooze Setrákus Ra had used to strip Five of his Legacies. Despite her feelings for her fellow Loric, it was a horrible sight, and the thought that the ooze might be working its way through her body made her sick to her stomach.

“I met someone—a scientist—who worked with the Mogs,” Drac said. “And before you ask, his name doesn’t matter. The Mogs killed him when he stopped being useful to them.”

“And this traitor gave you the black ooze?” she asked.

Drac shook his head. “I stole it,” he admitted.

“And you’ve been experimenting on Human Garde using this shit?” Six said. She reached out and wrapped her fingers around Drac’s throat, preparing to squeeze, but this time Nine stopped her. “We need him to be able to talk,” he said. He nodded at Drac’s hand. “Break a finger instead.”

“I’m telling the truth!” Drac blurted as Six forced his clenched hand open.

“Which is why I’m only breaking one,” she said as she snapped his pointer finger.

Drac screamed. Six held his wrist tightly, so that he couldn’t pull his injured hand away, and said, “Or maybe I should make it two.”

“It doesn’t hurt them!” Drac shouted.

“How do you know that?” Six shouted back. “How do you know what the hell it does to them? To us?”

Drac hung his head, sobbing with pain. Six let go of his hand. “You’re pathetic,” she said.

“I told you, the Legacies come back,” Drac whimpered.

“Great,” said Six. “But who knows what else it does to them. You’re experimenting. On kids.”

“What’s the endgame?” Nine interrupted. “Why do this at all?”

“Because he’s sick, that’s why,” Six snapped.

Drac shook his head. “Mr. Bray wants a weapon,” he said. “Something that neutralizes Legacies.”

“Why?” said Nine.

“Why?” said Drac. “Why else? Money. Power. In case you haven’t noticed, there are a lot of people out there who aren’t too excited about a bunch of teenagers running around with superpowers. Those people would pay a lot for something that can eliminate that problem. Also, that weapon could be used to control anyone with Legacies. You saw how those kids were afraid of me back in Texas. If someone knows you can take away what makes them special, they’ll pretty much do anything you ask them to keep you happy.”

“You turn them into slaves,” said Six.

“More like disciples,” Drac said. “Those kids are stronger than Dennings and the guys above him. If they wanted to, they could take him out and start their own little gang. But they don’t. Why? Because he’s their daddy. The alpha wolf. They want to be part of his family. They want him to love them. He’s not stupid, though. Well, not entirely. He knows someday one or two of them will figure out that they don’t need him. So he keeps them afraid of him by making them think we can take their Legacies away forever.”

“Rena said you gave Yo-Yo back his Legacy,” said Nine.

“Yeah,” said Drac. “But I didn’t really give it back.”

“You just let the effects of the ooze wear off,” Nine said.

Drac nodded.

“What about that device you said you implanted in me?” Six asked.

Drac grinned. “Oh, that? Just a little something I’ve been working on to administer the black ooze at regular intervals—like an insulin pump. It would last longer than the regular injection. But it’s . . . still in development. Mostly, I made it to impress Dennings and his boss, Bray.”

“Let’s talk about Bray for a minute,” McKenna said. “Nine says you injected him with something. Was that black ooze too?”

Drac frowned. “No, that’s his pet project. Basically, it’s the opposite of the black ooze. It gives you Legacies. Or, it’s supposed to.”

“It doesn’t work?” asked Nine.

“Not so far.”

“What’s in it?” McKenna asked.

“Pituitary secretions,” Drac explained. “From people with Legacies.”

“You’re crazy,” Six muttered. “Seriously wrecked.”

“Bray is obsessed with developing a Legacy,” Drac said, ignoring her. “He hates that he doesn’t have one.”

“He’s too old,” Nine said.

“Plus, he’s a dick,” added Six.

“I didn’t realize being a nice guy was a requirement,” Drac said. “But I know he’s too old. That’s why he has wanted me to come up with some sort of serum to make it happen.”

“You don’t think it will work,” Six said. “Do you?” She could tell by the way Drac spoke that he had doubts.

“No,” Drac said after a pause.

“But you need Bray to think you can make it work,” Six continued. “That’s why you were so freaked out when he demanded a demonstration.”

“I might have let him and Dennings think I was further along than I am,” Drac admitted.

“Well, if we don’t have to worry about that for the moment, let’s get back to the black ooze,” said McKenna. “With the Mogs imprisoned, there must be a limited supply. How much of it do you have left?”

Drac sighed. “Not much,” he said. “I’ve been trying to replicate it, but I haven’t been able to.”

“At least that’s some good news,” said Six.

“Yes and no,” Drac said. “Bray is getting impatient, and he knows I don’t have much of the original black ooze left.”

“Sounds like your problem,” she said.

“It might become yours, too,” said Drac. “Word is that Bray has made contact with some fugitive Mogs who are interested in making a deal.”

Six and Nine exchanged a look. Was Drac telling the truth? Humans working with Mogs were nothing new, of course. Since the invasion, though, what was left of their numbers had been rounded up. Not that a few couldn’t have slipped through the cracks. But would they really have the knowledge to make more of the black ooze? As far as anyone knew, it seemed as if only Setrákus Ra could—and he was gone.

Six turned to McKenna. “Do you know anything about this?”

McKenna shook his head. “I know someone who might, though. I’ll go make a call.”

McKenna turned to leave, but before he opened the door Drac said, “He has your kid, you know.”

McKenna turned around. “What did you say?”

“Seamus,” said Drac. “That’s your kid’s name, right?”

McKenna nodded once.

“Dennings has him,” said Drac. “Took a special interest in him once he learned his daddy works for the government.”

McKenna was silent for a long moment. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“Just thought you would like to know,” Drac said. “Since we’re sharing and everything.”

McKenna looked at Six. “Keep him talking,” he said. “I’m going to make that call.” He glanced at Drac, then turned to leave. “Break whatever you have to.”

CHAPTER TWO

SAM

UNKNOWN LOCATION AT SEA

SAM TRIED ONCE AGAIN TO OPEN THE DOOR USING telekinesis. And once again, the locking mechanism failed to respond. He sighed. He’d hoped it had been a simple bolt, but it was apparently something more complicated. This wasn’t really a surprise, given that Dennings was used to dealing with kids who had Legacies and would have anticipated an escape attempt.

Since the cabin he was locked in was barely big enough to hold the bed he was sitting on, it had taken Sam all of ten seconds to figure out that there was nothing inside that was going to be of any use to him. The only other thing in the room was a small sink affixed to the wall, with a grimy, cracked mirror above it. The sink’s faucet leaked, and every so often a drop of water dripped into the basin. Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed, counting the seconds between drops.

Four, he thought, watching the small orb of water forming on the faucet’s mouth as it had hundreds of times since he’d begun his observations. Three. Two. One.

Drip.

Twelve. Eleven. Ten. Nine.

The door opened.

A tray slid inside, and the door shut again. On the tray were a plate with a sandwich on it, a plastic cup of water, and a paper napkin that looked as if it had previously been used to wipe up a spill of some kind. Sam knelt and picked up the tray. Balancing it on his knees, he took a bite of the sandwich. Peanut butter and jelly.

As he chewed, he listened. Without a window, he had no reference for where he was. His brief glimpse of the ocean when he’d appeared on deck had not shown him enough to have any idea what ocean he was on. He could be anywhere. And as far as he could tell, the ship wasn’t moving. He heard no engines, no churning propellers, nothing to indicate that the vessel was traveling. There was the occasional clang or thump, but nothing useful. When he reached out with his technopathy, he found nothing to connect with, no computers or machinery to talk to.

He picked up the cup, paused a moment to wonder if the water might be drugged, then decided he was thirsty enough that it was worth the risk. Besides, the sandwich could also have been drugged, and he’d already taken a bite. He sipped the water, then took a longer drink as his parched throat welcomed the moisture and demanded more. The warm water tasted flat, almost stale, but he drained half the cup before forcing himself to stop and conserve the rest.

He took another bite of the sandwich, and felt something strange between his teeth. Pulling the pieces of bread apart, he found a folded-up piece of paper inside. His first reaction was disgust that it had found its way in there. Then it occurred to him that someone might have put it there on purpose. It had been folded in fourths, and while the outside was smeared with jelly and peanut butter, the inside was clean. There were numbers scrawled on it: 29.03083333, -118.28000000.

Sam instantly realized they were coordinates, latitude and longitude. But knowing what they were didn’t help him understand where they were. At least not exactly. The positive latitude meant the spot was north of the equator, and the negative longitude meant west of the prime meridian; but that was still a lot of ocean.

He closed his eyes and tried to picture a flattened view of the globe. It had been a long time since he’d learned about maps, but he could still kind of visualize it. The equator cut through the top of South America, so 29 degrees north of that was somewhere around the bottom of the United States. And 118 degrees west of the prime meridian put that spot . . .

“Off the coast of Mexico,” he said aloud. “More or less.”

Not that this information helped him very much. Or was necessarily accurate. Besides, who would bother to send him map coordinates inside a sandwich in the first place?

“A radio would have been more useful,” he said to himself. “Or a gun.”

Not knowing what to do with the paper, he licked the remaining peanut butter and jelly from it, trying not to think about who might have touched it, and folded it back up. He stuck it in his pocket, then resumed eating his lunch. Dinner. Snack. He wasn’t sure what time it was. It had been early morning in Montana when he’d been taken. And it had been dark when he’d appeared on the deck of the ship. How long ago had that been? Two hours? Maybe three?

His best guess was that it was still morning, probably not yet noon. He also realized that he was very tired. More tired than he should be, even having been up all night running around in the cold. His eyes started to close. He blinked, forcing them open, but they fought back. As he slumped to the side, he glanced at the cup of water falling off the tray and onto the floor and thought, I should have drunk out of the sink.

When he woke again, he was no longer in the same room, and his head was swimming. Through the fog, he could tell that he was in a larger cabin, seated on a metal folding chair. Actually, he discovered when he tried to move his arms, he was tied to the chair with some kind of restraints. All he could manage to do was bang the chair legs on the floor a little by bouncing the chair.

“Settle down,” a voice said. “It’s not like you’ve got anywhere to go.”

Sam looked up and saw the mysterious man from the Montana cabin sitting in a much more comfortable-looking chair, watching him. He didn’t know his name, but he recognized the face. It was the man who had been threatening Drac with a gun and who had shot Yo-Yo.

“Who are you?” he asked, his words coming out slurred from whatever drug was still lingering in his system.

“What difference does it make?” the man said.

Sam shut his eyes, trying to calm his spinning head. The man was right. It didn’t matter who he was. What mattered was figuring out what he wanted.

“To be honest, I’d prefer if we’d gotten the girl,” the man said. “Six.”

At the mention of Six’s name, Sam looked up. His thoughts found something to focus on, and he pushed his way out of his stupor to fix the man with a glare.

The man laughed. “That got your attention,” he said. “Sorry if it hurts your feelings. She’s one of the originals, though, and you, well, you’re just an Earth kid who got lucky, right? Like all these other kids Dennings has got following him around like puppies.”

Dennings. Was he around, too? Probably. After all, he was the reason Sam was on the ship in the first place, because he’d insisted on hanging on to Dennings when that kid teleported him out of the cabin.

“Tell me something,” the man said. “How come it picks who it picks?”

Sam didn’t understand the question. He must have looked confused, because the man tried again. “The magic sky fairy,” he said. “The Lorien god, or whatever the hell it is. The thing that gives people these powers.”

“The Entity,” Sam said.

“Whatever. How’s it decide?”

Sam tried to shrug, then remembered his hands were tied. “Nobody knows.”

“Come on,” said the man, sounding angry. “There’s gotta be some kind of system.”

“Pretty sure it’s random. Sorry you didn’t make the list, if that’s what you mean, but you’re a little too old anyway.”

The man grunted. “Wiseass. You think I don’t know it only picks kids? Why’d you think I had Dr. Frankenstein working on a way to give them to me?”

Sam looked at him, not sure he understood. “What?”

The man laughed. “That imbecile who goes by Drac has been working on, I don’t know what you’d call it, a serum? Something to give people these powers you and your friends got accidentally.”

Sam’s mind began to race. He pictured Six strapped to the table in the room beneath the lodge. What had they done to her? What the man was saying didn’t seem possible. “How?” he said.

“I don’t know all the scientific stuff,” the man said. “Something about harvesting from the pituitary gland.”

Sam shook his head. “That’s not possible,” he said. “You’d need to actually remove it, and you can’t do that without . . .”

He stopped speaking as the horror of what the man was telling him began to sink in. “You’d kill the person,” he said. Again he thought about Six. His heart began to pound, and he pulled against his restraints.

The man, oblivious to Sam’s rising panic, shrugged. “I guess,” he said casually. “Not a big deal if they’re already dead, though, right?”

“The kids you let people hunt,” said Sam. “You take the glands out of them.”

The man waved a hand. “I leave all that up to Drac,” he said. Then his face darkened. “Although maybe that was a mistake. Whatever he put in me hasn’t done shit.”

Sam remembered the argument he’d heard the man and Drac having before he and Nine broke into the room. It was starting to make sense. Whatever this serum was that Drac was working on, he’d injected the man with some version of it.

The man seemed to be agitated now. He stood up and started to pace. He snatched up a handheld transceiver and pressed a button. “Cutter!” he barked. “Get up here.”

He continued to pace, now talking to himself. “I should have kept a tighter leash on him,” he muttered. “Who knows what he was doing, what he put in me.” He threw the transceiver against the cabin wall, where it shattered. Then he held his head in his hands. “This goddamn headache!” he bellowed. “It feels like my brain’s on fire.”

Something was obviously very wrong. The man’s demeanor had changed rapidly. Sam watched him walk back and forth, clenching and unclenching his hands as he shook his head. He was like a wild animal in a cage trying to find a way out.

There was a knock on the cabin door. The man answered it, and another man entered. Sam recognized him, too. He was the man who had met Rena and Nemo at the diner and taken them to the lodge. Cutter. Seeing him there, Sam wondered again what had happened to everyone back in the lodge. Was Yo-Yo alive? And most important, was Six? Now that he knew what Drac had been up to, his fear for her safety was growing by the second.

“How are you doing, boss?” Cutter said.

“How does it look like I’m doing?” the man snarled.

Cutter glanced over at Sam. Sam met his eyes and glared, thinking about how he was responsible for so many of the terrible things that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. A flare of rage surged through him, and he found himself trying to use his telekinesis to push the man into the wall behind him. When Cutter grinned and laughed, Sam realized that he knew what Sam was trying to do, and also that it had failed.

“I thought you would have figured out by now that you can’t do it anymore,” Cutter said. “Didn’t you wonder why you couldn’t connect with any of the machinery?”

Sam didn’t answer. He’d assumed there was nothing to connect with on this old ship. Now, though, he realized that there should have been all kinds of machinery that he could access. And yet, there was nothing when he reached out. And he hadn’t been able to open the cabin door either. What had they done to him? His thoughts flashed back to the compound in Texas, where Drac seemed to drain that girl called Freakshow of her Legacies. Had they done something similar to him?

The rage in him turned to fear. Without his Legacies, Sam was helpless. Panic seized him. But then just as quickly, he shut it down. He had been in tougher situations than this without powers. If he could survive what had happened to him in the Mog prison, he could handle whatever these guys threw at him. At least, he hoped so.

Cutter seemed to be waiting for him to reply to his statement, but before he could, Cutter’s boss fell to his knees, howling in pain. He beat at his head with his fists, screaming. “Make it stop!”

“Mr. Bray!” Cutter said, rushing to him. He put his hand on the man’s shoulder, but he shrugged him off with another wail, then collapsed onto his side.

Cutter took a transceiver from his back pocket and spoke into it, saying something in Spanish. Then he rolled the man, who Sam now knew was named Mr. Bray, onto his back. Bray was breathing heavily, and his eyes were wild, darting back and forth as he panted, trying to catch his breath.

The cabin door opened, and two men bustled in. They went to Bray, and one took his feet while the other put his hands under the man’s arms. They lifted him, and Cutter said, “Take him down below. I’ll be there in a minute.”

When the men were gone, Sam asked, “What did Drac shoot him up with?”

Cutter ignored the question. He looked worried.

“Doesn’t seem like he’ll make it, if you ask me,” Sam said, goading him.

“Shut up.”

“I hope you have the antidote to whatever Drac used on him,” Sam continued.

Cutter looked at him. “Maybe I do,” he said. “The problem for you is, it might be inside your head.”

Sam felt the cold grip of fear again. Cutter’s implication was clear.

Cutter grinned maliciously. “No smart comeback to that? I guess Mr. Bray must have told you what we’ve been working on, me and Drac. Well, mostly Drac. But I’ve hung around long enough to pick up a few things. Figure I could do it on my own by now.” He held up one hand and made a scissoring motion with his fingers. “Course, I’d have to cut you open, but how hard can that be? I’ve butchered plenty of deer. Can’t be any harder than that.” He laughed.

Sam had no idea how much of what Cutter said was just to rile him and how much was serious. If Drac really was using people with Legacies to make some kind of superhero drug, there was no telling what they had done to get the materials they needed for it.

“Relax,” Cutter said. “I can’t use you while you’ve got that black goo in you, anyway. Have to wait for it to get out of your system.”

Sam had no idea what he meant. But the mention of black goo immediately brought back memories. Terrible ones. Was it possible that Drac had gotten his hands on some of the Mogadorian ooze? And was that what they had injected him with to strip him of his Legacies?

Cutter went to the door. “You can try to get out,” he said as he opened it. “Won’t do you much good, though, unless you’re a long-distance swimmer. Besides, the guys have permission to shoot you if they see you running around. Best to just sit tight until someone comes to get you.”

He left, shutting the door behind him.

Sam looked around the room. It seemed to be some kind of office or storeroom, filled with boxes and bits and pieces of equipment. A desk with a computer on it was positioned against one wall.

Before he could look at anything, he needed to get free. Each wrist was bound with a plastic restraint to one of the sides of the chairback. He couldn’t break through them. However, the chair itself didn’t seem terribly sturdy. It was possible he could break it if he tried hard enough. But it would be noisy, and attract attention if anyone heard it.

Then again, he thought. What do I have to lose?

The answer was, nothing. If someone did hear him, what would they do? He doubted anyone would actually shoot him. It sounded as if he was too valuable alive. Probably, they would just tie him up again. And even if they did try to shoot him, that was preferable to sitting there doing nothing.

He bounced the chair against the floor. It was wobbly, but it held. Fortunately, he was on a rug, which muffled the sound a little. He tried again, lifting the chair up and bringing it down. The jolt sent pain radiating up his spine, and he winced. He rocked side to side, testing the chair’s joints. They squeaked.

He lifted up with his legs as high as he could, then let himself fall back down. The chair hit the floor with a thud that shook his body. There was a grinding sound, and the left-hand side of the chairback fell away from the seat. Sam tilted to that side, almost tipping over, but righted himself. He then leaned in the opposite direction while sliding his left hand down the now-loose side of the seatback. His hand came free, and he stood. A moment later, he had wrenched the other side off.

He expected someone to come to the door, but no one did. Either Cutter was incredibly confident that Sam wouldn’t attempt to escape, or there really was an order to fire should he leave the cabin. Sam didn’t have time to worry about it, though, as he needed to find something—anything—that could help him out.

He went over to the desk and looked at the computer. It was on. He searched around the desktop, found an icon for an internet browser and clicked on it. When it opened, he said a silent thank-you for his luck, then went to his email account. As it opened, he fished out the paper in his pocket and unfolded it. Then he typed a quick email to Six and hit Send.

As he was logging off, he heard voices outside, speaking in Spanish. Returning to where the pieces of the chair lay on the rug, he threw himself down on the floor on his stomach. As the cabin door opened, he groaned, as if he had just that moment smashed the chair and had hurt himself in the process.

Two men entered, the same ones who had carried Bray out a little while before. Seeing him on the floor, they spoke rapidly to each other and dashed over to him. Sam kept his eyes shut, groaning as they rolled him over. He mumbled some nonsense words.

The men talked to each other in anxious tones. Then they shook him. “Get up,” one of them said.

Sam fluttered his eyes.

“Get up,” the man said again. This time, he took hold of Sam’s wrist, while the other man took his other arm. They pulled him to his feet.

“Downstairs,” one of the men said. “Now.”

Sam allowed them to think he was still weak as they dragged him towards the door. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do next, but he wanted to maintain the element of surprise. As they left the cabin, he thought about the email he’d sent to Six. Was she even alive to receive it? He prayed that she was. He couldn’t even think about the alternative. She had to be okay.

Whether he would be okay remained to be seen.

CHAPTER THREE

SIX

POINT REYES, CA

“HERE’S WHAT WE KNOW ABOUT BRAY,” MCKENNA said.

He, Six and Nine were in Nine’s office, where McKenna had spent the past half hour on the phone with his contact. Six, still feeling the effects of the Mog ooze, had a pounding headache, which she would have been happy to deal with by trying to get more info out of Drac, but McKenna had called her and Nine up to share his findings with them. Now, she sat in a chair, wishing the jackhammering in her brain would stop.

“His specialty is drugs,” Bray said. “He’s one of the leading suppliers to the West Coast market, with ties to the biggest cartels in Central and South America.”

“What about the Mogs?” Six said impatiently. “Is it true what Drac said, that he’s made contact with them?”

“It’s possible,” McKenna said. “There are still some Mogadorians out there. We know that.”

Six sighed. “Great,” she said.

Before she could continue, her phone dinged, alerting her to an email. She pulled it from her back pocket, and when she saw that the message was from Sam, she opened it immediately. She clicked on the stream of numbers, and her phone told her they were coordinates.

“Guadalupe Island,” she said.

“What about it?” asked Nine.

“It might be where Sam is,” Six told them. She held up the phone. “I just got an email from him. He says he’s on a ship.”

“That’s . . . lucky,” McKenna remarked. “How would he be able to send you an email?”

“He might have used his technopathy,” Six suggested.

“Or it might be a trick,” said Nine.

“Only a couple of people know this email address,” said Six. “It’s from him.”

“Okay,” Nine said. “So he’s on a ship. What’s that ship doing there?”

“Nothing good, I’m betting,” said Six. “I say we ask our friend downstairs about it.”

She, McKenna and Nine returned to the room where Drac was being kept, his injured hand now bandaged. When he saw the three of them, he paled.

“Tell us about the ship near Guadalupe Island,” Six said, abandoning preliminaries.

“I don’t—” Drac said.

Six reached for his uninjured hand.

“All right!” Drac said. “It’s one of Bray’s hidey-holes. He has dozens of them all over the world.”

“That’s a start,” said Six. “Keep talking. What kind of ship?”

“I don’t know what it’s called,” Drac said. “A freighter? Something old. Big. The kind they transport stuff in.”

“Does he?” asked McKenna.

Drac didn’t respond right away.

“We know Bray is trafficking drugs,” McKenna said.

“Drugs,” Drac said. “Stolen whatever.” He paused. “People. If it’s something someone will buy, he’ll sell it.”

“So what’s on this particular ship?” asked Nine.

Drac sighed. “It’s mostly a floating arena,” he said. “He keeps some of the kids there. Uses them to fight, like in Texas. High rollers fly in on private helicopters or bring their yachts out there to bet.”

“People like Helena and William Armbruster?” McKenna asked.

Drac didn’t answer.

“Helena?” said Nine. “The woman we brought in?”

McKenna nodded. “I got some interesting information on them as well.”

“Oh?” Nine said.

“Helena Armbruster is the heir to Klumber-Bach pharmaceuticals,” McKenna said. “She’s worth billions.” He looked at Drac. “My guess is that she’s very interested in the work our friend here is doing. Isn’t that right, Milo?”

Drac looked up, an expression of shock on his face.

“Milo Cerszik,” McKenna said. “Although you changed it to Andrew Alderman when your work on human growth hormone was discredited by the medical community and Helena Armbruster hired you as a private physician.”

“Wow,” said Six. “This gets better and better.”

“The line between legal and illegal pharmaceuticals isn’t all that wide,” McKenna said. “It doesn’t surprise me that Bray would look for someone like Helena Armbruster to team up with. She’s probably paying a lot of the bills. And one of her perks for underwriting the program is getting to hunt kids with Legacies. Is that right?”

Drac was silent. Six felt herself becoming enraged again. The way Bray and Drac and everyone involved with them treated people like they had no value except for how much money they could bring in was disgusting.

“What are we going to do with her?” she asked McKenna, thinking about the woman. “Won’t her husband dying be big news?”

“Officially, she and William are out of the country,” McKenna said. “I suspect there will be some story about how he died suddenly.”

“And her?” Six asked again.

“That remains to be seen,” McKenna answered.

“Maybe she should have an accident, too,” Six suggested.

“It’s not as simple as that,” said McKenna. “She has friends in high places.”

Six looked at him. “Higher than what?”

McKenna didn’t respond. Instead, he turned his attention back to Drac and said, “What’s Bray going to do with Sam?”

Drac glanced at Six as though he was afraid his answer would cause her to come after him. “Sam’s Legacy could be very useful to him,” he said. “If he can’t make Sam work for him—”

“Sam would never do that,” Six interrupted.

“Then he’ll try to take it out of him,” Drac finished. “Put it into someone who will. Or into himself. Like I said, he’s obsessed with getting a Legacy. One like that, that no one else we know of has, would be a big deal.”

“We need to get him out of there,” Six said to Nine and McKenna. “What are our options?”

“Bray will expect you to be coming,” Drac said. “He’ll be waiting.”

“Let’s talk upstairs,” Nine suggested.

He, Six and McKenna went back to Nine’s office. Nine made a call, and a minute later, Lexa joined them.

“We’re going to Guadalupe Island,” Nine said to Lexa. “How soon can we be there?”

Lexa opened the tablet she’d brought with her, and her fingers flew over the screen. “Little over an hour,” she said. “Except that there’s nowhere to land on the island. Lucky for you, I have another idea.”

“Care to share it?” Nine asked when Lexa continued to tap on her screen without saying anything else.

“I know a guy,” Lexa said after another moment. “Runs a dive boat operation out that way. Great white cage diving.”

“And this helps us how?” asked Six.

“It helps us because his ship just happens to have a helipad on it,” Lexa continued. “He uses it to ferry clients back and forth from Ensenada.” She typed some more. “Those rich folks apparently don’t like the eighteen hours it takes to make the trip by boat, so Stubby started flying them in.”

“Stubby?” said Nine.

“Like I said, his business is great whites. Got a little too close to one while tossing chum in the water. Lost a hand.” Lexa looked at something on her tablet, then grinned. “And he says he’ll have a copter waiting for you in Ensenada. How many of you are going?”

Six looked at Nine. “I’m going.”

“Your Legacies still haven’t come back,” Nine reminded her.

“I don’t need Legacies to kick some ass,” Six said. “Remember? And Sam is in trouble. There’s no way I’m not going. He’d do the same thing for me—for any of us.”

“You’re right,” Nine said.

“About that,” Lexa said.

“About what?” Six asked.

“I reached out to John and Marina. You know, since they’re both healers and they’ve dealt with the Mog ooze before. I figured they could help.”

With everything going on, Six hadn’t thought to ask them for help. Even if they hadn’t been in touch lately, she knew they’d be there for each other when it mattered. “Yeah?”

“Sorry, they weren’t available,” Lexa said. “They must be off doing something else, but I left word for them. Hopefully, they’ll contact us as soon as they can.”

Six nodded, hiding her disappointment. “Okay,” she said. “Thanks.”

“All right,” Nine said, flashing Six a sympathetic look. “Six is in.” He turned to McKenna. “What about you? If Drac’s telling the truth, your son might be out there, too.”

McKenna nodded. “Maybe,” he said. “But I think I can be more useful here, frankly.”

“So, two?” said Six.

“Three,” said Nine.

Six glanced at Lexa, thinking he meant her, but Nine shook his head. “Nemo,” he said.

“Nemo?” said Six. “After what she’s been through? Are you insane?”

“I think she might be useful,” Nine said.

“What could she possibly—”

“She breathes underwater,” Nine interrupted. “And this is all happening in the middle of the ocean. That might come in handy.”

“You can’t make her go,” McKenna said.

“Of course not,” Nine agreed. “But we can ask her.”

Six and McKenna looked at each other. Six was about to offer a rebuttal, but Nine spoke first. “Totally her choice,” he said.

“All right,” she conceded. “But Rena is in no condition to be involved, especially after what happened to Yo-Yo, and I think Max should stay here, too.”

“Agreed,” said Nine. “Let’s get Nemo up here.”

As Nine picked up the phone and made a call, McKenna cleared his throat. “Do you really think the three of you can handle whatever is on that ship?” he asked. “Six, you still don’t have your Legacies back. I know you’re formidable even without them, but we don’t know how many kids are out there, how armed Dennings and his people are or even exactly where they are. What we do know is that Bray is capable of anything and is willing to kill anyone or everyone who is a threat to him. This isn’t a simple in-and-out mission.”

“You said you could be more useful here,” Six replied. “You’re right. Arrange for backup.”

McKenna shook his head. “It’s not that easy,” he said. “Law enforcement in that part of the world is unreliable. Someone like Bray has probably bribed everyone he needs to ensure protection.”

“Then don’t rely on law enforcement,” Six told him. “Call in Earth Garde.”

McKenna hesitated.

“What?” said Six. “Is there a problem with that?”

“Not a problem, no,” McKenna said.

Six waited for him to elaborate. He didn’t. “You don’t want them to think we can’t handle this on our own,” she said.

“There are things about the situation I would prefer to keep on a need-to-know basis,” McKenna said. “For now, anyway. The fewer people we can involve, the better.”

Six looked over at Lexa, who only raised an eyebrow. Then she turned back to McKenna. “It will take us a couple of hours to get out there,” Six said. “That should give you enough time to figure something out.” To Lexa she added, “We’ll be ready to go in thirty.”

As Lexa left to make arrangements, Nemo arrived.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“How are you feeling?” said Nine.

Nemo shrugged. “Okay. You know, for being out in the cold all night being hunted by sociopaths, swimming under ice and seeing a couple of people get killed.”

“We think we know where Sam is,” Six told her. “A ship off the coast of Mexico. There are probably kids with Legacies there as well.”

“Ghost?” said Nemo.

“We don’t know,” said Six. “Nine and I are going out there. And he thinks you might be able to—”

“I’ll go,” Nemo said. “That’s what you were going to ask, right?”

“Right,” said Nine.

“But you don’t have—”

“I said I’ll go.”

Six looked at the girl. She felt as if she was looking at herself. In only a short time, Nemo had transformed from a petulant, somewhat obnoxious girl into someone who was determined to fight for her friends. It was a terrible way to come into her own, but it had changed her in ways most people could never understand. Six could.

“Why are you staring at me?” Nemo asked, nervously pushing a lock of turquoise-colored hair behind her ear, then crossing her arms over her chest.

“We leave in half an hour,” Six replied. “Lexa will get you outfitted. Meet us out front.”

Nemo nodded, then left.

“I’m going to make some calls,” McKenna said.

“Stay here,” said Nine. “Use my office.”

Six left with him. Twenty minutes later, they reconvened in front of the building. An SUV was waiting for them. So were Lexa and Nemo.

“What took you so long?” Nemo teased as Six and Nine put their bags in the back.

“A private plane will take you to Ensenada,” Lexa told them. “Stubby has arranged for a helicopter to get you to his ship. Anything you need, you know how to reach me.”

Three hours later, as late afternoon shifted into early evening, a helicopter landed on the helipad of the Nautilus Fathom. Six, Nine and Nemo got out and were greeted by a tall man with a bushy white beard, shaved head and toothy smile. He extended his left hand to Six. “Hey there. I’m Stubby.”

After shaking Six’s hand, he shook Nemo’s, then nodded at Nine’s missing arm. “Looks like we’ve got something in common,” he said, laughing. “Come on. We can talk inside.”

He led them down a short flight of stairs to a lower deck, then along the side of the ship and into a cabin. It wasn’t large, and the desk that dominated the space was heaped with papers and books and charts, so the four of them stood there and talked.

“Lexa said you’re looking for a ship,” Stubby said. “I’m pretty sure I know the one. It’s been in the area for a couple of months. People going in and out a lot.”

“And nobody thought to ask what’s going on?” Six asked him.

Stubby shrugged. “This part of the world is kinda like the Wild West,” he said. “Took me ten years to get the locals to stop trying to run me out of town. I didn’t get here by sticking my nose into anyone else’s business.”

“Then why are you getting involved now?” Six asked him.

“Lexa tell you I have a niece at HGA?” Stubby said. “Deirdre. But we’ve always called her Little D. My sister is Big D. Little D does something with light. Never seen it myself.”

“The kids call her Aurora,” Nine said. “She’s a good girl.”

Stubby smiled. “Yeah. Well, she’s how me and Lexa came to be acquainted. But I would help anyway. I don’t much like seeing anyone be used the way it sounds like these kids are being used. So, what is it you need from me?”

“Well,” Nine said. “Basically, we need to find that ship and get onto it.”

“I know where it is,” Stubby said. “As for getting onto it, seems like you need to do that without attracting attention, right?”

“Right,” Nine said.

“Then your best bet is going at night,” said Stubby. “Use scuba gear and swim right up to it. How you get on after that, I don’t know.”

“We can manage that,” Nine told him. “But how do we see our way to the ship at night?”

Stubby snorted. “Pretty hard to miss something that big,” he said. “We can get you close on an inflatable. You drop in, swim to the ship. Unless they’ve got guards and floodlights, they’re probably not even going to notice. From what I hear, the guy who owns that thing has everyone who might be trying to bring him down in his back pocket.”

“Lexa mentioned something about great whites,” Six said.

“That’s why I’m out here,” said Stubby. He grinned. “You’re not afraid of a few sharks, are you?”

“Shouldn’t I be?” Six said, looking pointedly at his missing hand.

“Just swim fast,” said Stubby.

Nine put his hand on Six’s shoulder. “You leave the sharks to me,” he said.

“All right,” Stubby said. “Sounds like a plan. Sun won’t be down for a little while yet. Let’s go get you geared up.”

CHAPTER FOUR

SAM

SOMEWHERE AROUND GUADALUPE ISLAND, MEXICO

SAM CONTINUED TO FEIGN BEING UNSTEADY ON HIS feet as the men marched him along the deck of the ship. He stumbled, forcing them to hold him up, and when they cursed at him in Spanish, he mumbled incoherently. In his head, however, he was trying to formulate a plan. He sensed that if he went below and was put into Dennings’s and Bray’s hands, it would all be over. Without his Legacies, he was at a disadvantage. Once they had him securely restrained again, he’d probably never get out.

But what would he do if he somehow managed to escape? He was still in the middle of the ocean. He thought about the email he’d sent to Six. Even if she’d received it, it would be some time before she could get there with help. What would he do until then? Hide? The ship did seem to be huge. Maybe he could find somewhere to lie low while he figured out what to do. If it’s either that or have them experiment on your brain, the choice is pretty clear, he told himself.

The men dragged him down a flight of metal stairs, and they were on the main deck. He could see that they were headed for a door. Beyond that, he imagined, was another flight of stairs. Those would take him below, and that was someplace he was absolutely sure he did not want to go. Time was running out for him to make a move.

“Hey!” a voice called out.

The men stopped. A boy ran up to them, thin, with red hair and freckles. He said something in Spanish. The men replied, shaking their heads. The boy repeated what he’d said, this time sounding much more emphatic. Again, the men seemed to argue with him.

Something about the boy seemed familiar. Before Sam could think too hard about what it was, though, he sensed movement around his feet. Looking down, he was horrified to see cockroaches running over his shoes. Dozens of cockroaches. No, hundreds. They were pouring out of every crack and crevice he could see, a moving carpet of shiny brown bodies.

The roaches swarmed up his legs and the two men holding him. When the guards realized what was happening, they let go of Sam and started swatting at the bugs. Sam, acting on instinct, did the same. But the boy grabbed his hand. “Come on,” he said.

The cockroaches were now covering the torsos of the two men and starting to crawl over their faces. The men saw the boy pulling Sam away, but when they opened their mouths to shout, the bugs scurried inside. The men choked, trying to spit out the roaches, and Sam heard the insects’ bodies crunching between their teeth.

The boy yanked hard on Sam’s arm, and they ran, roaches slipping from Sam’s clothes and skin. They headed for the far end of the deck, where another door awaited them. The boy pulled it open, practically pushing Sam through, and followed behind him. They were at the top of a flight of stairs.

“Hurry,” the boy said. “I can only control the bugs for so long when I’m out of visual contact.”

“Seamus,” Sam said, the name coming back to him. “You’re Seamus McKenna.”

The boy didn’t answer.

“I know your dad,” Sam said as they descended into the ship.

“We can talk about that later,” Seamus said. “Right now, we’ve got to get to the others.”

“Others?” Sam said. “What others?”

Again, Seamus didn’t answer. He just kept moving, taking Sam down corridors and more stairs, going deeper into the ship. They passed through another doorway and were in a room filled with machinery. The engine room. Sam reached out, trying to connect with the throbbing, noisy heart of the ship. Normally, it would have been easy. But he still felt nothing.

“Through here,” Seamus said, opening yet another door.

Sam followed behind. This time they were in a room. And they were not alone. A dozen other teenagers were there, all of them staring at Sam.

“Hi,” he said, waving awkwardly.

Seamus turned to him. “Did they switch you off?” he asked. “I’m guessing they did, or you wouldn’t have needed rescuing.”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “They did.”

“Great,” said a girl standing nearby. “Now they know about us, and what did we get out of it?”

“All they know is that I helped him escape,” Seamus said. “They don’t know anything else.”

The girl snorted. “It won’t take them long to figure it out,” she said. “Not with half of us missing at roll call tonight.”

“We could show up,” another girl said. “It’s not too late.”

“Yeah, it is, Alice,” the first girl said. “The war is on.”

“War?” Sam said. “Does someone want to tell me what’s going on?”

“We mutinied,” Seamus said. “And like Svetlana said, that means war when Dennings figures out what’s happening.”

Sam was beginning to put the pieces together. The kids Dennings had taken in had turned against him. At least some of them. He looked around the room. “You’re half of the total number?” he asked.

“More or less,” Seamus said.

“And the others?” said Sam. “They’re loyal to Dennings?”

“Or afraid of him,” said Svetlana.

“Or both,” said Seamus.

Sam nodded. “I get it,” he said.

“When we heard you were here, we thought it might be our best chance,” Seamus explained.

“Except you’re broken,” said Svetlana. “So we’re on our own.”

Sam ignored the insult. He could tell that underneath the brash exterior, the girl was probably terrified. There were a dozen of them against at least that many others. Sam could feel the nervous energy in the room. Svetlana was obviously one of the leaders. If she panicked, they would all start to panic. He had to get them pulled back together.

“My Legacies might not be working at the moment,” he said. “But I have something just as good, and that’s experience. I’ve walked out of a Mog prison after they tortured me. I’ve fought alongside the original Garde. It takes a lot more than someone like Dennings, or Cutter, or Bray to make me afraid. Besides, our side has captured Drac. Also, I was able to send a message to my friends telling them where we are.” He hoped talking about them all as if they were on the same team would make them feel better.

“Do you know for sure that they got this message?” Svetlana asked him.

“No,” Sam said, deciding that being truthful was better than giving them hope and then disappointing them if Six hadn’t received his email. “But I think they did. And that means they’ll be coming.”

Murmurs passed through the room, and he saw several faces light up with relief. He was winning them over.

“Let’s start by figuring out what we’ve got to work with,” he said. “Svetlana, what do you do?”

Svetlana’s mouth quirked in a cocky grin. “I make bombs out of things,” she said.

“Useful,” Sam said. “Great. And you?” he asked, pointing at a boy.

The boy disappeared, then came back. “Invisibility,” he said.

Sam continued around the room, asking each person what their Legacy was and making mental notes about how each could be used in a battle. When he was done taking inventory, he turned to Seamus. “What about the other side?” he said. “What Legacies are we up against?”

Seamus thought for a moment. “Gawain manipulates electricity,” he said, thinking.

“Parvati duplicates objects,” said Svetlana.

“Scotty teleports,” Alice said.

“Him I’ve met,” said Sam.

Seamus and the others listed another nine or ten kids and their Legacies. By the time they were done, Sam had a pretty good picture of the fight they were in for.

“The real danger is the guys without Legacies, though,” Seamus said. “They’ll kill us without even thinking about it. To them, we’re freaks. Not even human.”

Sam thought about the pair who had hunted Nemo, Rena and the others. The ones who had killed James Kirk. They had acted as if the kids were animals, trophies that they could kill for sport. What kind of people did something like that? Were the men (he had seen no women on the boat other than the girls with Legacies) working for Dennings the same? Or did they just do what they were told as long as they were paid?

Either way, they were the enemy, and Sam had learned the hard way that you usually didn’t have time to try to change someone’s mind when their primary interest was bringing you down. He wondered if these kids understood that.

He motioned to Seamus and Svetlana. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

The three of them stepped away from the group.

“Dennings has been making you guys fight each other, right?”

Svetlana’s face hardened, and she nodded curtly.

“Are the people in this room the ones who usually won, or the ones who usually lost?” Sam asked.

“I always won,” Svetlana said. She hesitated. “The others . . .” She shrugged.

“The others—the ones still siding with Dennings—aren’t the nicest kids,” Seamus said.

“Cowards,” Svetlana said sharply. “Cheaters. They think he will make them rich. He promises them the world. But he lies.”

“The kids here, they want to get out,” Seamus said. “They’ll fight.”

Sam nodded. “I’m sure they will,” he said. “But Dennings and his crew will fight dirty. We need to be ready for that. You two are the ones who got everyone together, right?”

Seamus shrugged, while Svetlana nodded. For a moment, Sam felt as if he was looking at younger versions of himself and Six, and he wondered again if Six was okay. But he had to push the thought away and concentrate on what lay ahead.

“I need you two to be the generals here,” he said. “The rest are going to follow your leads. And I need you to follow my lead. Okay?”

Seamus and Svetlana exchanged a look, came to an unspoken agreement and nodded.

“Good,” said Sam. “Now, let’s talk about logistics. This is a big ship. We need to figure out what our endgame is and how we’re going to achieve it. At the moment, we can’t get off this ship. That means we either need to take out Dennings and his side or contain them.”

“I thought you said help was coming,” Svetlana reminded him.

“It is,” Sam said. “They are. But until they get here, we have to act as if we’re on our own. So, what’s the situation?”

“This lower deck is a series of interconnected rooms,” Seamus said. They all lead into and out of each other. There are six sets of stairs going up to the next deck—two in the engine room, then two more at each end of the ship. If we secure the doors at the top of those stairs, nobody can come down.”

“Or go up,” Svetlana said.

“We’ve already been through this,” Seamus said. “It’s the most effective way to—”

Svetlana cut him off. “To trap us inside.” She turned to Sam. “Please explain to bug boy here that sealing ourselves inside this giant tin can is not the best idea.”

“She’s right,” Sam said.

Svetlana shot Seamus a smug look.

“But narrowing the potential field of battle is a good tactic when we’re outnumbered,” he continued. “What I suggest is sealing off one end of the ship. That forces them to come at us from one direction. It also allows us an escape route if we need one. We should also have some people on the upper decks. What’s the name of the guy who goes invisible?”

“Walter,” Seamus said.

“He’s an obvious pick,” said Sam. “And who is the best at offensive attacks?”

Seamus cocked his head at Svetlana. “She is,” he said. “She can turn almost anything into a bomb.”

“Okay,” Sam said. “Then Svetlana, Walter and I go topside. The rest of you will stay down here. We need to seal those doors any way we can.”

“Alice can manipulate fire,” Seamus said. “She can weld them shut.”

“Good thinking,” said Sam. “You’re in charge of making that happen. Svetlana, you get Walter and come with me.”

Svetlana left, walking towards Walter. Seamus stayed by Sam. “What if something happens to you?” he asked.

“It won’t,” said Sam. “But if it does, you and Svetlana keep everyone safe until help gets here.”

A worried look passed over Seamus’s face but quickly disappeared. Then he said, “You mentioned my father before.”

“He’s who I’m working with,” Sam said. “I recognized you from the picture on his desk.”

“Is he coming?”

“I don’t know,” Sam answered. “He could be. I know he’s been looking hard for you and can’t wait to see you.”

Seamus turned away, staring at the group of kids behind them. Sam sensed that there was something he wanted to say.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said, trying to reassure the boy.

Seamus looked back at him. “How well do you know my father?”

“Not very,” Sam admitted. “We’ve only been working with him for a little while. But he seems like a great guy.”

“There’s something you need to know about him,” Seamus said.

Before he could continue, the sound of shots being fired echoed from somewhere on the ship. A moment later, a girl appeared in the room as if she had walked right through the wall. She was holding a hand over her upper arm, and blood was on her fingers.

“Ghost!” Sam exclaimed.

Ghost looked at him. “They’re coming,” she said.

CHAPTER FIVE

SIX

SOMEWHERE AROUND GUADALUPE ISLAND, MEXICO

AS THE ZODIAC SKIMMED OVER THE OCEAN, SIX looked up at the sky. Clouds covered the moon and obscured the stars. She had no idea how Stubby knew which direction to go in, but he piloted the inflatable without hesitation. To the starboard side, the outline of the island of Guadalupe was a solid patch of black against the clouds, dotted with occasional twinkles of light. The air was warm, and inside her wet suit Six was sweating.

Beside her, Nemo sat quietly. Six looked over at her. “You okay?”

Nemo nodded. “My stomach is a little queasy,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

The Zodiac rounded the northernmost point of the island, and farther out to sea, Six saw more lights.

“There she is,” Stubby shouted over the noise of the motor. He steered the inflatable in a direct line to intercept the ship.

As the lights grew closer, Six’s desire to be on board grew stronger. Sam was on that boat. At least, she hoped he was. And whoever else is there had better pray that he’s all right, she thought.

Not long after, Stubby cut the motor. The Zodiac floated on the ocean, rising and falling with the swells. The ship was now visible as a huge shadow against the sky. Lights filled some of the windows and highlighted parts of the decks, but the ship itself was eerily silent.

“I don’t want to bring her any closer than this,” Stubby told them. He was looking through binoculars. “I don’t see any guards, but you never know. And the sound could give us away.”

“Isn’t it strange that there’s nobody on deck?” Six asked.

“Yes,” Stubby said. “Then again, maybe they’re all below, watching one of those fights they put on.”

Or maybe something is wrong, Six thought. Because she didn’t want to worry Nemo, she kept that to herself, but she looked over at Nine and caught his eye. He nodded, indicating he understood her concern and shared it.

“All right,” Nine said. “Here’s the plan. Compass reading on the ship is seventy-four degrees, so set your wrist gauge for that. They’re illuminated, but the light isn’t enough for anyone to see through the water. Keep your directional arrow between the notched marks on the dial, and you’ll be fine. Once we reach the ship, we’ll use what I’ve got in my bag to scale the side.” He pointed to Nemo. “If anything happens to me and Six, or if we tell you to, you get yourself over the side and back here. Got it?”

“Got it,” Nemo said.

As Six and Nine slid into their scuba gear, Nemo donned a weight belt and put on her fins. When they were all suited up, they slipped over the side of the Zodiac and bobbed in the water.

“McKenna is on his way to Ensenada,” Nine reminded Stubby. “He’s arranged for backup there and will contact your ship as soon as he arrives. He knows we can’t wait for him to get here, so he’ll be the cleanup crew if necessary. We need to get Sam out of there before Bray decides to cut him open.”

“I’ll be waiting right here for you when you need a ride home,” Stubby said. “Good luck.”

Nine turned to Six and Nemo. “We’ll descend to thirty feet,” he said. “Go nice and slow.”

“You just worry about keeping the sharks away,” Six said, raising her inflator hose and letting the air out of her BC, the inflatable vest that was keeping her afloat.

She sank beneath the surface. With her only light the faint glow coming from her dive computer, it was almost totally dark. She looked for Nine’s and Nemo’s lights, found them, and concentrated on clearing her ears as they sank together into the ocean. When they were at thirty feet, she added some air to her BC so that she stopped sinking and hovered in the water, kicking her fins gently as she made her body horizontal.

She looked at her compass, oriented herself, and started swimming towards the ship. Nemo was between her and Nine. As they moved silently through the water, Six saw shadows—big ones—pass below them. Then they sank out of sight. Great whites. Had Nine called them, or had he sent them away? She felt oddly strengthened by their presence, as if the sharks were escorting them to the ship.

For a long time, there was nothing ahead of them but night. Then a dark spot appeared in the gloom, and Six realized that they had reached the ship. They swam some more, and the hull appeared in front of them, a solid wall of steel. When they were close enough to touch it, Nine gave them the signal to ascend to the surface. They went slowly, adjusting to the change in pressure, and a few minutes later were once again on the surface. This time, they floated next to the massive ship. They were at the aft end.

As they floated, they heard noises coming from inside the ship, muffled bangs and cracks.

“That doesn’t sound normal,” Six said.

“No, it doesn’t,” said Nine as he opened the sack he had brought with him. “We’d better hurry.”

He handed Six and Nemo four objects each. Two of them looked like clogs that had been cut short, so that they covered just the toes of the foot. The other two were circular, with one flat side and a pocket on the reverse side that they could slip their hand into.

“Take off your fins and slip the ends of your feet into these,” Nine said, showing them how to put the shoe-like devices over their dive boots. “The tips have heavy-duty magnets in them. Then put your hands inside the other two.”

Six and Nemo followed his example, handing him their fins, which he put into the bag.

“Now, you basically climb up the side like a spider,” Nine said.

“What about our tanks and BCs?” Six asked.

“And my weight belt?” Nemo added.

“We’ll leave them here, tethered to another magnetic clip,” Nine said. “Whether they’ll be here when we come back, or if we can get to them, is another matter. But this is where they’ll be. Oh, and one more thing.” He reached out and placed his palm on Nemo’s forehead.

“What the hell?” Nemo exclaimed. “Your hand is hot.”

Nine pulled his hand away, and Nemo rubbed her forehead. “What did you do?”

“Transferred one of my Legacies to you,” Nine said. “Now you can talk to animals.”

“Why’d you do that?”

“In case you have to go into the water without me,” said Nine. “But don’t get too excited. It’s not permanent.”

“What if I have to go into the water without you?” Six asked.

“You’re still out of order, remember?” Nine said. “So just swim fast. You guys ready?”

The girls slipped out of their gear. Then they began climbing.

“The trick is to not look down,” Nine said as they slowly made their way up the side of the ship.

It took about ten minutes to reach the top. There, they pulled themselves over a railing and found themselves on an empty deck. They hid the climbing equipment behind a barrel, then looked around.

“Where is everybody?” Nemo said. “I thought this place would be crawling with people.”

“Something isn’t right,” said Six. “What were the noises we heard on the way up here? They sounded like explosions.”

In answer to her question, the lights that lined the wall beside them flickered on, grew incredibly bright, then shattered, showering the deck with glass while plunging it back into darkness. At the same time, another explosion was heard, and a door at the far end of the ship flew open. Several men ran out, scattering across the deck as smoke billowed out behind them. There was yelling, then the sound of gunfire from inside. Next, a glowing orb came flying out of the doorway. It hit the deck and rolled. The men shouted in Spanish and ran, coming towards Nine, Six and Nemo.

“Go,” Nine said to Six. “I’ll deal with this and catch up with you. See if you can figure out what’s happening.”

Six turned and darted away from the chaos, calling for Nemo to come with her. The two of them ran the length of the ship. The lights all along their way had broken, and it was difficult to see anything in the dark. When they came to a door, Six pulled on the handle, but it was stuck fast. She moved on. Behind them, more explosions shook the night.

They rounded a corner, and Six collided with a boy who was standing there. He went sprawling onto the deck with a shout. A girl standing nearby leaned down and helped him up. The boy faced Six and Nemo and held out his hands. Sparks flew between them.

“Who are you?” the boy said.

“You don’t know who she is, Gawain?” said the girl.

The boy looked more closely at Six. A grin spread across his face. “Oh yeah,” he said. “I do. This is great.” He lifted his hands, and the sparks formed a ball of crackling electricity.

The girl beside him put her hand on his arm. “No, you idiot,” she said. “They’re here to help.”

Gawain frowned and looked at the girl. “Help?” he said. “But they’re with—”

“Sam,” the girl said. “They’re with Sam.” She looked at Six. “Right? You’re here to rescue Sam?”

“That’s the plan,” Six said. “Who are you?”

“I’m Parvati,” the girl said. “This is Gawain. You need to come with us.”

Shouts came from the other direction, and Six turned around. “What’s going on here?” she said.

“Some of us decided to fight back,” Parvati told her. “Parts of the ship are blocked off. We were hoping help would come. It looks like it did. But we really need to get out of here.”

“We should wait for Nine,” Nemo said to Six.

“There’s no time,” Parvati insisted. “If we don’t go now, we might not be able to get back to the others.”

“Nine will be all right,” Six said to Nemo. “Come on.”

Parvati and Gawain turned and ran for an open doorway. Six and Nemo followed. They went through and down a flight of stairs to the lower deck.

“Sam will be so happy to see you,” Parvati said.

“Is he all right?” Six asked.

“He’s fine,” Gawain said. “Never better. He’s right up here.”

Reaching the next level, they walked quickly down a corridor to another door. Parvati pulled it open as Gawain stepped inside. Six and Nemo followed, and Parvati came in behind them, shutting the door.

They were in a room containing a table covered in what looked like schematics of the ship. Big red Xs appeared at various locations. Several men were standing around the table, talking loudly. Hearing the door shut, they looked up. One of them turned around.

“Well, well, well,” said Jagger Dennings. “Look who’s here.”

Six whirled around, reaching for the door, but Gawain sent her flying with a blast of electricity from his hands. Six hit the wall, and the breath was knocked out of her. She sank to her knees.

“Don’t try to be a hero,” Gawain said to Nemo, who stood still and looked at Six.

“We found them on top,” Parvati told Dennings. “I told them we were bringing them to Sam.”

Dennings laughed. “Good thinking.”

“She says Nine is here, too,” Gawain said.

Dennings looked at Nemo. “Did you bring anyone else along with you?”

“There are more coming,” Nemo said. “A lot more.”

“Thanks for the information,” Dennings said. He turned his attention to Six, who had yet to stand up. “Since you haven’t tried to kill me yet, I’m guessing your Legacies still haven’t come back. Drac may be nuts, but it looks like that black-goo stuff does the trick. Good to know.”

There was a second door in the room, and Dennings walked towards it. “Bring them along,” he said to the men.

“What about the traitors?” Parvati asked.

“We’re working on that,” Dennings replied. “Right now, I have a bigger problem.”

Two of the men hauled Six to her feet. Another took Nemo by the arm and pulled her roughly towards the door.

Six resisted the impulse to fight. Even without her Legacies, she knew she could do some damage to the men holding her. But there were too many of them, and eventually they’d subdue her. She was also worried about what they would do to Nemo. If the situation got worse, she would risk it. Besides, Nine was still out there, and he would come. Also, she hoped that maybe they really were taking her to Sam.

They were not.

Passing into the next room, she was herded down another flight of steps, this one leading to a large, windowless room that was clearly below water level. It was outfitted as a hospital room and laboratory, with a few operating tables and cabinets filled with instruments. Several long metal tables were covered with all kinds of equipment.

Storming around the room, yelling at the three other men standing there, was Bray. The men looked anxious. He looked furious.

“I don’t care if they’re kids!” he shouted. “Blow their goddamn heads off. Better yet, get Scotty down here. He can transport us out of here and then we’ll sink the ship. Let them all drown.”

“Mr. Bray,” Dennings said.

“What?” the man bellowed, spinning around.

When he saw Six standing there, a smile cracked his face. His eyes got big, and he clapped his hands like a little kid seeing the bike he’d asked for under the tree on Christmas morning. He giggled—he actually giggled. Then he ran over and stopped right in front of Six.

“I knew she would come.” He laughed again. “I knew it!”

“I didn’t like the idea of you having fun without me,” Six said coolly.

“Oh, we are having fun,” Bray said. “We’re having so much fun. Aren’t we, Dennings?”

“Sure, boss. Tons of fun.”

Six heard worry in his voice. Something was obviously wrong with Bray. Anyone could see that. And whatever it was, it had Dennings scared.

Bray continued to stare at Six. Suddenly, one eye began to twitch. His face reddened, and his mouth contorted in a grimace. He let out a wail of pain and grabbed his head with his hands.

“Get him on the table!” Dennings shouted.

Two of the men rushed towards Bray, but he snarled at them and held out his hands, bent with the palms up. A look of concentration appeared on his face, and he groaned as he tried to push the men away.

“What’s he doing?” Nemo asked Six.

“It’s working,” Bray said, looking at the men who cowered in fear a few feet away from him. “It’s working.”

“He thinks he’s using a Legacy,” Six said.

“Shut up,” Dennings snapped.

“He’s crazy,” said Six, ignoring him. “Whatever Drac did to him, it’s getting worse.”

“I said, shut up!” Dennings yelled.

Bray looked at them. He pointed a finger at Six. “I need what’s in her head,” he said. “Get Cutter.”

“Cutter’s trying to round up—”

“Get him!” Bray screeched.

Dennings turned to the men holding Six and Nemo. “Get her strapped to a table,” he said, pointing at Six. “And put that one somewhere she can’t get out. We’ll deal with her when this is over. Then go find Cutter and tell him to get down here now.”

The men holding Nemo turned her around and headed back towards the door they had entered through. Nemo struggled. “Let me go!” she said, kicking at them and trying to yank her arms from their grasp. But they were too strong. She turned and looked anxiously at Six. Why wasn’t she doing anything? Nemo didn’t understand.

The men hauled her out of the room, then down another corridor. Nemo halfheartedly resisted, but she knew she couldn’t overpower them. Still, she wasn’t going to make it easy for them. She swore up a storm and made them drag her.

One of the men turned and said something to her in Spanish. A second later, his head jerked back and he fell to the floor. The other man glared at Nemo and shouted something.

“Don’t look at me,” she said. “I didn’t do it.”

She felt something brush against her. Then the second man fell. A moment later, a boy popped into view. He was holding a heavy wrench, which he now dropped on the floor.

“Come on,” he said. “We’re getting out of here.”

“Uh-uh,” Nemo said. “That didn’t work out so well the last time someone said that.”

“You got a better idea?” the boy asked her.

“I’m going to help Six,” said Nemo.

“Not alone you’re not,” the boy said. “We need help. We need Nine.”

“You know where Nine is?”

“Who do you think sent me to follow you?”

Nemo looked at the men knocked out cold on the passageway floor. The boy had rescued her. Still, she was unsure.

“I’m Walter,” he said. “I’m one of the good guys. Sam is with us. Now can we get out of here before Tweedledumb and Tweedledumber come to? We’ve got more bad-guy ass to kick, and time’s running out.”

Nemo nodded. “Take me to Nine and Sam.”

Walter reached out and grabbed her hand. “It’s easier this way,” he said as they both turned invisible.

Together they returned to the top deck. When they got there, they found themselves in the middle of a war.

CHAPTER SIX

SAM

SOMEWHERE AROUND GUADALUPE ISLAND, MEXICO

SVETLANA WAS VERY GOOD AT MAKING BOMBS.

As Sam watched, she reached into the canvas bag slung over her shoulder and pulled out a can of beans. Holding it in her hand, she concentrated on it until it started to glow. Then she tossed it in the direction of the men on deck. It exploded, sending them scattering.

“Why beans?” Sam asked her.

“It’s what was in the pantry,” Svetlana said as she powered up another can. “Also, hot beans hurt.”

The two of them advanced down the deck. Without his Legacies, Sam was most useful as a second pair of eyes. Also, he had taken a gun from one of the men Svetlana’s bombs had put out of commission, and he was ready to use it. The explosions had started several fires, and smoke billowed across the deck. And one of the kids fighting against them had blown out all the lights, which made things more difficult.

He hoped Seamus and the others were successfully fending off anyone trying to take control below. He had seen no sign of Dennings, which worried him. The man should have been leading the charge against the dissenters. That Dennings wasn’t suggested that he had more important things to do, and that could only be bad news. Whatever was happening with Bray had already thrown the ship’s crew into a state of panic. Sam could only imagine what was going on, and what he imagined worried him.

And then there was Six. Nine’s appearance on the ship had surprised him. Learning that Six was alive and was there too had given him hope. But she hadn’t appeared yet. Nine had gone to look for her. Sam wished he was the one who had gone, but Nine still had his Legacies and was better equipped to deal with whatever might happen. And so all he could do was wait and hope.

Someone appeared beside him, startling him.

“Sorry,” said Ghost. “There’s no way to warn people when I show up.”

“We should tie a bell on you or something,” Sam suggested. “Like a cat.” He pointed to her arm, which was now bandaged up. “Are you okay?”

Ghost nodded. “It was just a cut. I’m fine.”

“What’s happening down there?”

“The sealed doors are still holding,” Ghost said. “For now. But I don’t know how much longer. They’re trying to burn through them. We’ve got this guy who manipulates hot and cold, and he’s been freezing them out. But he’s getting tired.”

“Anyone hurt?”

“Nothing serious.”

Ghost’s voice was quiet but filled with anger. Sam could tell that she was a changed girl from when he’d briefly met her in New Orleans. In the short time she’d been with Dennings, something had happened. Not only was her ability to control her Legacy improved, her entire demeanor was more aggressive, less hesitant. Even her look had changed. She was wearing jeans, a black T-shirt and black combat-type boots.

“I didn’t get to ask you before,” Sam said. “Is Edwige here?”

Ghost shook her head. “They have her somewhere else. I’m not sure where, exactly. They’ve got places all over. They move those with the most important Legacies around. Healers especially.”

Sam’s stomach sank. Bray’s operation was like Hydra, the mythical beast that grew two heads for every one that was cut off. Who knew how many hideouts he had, how many cabins and training facilities. There could be dozens, each with kids being used for their powers.

It made him angry all over again, and more determined than ever to find and stop Dennings once and for all.

“Svetlana!” he called. “Let’s go back downstairs. We can do more good there.”

Svetlana nodded, and Sam was about to turn and head back to assist Seamus and the others when two people came running towards them through the smoke. Sam raised his weapon, preparing to fire, then recognized them and lowered his gun. “Walter! Nemo!”

“Sam!” Nemo ran to him and, to his surprise, threw her arms around him. Then she saw who was beside him. “Ghost! You’re okay.”

She grabbed her friend, who hugged her back but, Sam noticed, didn’t respond as enthusiastically to seeing Nemo. But Nemo hadn’t picked up on it. “They’ve got Six,” she said. “We have to go get her. Do you have your Legacies back?”

Sam shook his head. “Not yet,” he said.

“Where’s Nine?” Nemo asked. “Isn’t he with you?”

“He was,” Sam said. “He went to look for you and Six. You didn’t see him?”

“No,” Nemo said. “We ran into Dennings. He still has her. That crazy guy from the cabin is there, too. The one who shot Yo-Yo.”

“Bray,” Sam said. He wondered what had happened to Nine but didn’t say anything.

“They want to do something to Six,” she continued. “An operation, I think.”

“We have to get to her,” Sam said. “Now. Take me to her.”

“I don’t think we can get back that way,” Nemo said. “They’ll have found the guys Walter knocked out. They’re probably coming after us.”

“I can get you in,” Ghost said.

Sam looked at her.

“I’ve gotten better,” Ghost said. “A lot better. I just need to know where they are.”

“The operating room,” Walter said. “You know where that is.”

Ghost nodded grimly, as if she was remembering something she would rather not. She reached for Sam’s hand.

“Wait a second,” he said. “I don’t have my Legacies. We need someone else.”

“I can only take one,” Ghost said. “I haven’t done more than that without . . . problems.”

Sam thought quickly. Should he send Svetlana? She would obviously be able to defend herself. But she was also hot tempered and might do something to make things worse. He wished Nine was there. But he wasn’t. Despite not having his Legacies, he knew he was still the best choice. Besides, it was Six. If anyone was going to help her, it was him.

“Let’s go,” he said. “But once we’re there, you get Six out. Don’t worry about me. She’s the priority. Got it?”

Ghost nodded. She reached out her hand again. Sam took it.

A moment later, he was standing in the small cabin he had been placed in when he first arrived on the ship. He looked at Ghost. “This isn’t the operating room,” he said as the cabin door swung open and Dennings walked in. Instinctively, Sam prepared to fight him, but Dennings spun him around and had his hands cuffed before he could even respond.

“Ghost!” Sam said. “Get out of here. Find Nine.”

Dennings laughed. “Yes, Ghost,” he said. “Find Nine. That would save me the trouble of having to track him down.”

Sam looked at Ghost. Her eyes were hard.

“You left me,” she said, her voice shaking. “You all left me.”

“We didn’t leave you,” Sam said. “They took you. You and Edwige.”

Ghost shook her head. “You could have helped. None of you did.”

Dennings looked at Sam and grinned triumphantly. “You really did just leave her there,” he said, shaking his head as if he was disappointed.

“You’re the one who shot her!” exclaimed Sam.

“Accident,” Dennings said. “Besides, I fixed her up good as new. Better, even. Right, Ghost?”

She nodded. “Better,” Ghost said. She looked at Sam. “Much better.”

“What did you do to her?” said Sam.

Dennings put his hand on Ghost’s shoulder. “Taught her how to use her Legacy,” he said. “When she came here, she could barely teleport herself from one side of a wall to the other. Now, thanks to Scotty and me, she can go from here to the other side of the world, and take you with her. You might even get there in one piece.”

“I told you, that wasn’t my fault,” Ghost snapped.

“Relax,” said Dennings. “I’m just teasing.”

Sam looked at Ghost’s face. Now the changes he’d felt in her made sense. Believing that her friends had left her to die had warped her thinking. And Dennings had obviously encouraged her to believe this was true. Combined with helping her to strengthen her Legacy, it had made Ghost believe she could trust him.

“Listen,” Dennings said. “I’d love to stay and talk about this some more. It’s fascinating stuff, really it is. But I’ve got a mutiny to get under control.” He addressed Ghost. “You got our guys inside that engine room, right?”

Ghost nodded.

“Good girl,” Dennings said. “Well, go see if you can help Gawain and Parvati find Nine. I’ve got some things to do here.”

Ghost gave Sam a last, withering glance, then winked out of sight.

“She’s tough, that one,” Dennings said. “You really shouldn’t have left her there.”

“We didn’t—”

“I’m kidding,” Dennings said, taking him by the shoulder and pushing him out of the room. “Jeez. Can’t you take a joke?”

As Dennings herded Sam down the corridor, he whistled happily.

“You’re pretty pleased with yourself,” Sam observed.

“Yeah, well, it’s turning out to be a good day,” said Dennings. “First Six. Now you. Once we find Nine that’s, like, a third of the original gang. Well, you’re not one of the Loric, but you get it. I have to say, it’s hard to believe you guys defeated the entire Mog army.”

“We had all our Legacies,” Sam said. “And we’ve kicked your ass, what, three times so far? I wouldn’t be so confident if I were you.”

Dennings pushed him, making him stumble. “Keep it up,” he said. “We’ll see how cocky you are when you’re on the table next to your girlfriend, having your heads drilled into.”

“Tell me something,” Sam said. “Have you let Drac inject you with his magic potion?”

“Me?” Dennings said. “Nah. I’m not one of his guinea pigs.”

“Why not? Seems like getting superpowers would be right up your alley.”

“I’m good,” Dennings said.

“You know it messes up their brains,” said Sam. “You’ve seen it. You know what it’s doing to Bray. It changes people. Makes them a little bit crazy, maybe.”

“Maybe they were crazy to start with,” said Dennings. “Anyway, you talk too much. How about you shut up for a while.”

Sam could tell he had touched a nerve. Dennings knew that Drac’s serum wasn’t everything they wanted it to be. From what he’d seen of Bray, the man was definitely being affected by it. Whatever it was doing to him, it was obviously dangerous.

Not that that would stop people from taking it. Sam was pretty sure they probably already had buyers lined up, people who wanted power and would pay any cost to get it. Even if they were warned, it probably wouldn’t keep them from trying to get the Legacies they craved. And once they were hooked, they would come back for more, making Bray wealthy beyond imagination.

He had more that he wanted to say to Dennings. At first he held back, not wanting to anger him. Then he decided he didn’t care. If Dennings was marching him to his death, he might as well go out fighting, or at least getting in a few shots.

“Don’t you get tired of being Bray’s errand boy?” he said.

“I thought I told you to shut up.”

“Really, I want to know,” Sam continued. “I looked you up after our first run-in. You were a big deal.”

“King of the Mountain at World Wrestling Summit three years running,” Dennings said.

“Right,” said Sam. “So, how do you go from having endorsements and fans and million-dollar paychecks to doing the dirty work for a scumbag like Bray?”

“Things happen,” Dennings said. “And he pays good.”

“But you could be the boss,” Sam said. “Run the whole thing. Especially if you had a Legacy of your own.”

Dennings brought him up short and spun him around. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do here,” he said. “You’re not buying your way out by promising to turn me into Batman.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of Solomon Grundy,” Sam said. “But whatever. And I’m not trying to bribe you. I’d just like to know how someone goes from being King of the Mountain to Cleanup on Aisle Four.”

Dennings shoved him against the wall. “What about you?” he said. “Who the hell were you before you won the lottery? I’m guessing a scrawny little nerd who got pushed around by the jocks. Bet you couldn’t get a girl to look at you to save your life. You think that girl—Six—would look at you twice if you couldn’t do what you do.”

“Actually,” Sam said, “she liked me before all that happened.”

“Sure,” Dennings snapped. “She saw what a great guy you are inside, right? How much you care. How you’re different from all the other guys who want to get with her.”

“Personally, I think it’s more his boyish good looks and the fact that he isn’t a sociopath.”

Dennings whirled around, and Nine punched him in the face. He flew backwards, landing on his ass and continuing to slide. Before he could even think about getting up, Nine was on top of him, pummeling him repeatedly as Dennings tried to protect himself. Nine hit him once more, and the big man was out cold. Nine got up and walked back to Sam.

“And that’s with one hand,” he said. “Guess that makes me King of the Mountain now. Do I get a crown or anything? Maybe a throne?”

“It took you long enough to get here,” Sam said. “I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stall him. Where were you?”

“Beating up ten or twelve henchmen,” Nine said. “Turn around.”

Sam put his back towards Nine, who inserted a key he’d swiped from Dennings’s pocket into the lock. The cuffs opened, and Sam pulled them from his wrists. “Ghost has gone over to the dark side,” he said.

“A minor inconvenience,” Nine said. “Help me pull the former king into his cell.”

Together, they lugged Dennings into the cabin Sam had been occupying. Once he was locked in, they walked back down the corridor.

“Now, let’s go get Six and get the hell out of here,” Nine said.

“What about the rest of Dennings’s crew?” Sam said.

“They’re McKenna’s problem,” Nine said shortly. “I knocked them out and locked them up. He can figure out what to do with them. Unless they freeze first.”

“Freeze?”

“I put them in a meat locker,” Nine said. “The thing’s huge.”

“And the other Garde? We’re not just leaving them here.”

Nine sighed. “No, I guess not.” He snorted. “I’ll have to order more HGA sweatshirts.”

“I’m serious,” Sam said. “What’s the plan for them? Especially the ones like Ghost who Dennings has brainwashed or done worse to?”

“I haven’t thought that far ahead,” said Nine. “I’m sort of at the making-sure-they-don’t-cut-off-Six’s-head stage of the plan right now. Which, if we keep talking, might happen before we can get to her. So can we table the whole what-will-we-do-with-the-kids thing for now?”

“Yeah. No. You’re right,” Sam said. “Ghost said Six is in the operating room.”

“Excellent,” said Nine. “You know where it is?”

“Downstairs,” said Sam. “I think.”

“You think?”

“I haven’t been here a whole lot longer than you have,” said Sam. “I didn’t get the full tour. But that’s where they were taking me.”

“Downstairs it is,” said Nine. “I don’t suppose the black-goo ooze stuff has worn off?”

Sam tried to use his telekinesis. “Not yet.”

“Mmm,” Nine said. “Well, here. It’s primitive, but it’s better than nothing.” He handed Sam a pistol. “I got it from one of the meat-locker guys. They had a lot of them. I gave the rest to Seamus and his bunch.”

“You gave guns to the kids?”

“Does that make me an irresponsible adult? Cuz I couldn’t care less. Anyway, they’re dangerous enough on their own. The guns are just in case.”

“In case of what?”

“I think we’re getting close,” Nine said as they descended some stairs. “I hear shouting. Down there.” He pointed to the floor.

Sam strained to hear. Through the steel beneath their feet there was the sound of someone yelling. They followed it, moving along another long corridor until they came to one more set of stairs, which ended in a closed door.

“Think it’s unlocked?” Nine asked as he descended the stairs. “Or should we knock? Oh, what fun would that be?”

He kicked the door open.

“Sorry we’re late,” he said as he walked into the room. “Sam had to stop to pee.”

Sam, following Nine inside, pointed the gun in front of him. He expected to be met by immediate attack, but none came. The people in the room—Bray and Cutter—stared at them in confusion. On an operating table, Six lay with her wrists and ankles bound.

“This again?” asked Nine. “Sam, untie her. You two, get on the floor. That’s where I’m putting you if you try anything, so we might as well save some time.”

Cutter, holding a syringe, set it down on a table and got to his knees. Bray, however, began sputtering. He held out his hands, pointing his palms at Nine. His face contorted in concentration.

“What are you doing?” said Nine. He looked at Cutter. “What is he doing?”

“Why isn’t it working?” Bray shouted. Once more he pushed his palms towards Nine.

“Are . . . are you trying to use telekinesis?” asked Nine.

Sam, who was untying Six, freed her wrists, then started on her ankles.

“He thinks he has a Legacy,” Six said.

“Oh,” Nine said. He pointed at Bray. “Maybe you should try harder.”

Bray grunted. His face was beet red with exertion.

“Careful,” Nine taunted. “You don’t want to overdo it.”

Six, who was now free, strode towards the man. “Playtime is over,” she said. “It’s time to—”

Before she could complete the thought, Ghost appeared. She took Bray’s hand, gave Six the finger and disappeared.

“Was that?” said Six.

“It was,” Sam said.

“But—”

“I’m getting tired of this shit,” said Nine. “Not that the Entity asked my opinion, but there are too many damn people getting teleportation as a Legacy.”

“Where do you think she took him?” Six asked.

“Don’t look at me,” Sam said as she was doing exactly that. “I don’t know.”

“I do,” said Cutter.

“What?” said Six.

“I said I do,” Cutter repeated. “I know where she took him.”

“Where?” Nine said.

Cutter shook his head. “Not until we make a deal.”

Six raised her hand back to strike him. Nine stopped her. “He can’t tell us anything if he’s dead.”

“I’m not going to kill him,” said Six.

Nine looked at Cutter. “Talk.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

NEMO

SOMEWHERE AROUND GUADALUPE ISLAND, MEXICO

“NEMO, COME ON.”

Nemo looked at Ghost. Her friend was beckoning to her, urging her to come up the stairs and join her on the deck. But something didn’t feel right.

“Where are Sam and Nine and Six?” she asked.

Ghost looked behind her, then back at Nemo. “I told you, they said to leave. It’s not safe here.”

“But we’ve got all Dennings’s guys,” said Nemo. “And most of the kids, too. There are only a few still out there. I’m going to help Seamus and Svetlana find them.”

“Stop arguing,” Ghost said. “Just come with me.” She held out her hand.

Nemo almost reached out and took it. In her head, warning bells started to go off.

“Enough of this,” said a man’s voice. Then Dennings appeared in the doorway. He jumped down the entire flight of stairs and caught Nemo by the collar. He hauled her back up on deck, kicking and screaming.

“Ghost!” Nemo shouted.

Dennings clamped his hand over her mouth. “Come on,” he said to Ghost. “They’re going to hear her.”

Ghost reached out to grab onto Dennings’s wrist. Nemo lifted her foot and stomped on the man’s instep as hard as she could. At the same time, she elbowed him in the stomach. He grunted in surprise, and his grip loosened. Nemo darted away.

“Sam!” she shouted. “Nine! Six! Help!”

Dennings lunged at her. She sidestepped him and ran. He chased her.

“Shut your goddamn mouth!” he yelled.

Nemo continued to cry for help, but no one came. She ran faster, staying barely one step ahead of the pursuing man, who moved much more quickly than his size would suggest he could. Nemo was quickly out of breath, and her cries for help faded to gasps as she looked around for an escape route. She found nothing.

They reached the bow of the ship. There was nowhere else to go. Nemo leaped up onto the small platform there. Behind her, invisible in the dark, was the ocean. She heard it gently lapping at the ship’s sides. She smelled its salty tang.

As she stood there, watching Dennings rush towards her, she wondered why Ghost hadn’t run, too. She hadn’t even seemed to be afraid of Dennings at all. And now Nemo saw her coming out of the darkness, calmly walking across the deck. Dennings stopped, barely out of breath, and waited for Ghost to catch up. She stood beside him.

“Now we’re going,” Dennings said.

“You shouldn’t have run, Nemo,” Ghost said.

“What, you’re on his side now?” Nemo asked her friend.

“I’m doing this for you,” Ghost said. “You can come with us, or you can stay here and die.”

“I’d rather die,” said Nemo.

“The ship is going to explode, Nemo,” Ghost said. “I’m not kidding. Bray rigged it in case something ever happened.”

Nemo looked at her. “That will kill all the kids left here,” she said.

Ghost shrugged. “They should have fought harder,” she said.

Nemo couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Was this really Ghost talking? The Ghost she knew wouldn’t let anyone get hurt if she could help it. But this Ghost was different.

“I’m only saving you because I owe you for helping me when I had nowhere to go,” Ghost said. “Now we’re even.”

“I don’t want to be even,” Nemo told her. “I want to be friends.”

Dennings made a noise of disgust. “Put it in a card,” he said. “We’re getting out of here.” He jumped onto the platform. Nemo backed up against the low railing that was the only thing standing between her and the ocean thirty feet below. Dennings reached for her. Nemo wrapped her fingers around his wrist.

She fell backwards, pulling at the same time. Dennings, caught off balance, came with her, stumbling over the railing with a shout. Together, they fell through the darkness. Nemo looked up at the sky, wondering if they would fall forever. Then she hit the water. She went under, the breath knocked out of her. The ocean closed over her head.

At first she panicked. Then she remembered—she didn’t need to breathe. She tried to calm herself. She had lost her hold on Dennings, but she could feel him somewhere nearby. The water was moving around her as he kicked for the surface and air.

Nemo kicked, too. Her head broke through the water, and she looked around. Not far away, Dennings was splashing and swearing. “I’ll find you!” he shouted. “And when I do, I’ll slice you open!” She saw him wave something in the air. Something long, pointed. A knife.

Above them, the ship rose into the night. Without the climbing gear, there was no way she was getting back on it.

“There you are,” Dennings said.

She heard splashing as he came for her. She dived, ducking under and swimming down. She could stay there for as long as she needed to, waiting for Dennings to give up. But if Ghost was right about the ship being rigged to explode, she might not have much time left to warn the people still on board. She had to do something. But she couldn’t go back up. Not with Dennings ready to gut her like a fish.

Something grabbed her ankle, stopping her downward movement. Twisting around, she saw Dennings looming over her. Instinctively, she kicked out with her free leg. Her foot connected with his face, and he jerked backwards. But still he hung on. His fingers dug into her painfully. At any moment, she expected to feel a knife plunge into her. She kicked again. And again. Hoping to knock the weapon out of Dennings’s hand.

All the while, they were sinking deeper, as if Nemo’s body was a lead weight pulling them down. Then Dennings had her with both hands. He was pulling himself along her body, grasping at her arms.

As she tried to fight him off, Nemo’s thoughts flashed back to what Nine had done on the deck of the ship. He’d transferred one of his Legacies to her. Could she really use it? She closed her eyes. Struggling in the darkness, she imagined herself calling out to the creatures swimming in the sea around her. Her mind filled with the image of sharks. Were they really there? Would they listen? Did she dare ask them to do what she wanted? What she needed.

Take him, she thought.

She opened her eyes. At first, she saw nothing but endless darkness and Dennings’s shadow. She kicked some more, wiggling her body, and for a moment she was free of him. But he grabbed her wrist, pulling her towards him. His face came close to hers, his mouth clamped shut, his cheeks puffed out. He was running out of air. He had to either kill her here or drag her to the surface with him. His free hand reached for her neck.

Then, out of the gloom, enormous shadows emerged. The great whites moved silently through the water, rising as they came closer. Nemo’s heart pounded in her chest as the creatures answered her call. There were two, then three. They passed within yards of her, and she felt the powerful strokes of their tails as the water swirled around her body.

Dennings sensed them, too. He looked around. When he turned back, his eyes were wide with terror. Then something pulled him backwards with great force. He was still holding on to her wrist, and Nemo’s body jerked as she was pulled with him. Then there was a second pull, and Dennings was gone. In the shadows, Nemo saw a thrashing of bodies, then a cloud of darkness formed, swirling in the water like ink. The sharks circled, twitched their tails, dived back down. They separated, swimming in different directions, each carrying something in its jaws.

Nemo hung in the water for another few minutes, not sure if what had happened was real or her imagination. The ocean surrounded her, cradling her, and she felt strangely safe in the enormous expanse of darkness. She extended her senses, felt life around her and knew that she was home.

Then everything came back: Ghost, a bomb, Dennings. Had she really told the sharks to kill him? Had that actually happened? Or had she imagined it all, and he was still up there, waiting for her? She pushed the thought away, at least for the moment. It was too horrible to think about. She focused on the more important thing: getting back to her friends and helping them.

She swam. When she reached the surface, she saw that she had drifted away from the ship, and was going farther away at a rapid pace. She was in a current. She kicked, trying to swim back towards the ship, but she was being pulled away more quickly than she could swim. The ship was growing smaller.

She started to panic, not only about being taken out to sea, but because every second she was away from the ship was potentially one second closer to the explosion Ghost had promised. And where was Ghost? Had she teleported out of there? Even if she was there, would she help?

Nemo kicked harder, knowing that it was useless. She gave up in frustration, floating, feeling the ocean tug her farther and farther away from Sam, Nine and Six. She waited to hear an explosion, to see the ship erupt in flames. Her heart ached, and she felt useless and helpless.

Call the sharks.

The thought came to her like a voice cutting through the dark.

Call the sharks.

The idea terrified and thrilled her. Would they come again? And what would they do? The idea of being so close to them was both exciting and chilling, especially after what she had witnessed them do. What she had asked them to do.

She closed her eyes and extended her thoughts. What should she say? Sharks were simple animals. They swam, fed and reproduced. Could they understand a call for help? She reduced her need to the most basic word she could think of.

Come.

Come.

Come.

She repeated the word silently, sending it out into the water.

As before, she felt the presence before she saw it. She was learning how to connect with the creatures she summoned, to join with them and communicate the way they did. The shark that came to her was a large one, a female. It was old, scarred. Nemo didn’t know how she knew this, but she did. The shark had swum in several oceans, covered tens of thousands of miles in her lifetime, never sleeping, always moving. She thought about nothing but survival.

The shark came up beside her. Her snout went under Nemo’s arm, and Nemo’s hand slid up the rough skin, her body inches from the crushing jaws that gave the animal its fearsome reputation. She imagined rows and rows of teeth, machinery designed for the ripping of meat and bone. Was this shark one of the three that had taken Dennings? Nemo tried not to think about it.

The shark moved, and Nemo’s body was lifted, becoming horizontal as the shark sank beneath her. Nemo took hold of the massive dorsal fin, the solid V of cartilage that cut through the water. There were notches on it, like scratches in the trunk of a tree. Nemo gripped it with both hands as the shark sped up. Her body lay atop the great white’s, and she felt its muscles move like the pistons of a train, side to side, propelling them through the ocean. Water streamed around and over them as the shark stayed barely submerged, carrying Nemo back to the ship.

When they got there, Nemo let go and slid off. The shark immediately dived, and Nemo felt its thoughts turn again to finding food. She thanked it for its help, knowing that the shark didn’t understand the concept. She knew, too, that should they encounter each other under other circumstances, the shark would not remember her as a friend. It would not remember her at all.

She had, without even thinking about it, directed the shark to take her to where Nine had attached their gear to a line. The line was still there, and Nemo hung on to it as she contemplated her next step. She had gotten back to the ship, but she was still not on it. And there was nothing in the gear that would help her.

She briefly wondered if there was any animal around that could somehow lift her onto the ship. But there wasn’t. Finally, she did the only thing she could think of. She shouted.

“Help!” she screamed. “Man overboard!”

She had no idea who might be around to hear her. She hoped it was somebody friendly and not one of the few people loyal to Dennings who hadn’t been captured. But she would take what she could get.

“Help!” she shouted again. “Anybody!”

To her immense relief, a light appeared above her. “Is someone down there?” a boy’s voice called.

“Yes!” Nemo yelled back.

The light disappeared, and Nemo felt herself start to freak out. But not long after, it returned. Then something fell into the water. Nemo reached for it and saw that it was a rope ladder. She started to climb.

She reached the top, exhausted and barely able to hang on. Hands grabbed her and pulled her over the railing, and she rolled onto the deck.

“How did you fall overboard?” asked Seamus, looking down at her.

“I didn’t fall,” Nemo said. “I jumped. It’s a long story. Right now, we need to get to Sam and the others. The ship is going to explode.”

Seamus wasted no time in pulling her to her feet. The two of them ran to the operating room, where Sam, Six and Nine were discussing what to do with the information they’d gotten from Cutter.

“What happened to you?” Nine asked when he saw Nemo.

“There’s a bomb,” Nemo said. “There might be a bomb. Ghost said there is.”

“A bomb?” said Sam.

Six looked at Cutter, who was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall. “Do you know about a bomb?”

“There’s a self-destruct mechanism built into the ship,” he said. “Bray is paranoid about someone getting their hands on anything he owns.”

“Where is it?” asked Nine.

“Engine room three,” said Cutter.

“Take us there. Now,” Nine ordered.

A few minutes later, they were standing at a small control panel, looking at a digital clock readout that was counting down.

“Less than five minutes,” Six said. “That’s not good.”

“There’s no way to evacuate this ship in that amount of time,” said Sam. “Even if we had somewhere to evacuate them to.”

“What about jumping overboard?” Nemo asked.

“We couldn’t get far enough away,” said Six.

“So, that’s it?” Nemo said. “We’re all going to die?”

“Not if we can disarm it,” Nine said. “Anyone have a screwdriver?”

Svetlana stepped forward and handed him one. “What?” she said when Nine looked at her quizzically. “I thought I might need to stab someone.”

Nine removed the screws securing the cover of the control panel. Inside, three red wires ran from the display and out of the box.

“I don’t suppose we can just cut them,” Nine said.

“You could,” Cutter said.

Six, who was peering at the wires, produced a knife and inserted the tip beneath the wires, lifting them up.

“Except that would set off the bombs,” Cutter said quickly.

Six pulled the knife away. “Bombs?” she said. “As in more than one?”

“There are explosives attached to the hull in two hundred different places,” Cutter explained. “Only one wire actually controls the detonation device. If you cut that one, it deactivates. If you cut either of the other two, the sequence begins immediately.”

“Which one do I cut?”

“I don’t know,” Cutter said.

“Don’t play games with me,” said Six. “Which one?”

“I don’t know,” Cutter repeated. “Bray told me about the bomb, but not how to defuse it. It’s his way of messing with people’s heads, reminding us that he’s in charge.”

Six put down the knife. “Any other ideas?” she asked as the timer counted down to four minutes.

“I have one,” Sam said.

Everyone looked at him.

“But you’re—” Nine began.

“I know,” said Sam abruptly. “I know. But sometimes Legacies emerge in stressful situations, right? Maybe something like that could happen to bring back mine.”

“Go on, Sam,” Six said. “Try.”

Nemo watched as Sam put his hands on the countdown clock. His face screwed up as he concentrated.

“Anything?” Nine said.

Six shushed him.

Nemo watched the numbers on the clock spinning backwards. Three minutes.

Sam groaned. He pulled his hands away, balling them into fists. “Damn it,” he muttered.

“Try again,” Six urged.

Sam took a deep breath and put his hands back on the clock. A look of surprise flashed over his face. “I got something!” he said.

Nobody said anything. Nemo looked at the others. They were all watching the clock. Two minutes and twenty seconds remained.

“It’s coming in bits and pieces,” Sam said. His voice was steady. “I’m getting a little more.”

Two minutes. Nemo felt her heart racing.

Sam’s eyes were closed, and his face was suddenly relaxed.

“Sam?” Six said.

Sam didn’t respond. But his lips were moving. “Almost. What? No. No!”

The clock suddenly jumped to thirty seconds remaining.

“You told it to hurry up?” Nine said.

Sam grimaced as if his head hurt. The numbers whizzed by. Twenty. Fifteen. Ten.

Nemo shut her eyes and waited for the sound of her death.

It didn’t come.

She opened her eyes. The clock had stopped at three seconds. She waited for it to finish counting down, but it didn’t change.

“You did it?” she said.

“No,” Sam said, sounding disappointed. “She did.”

Beside him, Svetlana was standing holding the knife that Six had set down. One of the wires in the box had been cut.

“We had a one-in-three chance. Someone had to try,” she said. “It was going to kaboom either way. Now can we please get off this stupid ship?”

CHAPTER EIGHT

SIX

POINT REYES, CA

“WONDERLAND?” SIX SAID.

“It’s the name of a mansion,” McKenna replied. “It was built in nineteen twenty-two by Harlin Pearsall, a famous silent film actor.”

It was twenty-four hours after the events on the ship. Six, Sam and McKenna were in Nine’s office. Nine was seeing to the processing and settling-in of fourteen of the kids rescued from Bray’s floating prison and brought back to California. Parents needed to be notified. Statements taken.

An additional twelve kids—the ones who had sided with Dennings—were in lockdown. They were a bigger problem. Most wouldn’t reveal their real names. A few had been identified through the DNA registry set up for those with Legacies, but the majority were kids who had slipped through the cracks and had never reported to the authorities in the first place. Figuring out who they were would take some time. Deciding what to do with them would take even longer.

That was Nine and Lexa’s problem. Bray was Six and Sam’s. Cutter had given them the name: Wonderland. In return, they had agreed not to introduce him to the sharks that had taken care of Dennings. Instead, he was sitting in a cell three doors down from Drac’s, worrying about what they would do to him. And that’s how they wanted it for now.

“And it’s in Argentina?” said Sam.

McKenna nodded.

“Why?” Six asked.

“Partly because of Prohibition,” McKenna explained. “It was illegal to make or sell alcohol in the United States at that time. That didn’t stop people from doing it, of course, especially in Hollywood. But Pearsall had a reputation as a clean-cut fellow. His nickname was America’s Son, because he always played good guys. In reality, he liked to party hard. He also had ties to organized crime. He built Wonderland as a place where he and his friends could go and live it up away from the prying eyes of the gossip magazines and the government. You could do that back then, before the internet made a private life impossible.”

“But why Argentina?” said Six. “Why not Mexico, or someplace closer?”

“The distance was part of the appeal,” McKenna said. “Also, South America was considered exotic. And it was cheap. He built Wonderland for well under a million dollars.”

“And Cutter says this is where Bray is hiding out?” said Sam. “It seems kind of, I don’t know, ostentatious for someone trying to keep a low profile.”

“Wonderland changed hands in nineteen thirty,” McKenna continued. “Pearsall likely owed the wrong people a great deal of money and gave it to them to save his neck. Whatever the reason, it was subsequently owned by a man named Thiago Godoy, better known by the nickname the Butcher of Tucumán due to his habit of cutting up his enemies and feeding them to his dogs.”

“Charming,” said Six.

“Indeed,” said McKenna. “He had a number of other bad habits, including being a big fan of Adolf Hitler. Following the war, Wonderland became a refuge for high-ranking Nazi officers escaping prosecution. There are also reports that a number of the scientists involved in the experiments conducted by the Nazis found their way there and continued their work.”

“Kind of like Drac,” Sam remarked, shaking his head. “Monsters.”

McKenna looked serious. “Well, that’s where it gets interesting,” he said. “Or, more accurately, disturbing.”

“You’re not going to tell us that Nazi scientists are running around down there, are you?” Six said.

“Not precisely,” McKenna answered. “If any of them are still alive, they would be in their nineties now.” He paused. “However, they had students, followers they trained to continue their work in creating what they considered the perfect humans. Advances in genetic research have only encouraged them further. And something like the development of Legacies would naturally be of enormous interest to them.”

“Drac,” Sam said. “You think Drac is continuing their work.”

“I did some more digging on our doctor friend,” McKenna said. “His birth name is Milo Cerszik, which we already knew. Turns out his great-grandfather was one Blago Grgić. Grgić was a member of the Ustaše, a Croatian ultranationalist organization patterned after and aligned with the Nazis. He was also a doctor, and very interested in the Nazis’ studies of eugenics. Drac himself is a direct result of his great-grandfather’s work, which attempted to breed a superior human. The man used his own daughter as a breeding subject.”

“Looks like that experiment failed,” said Six. “And how interesting that he didn’t bother to mention any of this before. I should have broken more fingers.”

“We think this goes much deeper than what Drac has told us,” McKenna said.

“We?” said Sam.

“I think it goes deeper,” said McKenna. “I think Drac is continuing his great-grandfather’s work. And I don’t believe his story about getting the Mog black ooze from another scientist. I think Bray has some kind of connection to the Mogs, has had it for a long time. Just like Drac is descended from Grgić, I think Bray has connections stretching back to Godoy. They’re just the most recent faces of an evil that’s been around for decades. Only now they have more technology, more resources, more power than ever before.”

“Let’s question Drac again,” Six suggested.

“He’s being questioned,” McKenna said.

Six and Sam exchanged a glance. “By who?” Six asked.

“He’s been transferred to another facility,” said McKenna. “They’re handling it there.”

“When did this happen?” Sam said. “Does Nine know?”

“Yesterday,” McKenna replied. “And this is not an HGA matter, so Nine is not in charge of the situation.”

“Then who is?” said Six. “You?”

“Yes,” McKenna said.

“So, where is Drac, exactly?” Sam asked.

“At a secure facility. One where he can be properly interrogated.” McKenna looked meaningfully at Six.

“Hey, it got us the information we needed,” Six said. “And as I recall, you told me to break whatever I had to.”

“I’m confused here,” Sam said. “Earlier, you said we. Now you’re talking about a different facility and someone interrogating Drac. I thought we were our own thing.”

“We are,” said McKenna. “In as much as we act independently. But given the potential scope of what Drac and Bray were doing—are perhaps still doing—there are larger concerns. I felt it best to call in additional resources.”

“Which brings us back to who those resources are,” Six pressed. “If it’s not us, and it’s not anyone connected with the HGA, then who is it? The government? Because if you recall, I’m really not down with working for the feds.”

“I understand your concerns,” McKenna said. “For now, I’m asking you to trust that I’m doing what’s best for the situation.”

“Trust isn’t really something I’m great at,” Six reminded him.

McKenna nodded. “You’ve made that clear on more than one occasion,” he said. “But I’ll ask you again to please accept that I’m doing what’s best.”

“Best for who?” said Sam.

“For all of us,” McKenna said.

Six looked over at Sam. He seemed on the verge of saying something. She could sense that he had questions, just like she did. But there was something else, too, something more. She knew him well enough to recognize the expression on his face. He was worried. So when he didn’t say anything, it made her more hesitant to believe McKenna.

“What’s next?” was all he said.

McKenna seemed to let out a breath he had been holding. “I think our best course of action is for you to go to Argentina,” he said.

“Just us?” said Six. “What about Nine? Or Lexa? Or, well, any backup at all?”

“This particular mission has only one objective,” McKenna said. “Terminate Bray. And I think you two can handle that with or without all your Legacies.”

“Kill him?” said Sam. “You want us to kill him?”

“We—I—believe that Bray is currently the single most dangerous threat to the Garde,” McKenna said.

“What about everyone working for him?” said Six. “If he’s doing what you think he is, there are going to be lots of people involved. Drac, Dennings and Cutter are probably just the tip of the iceberg.”

McKenna nodded. “Agreed,” he said. “But Bray is also a despot, a control freak. I’d be surprised if he’s trusted anyone else with all his secrets. If he’s taken out of the equation, the rest will scatter like rats leaving a sinking ship, and we can pick them off one by one. But as long as he’s alive, they think they’re invincible.”

“What if there are kids there?” said Six. “According to some of the ones we rescued, there are more at camps and hideouts and whatever all over the place. What happens to them if we take out Bray?”

“I understand your concern,” McKenna said. “And I share it. But the fact is, we’re running out of options. Bray is obviously unstable. And now he’s desperate. We don’t have time to try to infiltrate his organization again or do any of the large-scale things we would normally want to do in a situation like this.”

“Yeah, but this is superrisky,” Sam objected. “What if they decide to just kill all the Human Garde they have?”

“Bray is going to kill them one way or another,” McKenna countered. “Either through his attempts to manufacture the serum, through the battles he forces them to engage in or by letting other people pay for the experience of hunting them. As I said, we’ve run out of time. Bray will expect us to come after him, so he’s likely sped up his activities.”

Sam sighed. “When do you want us to go?”

“One hour from now,” said McKenna. “That gives you time to pack whatever weapons and gear you need and for me to finalize backup for you there.”

Six wanted to protest, but Sam stood up. “Okay,” he said. “We’ll see you in an hour.”

He left the office. Six followed. “Hey,” she said, catching up to him as he made his way down the hallway. “What’s going on? You didn’t even put up a fight back there, and I could tell that you wanted to.”

Sam stopped. “Something’s not right,” he said. He looked back in the direction of Nine’s office. “He’s not telling us everything.”

“Obviously,” Six said.

Sam started walking again.

“The armory is the other way,” Six said.

“We’re not going to the armory,” said Sam, continuing to move. “We’re going to the dorms.”

Six followed him. “Why?”

“To talk to Seamus,” Sam said. “When we were on the ship, he told me there was something I should know about his father.”

“He didn’t say what?”

“We were kind of in the middle of a situation,” Sam said.

“How come you didn’t tell me this before?”

“We had a lot going on,” said Sam. “Remember? And honestly, I sort of forgot about it until things got weird in there just now.”

“Do you think he’ll talk to us?” Six asked.

“Maybe,” said Sam. “Maybe not. Don’t you think it’s weird that McKenna hasn’t been spending more time with him since we got back? Now that I think about it, I don’t even remember seeing them reunite when McKenna came to pick us up.”

Six thought back to the night before. “I don’t either,” she said. “But like you said, there was a lot going on. A lot of kids to keep track of. I wasn’t really paying much attention to Seamus.”

They reached the elevators, and Sam pressed a button. “Let’s see if he’s in a talking mood.”

They took the elevator to the third floor. Getting off, they walked into the common area. There, several students were sitting and talking, including Nemo, Rena and Max. Seeing Six and Sam, they jumped up and came over.

“Nemo just told us about Ghost,” Max said. “Is it true she’s one of the bad guys now?”

“I didn’t say she was a bad guy,” Nemo objected.

“I think Ghost is upset and confused,” Sam said. “Hopefully, we’ll be able to help her.”

“What about Edwige?” said Rena. “Have you found out where she is?”

“Not yet,” said Six. “But we’re looking.”

“Do you guys know where we can find Seamus?” Sam asked them.

“He’s in the room at the end of the hall,” Nemo said. “I tried to talk to him, but he hasn’t said much. Why? What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” said Six. “We’re just checking on the new recruits and want to make sure he’s settling in.”

Nemo cocked her head and narrowed her eyes, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she just pointed. “Room three three nine,” she said. “Good luck.”

Sam and Six walked down the hall. When they reached the room where Seamus was staying, they knocked. There was no answer, so Six rapped on the door again. “Seamus? It’s Six and Sam.”

A few seconds later, the door opened. “What do you want?”

“To talk,” Sam said. “See how you’re doing.”

Seamus looked past them. “Is my father with you?”

“No,” Sam said. “It’s just us.”

Seamus turned and walked back into the room, leaving the door open. Taking it as an invitation to go in, Six and Sam entered. Sam shut the door behind them. Seamus went to the window and leaned against the ledge. He folded his arms over his chest. “Did my dad send you?”

“Actually, no,” said Six.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” Sam said, echoing McKenna. “So I’ll get right to the point. On the ship, you said there was something I needed to know about your father. What did you mean?”

Seamus looked away. “Nothing,” he said. “I didn’t mean anything.”

“Are you afraid of him?” Six asked.

Seamus didn’t answer. He turned and looked out the window at the nighttime sky.

“Seamus, when your dad first told us about you, he said that you ran away because you didn’t want to come to the HGA,” Sam said. “Is that true?”

“No,” Seamus said softly. “I wanted to come here.”

“Then why didn’t you?” Six asked.

“That’s a long story,” said Seamus.

“You don’t seem very excited to be here now,” Six observed. “Or to be reunited with him.”

Seamus turned around. “Did he tell you about my sister?”

“Only that you liked to use your Legacy to scare her,” Six answered.

Seamus smiled, but sadly. “Yeah,” he said. “I did do that. Cat was terrified of bugs.”

“Why do you keep talking about her in the past tense?” Sam asked.

“Because she’s dead,” said Seamus. “He didn’t tell you that either?”

“I’m getting the feeling there’s a lot we don’t know about your family,” Sam answered.

“Well, if there’s one thing my father is good at, it’s keeping secrets,” Seamus remarked. He moved from the window to the bed and sat down. “Cat—Catriona—and I were twins. When I developed a Legacy, my father thought Cat might, too. When she didn’t, he decided to see if he could make one happen.”

“You mean like—” Sam began.

“Like what Drac was trying to do?” Seamus said. “Basically. Only he had a whole team of government scientists working on it for him. And it was supposed to be safe. As we found out, though, it wasn’t. At least, not for Cat.”

“What did they do to her?” Sam asked.

“I don’t even really know,” said Seamus. “Some of it involved using my blood for transfusions. Bone marrow. Spinal fluid. They thought maybe whatever had been activated in me would activate in her.”

“And she went along with it?” said Six.

Seamus nodded. “She wanted us to be the same,” he said. “She always did. I mean, we both did. If one of us had something, we wanted the other one to have it, too.”

“But you didn’t want her to have a Legacy?” said Sam.

“No, I did,” Seamus said. “At first. But when I saw what all the experiments were doing to her, I told my dad I wanted to stop. Cat, though, she wanted to make our father happy. Especially after what happened to our mother.”

“So the part about her dying in the Mog attack was true?” Six said.

“Yeah,” said Seamus. “After that, my dad became obsessed with Legacies and the Garde.” He looked from Sam to Six. “With you. That’s when he started campaigning to start a special task force. He didn’t tell you any of this?”

“Not exactly,” Sam said. “And none of that about you and your sister.”

Seamus shook his head. “I think he went a little crazy,” he said. He took a deep breath. “Anyway, then Cat got really sick. I don’t even know what was wrong with her, exactly. But I know it had something to do with what they were doing to her. What I was helping them do to her. When she died, that’s when I ran.”

Six didn’t know what to say. She knew what she wanted to say, which is that she knew they should never have trusted McKenna. But she wasn’t about to say it in front of Seamus. If he was telling them the truth, could they believe anything McKenna had told them? And who was he really working for? She suddenly had a lot of questions.

Sam looked at his watch. “I hate to say this, but we need to go. Seamus, I want you to tell Nine everything, okay? He’ll believe you. And he’ll make sure nothing happens to you. When we get back, we’ll sort this out. Okay?”

Seamus hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.”

Back in the hallway, Six found her voice. “Do you believe him?”

“We have no reason not to,” said Sam as they walked.

“So, what do we do? If what Seamus says is true, we don’t even know who we’re really working for. For all we know, they’re using us to find this serum for themselves.”

“I think we need to hear McKenna’s side of the story,” Sam said.

Six groaned. “Why do you always have to be so . . .”

“Objective?” Sam suggested.

“I was going to say irritating,” said Six.

They passed through the lounge, which was now empty. Six was relieved, as she wasn’t in the mood for pretending everything was all right in front of Nemo, Max and Rena. She waited impatiently for the elevator, and once they were in it, she tapped on the wall with her nails until the doors opened again and she and Sam were heading back to Nine’s office.

She didn’t knock. She threw open the door and went inside. McKenna was there, holding a cell phone to his ear. When he saw the look on her face, he said, “I think I need to call you back,” then slipped the phone into his pocket.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Six said as Sam shut the door. “That’s what we’re about to find out.”

CHAPTER NINE

SAM

POINT REYES, CA

“WHO WERE YOU TALKING TO JUST NOW?”

Sam faced McKenna, waiting for an answer.

The man started to answer, stopped, then said, “Karen Walker.”

“FBI agent Walker?” Sam said.

McKenna nodded. “Although she’s no longer with the Bureau. She now oversees a group called Operation Watchtower.”

“And you’re working with her?” Six asked.

“Yes,” said McKenna. “So are you.”

“Whoa, you’d better back up,” Sam said. He knew Karen Walker, of course. Although she had initially worked with the Mogadorians in a misguided attempt to gain access to their technology, she had realized her error and sided with the Garde to fight against them. Her aid was instrumental in preventing the Mogs from conquering Earth, and Sam and the others were grateful for that. But he had never fully trusted her. She was ruthless, driven, and calculating. Hearing that she was somehow connected to what he and Six were doing with McKenna did not make him happy.

It made Six furious.

“You lied to us,” she said. Sam recognized the tone in her voice. If McKenna didn’t respond in a way that defused the situation, she was going to explode. Or walk out.

“No,” McKenna said. “I didn’t lie.”

Those were not the right words. Six turned to Sam. “I told you—”

“I didn’t know myself,” McKenna said.

“What do you mean?” Sam said. “How could you not know?”

“I knew about Watchtower,” McKenna answered. “But there are several aspects to the program, each with distinct responsibilities. Mine—ours—is to address issues related to Human Garde activity. Karen Walker’s directive is different. Only when our assignments started to overlap was I put in contact with her. Until then, I didn’t know she was involved.”

“What do you mean ‘overlap’?” Sam asked. Six was still standing there, and he took the fact that she hadn’t stormed out of the room as a positive. But she wasn’t saying anything.

“When we discovered that Bray is potentially trying to weaponize Legacies, that crossed over into Walker’s territory,” McKenna said.

Now it was starting to make sense.

“Walker is trying to develop military uses for kids with Legacies?” Six said, breaking her silence. “Tell me that’s not what you’re saying right now.”

“No,” McKenna said. “At least, I don’t believe so. As I said, I don’t know everything about Watchtower. What I do know is that she’s been a very useful resource.”

“Oh, okay,” Six said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “That makes everything all right, then. I guess we should also ignore that you apparently caused your daughter’s death by trying to do to her what we’re trying to stop Bray from doing.”

Sam cringed. He was obviously wondering the same thing after what Seamus had told them, but this was not how he would have brought up the topic. He looked at McKenna to see his reaction. He expected anger, at them or at Seamus for telling them what they knew. Instead, he saw sadness on the man’s face. Deep sadness. McKenna looked as if he’d been gut-punched.

“What happened to Catriona was terrible,” he said.

“Terrible?” said Six. “How about criminal? You’re her father.”

McKenna didn’t respond immediately. When he did, his voice was soft. “I think about her every day,” he said. “I’m doing what I’m doing because of her. For her and others like her.”

“What you did killed her,” Six said coldly.

“Catriona was already dying,” McKenna said. “She had acute myeloid leukemia. She wasn’t responding to treatments. I thought—I hoped—that perhaps we could somehow stop or slow the progression of her disease using blood or gene therapy from someone who had developed a Legacy.”

“Seamus,” Sam said.

“Being her twin, he already was the best option,” McKenna continued. “Because he has a Legacy, we thought that maybe the regenerative capabilities could somehow be passed to Catriona. It was all extremely experimental.” He paused. “And it didn’t work.”

“That’s not quite the version we got from Seamus,” Sam told him.

McKenna took a deep breath. “Seamus took Cat’s death very hard. Particularly after already losing his mother. In his mind, a lot of the responsibility for both things was due to the Garde, the Entity, the Legacies. It all became jumbled together. It gave him something to be angry at, which helped him deal with what he was going through at the time, but ultimately became a much larger problem. And he was angry with me, too, of course. I understand why. He was afraid, and also I suspect felt a little guilty that he was alive when his sister wasn’t. It was a lot for anyone to deal with. I did what I could to hold what was left of our family together, but I was grieving, too. I made mistakes.”

Sam looked again at Six. The expression on her face had softened. She glanced at Sam, then at McKenna. “It must have been very hard for both of you,” she said. Sam knew this was as much of an apology as McKenna was going to get.

“It was,” McKenna said. “It still is.”

“But we still have questions,” said Six.

“I’m sure you do,” McKenna said. “Unfortunately, it will have to wait. If you two are still going to Argentina, you need to leave. And if you’re not going, I need to know so that I can make other arrangements.”

Sam looked over at Six. He raised an eyebrow.

“We’re going,” Six said. She turned to McKenna. “I don’t know what will happen when we get back, but I want to see this through.”

Although McKenna only nodded in response, Sam could feel the relief coming from him. Their relationship had changed, there was no way around that, but for now they could focus on a shared goal.

“Argentina is an unpredictable place,” McKenna said. “Walker doesn’t want to involve their law enforcement or military, and I agree with her on that. Instead, she’s arranged for some of her people to act as backup should you need it. They’ll meet you at the airfield.”

“No,” Six said.

“No?” said Sam.

“I don’t want her people involved,” Six said. “I don’t trust her.”

“But—” McKenna said.

“We go alone,” Six insisted. “Or we don’t go.”

McKenna looked at Sam, hoping for a counterargument, but Sam only shrugged. He knew arguing with Six was pointless.

“All right,” McKenna conceded. “No backup. I’ve got the most recent satellite photographs of Wonderland and the surrounding area loaded onto tablets you’ll find on the plane. Have you picked up your weapons from Lexa?”

“We’ll head there now,” Sam said, preparing to go. Then he remembered something. “Who’s our pilot?”

McKenna looked pained. “You’re not going to like that,” he said. “His name is Ignacio Soto. He’s one of the guys Walker lined up.” He held up a hand. “Before you say no, let me remind you that you’re going to need someone who knows the area. He’s from there. In fact, he’s intimately familiar with Wonderland.”

“He’s one of Bray’s?” said Six.

“No,” McKenna said. “His mother was a maid there. He tagged along. Practically grew up there. He can help you get in and out.”

Six groaned. “Whatever,” she said.

“I think that’s a yes,” Sam told McKenna as he went over and started herding Six towards the door. “We’ll be going now. Before she changes her mind.”

They left the office and headed for the armory.

“This sucks,” Six said as they went inside. “This whole thing. It sucks. Just so you know.”

“What sucks?” Lexa asked, setting a knife down on a table that was spread with a variety of weapons.

“Very long story,” Sam said. “No time. What have you got?”

“What do you know about Watchtower?” Six asked Lexa.

“No time,” Sam reminded her.

“What do you know about Watchtower?” said Lexa.

“Great,” said Six. “Apparently everybody knows about it except us.”

“Well, we know now,” Sam reminded her. “What’s this do?” He picked up a black metal orb the size of a tennis ball.

“Incendiary device,” Lexa said. “You depress the buttons on the top and bottom, toss it at what you want to set on fire and duck. Or you can activate it with this.” She held up a tiny device. “Plant them, leave and blow them up from close to a mile away.”

“Nice,” Sam said. “I’ll take three.”

Lexa held up a black backpack. “You have six,” she said, handing him the pack. “Each,” she added as she gave Six an identical one. “Along with the usual assortment of things you can use to hurt someone or create a situation. Also, wrist communicators, in-ear receivers so you can talk to each other when you’re not in the same place and snacks.”

“Snacks?” Sam said. “What do they do?”

“Keep your blood sugar up,” said Lexa. “They’re snacks. Cookies, to be exact.”

“Oh,” said Sam. “I thought that was code for something else.”

“So, about Watchtower,” Six said.

“No. Time,” said Sam, taking her by the hand and dragging her away.

“Good luck,” Lexa called, waving. “Call me if you need anything. And kick some ass.”

Six and Sam left the building, where they found an SUV and a driver waiting for them. As they rode to the airfield, Six looked out the window, not saying anything.

“So,” Sam said after a few minutes of silence.

“I’m still mad,” she said.

“I kind of figured that,” he said.

Six turned to him. “What are we supposed to believe? The whole reason I didn’t want to get involved with any of this is because you never know who to trust, or what they really want or who is actually pulling the strings.”

“Life is messy, Six,” Sam said, taking her hand. “It’s kind of always like that.”

“No,” Six said. “Not always. Not with you.”

Sam squeezed her hand. “Thanks,” he said. “The thing is, it can’t always be just us. Not if we want to help these kids.”

“How much help have we really been? Edwige is still missing. Ghost has gone over to the dark side. Yo-Yo is dead.”

“All of which would have happened with or without us,” said Sam. “But you know what wouldn’t have happened without us—without you? Nemo.”

Six gave him a half smile. “She’s turned out to be pretty badass, hasn’t she?”

“Yes,” said Sam. “And mostly because of you.”

“I think Nine’s little shark-talking trick helped,” said Six.

“But you’re the one who took a chance on her first,” Sam reminded her. “You’re the one who made her believe she was worth something. I get that you’re pissed about McKenna, and Walker, and whatever this Watchtower thing turns out to be. And if you decide you don’t want to be involved anymore when this is over, I’m behind you one hundred percent.”

“Even if I decide that all I want to do is wander around the world sleeping on beaches again?” Six asked.

“Sure,” Sam said. “If that’s what you want.”

When the car arrived at the airfield, they got out and boarded the waiting plane. As they entered the cabin, a man came out of the cockpit. Thirtyish, short, with dark skin and buzzed black hair. He held out his hand. “Ignacio,” he said as he shook hands first with Six and then with Sam. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Sam said. He looked around the plane, which was the same Gulfstream they had almost crashed in.

“Everything is fine,” Ignacio said, noticing his attention. “I heard you had a little trouble with her. I’ve checked everything out. All you have to do this time is enjoy the ride.”

“That’s what I heard last time,” Sam said, setting down his bag.

“I have some questions,” Six announced.

“About the plane?” Ignacio asked.

“About Watchtower. And Wonderland. And Walker.”

Ignacio grinned. “Let me get the plane in the air,” he said. “Then we’ll have ten hours to talk.”

Six and Sam took their seats. Half an hour later, with the G650 airborne, Ignacio emerged from the cockpit and joined them in the main cabin. Six and Sam, who had been looking at the information on Wonderland that was downloaded to their tablets, set the devices down.

“All right,” Ignacio said. “What do you want to know?”

“How did you get involved with Walker?” Six asked.

“Do you know about my mother?” said Ignacio.

“We know she worked at Wonderland,” Sam answered.

Ignacio nodded. “Right. Well, when she’d saved enough money, she brought me and my brother to the United States. She wanted to get us as far from the corruption she saw at Wonderland as she could. She took a job here cleaning motels. My brother and I would hang out with her after school, doing our homework or watching TV in one of the rooms. One day we watched this movie The Silence of the Lambs, about an FBI agent who hunts down serial killers. I thought that sounded like the coolest job ever, and I decided I wanted to join the FBI. Everybody thought I was crazy, except my brother and my mother. They told me I could do it. And I did. I got accepted into the Academy, made it through and went to work with the Bureau. That’s how I met Agent Walker. When she was asked to work for Watchtower, she contacted me and asked if I would join her.”

“Do you trust her?” Six asked.

“Wow,” said Ignacio, laughing. “You get right to the point, don’t you?”

“Well?” said Six when he hesitated. “Do you?”

Ignacio looked thoughtful. “One of the things I learned hanging around Wonderland was that to understand why people do what they do, you have to figure out what motivates them. With some people, it’s easy. They want money, or power. Bray is like that. You know that he’s always going to make the choice that gets him more of those things, which means you can’t trust him not to turn on you. With other people, it’s trickier. It might seem like they want power, but what they really want is to not be afraid. Or it might seem like they’re motivated by greed when really they’re trying to protect someone they love. It’s not always easy to figure out.”

“That doesn’t answer my question about Walker,” Six said.

“I’m getting there,” Ignacio said. “Agent Walker wants to make the world a safer place.”

“Which still doesn’t answer the question about whether you trust her or not,” said Six.

“People who want to make the world a safer place can go either way,” Ignacio continued. “Sometimes, they go after anything they see as a threat. Like people who think every shark should be dragged out of the water and killed. Because a handful of people get bit every year, they think we should remove the possibility of it happening. They don’t think about the good that sharks do maintaining a balance in the ocean ecosystem.”

Sam, thinking about their own recent experience with sharks, nodded. “Every shark is a bad shark,” he said.

“Exactly,” Ignacio said. “On the other hand, people who want to protect other people can seek out ways to make others safer. Instead of killing the sharks, they try to find ways to make people who interact with sharks able to do it more safely. They invent shark repellent, or devices that keep sharks from coming near swimmers, or whatever. Instead of looking for ways to remove the thing they’re afraid of, they look for ways to deal with it more effectively.”

“And which type is Walker?” asked Six.

“You tell me,” said Ignacio. “From what I understand, you’ve had experiences with her.”

“Well, she started out trying to hunt us,” Six said.

“Why?” Ignacio asked.

“Because the Mogs convinced her we were the bad guys,” Six said.

“And then?” Ignacio prodded.

“The she realized she’d made a mistake, and she started helping us,” said Six.

“So, she realized the sharks weren’t the problem,” said Ignacio.

“More like she realized the sharks weren’t the sharks,” Six suggested.

Ignacio smiled. “Good point,” he said. “You sure you didn’t go through the Academy?”

“Just because she realized she was wrong and helped us out a couple of times, that doesn’t mean I trust her,” Six argued.

“Your choice,” Ignacio said. “But maybe you don’t have to trust her right now. Maybe you have to trust me. Can you do that?”

Sam watched Six’s face, waiting for her answer. When she said “We’ll see,” he had to stop himself from laughing.

“Fair enough,” Ignacio said. “Well, how about we get started going over the plan? The plane will fly itself for a little while. That gives me time to tell you everything I know and for you to get a little sleep before we land.”

For the next few hours, they went over the diagrams of Wonderland. Ignacio proved to be an invaluable resource, telling Sam and Six about the mansion, the grounds and what they might expect to encounter there. When he went to resume control of the plane, leaving Six and Sam alone, Sam leaned back on the couch.

“I like him,” he said.

“You like everybody,” said Six.

“Not everybody,” Sam objected. “I disliked Dennings from the second I saw him.”

“Okay, everybody who isn’t trying to kill you,” Six said. “Hey, I figured out your motivation. You want to find the good in everyone.”

“Does that mean you can trust me?”

“I don’t know if it means I should,” Six answered. “But I do.”

“Aww,” Sam said. “You’re giving me feels.”

“Ugh,” Six said. “Your turn. What’s my motivation?”

“You?” said Sam. “That’s easy. You want justice. You want good people to be rewarded, and you want bad people to be punished.”

“Isn’t that what everyone wants?” Six said. “I thought that was normal.”

“It is for you and Batman,” Sam said, kissing her. “Come on. Let’s get some rest. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long day.”

Four hours later, the plane rumbled down a private airstrip in the rain forest of northern Argentina. When it came to a stop, Ignacio walked into the cabin. “All right,” he said. “It’s time for you to meet our secret weapon.”

“Secret weapon?” Sam said as Ignacio opened the door. “What secret weapon?”

Ignacio exited the plane. Sam and Six followed. At the bottom of the steps, Ignacio was hugging a woman. She was even shorter than he was, with the same dark skin and hair. The two of them kissed each other on the cheek, then Ignacio turned around.

“Sam. Six,” he said. “I’d like you to meet my mother.”

CHAPTER TEN

SIX

THE RAIN FOREST OF ARGENTINA

VALENTINA SOTO NAVIGATED THE RUSTED-OUT FIAT up a narrow dirt road that led them to the gates of Wonderland. She was dressed in a pink maid’s uniform. In the backseat, Six and Sam sat watching the trees of the rain forest pass by just beyond the windows.

“We’re almost there,” Valentina said. “When we arrive, the guards will ask me how I like the weather. I will answer that it is a lovely day for drying sheets on the line. This is code to let them know that everything is okay and that no one has placed any explosive devices in the car, or anything like that.”

“What would you say if they had?” Six asked, curious.

“I would tell them that it was a good day for mopping the floors,” Valentina said.

“But what if you were the one who planted the explosives?” Six continued.

“Then it really wouldn’t matter,” said Valentina. “As we would all be dead when the bomb exploded.”

“I guess that’s one way to look at it,” Six remarked.

“What if the guards decide to look for themselves?” Sam said.

Valentina lifted her hand. She was holding a Browning Hi Power MK1 pistol. “Then we go to Plan B. But they won’t. I am considered family here. They trust me. Once we are inside, I will park the car and let you out. When we are inside, you know what to do.”

“Find Bray and take him out,” said Six. “Then leave.”

“Good,” said Valentina as if she was the one leading the mission.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Sam said. “Why did you come back? You could have just stayed in the United States.”

“I could have,” Valentina agreed, putting the car into a lower gear as it started up a long hill. “But Argentina is my home. I missed it.”

“But why come back here?” Sam pressed.

Valentina looked at him in the rearview mirror. “Because the FBI asked me to. They gave my son a chance. I wanted to help.”

“It just seems . . . dangerous,” Sam said. “And you didn’t have to.”

“No, I did not,” Valentina agreed. “All right. We are almost there. It is time for you to get in back.”

She stopped the car, and they all got out. Valentina opened the car’s trunk, and Six and Sam got inside. It was a very tight fit. “It’ll only be for a few minutes,” Valentina said as she shut the trunk.

“This would be a lot easier if I could make us invisible,” Six said as the car started up again.

“And miss spending this quality time together?” Sam joked.

The car rattled along, making for an uncomfortable ride. But Valentina was true to her promise, and not long after, they felt the car come to a stop.

“Good morning, Emile,” Valentina said cheerfully, her voice muffled but still understandable. “Lautaro.”

“Good morning, Valentina,” said a man’s voice. “How do you like the weather today?”

“Wonderful,” Valentina said. “An excellent day for hanging the sheets on the line. They will dry in no time.”

There was silence. Then a thump sounded twice on the trunk. Six held her breath, preparing herself in case she had to leap into action. But they started to move again. There was another short drive. Then the car stopped, they heard a door shutting and a moment later the trunk lifted.

“Here we are,” Valentina said, looking down at them.

They got out. Six and Sam had seen pictures, but Wonderland was even more beautiful in person. It sat at the very top of a hill, rising above the forest below it. Columns lined the porch, and vines twined around them, covered in white and yellow flowers. The grounds around the mansion were well maintained, the rain forest kept at bay so that the house seemed to float on an island of green in the middle of the lush fauna.

“As we discussed, there will be a small staff inside,” Valentina said. “The night maid. The cook. Bray’s bodyguard. Maybe some others.”

“But no kids,” Six said. “You’re sure about that?”

Valentina nodded. “No. Not at this location.”

Six was relieved about this. It was one less thing to worry about. At least for the moment.

Valentina got out of the car. She opened the back door and took out a cardboard carton holding cleaning supplies. Then the three of them continued on into the house.

They walked through a back door and into a hallway. “The kitchen is through there,” Valentina said, speaking softly as she pointed to an open doorway. “Wait in the hall until I see what the situation is.”

Six and Sam did as she suggested, although Six couldn’t resist looking into the room. There, a harried-looking young woman was stirring something in a pot on the stove.

“Magda, why are you cooking?” Valentina asked, setting the carton on a table. “Where’s Yanel?”

“She quit,” the girl said. She seemed to be practically in tears. “And now I’ve burned the soup!”

Valentina walked over and took the wooden spoon the girl was holding out of her hand. Valentina looked into the pot on the stove. Then she took the pot, dumped it into the sink and ran water in it.

“He’s going to kill me!” Magda said, beginning to sob.

“Calm down,” Valentina said. “What’s happening?”

“He’s gone crazy,” said Magda. “Crazier. I don’t know. Last night he threw a knife at Yanel, and she ran out. I didn’t dare. I was afraid he would hurt the girl.”

“Girl?” Valentina said. “What girl?”

“I don’t know her name,” Magda answered. “She’s just a girl. He had her brought here. They say she’s a curandera.”

“A healer?” said Valentina, opening a can of soup and pouring it into the pot.

Magda nodded. “He’s sick,” she said. “Sick in his head.”

Six looked at Sam. Had Bray brought someone with a healing Legacy to Wonderland?

“Where is he now?” Valentina asked.

“In his bedroom,” said Magda. “I can’t go back there. Please don’t make me go back there.”

Valentina put her hand on the girl’s arm. “You don’t have to,” she said. “In fact, I want you to leave. Don’t worry. I’ll cover for you.” She paused a moment, then asked, “Who else is in the house?”

“No one,” said Magda. “Everyone else is too frightened. He even ordered the guard out.”

“It will be all right,” Valentina assured her as she put the soup on the stove to heat. “Just go.”

A moment later, Valentina came into the hallway. She was carrying a tray on which were placed a bowl of soup, a napkin and a spoon. “Did you hear?” she asked.

“It sounds like everyone is gone,” said Sam.

“Magda is the maid,” Valentina said, nodding. “Follow me to the bedroom.”

Valentina walked down the hallway, through an empty dining room and down another hallway. As they approached a door at the end of it, they heard the sound of someone yelling. Valentina paused, listening. Then, she pushed the door open. Again, Six and Sam waited outside, pressed against the wall, sneaking glances inside.

The room was a disaster. Furniture was upended. Sheets and draperies, torn to ribbons, were scattered across the floor. The glass from a broken mirror glittered in the sunlight coming through the bare windows. On the walls, smears of food created the impression of hastily scrawled graffiti.

In the center of it all stood Bray. He was barefoot, wearing only a dirty white undershirt and a pair of pajama bottoms. His hair was greasy and stood out in haphazard tufts, and his face was shadowed, with stubble. In one hand was a hypodermic needle, which he had plunged into the crook of his arm. On the floor around his feet lay half a dozen more.

Then Six’s eye went to one corner of the room. There, huddled against the wall, her knees drawn up to her chest, was Edwige. Her eyes were closed, and she was silently mouthing something as if she was praying. Six wanted to run to her, but she stayed where she was.

Bray looked up. He pulled the needle from his arm and grinned. “Valentina,” he said. “Are you the only one who hasn’t abandoned me?”

“I brought you some soup,” Valentina said, keeping her voice calm. “I thought you might be hungry.”

“I am,” Bray said. “So hungry. You can’t even imagine. I feel like I haven’t eaten in days. Weeks.” He held up the syringe. “It’s this,” he said. Then he laughed, a weirdly high giggle that filled the room. “It makes me so hungry. Maybe you should run, Valentina. Maybe I’m going to eat you up.”

Valentina ignored him, setting the tray down on the bed, then picking up an overturned table and righting it. She transferred the tray to the table, then stood aside, her hands folded in front of her. Six, watching Edwige, waited for the girl to open her eyes and see them. But she didn’t. She remained where she was, seemingly frozen in place.

“Come,” Valentina said to Bray. “Eat something. You’ll feel better.”

Bray lumbered over to the table. Picking up the bowl of soup, he lifted it to his mouth and upended it, pouring in the soup. Most of it ran down his undershirt, staining it red. He slurped and gobbled at what was left, using his fingers to scoop the soup into his mouth.

Valentina quietly moved toward Edwige. When she was close enough to touch her, she knelt and put a hand on the girl’s knee. Edwige gave a startled shriek and opened her eyes. The noise attracted Bray’s attention.

“Don’t touch her!” he shouted. He threw the bowl to the floor, where it shattered.

“I thought perhaps she could help me in the kitchen,” Valentina said.

“Her?” Bray said, laughing. “Help? She can’t help. She’s useless.” He stomped through the pieces of broken bowl. “Useless! She can’t even fix what’s wrong in here.” He smacked his hand against the side of his head, then hit himself half a dozen more times.

Edwige turned her head away, burying her face against her shoulder. Bray charged at her, stopping right in front of the girl. He bent down and laughed loudly. “Useless!” he screamed again. He lifted his hand to strike her.

Six had had enough. She stepped into the room. She didn’t want to kill him in front of Edwige, but she wasn’t going to let him hurt her either.

“Bray!” she shouted.

Bray turned his head. For a moment, he just stared at her. Then he grinned. “You,” he said. He pointed at her with a thick, stubby finger. “You’re what I need to feel better.”

He charged.

Six prepared to meet him. Without her Legacies, she had only her strength, and although that was considerable, Bray seemed to be fueled by something other than normal human anger. When he plowed into her, he knocked her back and off balance. She regained her footing and hit him hard in the chest. He grunted, stumbled and swung at her. She ducked, and his hand went over her head, spinning him off balance. Six dealt him a kick to the side, and he flew backwards, landing on the floor.

As he struggled to get to his feet, two figures appeared out of thin air. Ghost and Scotty materialized on either side of Bray. Seeing them, he grinned.

“Take the healer,” he ordered.

Scotty went towards Edwige, reaching out to grab her. Before he could, Valentina’s hand came up. In it was her gun. She fired. A red stain appeared on Scotty’s shirt, and his mouth opened in surprise as he crumpled to the floor.

“No!” Ghost shouted. She pointed her hands at Valentina, and the gun flew out of Valentina’s hand and clattered onto the floor as she herself was slammed into the wall and knocked out. Then Ghost whirled and glared at Six, her eyes filled with hatred. At the same time, she took something from her pocket and handed it to Bray. It was a syringe.

“Good girl,” Bray said. “Now get out of here. Take Scotty. I’ll handle this.”

“I have one more thing to take care of first,” Ghost said.

Six felt a surge of power. Sam, who had come into the room, shouted as he was swept back through the door, which slammed shut. Six heard him pounding on it, but Ghost was using telekinesis to keep it bolted shut, and whatever the door was made of, it was withstanding Sam’s assault. Dennings had been telling the truth. The girl’s Legacies were very strong.

Now, Ghost turned her attention to Six. Six braced herself, instinctively calling up her own Legacies. Then she remembered she was without them, and the next moment she was lifted up in the air. Her head drew close to the ceiling. Below her, Ghost looked up with an expression of satisfaction.

“Aren’t you going to fight back?” she said.

Six tried. She willed her Legacies to return. She attempted to muster even an ounce of power. Nothing happened. And with the others unable to help her, she was on her own. It was not a good feeling.

As Six waited to see what Ghost would do, Bray uncapped the syringe the teleporter had brought for him and plunged it into his arm. Then he yanked out the needle and tossed it aside.

“Leave,” he said to Ghost. “I’ll finish this.”

Ghost frowned. She obviously wanted to argue. Instead, she continued to hold Six up as she went over to Scotty’s prone body and placed her hand on it. She gave Six one last look, then vanished. Six, no longer held up by telekinesis, fell to the floor. Snarling, Bray started towards her. She leaped to her feet and once again prepared to meet him.

But after a few feet, Bray stopped. His face contorted, and he clapped his hands over his ears. One eye began to twitch, opening and closing rapidly. Bray’s mouth twisted into a rictus of pain. His tongue lolled, dripping drool down his chest.

Slowly, he began to spin in a wobbly circle, his feet stomping on the trash that littered the floor. A moan escaped his lips, growing into a howl as he thrashed his head from side to side. The veins in his neck swelled, pulsating. When he turned back to face Six again, his skin was mottled, flowers of black and blue blooming across it. Six had never seen anything like this.

Bray staggered forward a step, reaching for her. His fingers twisted, turning in on themselves until the nails cut into his palms. Blood began to flow, dripping down his wrists. And still he howled, an unearthly sound of pain that had no words.

Behind Six, Sam finally got the door open and ran inside. Valentina too was stirring.

Edwige whimpered.

“Get her out of here,” Six said.

Sam and Valentina pulled the frightened girl to her feet. Six stood between them and Bray as they hustled her out of the room. Then Sam came back to stand beside Six.

Bray began to claw at his face, his nails tearing at the skin. It was terrible to watch, and Six wondered if they should let him rip himself apart or put an end to it. Before she had to make the decision, Bray gasped. He made a choking sound, and his head flew back. Black bile erupted from him, splashing the ceiling and the wall behind him as it arced through the air. Then he collapsed onto the floor. He didn’t move.

Sam and Six waited a minute before checking for a pulse. There was none. Satisfied that the man was dead, they went out into the hall, where Valentina waited with Edwige. “Take her to the car,” Six told Valentina. “Sam and I will finish up here.”

Valentina nodded. Holding Edwige’s hands, she led the girl away. Six shucked off the backpack she was wearing and opened it, taking out one of the bombs Lexa had packed for her. She tossed it into the bedroom, where it rolled to a stop beside Bray’s lifeless body. Then she and Sam went through the other rooms of the mansion, leaving a device in each one. Then they went through the secret passageway that Ignacio had told them about and descended into Wonderland’s lower depths.

There they found the laboratory and operating room. They were empty now, but evidence of what had taken place there remained: medical instruments scattered around, bloodstains on the concrete floors, vials of various-colored substances spilled on the countertops.

“Looks like Bray turned this place upside down, too,” Sam remarked. “Should we take any of this back to analyze?”

“No,” Six said, tossing the last of the incendiary devices into the room. “It all goes. Come on. Time to get out of here.”

Back upstairs, they walked through the kitchen and out of the house. Valentina and Edwige were waiting in the Fiat. Edwige was sitting silently in the passenger seat, staring dully out the window at nothing. She barely reacted when Sam and Six got into the car.

“He did something to her,” Valentina said. “Something bad.”

Six leaned forward and looked closely at Edwige’s neck. There was a scar at the base of her skull. The wound was only recently healed. She looked over at Sam and saw that he was staring at it, too. “Let’s get out of here,” she said to Valentina.

As they approached the guardhouse once more, Six was relieved to see that the guards had abandoned their posts and the gates were open. Once they were through the gate and driving down the road, Six turned to Sam. “Blow it up,” she said.

Sam took out the controller Lexa had given him. He pressed the button. A moment later, the forest behind them erupted with a roar. Looking through the rear window of the Fiat, Six saw Wonderland turn into a cloud of fire and ash. She saw the two guards throw themselves to the ground. Smoke billowed into the sky, thick and black, as the bombs consumed the mansion and all its secrets.

Valentina kept driving. Six turned back around and once more placed her hand on Edwige’s neck. “It’s over now,” she told the girl. “It’s all over.”

Edwige slept the entire flight back to California. Once there, she was taken to the HGA infirmary. Six and Sam went directly to Nine’s office, where they found Nine with McKenna.

“Cutter was able to provide us with the locations of the other camps where Bray and Dennings were holding kids with Legacies,” McKenna informed them. “We’ve shut them all down and taken the kids into our custody.”

“How many?” Sam asked.

“Seventy-two kids.”

“And by we, I assume you mean you and Walker,” said Six.

McKenna nodded. “Walker’s division has also taken responsibility for everything we retrieved from the ship and from the other camps.”

“You mean the black ooze and the serum Drac was working on?” Six said. “Why aren’t we taking the lead on this?”

“I’ve been given other directives,” McKenna said. “Walker’s team is better equipped to deal with that technology.”

Six looked at Nine. “And you’re okay with this?”

Nine shrugged. “I’ve got enough to worry about running this place,” he said. “Especially with a bunch of new kids coming in.”

“Am I the only one who isn’t okay with it?” Six said. “Sam?”

Sam looked uncomfortable. “I’d like to know more about what exactly Walker is doing and what’s she’s planning to do with everything we’ve recovered,” he admitted.

“I’m not entirely sure,” said McKenna. “As I told you before, we work independently until—”

“Can we have a meeting with her?” Six interrupted.

“I don’t see what that would—” McKenna began.

“You said if I didn’t want to be involved anymore, you would be behind me,” Six said, speaking to Sam. “One hundred percent. Remember?”

Sam nodded. “I remember.”

“Well, I don’t,” said Six. “Want to be involved anymore.”

“What?” said McKenna. “Why? This mission was a success.”

Everyone looked at Six, waiting for an answer.

“Was it?” she said. “A dead kid and a dead agent, another kid still missing and dangerously pissed off at us, our Legacies gone, and now we find out we’re actually working for some group no one wants to give us any real information about and who has taken the technology our mission brought back. Doesn’t sound so successful. Not to me, anyway.”

“Your Legacies will come back,” Nine said. “And—”

“Save the speeches for your new students,” Six said. “I’m out.”

She walked to the office door, opened it and left. As she strode down the hallway, Sam ran and caught up with her. “You’re bluffing, right?” he said. “To get McKenna to give us more information.”

Six shook her head. “I don’t trust him,” Six said. “And I really don’t trust Walker. How can we work with them?”

Sam didn’t argue. He walked beside her as they left the building. The SUV they’d come from the airport in was still sitting there. Six was contemplating the pros and cons of borrowing it and driving away when she heard a voice say, “Going somewhere?”

She turned around. Nemo was standing on the steps, hands on her hips. “Ghost is still missing, right? You going to go look for her?”

Six sighed. “It’s complicated,” she said.

Nemo walked down the steps and came to stand in front of Six. “Know what it looks like?” she said. “Looks like you’re running away.”

“Like I said, it’s complicated.”

Nemo cocked her head and folded her arms over her chest. “Physics is complicated,” she said. “Helping your friends, that’s not. We’re friends, right?”

“Of course,” Six said.

“Well, I need your help finding my other friend,” Nemo said.

“You mean your friend who tried to kill me?” said Six.

Nemo shrugged. “We all have bad days,” she said. “Besides, she’s been brainwashed or whatever. I know the real Ghost is still in there. So, are you going to help or not?”

Six looked at Sam, who was standing a little way off, watching the exchange. “I think the student has become the teacher,” he said.

Six groaned. “All right,” she said. “But we do this my way. Got it?”

“Is there any other way?” Nemo said.

“Get in,” Six said. She opened the door of the SUV and climbed into the driver’s seat. Sam got in on the passenger side, while Nemo settled into the back. Six started the engine.

“I don’t suppose you have any idea where we’re going,” Sam said.

“You heard the girl,” Six said as she drove towards the front gate. “To find Ghost.”

“I got that part,” Sam said. “I’m just wondering about, you know, the next part. Like, where she might be. How we’ll find her. What we’ll do if we do find her.”

“When we find her,” Nemo said.

“When we find her,” Six agreed. “You worry too much,” she added to Sam.

“Someone has to,” Sam said under his breath.

Six looked in the rearview mirror. Nemo was looking back at her. Six winked. Nemo grinned.

“I still think you’re bluffing,” Sam said as the HGA building disappeared behind them.

Six didn’t say anything. We’ll see, she thought as they approached the gates and they started to swing open. We’ll see.

EXCERPT FROM GENERATION ONE

THE WAR MAY BE OVER—BUT FOR THE NEXT GENERATION, THE BATTLE HAS JUST BEGUN!

DON’T MISS THIS NEW SERIES SET IN

THE WORLD OF I AM NUMBER FOUR.

CHAPTER ONE

KOPANO OKEKE

LAGOS, NIGERIA

THE WEEK BEFORE THE INVASION, KOPANO’S father, Udo, sold their TV. Despite his mother’s fervent prayers for his father to find a new job, Udo was unemployed, and they were three months behind on rent. Kopano didn’t mind. He knew a new TV would manifest soon. Football season was coming and his father wouldn’t miss it.

When the alien warships appeared, Kopano’s whole family crowded into his uncle’s apartment down the hall. Kopano’s first reaction was to grin at his two younger brothers.

“Don’t be stupid,” Kopano declared. “This is some bad American movie.”

“It’s on every channel!” Obi shouted at him.

“Be quiet, all of you,” Kopano’s father snapped.

They watched footage of a middle-aged man, an alien supposedly, giving a speech in front of the United Nations building in New York.

“See?” Kopano said. “I told you. That’s an actor. What’s his name?”

“Shh,” his brothers complained in unison.

Soon, the scene descended into chaos. New York was under attack by pale humanoid creatures that bled black and turned to ash when they were killed. Then some teenagers wielding powers that looked like special effects showed up and began to fight the aliens. These teenagers were only a little older than Kopano and, despite the madness their arrival had created, Kopano found himself rooting them on. In the coming days, Kopano would learn the names of the two sides. The Loric versus the Mogadorians. John Smith and Setrákus Ra. There was no question who the good guys were.

“Amazing!” Kopano said.

Not everyone shared Kopano’s enthusiasm. His mother knelt down and began to pray, feverishly muttering about Judgment Day until Kopano’s father gently escorted her from the room.

His youngest brother, Dubem, was frightened and clung to Kopano’s leg, so Kopano picked the boy up and held him. Kopano was short and stout like his father, but well muscled where his father was paunchy. He patted Dubem’s back. “Nothing to worry about, Dubem. This is all far, far away.”

They stayed glued to their uncle’s TV day into night. Even Kopano couldn’t maintain his good cheer when the footage of New York’s destruction was played. The broadcasters showed a map of the world, little red dots hovering over more than twenty different cities. Alien warships.

His father scoffed when he saw the map. “Cairo? Johannesburg? These places get aliens and not us?” He clapped his hands together. “Nigeria is the giant of Africa! Where is the respect?”

Kopano shook his head. “You don’t make any sense, old man. What would you do if the Mogadorians showed up here? Hide under the bed, probably.”

Udo raised his hand like he would slap his son, but Kopano didn’t even flinch. They stared at each other until Udo snorted and turned back to the TV.

“I would kill many of them,” Udo muttered.

Kopano knew his father to be a boastful man and an unrepentant schemer. It had been years since Kopano responded to Udo’s big talk with anything but scornful laughter. However, Kopano didn’t so much as chuckle when his father talked about killing Mogadorians. He felt it, too. Kopano itched to do something, to save the world like the guys he’d seen fighting at the UN. He wondered what happened to them. He hoped they were still out there, fighting, turning maggot-aliens to dust.

The Loric. How badass.

The second night of the invasion, Kopano stood outside on his uncle’s veranda. Never had Lagos been this quiet. Everyone was holding their breath, waiting for something terrible to happen.

Kopano went inside. His brothers and uncle were still blearily staring at the TV screen, watching horrific reports of a failed Chinese assault on a Mogadorian warship. His father slouched in an armchair, snoring. Exhausted, Kopano collapsed onto the futon.

He dreamed of the planet Lorien. Actually, it was more like a vision than a dream, the whole thing unfolding like a movie. He saw the origin of the war that had traveled to Earth, learned about the Mogadorian leader Setrákus Ra, and about the brave Garde who opposed him. The saga was like something out of Greek mythology.

And then, suddenly, he awoke. But Kopano wasn’t on his uncle’s futon in Lagos. He sat in a massive amphitheater alongside other young people from many different countries. Some of them were talking to each other, many were frightened, all were confused. They’d all experienced the same vision. Kopano overheard one boy say that a moment ago he was home eating dinner, he’d felt a strange sensation come over him and now here he was.

“What a bizarre dream this is,” Kopano remarked aloud. Some of the nearby kids murmured agreement. A Japanese girl seated next to him turned to regard Kopano.

“But is this my dream, or your dream?” she asked.

Then new people appeared out of thin air, all of them seated at the ornate table in the room’s center. Everyone in the audience recognized John Smith and the other Loric from TV and YouTube. Questions were shouted—What’s going on? Why did you bring us here? Are you going to save our planet? Kopano stayed quiet. He was too in awe and he wanted to know what his new heroes had to say.

John Smith spoke to them. He was confident in a humble way. Kopano liked him immediately. He told them—the humans sitting in the gallery—that they all had Legacies.

“I know this seems crazy,” John Smith said. “It also probably doesn’t seem fair. A few days ago, you were leading normal lives. Now, without warning, there are aliens on your planet and you can move objects with your minds. Right? I mean . . . how many of you have discovered your telekinesis?”

A lot of hands went up, including the Japanese girl’s. Kopano looked around, jealous and disappointed in himself. These other kids were learning telekinesis while he was sitting around watching TV.

A glowing Loric girl at the table with a strangely echoing voice displayed a map of Earth with locations marked. Loralite, a stone native to Lorien, now grew in these places. Those with Legacies—Human Garde, like Kopano was supposedly—could use these stones to teleport across the planet. They could join the fight.

“I obviously can’t make you join us,” John Smith said. “In a few minutes, you’ll wake up from this meeting back wherever you were before. Where it’s safe, hopefully. And maybe those of us who do fight, maybe the armies of the world, all of us . . . maybe that will be enough. Maybe we can fight off the Mogadorians and save Earth. But if we fail, even if you stay on the sidelines for this battle . . . they will come for you. So I’m asking you all, even though you don’t know me, even though we’ve royally shaken up your lives—stand with us. Help us save the world.”

Kopano cheered. He clenched and unclenched his fists. He was ready!

Suddenly, the evil Setrákus Ra was shouting threats, his black eyes scanning the room, his gaze boring into everyone. People started to disappear, blinking out of the dream. Kopano woke with a start, sweaty, his head aching.

Little Dubem was the only one still awake and he was staring at him. “Kopano,” Dubem whispered. “You were glowing!”

The next day, with his family once again gathered around the television, Kopano made his announcement.

“The Loric visited me in my sleep. John Smith himself asked me to come join them in the defense of Earth. They showed me a map of the world with the locations of stones that I may use to teleport to them. One of them is located at Zuma Rock. I must go there immediately to meet my destiny.”

Dubem nodded along solemnly while the rest of Kopano’s family stared at him. Then his father and uncle broke into laughter, soon joined by his brother Obi.

“Listen to this one!” his father shouted. “Meet his destiny! Shut up now, we can’t hear the news.”

“But I saw him,” Dubem said, his small voice shaky. “Kopano glowed!”

Their mother made the sign of the cross. “A devil has invaded our house.”

Udo regarded his son through eyes narrowed to slits. Kopano stood tall, chest puffed out, hoping to cut a striking figure.

“Okay, Mr. Superhero,” said Udo measuredly. “If you are an alien now, please show us your powers.”

Kopano took a deep breath. He looked down at his hands. He didn’t feel any different than he had yesterday, but that didn’t necessarily mean the great powers of the Loric weren’t lurking within him, right?

With a flourish worthy of a martial arts movie, Kopano thrust his hands towards his father. He hoped that his telekinesis would come rushing forth and knock his old man out of his chair. But while Udo flinched at the sudden move, nothing else happened.

Kopano’s uncle laughed again and slapped Udo on the back. “Your face! You looked like you might crap in your britches!”

Udo scowled, then snorted in Kopano’s direction. “You see? Noth—” His father’s face suddenly contorted in anguish. Udo clutched at his chest, feet kicking out in front of him in spasms. His eyes went wide in panic. “My insides!” he screamed. “My insides are boiling!”

Kopano’s mother screamed.

Kopano and his brothers all rushed to their father’s side. Their uncle took a frightened step back. Kopano grabbed his father’s arm.

“Father, I’m sorry! I don’t know what—”

His father slapped him on the side of the head and grinned. Just like that, he was miraculously recovered and already turning back to the television. A practical joke.

“You stupid boy, I’m fine. Or perhaps my alien powers are just greater than yours, hmm?” He waved Kopano away. “Go on. See to your mother. You scared her bad.”

Kopano slunk away. Had it really all been a dream? What would he have done with Legacies, anyway? A boy from Lagos rushing off to save the world? Even Nollywood didn’t make movies with premises so far-fetched.

Little Dubem clasped his hand.

“I believe you, Kopano,” his youngest brother whispered. “You will show them all.”

At least, for a few days after his embarrassing announcement, Kopano’s family was too glued to the news to mock him. But then the invasion ended, suddenly and brutally, with the nations of Earth coming together to simultaneously attack every Mogadorian warship. Meanwhile, the Garde, the ones who had invaded Kopano’s dreams and promised him bigger things than Lagos, went to the Mogadorians’ secret base in West Virginia and killed Setrákus Ra. Kopano imagined being there, fighting alongside the Garde, and melting Setrákus Ra with his fire-breath.

Fire-breath, Kopano had decided, would be his Legacy.

When the news broke that Earth was saved, they celebrated in the streets. His father hugged him close as they danced down the road, fireworks going off overhead. Kopano couldn’t remember the last time Udo had hugged him like that. Not since he was a boy.

But the next day, it started.

Alien son, go down to the market before school and pick up the items I am thinking about right now! Use your telepathy!

Alien son, did you finish your homework?

Alien son, use your telekinesis to get me a beer, eh?

Kopano grinned through it all, but inside he seethed. His unemployed father had nothing better to do than sit home all day and think up ways to humiliate him.

Worse still, his bigmouthed brother, Obi, had spread the word around school. Soon, Kopano’s classmates were teasing him, too. A stall in the marketplace had started selling rubber Mogadorian masks, hideous gray things with empty black eyes and tiny yellow teeth. A group of his older classmates chased Kopano through the halls wearing these masks and, when they caught him, they used rolls of duct tape to bind him to one of the football goals. They took turns kicking balls at him.

Until one day, when Kopano stopped a football in midair. When that happened, they all ran away screaming.

“Finally,” Kopano whispered to himself as he began wriggling free. “Finally.”

It had been three months since the invasion. Kopano, it turned out, was a late bloomer.

That evening, he strode into his family’s apartment to find his father napping on the couch. With his little brothers watching, Kopano used his telekinesis to levitate the couch high above the floor. Then he screamed, “Fire! Fire! Father, get up!”

His father sprung upright, swung his legs off the couch, and fell five feet to the floor. As he groaned and picked himself up, staring aghast at the couch still floating above him, Obi and Dubem cackled with laughter. Kopano simply grinned at his father, squaring his shoulders in the same noble way he had on that humiliating morning months ago.

“You see, old man? What did I tell you?”

Udo stumbled over to his son, a smile slowly spreading on his face. He grabbed Kopano’s cheeks and pinched. “My beautiful alien son, you are the answer to all of our problems.”

Many months later, when Kopano finally made it to America, the psychologist Linda Matheson would ask him what life was like back in Lagos, before he came to the Human Garde Academy.

Kopano would think about his answer for a long moment before answering.

“Well,” he said, “I guess for a little while I was a criminal.”

CHAPTER TWO

THE PATIENCE CREEK SURVIVORS

AN UNDISCLOSED LOCATION

FOR THOSE FIRST HUMAN GARDE WHO DID ANSWER John Smith’s call to arms right after their visions, the invasion wasn’t as glorious as Kopano had enviously imagined.

The story of Patience Creek wasn’t reported on the news networks. The battle there didn’t make it into any of the retrospectives made after the invasion. It was kept secret. Remembered by only the survivors.

Patience Creek was a secret government facility in Michigan where the Loric hid out after the invasion, plotting their counterattack on the Mogadorians. They were joined by a host of military personnel and a handful of Human Garde, those who had answered John Smith’s telepathic plea or who had otherwise crossed his path.

Daniela Morales. Stone-vision.

Nigel Barnaby. Sonic manipulation.

Caleb Crane. Duplication.

Ran Takeda. Kinetic detonation.

There were others, but they didn’t survive the assault when the Mogadorians discovered Patience Creek. Most of the military didn’t make it out alive either. John Smith himself was nearly killed. It was bloody and brutal and not at all heroic. The ordeal showed John Smith that maybe the humans he’d recruited weren’t ready for a full-scale war. They needed training that the Loric didn’t have time to give them. Not then, at least. The humans needed protecting.

So, John Smith sent them away.

“Bloody Guantanamo Bay,” Nigel groused.

Daniela rolled her eyes. “This isn’t Cuba, man.”

Nigel bent down and gathered a handful of bright white sand. He opened his fingers and let the grains blow across the crystalline blue ocean. The sun beat down on him—skinny bordering on bony, pale, a sunburn growing around his bleached mohawk, his cheeks pocked by persistent splotches of acne. He wore a black Misfits tank top in defiance of the heat. He gestured from the waves to the austere military base two hundred yards away—their accommodations for the last few days—and looked back at Daniela.

“Ominous military base on a tropical island,” Nigel countered. “Where do you think we are?”

“It isn’t that ominous,” Caleb said. He brushed a hand across his buzz cut and skipped a stone into the ocean. Biscuit, Daniela’s Chimæra, the shape-shifting Loric animal who preferred the form of a golden retriever, bounded into the water after the rock. “There’s a snack bar.”

“Not ominous to you, mate,” Nigel replied. “You grew up in one of these places, didn’t ya? And besides, your uncle’s running the show.”

“Guantanamo’s where they bring the bad guys and shit,” Daniela told Nigel. “We aren’t prisoners. This is just a stopover.” She looked at Caleb. “Right?”

Caleb’s uncle was General Clarence Lawson. He’d been called out of retirement and put in charge of coordinating the armies of Earth with the Loric during the invasion. Since then, it had seemed to Caleb like his uncle was awaiting orders. Like he didn’t know what would happen next.

Back at Patience Creek, Caleb had acted as his uncle’s bodyguard. “In case any of these aliens get out of line, you’re the ace up my sleeve,” Lawson told his nephew. Caleb didn’t think he could go toe to toe with John Smith or one of the Loric, but he didn’t argue. It had been his uncle’s idea for Caleb to pose as twins. He was having problems controlling his duplication Legacy—a second body would pop out of him without warning—so it was better for his clone to simply hide in plain sight.

Since they arrived at the island, Caleb had dinner with his uncle every night in the man’s windowless office. These meals were largely silent, especially after one of Caleb’s duplicates manifested and hurled a plate of food into his uncle’s face. Since Patience Creek, the dupes were becoming harder to control. Rowdier. With minds of their own.

Caleb didn’t tell anyone this. He kept his mouth shut, like a good soldier.

To Daniela, he simply nodded. “You’re probably right.”

Nigel snorted. He didn’t buy anything that Caleb said. He turned away, watching his own Chimæra, the raccoon-shaped Bandit, root around for seashells.

Daniela clapped her hands together. “I just want to get back to New York, man,” she said. “Find my mom. Do something useful.”

They all nodded in agreement, even the silent Ran Takeda, the Japanese girl sitting in the sand nearby with her turtle-shaped Chimæra, Gamora, lightly stroking the back of her hand across his craggy shell. This was their life—watching news feeds of the aftermath of the invasion, eating microwaved military base food and hanging around on the beach. Sometimes, they practiced their telekinesis, copying the rudimentary games Nine had hastily taught them during their brief training session with him. They looked ahead, hoping they could eventually be of some use. And they tried their best not to think about Patience Creek.

Eventually, Daniela and Caleb drifted away, leaving Nigel alone on the beach with Ran.

“So, what do you think, silent and violent?” he asked. “We princes and princesses or prisoners?”

Ran looked over at Nigel. “I don’t think anyone knows what we are,” she said after a long pause.

Nigel grinned. He still couldn’t get over Ran speaking in her precise English. He thought she’d been mute when he first met her at the Niagara Falls Loralite stone and all the way through the ordeal at Patience Creek. Everyone assumed that she couldn’t speak English.

She had saved his life back at Patience Creek, maybe more than once, and so he stuck close to her. He started to notice the keen way her eyes tracked conversations happening around her.

And then he caught her smiling during one of his colorful rants. He confronted her and she admitted that she could speak English. Why hadn’t she said anything sooner? Because no one had bothered to ask. As far as Nigel knew, the others were still under the impression that she was either mute, couldn’t understand them or both.

That was how their alliance started. In the days after her confession, with nothing to do but sit on the beach and wait for news, Nigel and Ran got to know each other better. He told her about his dreary past in London, and she told him about her shattered life in Tokyo. They found they had something in common.

Neither of them had lives to go back to.

Nigel crouched down next to Ran and scratched under Gamora’s chin. “Of course they gave you the Chimæra named after a Godzilla monster, right? Bit stereotypical, innit? Thought the refugees of the advanced alien society would be better than that.”

“I don’t mind. I have always liked turtles.” She looked at him evenly. “You do not need to complain about everything, Nigel.”

Nigel sighed, glancing over his shoulder to where Daniela and Caleb had meandered down the beach. “You agree with me, though. That this situation we find ourselves in is bloody mental.”

“Yes,” Ran replied.

“So, you could speak up about it,” Nigel pushed. “Get my back when soldier-boy tells me everything’s peachy. I mean, you gotta start talking to the others eventually, yeah?”

Ran gazed out at the waves, thinking.

“I did not think I would survive the invasion,” she said at last. “All I wanted to do was fight. There was no point to talking, to making friends.” She paused. “After we came here, I kept it up so that General Lawson and those watching over us would speak freely around me. Our situation is a strange one, as you said. We need to know who we can trust, nakama.”

The four of them spent weeks on that island in a weird limbo while the rest of the world shakily recovered from the invasion.

Then, finally, they watched from the beach as a squadron of black helicopters arrived at the base. The choppers carried military personnel and posh people in suits and bookish-looking types with crates of high-tech equipment.

“The unholy triumvirate,” Nigel observed. “Soldiers, senators and scientists.”

“Something’s going to happen today,” Caleb said.

“No shit,” replied Daniela.

General Lawson spent his entire day in meetings with these new arrivals. The Garde twiddled their thumbs until almost sunset, when Lawson finally called them into one of the base’s dull conference rooms. Arranged on the table were a bunch of glossy brochures, all of them depicting a beautiful blond teenager in the process of lifting a chunk of brick wall over her head, freeing a family that had been trapped underneath. The caption read: OUR PLANET—OUR PROTECTORS—EARTH GARDE.

“A delegation from the United Nations arrived today,” General Lawson began without fanfare. “A decision has been made regarding—”

“Hold up,” Daniela interrupted, tapping one of the brochures. “Why does this bougie girl look so familiar?”

“That’s Melanie Jackson,” Caleb answered.

Daniela stared at him blankly.

“The first daughter? You know, of our president?”

“Oh yeah,” Daniela said. “She’s strong, huh?”

Nigel squinted at his copy of the Earth Garde pamphlet. “Lotta makeup for a spontaneous act of heroism.”

General Lawson pinched the bridge of his nose and pressed on. “Ms. Jackson is the first enrollee in the Earth Garde program, a UN-administered initiative to train and deploy you LANEs—excuse me, you Human Garde.”

LANE was a term first coined by the US military, possibly by Lawson himself. Depending on who one asked, it meant either Legacy-Augmented Native Earthling or Legacy-Afflicted Native Earthling.

Daniela smirked. “That what they’re calling us now? Human Garde?”

Lawson sighed. “It’s simple and less . . . offensive than LANE, apparently. There are PR gurus involved. Not my area of expertise.”

“Oi,” Nigel broke in. “Did you say deploy? As in, like, stormtroopers?”

Lawson began again. His patience for being interrupted had grown exponentially since he started working with Garde. “Participating countries, which include England and Japan—” He looked in Ran’s direction. “Ah, damn. Forgot to get the interpreter in here for this.”

“Not necessary,” Ran said. “Please. Continue.”

Everyone stared at her except for Nigel, who belted out a laugh. General Lawson puffed out his cheeks and shook his head, taking Ran’s revelation in stride.

“As I was saying, the Earth Garde program has been agreed upon by most UN member nations. All Human Garde from participating nations will be required to register with Earth Garde and undergo training and observation at the Human Garde Academy, which is currently under construction in California.” Lawson slid packets across the table, filled with forms and dense contracts. “The legal details are in here. If you want, we can have your parents flown in before you sign anything.”

“Bollocks to that,” Nigel said with a snort, thumbing through the pages.

Caleb exchanged a look with his uncle, then shook his head. “That’s okay.”

Ran and Daniela said nothing, both their families unaccounted for since the invasion.

“Once you’ve undergone training at the Academy and proven you won’t be a danger to society, you’ll be deployed to an Earth Garde unit. Not as stormtroopers,” Lawson said, with a glance in Nigel’s direction. “No one faces a combat situation until they’re at least eighteen years old and hopefully by then the remaining Mogadorians are routed and the world’s a goddamn utopia.” The old military man smirked. “As outlined, your time with Earth Garde will be spent doing humanitarian work. Currently, Melanie Jackson is assisting with the cleanup efforts in New York. Daniela, I know you’re from there and you’ve already demonstrated excellent control of your powers. I’ve arranged for you to skip the Academy and go straight to Earth Garde. Help rebuild your city.”

Daniela’s eyes widened. Although she didn’t talk about it much, they all knew she was still holding out hope that her mom would be found somewhere in the rubble of Manhattan. The hospitals there were overwhelmed, many neighborhoods didn’t yet have power restored and survivors were still being found. It was possible.

She looked at the other three Garde. Back at Patience Creek, she had promised John Smith she would protect them. But the invasion was over. She’d kept her word. Nigel grinned at her, and Ran nodded once.

Daniela reached across the table for a pen. “Where do I sign?”

Nigel leaned back in his chair and studied Lawson. “Right, then. Who’s going to be in charge of this Academy thing? You?”

Lawson shook his head. “No. My job was the war, and the war is over. The UN has appointed someone better suited to training people of your unique abilities.”

“Yeah? Who’s that?”

The Americans lobbied hard to host the Academy. With everything the United States had done to coordinate the counterattack against the Mogadorian warships, none of the other world leaders were in a position to push back. The Academy would technically be on international soil, the entire thing UN-funded, with Peacekeepers handling the security.

Fifty miles north of San Francisco, the secluded Point Reyes was chosen as the location for the Academy, the people of California and the National Park Service generously gifting the land to the United Nations. With a promise to be as eco-friendly as possible, building began immediately on the coastal cliffs of the former nature preserve.

“Damn, dude. Place is going to be huge,” said the young man as he surveyed the construction, hundreds of workers already clearing earth and laying foundations, bulldozers and cranes rumbling across the landscape. “How many students we expecting?”

The older man standing next to him glanced up from his tablet. He pushed his glasses up his nose. “Last count they’d registered more than one hundred Human Garde. Finding new ones every day.”

The young man whistled. His long black hair was tied back in a sloppy man-bun. It was windy here and he kept having to push rebellious strands of hair out of his eyes. He’d seen the blueprints and now, looking at the land, he tried to picture what the Academy would look like. Two dormitories each capable of housing five hundred students, a cul-de-sac of town houses erected for faculty housing, a school building equipped with state-of-the-art computers and laboratories, a recreation center, a training complex designed by the military, a sports fieldhouse, solar power and a tide-power generator. All that nestled between the fir trees of the valley and the rocky cliffs of Drake’s Bay. Not so unusual, a private school in the middle of nowhere, albeit this one would be surrounded by miles of electrified razor-wire fence, its perimeter patrolled by round-the-clock security.

“What are you thinking, Professor?” Dr. Malcolm Goode asked, emphasizing the title that his young friend had negotiated for, despite never actually finishing high school.

The young man rubbed the spot where his prosthetic arm joined his shoulder. The thing still itched him like crazy.

“It’s no penthouse,” Nine said. “But I guess it’ll do.”

EXCERPT FROM FUGITIVE SIX

ALREADY READ GENERATION ONE? HERE’S A SPECIAL LOOK AT FUGITIVE SIX, BOOK TWO IN THE LORIEN LEGACIES REBORN SERIES!

CHAPTER ONE

DUANPHEN

BANGKOK, THAILAND

DUANPHEN WATCHED THE BEGGAR AS HE SCURRIED through traffic with his bucket and rag. The boy couldn’t have been more than twelve, small, with a mop of greasy black hair. He picked his cars smartly—shiny ones with tinted windows and drunk passengers. He splashed dirty water on windshields and stretched across hoods to ineffectively clean up, mostly smearing around more grime. Drivers rolled down their windows to curse at him but usually relented, shoved a note into his hand to make him go away and turned on their wipers.

It was after midnight and Royal City Avenue still pulsed with life. Motorcycles weaved through the traffic. Drunk clubbers stumbled into the street. Neon lights flashed in unison with their bars’ competing bass lines.

Duanphen rubbed the handcuff around her wrist that attached her to the executive’s briefcase. The metal irritated her. Just like this place.

Three months since she was last here. She hadn’t missed it.

The beggar spotted Duanphen and her limo. Well, not her limo, precisely—it belonged to the executive; she was only watching over it. The black stretch was double-parked obnoxiously in front of a club where go-go dancers gyrated in the windows. The executive had been so excited when he saw the place that he was practically drooling; they just had to pull over. The rest of the executive’s security had gone in with him, but not Duanphen. She was too young.

“Sweet ride,” the beggar said in Thai as he stopped in front of her. He held out his rag threateningly. “Dirty, though. For a few bucks I’ll wash it for you.”

Duanphen regarded him coldly. “Go away.”

The kid stared up at her, as if trying to decide if he should press his luck. At seventeen, Duanphen wasn’t that much older than him, although her steely gaze made her seem it. She stood a shade over six feet tall, her long-limbed body like a switchblade. She kept her hair buzzed and wore no makeup except for some extra-dark eyeliner. Her petite nose was a crooked zigzag; it looked like it’d been erased and redrawn.

“I know you,” he said.

“No.”

“You’re a hooker,” he said with a laugh. “No! That’s not right. Where have I seen you?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Duanphen said. “Get lost.”

The beggar hopped in the air as the realization hit him. “You’re a fighter!” he said, shaking his rag at her. “I know you! You’re the one who cheats. The one—”

As if by magic, the boy’s bucket tipped towards him and spilled water down the front of his pants. He gasped and shut up, staring at Duanphen.

Not magic. Telekinesis.

“If you do know me,” Duanphen said, “then you know what I will do when I run out of patience.”

The beggar looked at her wide-eyed, then took off into the crowd with a yelp. Duanphen pursed her lips. Calling her a cheater. What did that little idiot know about anything?

Duanphen had been doing Muay Thai fights since she was fourteen, a necessity to supplement the pittance she got working sixty hours at the garment factory, all to pay her rent at a roach-infested boardinghouse. Before her Legacies kicked in, Duanphen had lost more fights than she won, often getting her face smashed to a bloody pulp by girls twice her age.

Telekinesis, she discovered after the invasion, made the fights easier. An assisted leg-trip here. A deflected punch there. She went on a winning streak. She began to bet on herself. The competition got tougher, but her telekinesis got stronger, too.

It wasn’t until an opponent managed to get her in a choke hold and Duanphen’s electrified skin unexpectedly triggered that the fight promoters got wise. They called what she’d been doing “stealing” and gave her a choice: work off the debt or die. She considered fighting her way out, but they had a lot of guns, and blocking punches wasn’t the same as stopping bullets.

Word soon got out that the local mob had a Garde for hire. That was how the executive found her. He knew a lot of people. He was a talker. An excellent negotiator.

That’s what made him so valuable to the Foundation.

The Foundation paid off her debt and gave Duanphen a fresh start. They gave her more money than she could hope to earn in a thousand fights, plus clothes and a splashy apartment in Hong Kong. All she needed to do in exchange was watch over this smarmy executive and carry around his briefcase.

Not a bad deal at all, she’d thought. At least until she got to know the executive better. Men liked him, of course, because he was always making gross jokes and buying drinks. But, to Duanphen, he was a middle-aged creep, the kind of tourist she’d encountered a million times in Bangkok. He was always complaining about his cold wife and his kids that didn’t talk to him.

The executive sauntered out of the club surrounded by a phalanx of brutish bodyguards. He had a lot of security—more added in the last few weeks, for reasons no one explained to Duanphen. The muscle cleared a path on the sidewalk, shoving aside gaudily dressed revelers as they escorted the executive to his armored limo. People craned their necks to catch a glimpse of what kind of man commanded such an entourage. The executive didn’t look like much—a thatch of thinning blond hair, short, a potbelly, his designer suit wrinkled from the humidity, his salmon-colored shirt damp with sweat. Not famous, the onlookers probably thought, disappointed. Just some rich jerk. Bangkok was full of them.

Duanphen opened the car door for her rich jerk. He pinched her cheek affectionately and she died a little inside.

“Missed a banging good time, Dawn,” he said, his words slurred from too much champagne.

“Mm,” Duanphen offered noncommittally. She despised his butchered farang version of her name.

The executive interpreted Duanphen’s murmur as encouragement. “One of these days you’ll be old enough to make a proper piece of arm candy,” he told her.

Duanphen smiled mirthlessly and clenched her fist. She slid into the backseat beside the executive, one of the other bodyguards taking the wheel.

“Meant to ask you,” the executive said. “Happy to be back home?”

“No,” she replied. “I hate this place.”

“Really? I’ve always loved Bangkok.” He waved his hand airily out the window. “Although it’s more fun when you aren’t bloody surrounded.”

Duanphen knew the executive chafed at the extra security. His bodyguards weren’t just the average bruisers anyone could hire around Bangkok; they were highly trained mercenaries. The Blackstone Group detachment had been his wife’s idea—or, rather, his wife’s command. She was in the Foundation too and seemed to wield more power than her husband. That, at least, cheered Duanphen.

The rest of the executive’s security piled into two cars, one behind and one in front. The executive sighed as his ungainly security force began the journey through the crowded streets back to his hotel.

The executive checked his watch. “Ah, running a bit late.” He wiggled his fingers at Duanphen. “Let’s get to business, shall we?”

Ostensibly, the executive was in Bangkok to sign some paperwork on a hotel he’d invested in. But while that work had made the executive rich, it was no longer his true occupation.

Duanphen offered him the briefcase. The executive unlocked it with his thumbprint, then lifted out its contents—a sleek tablet computer. This, too, the executive unlocked with his fingerprint, followed by a nine-digit code that he kept hidden from Duanphen. The tablet connected to a secure server via satellite uplink. The executive settled back, waiting to connect.

“A good turnout,” the executive said approvingly. He liked showing off, so he didn’t mind if Duanphen peeked at the tablet.

There were twenty people waiting for the executive in the e-conference. They were represented by icons—an infinity symbol, a snarling fox, a silver-and-blue star that Duanphen thought was the logo for an American football team. The mundane avatars of the very rich people in the executive’s club.

A slithering blob of shadows appeared amid the icons. That represented the executive himself. That was always how the auctioneer looked during one of these Foundation events.

“Good evening, all,” the executive said, after unmuting his side of the conference and activating his voice modulator. “On the block tonight, we have the services of Salma G., for the weekend of January third through the fifth.”

The executive called up Salma’s picture and sent it out to the bidders. The girl had wavy brown hair that was long and unruly, plus a thick unibrow that made her look like she was deep in thought. In the image, Salma wore a tangle of scarves that were nearly indistinguishable from her billowy dress, patterns upon patterns. She sat cross-legged, fingers pinched together like she was meditating, her eyes gazing into the middle distance.

He muted the conference so he could smirk at Duanphen. “Nice costume on her, eh? The lads in marketing thought it’d be clever to give her a sort of gypsy fortune-teller vibe.”

“I see,” Duanphen replied.

“Don’t need any of that when you’re on the block, eh? Your face conveys exactly what you’re for.”

Duanphen touched her crooked nose but didn’t reply. The executive had already unmuted the video conference and was again speaking to his international audience.

“The following specs were included in your dossier, but I’ll summarize. Salma is sixteen years old. Moroccan. Speaks fluent Arabic, passable French and passable English. No health concerns. Buyer must provide a halal diet. Salma’s telekinetic control remains middling at best, so, if that’s what you’re interested in, we’ve got better assets available. Her real allure is her precognitive ability. She’s perfect for a visit to the track or the casino, although we don’t recommend attempting to use her Legacies to choose stocks or other long-term investments. Salma is geo-restricted; you’ve already been provided with lists of approved locations. Bidders are also reminded that you are purchasing only the use of Salma’s Legacies and that any behavior viewed by the Foundation as untoward or detrimental to the asset will result in swift expulsion from the organization.”

Duanphen knew that expulsion, in this case, meant death. It didn’t matter how wealthy and powerful the Foundation’s members were; if they broke the rules, they’d be punished.

“Righto.” The executive cleared his throat. “As there’s a great amount of interest in dear Salma, I believe we shall start the bidding at approximately five million euros. Do I hear five million?”

Immediately, a handful of the icons logged out of the conference. The price was too high for some, but not all. The bidding went back and forth. Each time one of the icons pulsed, a little beep sounded and the bid increased by 250,000 euros.

Five minutes later, the auction was over. A weekend with Salma had gone for 10.6 million euros. The executive checked his account. The payment had already come through.

“Bastard’ll probably make that back in a night,” the executive sniffed. He handed his tablet back to Duanphen and she returned it to the briefcase. “We ought to take a percentage of what the girl makes them at the tables, eh?”

“It is a lot of money,” Duanphen said, in awe of the price the Moroccan Garde commanded.

“Eh.” The executive shrugged. “Not so much.”

They arrived at the executive’s hotel. It was a lavish place, where the staff wore silk vests and bow ties and were always underfoot with warm towels and glasses of rosewater. The executive loved it. He had the penthouse suite all to himself. Well, not quite all to himself. Duanphen slept in an adjoining room and a handful of the other bodyguards were always camped out in the hallway.

Some of the guards stayed in the lobby to keep an eye on things, and the rest piled into the elevator with them. When they reached the top floor, they met two more bodyguards who were stationed outside the executive’s suite.

“Keeping watch on an empty hallway,” the executive groused. “What a great use of our resources.”

But, as he neared his suite, the executive suddenly began to whistle a jaunty little tune. Duanphen raised an eyebrow. The little man was practically swaggering, swinging his arms back and forth like he was in a wonderful mood. Maybe he was drunker than she thought.

“Aw, you lads are just doing your jobs,” he said. “I don’t mean to be such a bastard. I just made a tidy pile of quid tonight, y’know? Ought to spread the wealth, as the poors love to say.” He stopped abruptly in the middle of the hallway. “Come on, ya blokes,” he said. “Gather round, eh?”

The guards did as they were told. Normally, they were a stoic bunch, but now they looked as upbeat as the executive. Some of them grinned as they formed an impromptu huddle. Duanphen arched an eyebrow. The Blackstone mercenaries were usually much more professional.

“It isn’t easy work, what you do. I want to show my appreciation.” The executive pulled out his overstuffed money clip and started slapping high denomination Thai baht into the outstretched hands of his security guards. “Bangkok’s a damn fine place for strapping bucks like you lot. Take the night off. Go out and enjoy yourselves. On me, of course.”

As if the money wasn’t enough, the executive handed over his black card to one of the guards, then tossed his entire wallet to another. He winked and waved them off, watching like a generous father as the hardened mercenaries jostled their way back to the elevator, arm in arm, laughing and cracking jokes.

Duanphen watched it all happen with her mouth half-open in disbelief.

“What . . . ?” She sounded bewildered. “What the hell are you doing?”

The executive grinned at her. “What’s the matter, Dawn? You sure you don’t want to join them? Go on, then. Have fun.” He slapped his pockets. “Afraid I’m out of money, though . . .”

Duanphen stared into his eyes, which had a wide and spacey quality. “You’re—” She gave up on the stupidly grinning executive. “Hey, wait!” she called after the mercenaries, but the elevator was gone. Had they all gone crazy?

“Sir,” Duanphen said, balling her fists. “You’re acting strange.”

“Nonsense,” the executive replied. He swiped his key card and pushed open the door to his suite.

Immediately, Duanphen could sense something wrong. The air was warm and sticky, not meticulously temperature-controlled like the executive preferred. And where was that breeze coming from?

The executive stopped suddenly and pinched the bridge of his nose. He shook his head as if he were coming out of a dream.

“Dawn, what— Did our boys just rob me? Or—what came over me?”

The answer stood right in the middle of his suite.

The young man was slender, his brown hair combed from the side into a meticulously gelled swoop. He wore expensive clothes—gray slacks, a black vest, a white dress shirt. Duanphen thought he looked almost like a magician; appropriate as he’d somehow slipped in past the executive’s security. The broken glass from the balcony window probably explained that . . . although how had he managed to climb all the way up here?

The executive was frozen. “You.”

“Not easy, putting you in a generous mood while making those Blackstone morons go all frat boy,” Einar said. There were dark circles around his eyes and he was out of breath, like he’d just greatly exerted himself. He held up a finger. “Give me a minute, will you?”

Duanphen didn’t hesitate. Clearly, this Einar boy was a threat. Maybe even the reason for the executive’s added security. She charged towards him, the executive’s metal briefcase held over her head as a weapon.

Wumpf! She didn’t see it coming. A second intruder slammed into Duanphen’s side, trucked her clean off her feet and sent her crashing through a coffee table. He was burly and hunched figure in a dingy gray sweat suit, the hood pulled up.

Einar sat down in a plush armchair and stretched out his legs. He smiled at the executive. “You aren’t the only one with a bodyguard. Shall we see how this plays out?”

Duanphen snapped back to her feet, facing down the looming figure in the sweat suit. He was big, but she’d fought bigger. She triggered her Legacy. A field of electricity crackled across Duanphen’s body. One Taser-like blow from her packed enough voltage to put down an ox.

She had longer reach than the brute in the sweat suit and threw a series of quick strikes at his face—a jab followed by a vicious swing of the briefcase. He bobbed backwards on his heels, keeping his distance as Duanphen’s lightning-charged punches crackled right in front of his nose. Duanphen was merely testing him, though, gauging her range.

“Ha!” She unleashed a vicious arcing roundhouse kick. The sweat suit barely managed to get his forearm raised in a haphazard block.

Duanphen screamed and flopped to the ground, her shin bent at an impossible angle. She’d broken her leg on her attacker’s forearm. It was like hitting a brick wall.

The pain caused her to lose control of her Legacy. The sweat suit was on her fast. He grabbed Duanphen around the neck and lifted her off the ground with ease, his fist cocked back.

“Stop!” Einar yelled. “Don’t kill her! You weren’t even supposed to break her!”

As ordered, the sweat suit dropped Duanphen. She writhed on the floor, whimpering, body curled around her broken leg.

Einar looked at the executive. “Him, on the other hand . . .”

Duanphen saw it happen. The executive managed, at last, to turn and run. But it was too late. Sweat suit grabbed him by the back of his neck, lifted him up and then—crack—down, slamming the executive spine-first over his knee like a dead branch.

There was a moment that Duanphen knew from her many losing fights, that sensation right before a knockout, when all the pain was erased by welcoming blackness. The pain in her leg was shrieking and intense. Too much to bear. She let herself slip . . .

And then she was being not so gently slapped awake. How long was she out? Seconds? Minutes? She was still in the hotel room, the breeze from the broken window somehow chilling her despite the humidity. With every slight shift of her body, new shards of pain broke free in her shattered leg. Duanphen wanted to retreat from the agony, but she sensed that if she passed out again that she might never wake up.

Einar crouched over her. He stopped slapping her once her eyes focused.

“Hello again,” he said. He held up the executive’s tablet. “How do I access this?”

Shakily, she pointed at the executive’s body. “Fingerprint.”

Duanphen felt a sticky heat beneath her, warm and spreading. Was that . . . ?

“Yes, I know fingerprint. We already took care of that.” Einar held up the executive’s severed hand.

Duanphen gagged. She was lying in a puddle of blood swiftly spreading from the executive’s body. In a moment of panic, she checked her own wrists, was relieved to find them intact. They’d simply ripped open the briefcase with telekinesis.

Behind Einar, the sweat suit wiped his gore-stained hands on a bedsheet. There was something wrong with his skin. Duanphen squinted, but Einar snapped his fingers in her face.

“Do you know the code?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Only he did.”

Einar frowned. “Well. Got a bit overzealous, didn’t we?” He stood up. “So here is the situation, Duanphen. Did I say that right?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“We’re like you. Garde. I’m sure you noticed how your coworkers suddenly started behaving strangely out in the hallway. That was me. I can control emotions.” Duanphen flinched as Einar reached out, but all he did was touch her gently on the nose. “But I’m not doing that to you, dear.”

“Wh-why?”

“My new policy is that I don’t use my Legacy against our own kind unless absolutely necessary. I don’t kill them either. Good news for you, yes? But you still have a choice to make. Option one: you deliver a message for me. Tell the Foundation I know who they are and that I’m coming for them. We leave you here, the guards will likely be back soon, they take you to a hospital, fix your leg, and then you find out what the Foundation does to assets who fail at their jobs.”

Duanphen glanced at the executive’s mangled body. This failure was not something the Foundation would forgive. “Option two?”

“Option two,” Einar continued, “is you come with me. Help me out with what I’m doing.”

Duanphen already knew what option she would choose, but she still had to ask.

“What . . . what are you doing?”

“Simple. I’m remaking the world.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

PITTACUS LORE finished recounting the story of the invasion of Earth in the I Am Number Four series and is now ready to tell another story. His whereabouts are unknown.

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THE LORIEN LEGACIES BY PITTACUS LORE

THE LORIEN LEGACIES REBORN

NOVELS

GENERATION ONE

FUGITIVE SIX

NOVELLAS

THE LEGACY CHRONICLES #1: OUT OF THE ASHES

THE LEGACY CHRONICLES #2: INTO THE FIRE

THE LEGACY CHRONICLES #3: UP IN SMOKE

THE LORIEN LEGACIES

NOVELS

I AM NUMBER FOUR

THE POWER OF SIX

THE RISE OF NINE

THE FALL OF FIVE

THE REVENGE OF SEVEN

THE FATE OF TEN

UNITED AS ONE

NOVELLAS

THE LOST FILES #1: SIX’S LEGACY

THE LOST FILES #2: NINE’S LEGACY

THE LOST FILES #3: THE FALLEN LEGACIES

THE LOST FILES #4: THE SEARCH FOR SAM

THE LOST FILES #5: THE LAST DAYS OF LORIEN

THE LOST FILES #6: THE FORGOTTEN ONES

THE LOST FILES #7: FIVE’S LEGACY

THE LOST FILES #8: RETURN TO PARADISE

THE LOST FILES #9: FIVE’S BETRAYAL

THE LOST FILES #10: THE FUGITIVE

THE LOST FILES #11: THE NAVIGATOR

THE LOST FILES #12: THE GUARD

THE LOST FILES #13: LEGACIES REBORN

THE LOST FILES #14: LAST DEFENSE

THE LOST FILES #15: HUNT FOR THE GARDE

NOVELLA COLLECTIONS

THE LOST FILES: THE LEGACIES (CONTAINS NOVELLAS #1–#3)

THE LOST FILES: SECRET HISTORIES (CONTAINS NOVELLAS #4–#6)

THE LOST FILES: HIDDEN ENEMY (CONTAINS NOVELLAS #7–#9)

THE LOST FILES: REBEL ALLIES (CONTAINS NOVELLAS #10–#12)

ZERO HOUR (CONTAINS NOVELLAS #13–#15)

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COPYRIGHT

THE LEGACY CHRONICLES: UP IN SMOKE. Copyright © 2018 by Pittacus Lore. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

Digital Edition MAY 2018 ISBN: 978-0-06-249403-0

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

FIRST EDITION

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Contents

1. Cover

2. Title Page

4. Chapter One

5. Chapter Two

6. Chapter Three

7. Chapter Four

8. Chapter Five

9. Chapter Six

10. Chapter Seven

11. Chapter Eight

12. Chapter Nine

13. Chapter Ten

14. Excerpt from Generation One

1. Chapter One

2. Chapter Two

15. Excerpt from Fugitive Six

16. About the Author

17. Books by Pittacus Lore

18. Back Ads

19. Copyright

20. About the Publisher