“He’s tough. He could still be alive,” Sarah says.
“Yeah, definitely,” Sam replies, but he doesn’t sound confident.
Thinking about BK and whichever one of the Garde is dead in the Everglades almost makes me break down. I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek and focus on the pain. I stand up—there will be time for mourning later. Right now, we need to get out of here before the Mogs decide to come back and kill us.
“Time to go,” I say, helping Malcolm to his feet.
“Thank you for saving my life, John,” he says. “Now, let’s get the hell out of this place.”
The four of us rush out of the bedroom with Sam helping Malcolm along. The lights have all gone out, a circuit probably blown during the fighting. There aren’t any Mogadorians waiting for us in the living room, but I can see by the destruction that they’ve definitely done some redecorating. For a moment, I imagine how mad Nine will be when he gets back. If he’s even alive. And then I realize that we’re never going to be able to come back to this place. It was a good home for a while, but now it’s gone, destroyed like so much else by the Mogadorians.
Through the shattered windows, I can hear sirens wailing from the street below. This attack by the Mogadorians was way more brazen than usual. It’s probably going to be pretty hard to sneak out undetected.
Amazingly, the penthouse elevator is still operational. I hustle Sarah, Sam and Malcolm inside and hit the button for the parking garage, but I don’t get in the elevator.
“What’re you doing?” Sarah cries, grabbing my arm.
“We won’t be able to come back here. It’s going to be crawling with cops and probably the feds that work for the Mogs. I have to get our Chests and see if I can find BK.”
Sam steps forward. “I can help you.”
“No,” I reply. “Go with Sarah and your dad. With my telekinesis, I can carry them myself.”
“You promised we’d stay together,” Sarah says, her voice shaky.
I pull her close to me. “You’re my getaway driver,” I tell her. “Get the fastest of Nine’s cars and meet me by the zoo. You guys shouldn’t have a problem getting out, but they might be looking for me. I should be able to jump to the next roof and get down that way.” I step back from the elevator, then lunge forward to plant one last kiss on Sarah. “I love you,” I tell her.
“I love you too,” she replies.
The elevator doors hiss closed. I race through the destroyed penthouse and back to the workshop. It’s been wrecked too—all this hard work, the Lecture Hall never to be used again. I try to think only practical thoughts. What should I take with me? The first thing I grab is the tablet that shows our locations. Four dots still displaying in Florida—damn it, that’s one too few. I’m not ready to focus on the identity of the one we’ve lost or what to do about Ella or the fact that Setrákus Ra might actually be Loric.
I grab a stray duffel bag from beneath an overturned table and duck into the Lecture Hall to load it up with guns. I stow the tablet in there too and throw that over my shoulder. I want to keep my hands free, just in case any Mogs are still lurking around, so I levitate all of our Chests with my telekinesis. With all the windows blown out, I can easily hear the sirens wailing down below. This is all I’ll be able to carry. It’s time to get back on the run.
The Inheritances floating behind me, I run out of the workshop and back through the penthouse. I need to get to the roof and see if BK made it out alive.
Before I can reach the stairs, the elevator dings open. Damn it—I was too slow.
I look over my shoulder, expecting to see some of Chicago’s finest with guns drawn. Instead, it’s a lone Mogadorian. Pale as usual, dark hair in his face, younger than normal, and he looks different than other Mogs I’ve seen, more human. A gun pointed in front of him—at me.
All the Chests thunk to the floor as I redirect my telekinesis, snatching the gun out of his hands. “Hey!” he screams, and if he says anything else, I’m not listening. I’m thinking about the friends I lost tonight. The dark future I had to suffer through. Killing this straggler Mogadorian won’t change any of that, but it’s a start.
I pitch a fireball in his direction, but he dives out of the way, hiding behind the torn-up husk of a couch. I lift it up with my telekinesis and fling it aside. He holds up his hands, surrendering. I’d probably think that was weird if I was thinking at all.
“Too late for that,” I growl.
Just as I’m about to hurl another fireball at him, the Mog stomps on the floor. The whole room shakes, furniture tipping over, the carpet rippling like there’s a wave passing underneath it. And then the seismic jolt knocks me backwards, stumbling, and I feel the cold fingers of open air clawing at my back. Stupid—I was standing right in front of a broken window. I swing my arms, desperately trying to regain my balance.
But I don’t fall. He’s got me. The Mogadorian has grabbed me by the front of the shirt.
“I don’t want to fight you!” he shouts in my face. “Stop attacking me!”
As soon as he’s reeled me back in, I shove him away. He doesn’t come at me, but he remains crouched, ready to dodge anything I might throw at him.
“You’re Four,” he says.
“How do you know that?”
“They know what you look like, John Smith. What all of you look like. And so do I—” He hesitates. “Except I also remember seeing you as a child. Running for a ship while my people murdered yours.”
“You’re the one Malcolm and Sam talked about.” My voice comes through gritted teeth. I can’t shake the feeling that I should run or fight when faced with his kind. It’s ingrained in me, but I try to keep it in check.
“Adamus Sutekh,” the Mog introduces himself. “I prefer Adam.”
“Your people killed a friend of mine tonight, Adam,” I spit, knowing my anger is unreasonable, not able to help myself. “And they kidnapped another.”
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I came as quickly as I could. Are Malcolm and Sam safe?”
“I—” Well, I just don’t know how to react to that. A Mog showing compassion. Even if Sam and Malcolm said it was true, I still never really imagined it. “Yeah, they’re fine.”
“Good,” Adam replies. His voice still has the harshness of a Mogadorian. “We need to get out of here.”
“We?”
“You’re hurt, angry,” Adam says, moving cautiously closer to me, like I might suddenly take a swing at him. “I get that. But if you want to hurt them back, I can help.”
“I’m listening.”
Adam extends his hand to me. “I know where they live.”
Something recoils inside of me at the sight of that pale hand waiting for mine. But if what I saw in that vision was true—if Five is working for the Mogadorians—then why shouldn’t we have one of them working with us? I take Adam’s hand, squeezing hard. He doesn’t cringe, only looks me right in the eye.
“All right, Adam,” I say. “You’re gonna help me win this war.”