I look around too, but not at the books. I’m looking for an exit. This room we’re in doesn’t appear to have any doors. We’re stuck here. Ella, the Loric Entity, whoever’s doing this—they aren’t done with us yet.
“I think we’re in some kind of psychic waiting room,” I say to Nine. “Not sure why.”
“Cool,” he replies, and flops down into one of the lounge chairs. “Maybe they’re going to show us another movie.”
“What do you think happened to Sam and Daniela? I saw them pass out at the same time we did.”
“Beats the hell out of me,” Nine says.
“You’d think we would end up in the same place.”
“Why?” Nine asks. “You think there’s a lot of logic in operating some kind of shared telepathic hallucination?”
“No,” I admit. “I guess not.”
“So, you think Ella’s doing all this, right? I’m picking up a total Ella vibe.”
“Yeah,” I say, nodding in agreement. Nine’s right. I’m not sure how I know that we’re in Ella’s psychic projection, I just do. It’s intuitive.
Nine whistles. “Damn, man. Girl got a serious power upgrade. I kinda feel like we’re slacking off. I want to copy some Legacies like your boy Pittacus. Or at least get some sweet razor-edged lasso thing.”
I sigh and shake my head, a little embarrassed to hear Nine say out loud what I was just thinking. I change the subject. “We need to find a way out of here.”
Nine gives me a funny look, so I turn away and walk over to one of the bookcases. I start pulling books off the shelves, thinking that maybe I’ll trigger some kind of secret passage. Nothing happens and Nine just laughs at me.
“We shouldn’t be sitting around,” I say, glaring at him.
“Dude, what else are we going to do? You know how hard I tried to murder young Setrákus Ra while we were watching that highlight reel? Pretty hard.” Nine punches his hand into his open palm, then shrugs. “But, you know, I didn’t have any arms or legs. We can’t do anything right now. So let’s just chill out. I’ve been brawling my ass off for days and even if this chair is just, like, a figment of my imagination, it’s hella comfortable.”
I give up pulling books off the wall and return to the center of the room. Ignoring Nine, I tilt my head back and shout at the ceiling. “Ella! Can you hear me?”
“You look so stupid right now,” Nine says.
“I don’t know why you’re just sitting there,” I say, staring at him. “Now is not the time to chill out.”
“Now is exactly the time to chill out,” Nine replies, glancing down at an imaginary watch. “We’ll get back to almost dying as soon as Ella’s showed us whatever weird prophetic crap she needs to.”
“I agree with Nine.”
I spin around at the voice to find Five standing a few feet away from me, newly manifested in our little lounge. He purses his lips and shrugs his beefy shoulders at me, like he’s not that happy to see us either. Even in this dreamworld, Five is still missing one of his eyes. At least it’s covered by a normal-looking eye patch here instead of the grungy pad of gauze he sports in the real world.
“What the hell are you doing he—?”
There’s a guttural battle cry from behind me and then Nine is by me in a blur. He drops his shoulder and aims right for Five’s gut. For some reason, Five doesn’t expect to be attacked on sight and barely has time to brace himself before Nine is on him.
Except, Nine doesn’t hit him. He passes right through Five and ends up sliding on his face into the pile of books I tossed off the shelves.
“Son of a bitch!” Nine growls.
“Huh,” Five says, looking down at his chest, which sure looks solid enough to hit.
“There can be no violence here.”
We all turn to look at the room’s far wall, where a doorway just manifested. Standing there is a middle-aged man with a muscular build, his brown hair graying at the temples. He looks exactly the way I remember him.
“Henri?” I exclaim.
At the exact same time, Nine shouts, “Sandor? What the hell?”
Five doesn’t say anything. He simply glares at the man in the doorway, his lips curled into a sneer.
Nine and I exchange a quick look. It only takes us a second to realize that we’re all seeing different people. If it’s really Ella running this trippy dreamland, she must have plucked someone from our subconscious that we’d feel comfortable with. Except that doesn’t really seem to have worked with Five. He keeps balling and relaxing his fists, like he might spring forward at any second. I can’t help but smile looking at Henri, even though the moment is definitely bittersweet. “Are you . . . are you real?” I ask, feeling stupid asking this question.
“I’m as real as a memory, John,” Henri replies. When he speaks, I see a glow inside his mouth of the same energy that Setrákus Ra was mining from Lorien. It’s similar to the way Six described her group’s encounter with a briefly reincarnated Eight. I don’t think it’s just Ella pulling off this telepathic masterpiece anymore. She’s got some high-powered support.
“I’m sorry I got the penthouse blown up,” Nine says. He pauses for a response, then says, “Yeah, it was totally Five’s fault, you’re right.”
I glance first at Nine and then to Five, who still hasn’t said anything but appears to be listening intently, and finally back to Henri. We can’t see or hear each other’s visitors, only our own.