The Power of Six

“Ella,” I whisper. She sticks her head out and looks down. “Should I come up?”

She shakes her head. “It’s stuck, but I almost have it. I’ll bring it down to you in a minute,” she whispers back, and then yanks her head back in and disappears. I can’t take the suspense of not knowing what’s going on up there. I look at the base of the column and take hold of it; and just before I’m about to try climbing it, I hear a noise behind me that sounds like somebody kicking a pew. I spin around. The Virgin Mary blocks my view. I walk around her and scan the nave, but I don’t see anything.

“I got it!” I hear Ella exclaim.

I rush back around the statue and look up, waiting for her to appear. I can hear her grunt and struggle to drag the Chest to the nook’s opening, and I have no idea if it’s because the Chest is heavy or because the tunnel is so narrow. Little by little the dragging continues. I feel nothing short of ecstasy at finally having the Chest in my possession, and I don’t even consider the problem of getting it open. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. Just as Ella is almost to the opening, I hear something else behind me.

“What are you doing up?”

I whip around. Divided equally on each side of the Virgin Mary, Gabby and Delfina stand under the statue’s left arm while La Gorda and a wiry Bonita, the champion of the dock game that almost got me killed at the lake, position themselves beneath the right arm.

I glance over my shoulder and see two small eyes peering down at us from the nook’s opening.

“What do you want?” I ask.

“I wanted to see what the little tattletale was up to, that’s all. You know, it’s funny because I saw you sneak out of the room and I thought that I would get up and finally see what it was you’re always looking at on the computer, but you weren’t there.” Gabby paints a sarcastic, confused look on her face. “You were in here, which is really weird.”

“Really weird. It’s really weird,” La Gorda says. To my relief, I don’t hear Ella dragging the Chest anymore.

“Why do you even care?” I say. “Seriously. All I ever do is keep to myself and keep my mouth shut.”

“I care a lot about you, Marina,” Gabby says, stepping forward. She flips her long dark hair. “In fact, I care so much that I worry about you hanging out with that loser drunk, Héctor, all the time. Do you get drunk with him?” She pauses. “Do you drink from his bottle?”

I don’t know if it was because she called Héctor a loser, or because she thought our friendship was anything more than just that, or because she is snooping on what I’m doing at the computer, but it just happens. I close my eyes and reach out with my mind, grabbing all four of them at once. La Gorda screams, while the other three whimper in shock. I pick them up off the ground—their bare feet kicking at the air, their shoulders smashed against each other’s—and thrust them all across the smooth floor until they bounce off the steps leading to the raised dais at the back of the nave.

La Gorda slaps the floor with her open palms and gets to her feet like an angry bull ready to charge the conquistador. I run to her instead, making up the ground in a matter of seconds. La Gorda swings a wild punch and I duck, only to spring up and jam my right fist into her chin. She falls backwards with a gasp, and her head thuds against the floor. She’s out cold.

Bonita jumps on my back and pulls at my hair. Someone punches me in the left cheek, and the other kicks me in the shin. Bonita slides down my back and hugs my upper arms so I can’t move. Delfina swings and I duck. The punch glances off Bonita’s mouth and she loosens her grip enough for me to twist away. I grab Bonita’s right arm in my hands and I drive her towards Gabby.

“You’re dead, Marina! You are so dead!” Bonita shrieks, and I pull her sideways and knee her in the gut, knocking the wind out of her. I shove her to the ground next to La Gorda.

Delfina’s confidence is broken. She looks for the door. “You ready to leave me alone?” I ask her.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m going to get you tomorrow,” she says. “Right when you’re not looking.”

“You’re going to wish you didn’t say that.” I fake right and lunge left, tackling her around the waist. Gabby tries to grab my hair but I whip Delfina around to block her. Then I pivot on my heels and release Delfina down the middle aisle of the nave. Her back hits the first step at the altar, and her groan echoes off the vaulted ceiling.

Gabby circles me. “I’m telling Sister Dora. You’re going to be in so much trouble.” I turn my body to keep my eyes on her. She stops right next to the column. I can tell she’s about to charge and I’m ready for it.

Suddenly I see a flash of white above Gabby’s head. It takes me a second to recognize that it’s Ella, and she’s jumped from the nook all the way down onto Gabby’s shoulders. Gabby flails around until she can get her hands on Ella; and when she does, she tosses her onto the floor with a horrible cracking sound.

“No!” I yell, and then I punch Gabby in the sternum as hard as I can. Her feet leave the ground and she hits the wall, knocking dust from the stone wall’s mortar.

Ella’s on her back, wailing, writhing in pain, but I notice she keeps her right leg completely still. I kneel beside her and pull up the bottom of her nightgown to see a sharp white bone sticking out of her skin just below the knee. I don’t know what to do. I put my hand on her shoulders to try to console her, but she’s in so much pain, she doesn’t feel it.

“I’m right here, Ella,” I say. “I’m here right beside you, and everything is going to be okay.”

Her eyes open and she gives me a pleading look. It’s then that I see the damage done to her right hand. Her tiny fist is mangled, crooked; blood seeps out between her index and middle fingers. Her talent.

“Oh my God, Ella. I’m sorry,” I cry. “I’m so, so sorry.”

She just cries. I feel myself begin to sweat. Never in my life have I felt so useless.

“Try not to move,” I say, knowing it’s a futile plea. The nearest hospital is a half-hour drive. She’ll pass out from the pain by then.

She starts to rock in a rhythm from side to side. I hover my shaking hands over the shard of bone sticking out of her leg, not knowing if I should apply pressure or try to push it back under the skin. I decide on applying pressure, and the second my fingers touch her skin, Ella stutters with a sharp intake of breath. An icy tingle inches up my spine, a feeling much like the times I’ve brought life back to the flower in the computer room, and the feeling spreads throughout the rest of me. Is it possible that my ability to heal plants applies to people as well? Ella stops crying and starts breathing rapidly, her tiny chest rising and falling, rising and falling. I can feel the iciness concentrate in my palms and circulate outward from my fingertips. “I think, I think I can fix you.”

Her chest continues to rise and fall at an abnormal speed, but her face takes on a look of peacefulness, of detachment. I’m afraid to, but I place my hands over the piece of bone that sticks out from her leg. I feel its pebbly, broken end; and soon it begins to retreat back under the skin. The puncture wound turns from red and white back to the color of her skin; and I can see the jagged contours of her broken bone move and shift within her leg, setting itself back in place. I’m amazed at what I’ve just done. This could be my most important Legacy yet.

“Keep still,” I say. “One more thing.”

I close my eyes and wrap my hands around her thin right wrist. The iciness flows again through my fingertips. I open my eyes to watch her palm rise and her fingers spread away from each other. The cut between her index and middle fingers closes, and I see two broken knuckles straighten and mend. Ella clenches her hand and relaxes it.

I’ve done what Lorien has intended me to do, and that’s to undo damage that’s been inflicted on those who don’t deserve it.

Ella turns her head to the right to look at my hands wrapped around her wrist. “You’re fine,” I say. “You’re better than fine.” She raises her head off the ground and props herself up onto her elbows. I pull her into my arms.

“We’re a team,” I whisper into her ear. “We take care of each other. Thanks for trying to help.”

She nods her head. I squeeze her and then pull away. I look around at the girls, all of them unconscious but breathing. Sticking out of the opening of the nave, I see the edge of the Chest.

“I’m so proud of you for finding the Chest. You have no idea,” I say. “Let’s get it tomorrow morning after we’ve had some rest.”

“Are you sure?” Ella asks. “I can climb back up and get it.”

“No, no. You go wash up in the bathroom, and I’ll be right there.”

When she’s finally out of my sight, I raise my eyes to the Chest. Concentrating, I float it silently down to my feet. Now I just need to get Adelina to open it with me.

Chapter Seventeen

AS I BURST THROUGH THE BURNING DOOR AND land on the melting brown carpet of the living room, several things race through my mind. Sam. Henri’s letter. The Chest. Henri’s ashes. I engulf myself purposefully in flames in order to move easily from room to room. “Sam?” I yell. “Where are you, Sam?”

Past the living room, I see that the entire back wall of the house is burning. The house could collapse in a matter of a minute. I dart into the bedrooms calling Sam’s name. The bathroom door explodes with my kick. I check the kitchen, the dining room; and just when I’m about to try the living room again, I look out the window and see the Chest and a pile of our belongings, including the laptop, the coffee can of Henri’s ashes, and the unopened letter, on the lip of the pool. Something small bobs in the middle of the water; it’s Sam’s head. He sees me and waves his arms.

I crash through the window and knock over the grill. I dive into the pool, the flames surrounding me hissing into gray and black smoke. “You okay?”

“I, I think so,” he says. We pull ourselves out of the water and stand over everything Sam was able to save.

“What happened?”

“Dude, they’re here. They’re totally here. The Mogadorians.” The moment he says these words I feel sick to my stomach. My jaw quivers. Then Sam says, “I saw them in the front window and then, boom, the house is on fire. I grabbed what I could. . . .”

There’s movement on the roof. Between fissures of rising flames, I see a huge Mogadorian scout in a black trench coat, hat, and sunglasses marching down the decline, his feet sinking into the soft tiles with every step. He carries a long gleaming sword.

I kneel and grab ahold of the Chest’s lock, and it yields under my glowing grip. Brushing aside the crystals at the bottom of the Chest, I pick up the dagger with the diamond blade. Flames dancing from the house reflect in its sharp edge. To my surprise, the handle extends and wraps itself around my entire right hand. “Get back,” I say to Sam.