The Fall of Five (I Am Number Four) (8 page)

We stand before a large silver sculpture that looks like a cross between a satellite dish and a half-peeled potato. “I believe this human work was secretly influenced by the
great Loric artist Hugo Von Lore,” Eight says, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

“You’re making that up.”

Eight shrugs. “I’m just trying to be a better tour guide.”

His easygoing enthusiasm is infectious, and soon I’m wrapped up in this game of making up silly stories for the various landmarks we pass. When I finally realize that we’ve spent more than an hour on the waterfront, I feel guilty.

“Maybe we should get back,” I tell Eight, feeling like we’re shirking our responsibilities, even though I know there’s nothing for us to do but wait.

“Hold on,” he says, pointing. “Look at that.”

From the hushed way Eight speaks, I expect to see a Mogadorian scout on our trail. Instead, following his gaze, I see a chubby older man behind a food cart selling what’s advertised as a “Chicago-Style Hot Dog.” He hands one off to a customer; the hot dog is covered in pickle and tomato slices and chopped-up onions, barely contained in a bun.

“That’s the most monstrous thing I’ve ever seen,” Eight says.

I chuckle, and when my stomach suddenly growls, that chuckle turns into a full-on guffaw. “I think it looks sort of good,” I manage.

“Have I mentioned that I’m a vegetarian?” Eight asks, staring at me with mock revulsion. “But if it’s the
frightening mess of a Chicago-style hot dog you desire, then so it shall be. I’ve never thanked you properly.”

Eight starts towards the vendor, but I grab him by the arm and drag him back. He grins at me.

“Change your mind?”

“What do you mean, you never thanked me properly?” I ask. “Thanked me for what?”

“For saving my life in New Mexico. You broke the prophecy, Marina. Setrákus Ra put his sword right through me and you—you brought me back to life.”

I can’t help blushing and looking down at my feet. “It was nothing.”

“It was literally everything to me.”

I look up, putting on my best version of Eight’s teasing smile. “In that case, I think I deserve more than a gross hot dog.”

Eight clasps his hands across his chest like I’ve wounded him. “You’re right! I’m a fool to think my life could be traded for a hot dog.” He grabs my hand and gets down on one knee, pressing his forehead to the back of my hand. “My savior, what can I ever do to repay you?”

I’m embarrassed, but can’t help laughing. I shoot apologetic looks to the people around us, most of them staring at Eight’s display with curious smiles. We must look like just two normal teenagers to them, goofing around and flirting.

I pull Eight back to his feet and, still holding his hand,
continue on down the lakefront. The sun winks across the surface of the lake. It’s not quite the sea I was named for, but it’s beautiful all the same.

“You can promise me more days like these,” I tell Eight.

He squeezes my hand tightly. “Consider it done.”

Eight and I finally come back to the penthouse, our bellies full of greasy Chicago pizza. We’ve still got hours before Four and Six arrive in Arkansas, and Ella never sent up any telepathic alarm. Everything is just as we left it.

Except Nine is awake and standing so close to the elevator door that we almost crash into him when we enter.

Nine doesn’t move when we come in, he just stands there with his arms crossed over his chest and glares at us. “Where have you two been?”

“Geez,” says Eight, inching around Nine’s bulk. “How long have you been standing here waiting for us? Aren’t your feet tired?”

“We just went out for a bit,” I explain, feeling more than a little timid around Nine. It reminds me of getting caught sneaking back into the orphanage after curfew, and I briefly picture Nine trying to take a ruler to my knuckles. “Is everything all right?”

“Everything’s fine,” snaps Nine, focusing more on Eight than me. “You can’t just go gallivanting around the city without telling me.”

“Why not?” counters Eight.

“Because it’s bullshit,” growls Nine. I can see his mind working, like he’s trying to think of something else to say. “It’s irresponsible and careless. It’s stupid.”

“It was a couple hours,” complains Eight, rolling his eyes. “Spare me the Cêpan lecture.”

It is kind of funny to see Nine so enraged about us acting out of line, especially considering the stories I’ve heard Four tell about their time together on the road. Strangely, it’s also endearing. He puts on this big show of being this tough-as-nails loose cannon, but when he woke up to find us gone, he was actually concerned about us.

I touch Nine on the arm, trying to defuse the situation. “I’m sorry we worried you.”

“Whatever, I wasn’t worried,” Nine snarls, jerking his arm away from me and rounding on Eight again. “You think that was a lecture? Maybe I should show you the kind of lectures I used to get, back when I was a cocky little dumbass.”

Eight wiggles his fingers at Nine, just egging him on further. Most of the time his joking around is charming, but this is one of those times when I wish he’d just cut it out. Nine steps right up to Eight; they’d be nose to nose if Eight was a few inches taller. Eight doesn’t back down, still smiling, like it’s all just a goof.

“Come on,” says Nine, his voice low. “I’ve seen you in the Lecture Hall playing patty-cake with Six. You ain’t trained with me yet.”

Eight glances down at an imaginary watch. “Sure, dude. I’ve got some time to kill.”

Nine smiles. He looks over his shoulder at me. “You too, Nurse Marina. Your boyfriend’s gonna need you.”

“I’M GOING TO WHIP YOU INTO SHAPE,” DECLARES
Nine. “That way, the next time there’s a mission, we won’t be the ones left sitting on our asses.”

Eight and I stand in the Lecture Hall side by side, watching as Nine circles around us, sizing us up like some kind of army drill instructor. I feel like rolling my eyes, and I can tell Eight is barely suppressing a fit of laughter. Still, I do feel sort of guilty about basically sneaking out with Eight, and I’m sure a little training couldn’t hurt. Plus, I think Nine is still bummed about being left out of Four’s rescue mission, and he seems really into this whole training thing. I decide to humor him.

“Unless you’d rather just be benchwarmers? You want to hang out and go eat pizza while the rest of us kill Setrákus Ra?” Nine snarls as he stops in front of us, staring us down.

“No, sir,” I say, trying to be serious. Eight immediately bursts out laughing.

Nine ignores Eight for now, focusing instead on me. “Healing and night vision. That’s about it, huh?”

“I can breathe under water,” I add helpfully.

“All right,” says Nine, considering my Legacies, “maybe you’ll develop a good fighting Legacy one day. Maybe you won’t. We’d still all be dead if it wasn’t for you, I guess. I know Johnny’s supposed to have the healing thing now, too, but I think he only heals girls he’s dating, so the rest of us still need you. Anyway, we’ll need to practice your speed and agility, so that when one of us goes down, you’ll be able to get to us. And maybe your healing will, like, evolve into something else if we practice with it enough.”

To my surprise, most of what Nine says actually makes sense. Except one thing nags at me. “How are we going to practice my healing?”

Nine’s smile is sinister, something I’d be really afraid to see from across the battlefield. “Oh, you’ll see. As for you,” he continues, turning to Eight, “I thought you were pretty badass when we first met, and then you took a sword to the chest first chance you got. Nice job.”

Eight’s expression darkens as he’s reminded of his run-in with Setrákus Ra. “He tricked me.”

“Uh-huh,” says Nine. “Way I remember it, you were so focused with copping a feel—er, hugging—fake Six that you got stabbed. You give a lot of hugs in the middle of a
battle, bro? Use your head.”

“It seems like you could use a hug right now,” says Eight, grinning mischievously.

Before Nine knows what’s happening, Eight shape shifts into his four-armed Vishnu form, leaps forward, and wraps Nine up in a tight embrace. I can see the muscles in Nine’s neck and shoulders tense as Eight squeezes him.

“Let me go,” warns Nine through gritted teeth.

“You’re the boss.”

Eight teleports, taking Nine with him. He reappears just inches away from the ceiling and releases Nine. Disoriented, Nine doesn’t have a chance to gather himself and crashes to the floor on his back. Before Nine even lands, Eight has teleported back to my side.

“Ta-da,” he says, reassuming his normal form.

“You’re just going to make him mad,” I whisper. Eight only shrugs.

Nine hops back to his feet and rolls his head from side to side, cracking his neck. He nods, looking almost impressed.

“Pretty good move,” he says.

“Maybe I should be training you,” quips Eight.

“Try it again.”

Shrugging, Eight shape shifts again. He wraps Nine in the same hug, this time approaching warily, as if he’s expecting Nine to launch a counterattack. I’m expecting the same thing, cringing as I wait for Nine to throw an
elbow into Eight’s face. Surprisingly, Nine doesn’t fight back at all.

Eight teleports them back to the ceiling again, but this time, when he’s released from Eight’s grasp, Nine quickly reaches his hand up to touch the ceiling. It makes me queasy just to watch; Nine’s gravity shifting so that instead of falling to the floor, he’s doing a handstand on the ceiling. It all takes no more than a second.

Eight’s already teleported away, reappearing back at my side. Just like Nine was expecting. Nine launches himself from the ceiling and, as soon as Eight materializes, Nine is plummeting towards him. Eight only has a moment to notice that Nine isn’t lying on the floor where he expected him to be. The next thing he knows, Nine’s foot is connecting with his sternum, sending him flying to the ground.

Eight picks himself up onto his elbows, wheezing, the wind knocked out of him. Nine stands over him, his hands on his hips.

“Predictable,” Nine says. “Why would you teleport back to the same place?”

In answer, Eight coughs, rubbing his chest. Nine reaches down and helps him to his feet.

“It’s all about surprise with you, man,” Nine explains. “You gotta keep ’em guessing.”

Eight lifts up his shirt. There’s a foot-shaped bruise already forming over his ribs. “Damn. That was like getting hit with a sledgehammer.”

“Thanks,” says Nine, and looks at me. “Here’s some practice for you.”

I place my hands gently on Eight’s chest. The icy feeling of my Legacy tingles in my fingertips, passing through me and into Eight. It’s only a bruise so it’s easy; I don’t even have to concentrate. Which is good, because it’s not that easy for me to concentrate while touching Eight’s chest. If this is what training is going to be like, I could get used to it.

“Thanks,” says Eight, when I step back.

On the other side of the room, Nine has grabbed one of the stuffed Mogadorian training dummies and dumped it on the ground. He stands over it, looking at us.

“Okay, here’s the game. We’re going to pretend this dummy is—I don’t know—Number Four. He gets hurt all the time, right? So, he’s wounded and, Marina, you need to get to him and work your magic. Eight, you’re going to help her.”

“And what are you going to be doing?” I ask.

“I’m going to be the surprisingly good-looking Mogadorian that’s standing in your way.”

Eight and I exchange a look. “Two on one?” he says. “Sounds easy.”

“Cool,” says Nine, extending his pipe staff and twirling it menacingly over his head. “Let’s see what you got.”

Eight puts his arm around me, pulling me into a quick huddle. “He expects us to go right at him,” he whispers.

I nod, catching on to the plan quickly. “You should just teleport the body back to me.”

Eight holds his hand up to me for a quick high five, then spins back to face Nine. “Ready?”

“Bring it on.”

Eight starts forward and Nine stalks out to meet him in the center of the room. As soon as he’s drawn Nine a few yards away from the dummy, Eight disappears, reappearing over the dummy. It’s not that Nine doesn’t notice what Eight’s up to—he just doesn’t care. He bounds a few steps forward, coming straight for me. Caught off guard and more than a little nervous with Nine charging me, I backpedal. Nine is far too quick for me.

When Eight reappears with the dummy, Nine is standing with the tip of his staff pressed against the side of my neck.

“Good job,” he says to Eight. “Now you’ve got a wounded friend and a dead healer.”

I’ve never trained like this before, so Nine coming right at me felt really intimidating. I have to get over that feeling. I know Six wouldn’t have just let Nine put that staff up to her throat. I need to prove to these boys that even though I don’t have the offensive firepower they do, I can still fight back.

With Nine distracted by Eight, I slap the point of his staff away from my neck.

“Not dead yet,” I say, as I lunge forward and punch him in the mouth. Immediately, a flare of pain courses through my hand and wrist.

Nine staggers back a step as Eight whoops with happy surprise. Nine whips his head back around to look at me, blood lining his teeth as he grins.

“Good!” he shouts, delighted. “You’re getting it!”

“I think I broke my thumb,” I reply, looking down at my swollen knuckles.

“Next time, keep your thumb outside your fingers when you punch,” Eight says, balling up his fist to demonstrate.

I nod, feeling sort of dumb that I’d make such a basic mistake, but also a little thrilled that I just socked Nine right in the face. He seems to have appreciated it too, looking at me with a newfound respect as he wipes the blood off his face. I touch my hand, again feeling the icy sensation of my Legacy, intensified this time as it passes into my own hand.

Nine has picked up the dummy and dumped it back on the other side of the room. “Ready to try again?”

Eight and I huddle up for a second time. “Maybe I should introduce him to our old friend Narasimha?”

“Which one is that?”