There it is.
I see Ivan, staring up at me. His face has changed from mocking to suspiciously fearful. There’s no way he can know exactly what I’m about to do, but he knows me well enough to read my expression: I’m going to wipe us all out.
“That’s right,” I say. “The armory.”
“No way,” he says. “You wouldn’t. You’re Adamus. Son of the great General Andrakkus Sutekh. You can’t bring yourself to kill one of us, let alone all of us.”
I grin at him. Watch me.
I let rip another seismic pulse, aimed at the ground right below the armory.
Only a moment after the impulse leaves my body, my blast triggers a massive explosion.
There is a deafening boom, steel and concrete flying.
All around me I see Mogadorian bodies getting riddled with shrapnel.
The whole thing begins falling apart around me. The gangway collapses and I go flying, landing so hard on the ground that I’m almost knocked unconscious.
My ears ringing, my eyes half blinded by dust, I crane my neck to see tumbling concrete knocking out Mogadorian after Mogadorian. The whole cave is coming down around us.
On the ground by the fallen gangway I see Ivanick, his head nearly severed from his neck by the collapsed steel. Dead.
Mogadorians scream all around me.
To my own surprise, I like the sound.
Something heavy lands against my shoulder, slamming my head against the floor, pinning me in place. I can’t move, and am too stunned to know if it was a minor wound or a fatal blow.
Why keep track now? I think. There’s more where that came from.
Indeed there is: concrete keeps falling, all around me.
As the entire structure gives out and collapses onto us, I know I only have a few moments of consciousness left. But I’m not afraid.
I survived my fall down the ravine. I survived the implosion of Ashwood Estates. I wasn’t even conscious then, and Malcolm said something kept us from being crushed, that it was as if some force kept us safe as the world fell down around us.
Third time’s the charm.
It may just be exhaustion, it may just be delirium, but I’m overcome by a deep, sweet certainty that I was meant to survive. That my ultimate purpose lies somewhere beyond these tumbling walls, sometime beyond this frenzied moment. That the best of me is yet to come.
I will live.
EXCERPT FROM THE RISE OF NINE
THE LEGACIES CONTINUE IN
CHAPTER 1
6A. Seriously? I look at the boarding pass in my hand, its large type announcing my seat assignment, and wonder if Crayton chose this seat on purpose. It could be a coincidence. The way things have gone recently, I am not a big believer in coincidences. I wouldn’t be surprised if Marina sat down behind me in row seven, and Ella made her way back to row ten. But, no, the two girls drop down beside me without saying a word, and join me in studying each person boarding the plane. Being hunted, you are constantly on guard. Who knows when the Mogadorians might appear?
Crayton will board last, after he’s watched to see who else gets on the plane, and only once he feels the flight is absolutely secure.
I raise the shade and watch the ground crew hustle back and forth under the plane; the city of Barcelona is a faint outline in the distance.
Marina’s knee bounces furiously up and down next to mine. The battle against an army of Mogadorians yesterday at the lake, the death of her Cêpan and finding her Chest—and now, it’s the first time in almost ten years that she’s left the town where she spent her childhood. She’s nervous.
“Everything okay?” I ask. My newly blond hair falls into my face and startles me. I forgot I dyed it this morning. It’s just one of many changes in the last forty-eight hours.
“Everyone looks okay,” Marina whispers, keeping her eyes on the crowded aisle. “We’re safe, as far as I can tell.”
“Good, but that’s not what I meant.” I gently set my foot on hers and she stops bouncing her knee. She offers me a quick apologetic smile before returning to her close watch of each boarding passenger. A few seconds later, her knee starts bouncing again.
I feel sorry for Marina. She was locked up in an isolated orphanage with a Cêpan who refused to train her; she was stuck with a Cêpan who had lost sight of why we are here on Earth in the first place. I’m doing my best to help her, to fill in the gaps. I can train her to control her strength and when to use her developing Legacies. But first I’m trying to show her that it’s okay to trust me. Not only did she just lose her best friend, Héctor, back at the lake, but, like me, she lost her Cêpan right in front of her. Both of us will carry that with us forever.
The Mogadorians will pay for what they’ve done. For taking so many who we’ve loved, here on Earth and on Lorien. It’s my personal mission to destroy every last one of them, and I’ll be sure Marina gets her revenge, too.
“How is it down there, Six?” Ella asks, leaning over Marina.
I turn back toward the window. The men below the plane begin to clear away their equipment, conducting a few last-minute checks. “So far, so good.”
My seat is directly over the wing, which is comforting to me. On more than one occasion I’ve had to use my Legacies to help a pilot out of a jam. Once, over southern Mexico, I used my telekinesis to push the plane a dozen degrees to the right, only seconds before crashing into the side of a mountain. Last year I got 124 passengers safely through a vicious thunderstorm in Kansas by surrounding the plane with an impervious cloud of cool air. We shot, unharmed, through the storm like a bullet through a balloon.
When the ground crew moves on to the next plane, I follow Ella’s gaze toward the front of the aisle. We’re both impatient for Crayton to board. That will mean everything is okay, at least for now. Every seat is full but the one behind Ella. Where is he? I glance out at the wing again, scanning the area for anything out of the ordinary.
“Six?” Marina asks. I hear her buckle and unbuckle her seat belt nervously.
I lean down and shove my backpack under my seat. It’s practically empty so it folds down easily. Crayton bought it for me at the airport. The three of us need to look like normal teenagers, he says, like high school students on a field trip. That’s why there’s an open biology textbook on my lap.
“Yeah?” I respond.
“You’ve flown before, right?”
Marina is only a year older than I am. But with her solemn, thoughtful eyes and her new, sophisticated haircut that falls just below her shoulders, she can easily pass for an adult. Right now, however, she bites her nails and pulls her knees up to her chest like a scared child.
“Yes,” I say. “It’s not so bad. In fact, once you relax, it’s kind of awesome.”
I’ve flown dozens of times, and everything has gone fine. However, this is the first time I’ve done it without using my invisibility Legacy to sneak on board. I know I’m much stronger now. And I’m getting stronger by the day. If a couple of Mog soldiers charged at me from the front of the plane, they wouldn’t be dealing with a meek young girl. I know what I’m capable of; I am a soldier now, a warrior. I am someone to fear, not hunt.