Five's Legacy (3 page)

“Hide well enough, and you’ll never have to fight,” I say, parroting one of his favorite lessons. I’m trying to make him happy now, but I just keep thinking about the fact that he’s coughing up blood. That’s bad. That’s what always happens in the movies a few scenes before a character dies.

I ignore it and keep talking.

“We can start doing more fight training again. I’ll do it, I promise. I’ll get good at it.”

Rey doesn’t respond, just nods a little bit and turns away. The hogs squeal louder. The viper’s up and ready to strike now, warning off the animals and humans around it, its body swaying slightly in the air like a constricted
S
.

“I’m afraid I’ve failed you as a Cêpan,” Rey says. He holds a hand out and grips my shoulder, squeezing it once. He smiles, but it’s a sad, far-off sort of expression. When did he start looking so old?

Rey turns and throws the hatchet with a flick of his arm. It sails through the air, spinning horizontally. The blade hits the snake a few inches below its head, and then embeds itself into the side of our little shack. The pigs scramble to the far side of the pen as the serpent’s body wriggles frantically on the ground, its nerves working out the last of their power.

Rey just keeps walking, hunched over, with a shuffle in his steps.

I don’t respond to Rey’s comment. I don’t think he expected me to. Instead, I replay what he said earlier about how the other Garde would probably be so much more advanced than me. So much more prepared for the future.

I feel like a disappointment.

But then, part of that is his fault, too, right? It’s not just me. It’s not my fault.

The last place I want to be is inside the hut with him now—or anywhere near the dead viper in our backyard—so I grab the coconut and get an old parasol that’s leaning against the shack and head farther down the beach, to where the trees give way to nothing but sand and crystal-blue water. I sit near the tide’s edge and plant the giant umbrella in the sand beside me, unfurling it. I burn easily, even after a few years of living in the tropics. I’m not meant for this sort of environment.
I should be somewhere else
.

Rey seems to have decided that if we’re out of sight and hidden, we’ll never have to fight. Which is a good thing, since I don’t think either of us could stand a chance against the Mogs.

Which also means we can’t leave. I’m stuck here, with Rey. And the hogs. And a forest full of deadly snakes and spiders and God knows what else.

I dig little ditches in the beach with my heels and sink my toes into the soft earth, cooling them down, and stare at the two scars on my ankle. I know Rey’s right. If the Mogs showed up I’d be defenseless. I’d have to rely on him to fight for me. I’m a failed Garde with a frail Cêpan. Again, I can’t help but think that Lorien has cheated me in all this. Surely this wasn’t how the Elders had meant everything to be.

In the pocket of my shorts, I find a little red rubber ball I’ve had for ages—the kind you get for a quarter in convenience store toy machines. I let it roll over the back of my hand, across my knuckles, then between my fingers, over and over again. A little sleight-of-hand craftiness.

I shouldn’t be here
. The thought floats through my head again. I glance over at the little sailboat that’s tied to a post up the beach. It would be so easy to just get in, cast off, and float to the nearest civilization. Martinique isn’t far away, if I remember correctly. They have restaurants and hot showers and carnivals there. Street fairs packed with games and every type of food you could ever want. Not that far away.

It would be so easy
.

I stare at the coconut as I grow more and more frustrated with the state of my life. My right hand curls into a fist at my side, shaking.

A jolt of energy rushes through me—something I’ve never felt before. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

The coconut explodes.

For a second I’m stunned, then I just stare at my hands.

Did I just do that?

CHAPTER THREE

T
HERE’S A NAME FOR THE POWER
I
HAVE: TELEKINESIS
. It’s the first of my Legacies—my special gifts. I know this because Rey has told me for years that this day would come. I’d almost stopped believing him, but they’re here now. I can feel the energy coursing through my veins.

I can feel the
power
. It feels good.

With just one exploded piece of fruit I suddenly have a newfound outlook on life. I see a future that doesn’t include this island. If I can move things with my mind, I can wipe out enemies—knock down entire armies. People will look up to me. Maybe even fear me. And Rey—he’ll never look at me like I’ve disappointed him again. He’ll know he hasn’t failed me as a Cêpan.

I don’t tell him about the coconut, or my newfound ability. I keep it a secret, practicing with it in my free time. I’m going to get good at it, and then show him how capable I am by pulling a tree out of the ground and batting away our little shack. Or something. Something big to prove to him that we no longer need to be on the island. That I’m ready to get out of here and back into the real world, because
I’ll
be able to fight the Mogs if they show up now. I’m so tired of this damned sun and humidity. This island. I’ll show him. He’ll take us somewhere else.

I start out with coconuts. They’re light and easy to crack, and I rip them apart with my power. I let the small green ones float above my mouth and drink the sweet-tasting water from inside. Then I slingshot them into the ocean, where they fly through the air and blend in with the sky before splashing down into the salty water on the horizon.

The only problem is that Rey is being better at making sure I actually
am
running all the miles I’m supposed to. He’s started popping up at random places around the island, stopwatch in hand, making sure I’m jogging—or at least walking really quickly. Fortunately that seems to take a lot of energy out of him, because he spends the rest of the day napping.

Perfect time for me to hone my badass new superpower.

I move on from coconuts to rocks and fallen logs. On the end of the island opposite our shack, I haul in a huge piece of driftwood against the tide with nothing more than force of will. The larger, heavier objects are a little harder to maneuver at first, but I’m getting better at it. Building my telekinetic muscles. This is the best I’ve felt in months.

On the day I’ve decided to tell Rey about my powers, thick black clouds start to roll in from the sea. I recognize what this means: The wet season is approaching, and it’s going to be nothing but rain for the next few months. I stop halfway through my morning jog and practice my power just a little more. I find a log on the ground and toss coconuts into the air, trying to bat them into the sea like some giant’s version of baseball. I don’t know how long I stand there trying before I actually make contact with one of the coconuts. It’s not the home run I’ve been imagining—both the coconut and the dead branch shatter, sending bits of wood and coconut milk raining down on me—but the destruction is incredibly satisfying.

It’s only then that I realize the sun is higher in the sky than I expected, and I wonder how long I’ve been standing there. My face is sunburned—I can feel it stinging as I head back to the hut. My stomach rumbles. I hope Rey’s made lunch already.

I see his white hair first. It’s practically shimmering in the sunlight. He’s facedown in the sand, just around the next curve in the shore.

My heart stops.

I yell his name as I run to him, over and over until my throat burns.
No,
I think as I run. And
shit.
Those two words repeat in my head as I get closer, trying to figure out how he got there and if he’s moving at all.

I practically slide into him in the sand, kicking up a little cloud around us. I roll him over. Grit and sand stick to one side of his face.

“Rey! Rey, wake up. Rey, can you hear me?”

His chest is rising up and down, but just barely. I stop talking long enough to hear his breath, which is wet and shallow. I wonder how long he’s been out here—why he’s so far away from the shack to begin with—but it’s obvious. He was out making sure I was training. Or trying to figure out what was taking me so long. Looking for me.

It’s my fault he’s like this.

He’s too heavy to lift with my body, but I can lift him with my Legacy. I jog beside him as his body flies through the air, lifted by my telekinesis.

He’d be so proud if he could see everything I was doing right now. If he’d just wake up
.

I’ve spent the last few days honing my power and thinking of how I could survive anything now that my first Legacy has surfaced, but if Rey dies I don’t know what I’ll do. Every time I’ve ever thought of abandoning him or running away from the island on my own, I’ve always known in the back of my mind that there’s no way I could do that. Even sick and frail, Rey is the only one I have in the world, on this planet that’s not even technically my home.

By the time we reach the shack, I’m frantic. Inside there’s nothing much. We sleep on mats surrounded by netting, but his mat is elevated like an actual bed. I set him down, then scramble around, trying to figure out what I can do to help. There are a few barrels of water. I fill a cup and bring it to him, but of course he’s not awake to drink. I splash some of it on his face, but am too afraid it’s going to go up his nose and into his lungs to pour the whole cup on him. He doesn’t move at all. So I pull up a chair and wait. Staring at him. Willing him to open his eyes and reprimand me for taking too long on my run. Then we’ll cook lunch and I’ll show him how I can lift tree trunks and juggle coconuts just by thinking about it. And he’ll be happy.

An eternity passes before he speaks my name. It’s a rasp, so soft that had I not been sitting in a chair beside him with my eyes glued on his face, I might have missed it.

“Five,” Rey says again, then coughs into one of the blankets.

“Hold on,” I say, springing up. I find the lantern and flip it on, then refill the cup of water and bring it over to him. He waves it away.

“I was looking for you,” he says. His voice is weak and he only seems half coherent, like he’s talking to someone far away.

“I know.”

“I want you to listen to me,” he says, and I shake my head. He just needs to drink some water and rest and I’ll listen to him lecture me later.

“I have all the time in the world to listen when you’re better. I have nothing to do here except listen to you.”

His eyes look at me but also through me, as if he’s struggling to focus on my face.

“The Garde are still hidden,” he says softly, ignoring what I tell him. “If you go searching for them, you’ll expose yourself to the Mogs. You’ll be safer here. On your own. Until you’re stronger.”

“Rey. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. Look, I have to show you what I can do now.”

He shakes his head once, and even with how weak he is, it causes me to stop moving and listen. His expression is so solemn, what can I do but hear what he has to say?

“My job was to protect you,” he continues. “I know I haven’t taught you everything I should have, but . . . I tried. I tried to do my best, but my body didn’t agree with this world.”

“No,” I whisper.

It finally seeps in that this might be the end of us.

There is something so unnatural about thinking that I might wake up in the morning and Rey would be gone. Not just out on the boat or across the island, but nowhere. Forever. I could probably count the times I didn’t know exactly where he was on one hand. His absence is inconceivable. It doesn’t compute. Suddenly I think of all the times I wished for another Cêpan or to run away from the island and hate myself.

I start to cry, tears falling in salty drops to the floor.

Rey starts gasping, and I stand, my chair falling backwards, feeling so helpless as I stare at him.

“Just tell me, what do I do to help you?”

The gasping turns into a fit of coughing that seems like it will never end. Blood trickles from his mouth.

“What do I do?” I repeat. “What do I do?”

Finally, he speaks, this time in such a low whisper that I have to kneel beside him to hear.

“Stay alive,” he says.

His eyes look more lucid now as his hand reaches out and grips my forearm.

“Five, don’t follow the Loric into this war until you’re ready. Trust your instincts.” He inhales again, deeply and unevenly. “When the time comes, trust yourself. You’re the future. Do whatever it takes to survive.”

His breath rattles again and then it stops.

And then there’s nothing. His chest doesn’t rise up. His eyes don’t open. Everything is quiet and still.

The silence is the worst thing I’ve ever heard.

“Rey?” I ask softly, then louder when he doesn’t respond, hoping that he just hasn’t heard me.

Nothing.

He’s gone.

My brain floods. All I can think about are the times I’ve disobeyed him, or cursed him—even if it was only in my head. I’m filled with regret.

I’m alone.

I run outside. It’s the only thing I can do. I’m barely aware that rain is pelting me, signaling the beginning of the wet season. My body shivers, even though the rain is warm. This tiny island suddenly feels huge and full of danger. Random thoughts keep shooting through my brain:
You’ll have to do something with his body. He never knew how powerful your telekinesis had become. All the chores he’d done on this island are now yours—
as I sink down to my knees. There’s distant thunder and the hogs squeal.

It’s all too much.

Alone, except for a bunch of pigs.

It takes me a while to catch my breath as I sit on my knees, bent over the wet sand. My eyes fall on the reddened scar on my ankle. Two’s symbol.

I almost laugh.

There were nine of us and now there are seven, and we’re the ones who are supposed to defeat the Mogadorians. An entire army of aliens. And so they sent us to Earth with fragile protectors and scattered us across the globe. Hoping what? That at least one of us would survive?