United as One (9 page)

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit—,” I hear Daniela muttering behind me.

We round a gentle curve, and there's the sky, a white dot at first that gets bigger and bigger as we scream forward. And then, with a release that feels almost physical, we're out in the open air, gaining altitude, soaring first over a dirt road and then Lake Erie. I can't help but let out a relieved sigh as we leave the claustrophobic tunnel behind us.

“Fast enough for you?” Lexa asks with a grin.

“Yes!” Daniela shouts from the back.

“You could've waited until we got out here to really
open it up,” I say, although I can't help grinning back at Lexa.

“Where would be the challenge in that?” she replies.

Even with Lexa flying us at top speed, we're still about an hour away from Niagara Falls. Once it's clear that the course is set and we're on our way, I unbuckle and pop into the back to check on the others.

Much like the ride back from Mexico, Ella is curled up with her arms around her knees and her eyes closed. Interestingly, the Chimærae seem drawn to her, both of them huddled at her sides. I wonder if that's because of the Loric energy flowing through her or because she just seems like she needs a bit of comforting.

Across the aisle, Daniela watches Ella like she's trying to make sense of her. She looks up at me as I walk over and nods in the younger girl's direction.

“What's with her?” she asks cautiously.

“She—”

Ella opens one eye and interrupts. “I died yesterday. For a little while.”

“Oh,” Daniela replies.

“And then I bonded with a godlike entity that is still kind of inhabiting me.”

“Okay, that's normal.”

“It's taking some getting used to,” Ella admits, then closes her eyes again.

Daniela gives me a wide-eyed look as if to ask if all
that was for real. I shrug, and Daniela lets out a breath, slouching low in her seat.

“Man, I should've stayed in New York. We had aliens, yeah. But they weren't zombie aliens.”

“Not a zombie,” Ella says without opening her eyes.

Next to Daniela, Sam has produced an ancient-looking handheld video game from one of his pockets.

“Turn on,” he whispers insistently to the video game. “Turn on.”

He looks up when he senses both Daniela and me watching him.

“What?” he says.

I cock my head to the side. “Why do you have that?

“That thing's from the eighties; you can't talk to it, dude,” adds Daniela.

I point at the game. “There's a power button on the side.”

“Thought you said you didn't have any batteries anyway.”

Sam looks briefly flustered as we pepper him with questions and comments. He takes a deep breath. “I found some,” Sam replies distractedly to Daniela, looking at me. “And I didn't bring it to, like, pass the time before we save some people. I brought it to try re-creating what happened before. In our room?”

Daniela raises her eyebrows. “Oh, what happened in your room?”

“Sam made the lights flicker,” I reply.

“Did he now?” Daniela says, grinning at Sam until he blushes a little.

“Literally,” he says. “I think—well, Six thinks—that I might be getting another Legacy. Like maybe I can control electronics or something.”

Daniela crosses her arms. “Man, that's way better than stone eyes.”

I take a seat next to Sam so he's between me and Daniela, then lean forward to look at the other girl.

“How did you know when you were getting a Legacy?” I ask, wondering if it feels different for the humans.

“It felt like my head was gonna explode if I didn't . . . I don't know. Let it out?” responds Daniela. “My adrenaline was pumping. It all happened fast.”

“That makes sense,” I say. “Happens like that a lot. They tend to kick in when you really need them. Your instincts take over. After that, you learn how to fine-tune them.”

Daniela listens to me, then leans back and starts massaging her temples. She stares intently at the wall across from us. “Yeah, I can feel it in me now. I could do it again if I wanted to without so much pain.”

“Please don't turn the ship to stone while we're flying in it,” Sam says, then faces me. “My telekinesis came when John was about to get mauled by a piken. It'd be nice if I could get this new Legacy down without the
whole death-defying-situation thing. I mean, if the Legacies manifest when we really need them, I'd say right now, considering the situation the whole planet's in, we really need them.”

“So keep trying,” I say, motioning for Sam to look at his retro Game Boy. “Maybe imagine something horrible is about to happen.”

He frowns. “Shouldn't be hard.”

Sam goes back to speaking insistently to his video game. Nothing happens. Every few minutes, he closes his eyes and grits his teeth, like he's trying to get himself into the right mind-set of panic and terror. Sweat beads on his forehead. Still, he can't get the video game to turn on. I lean my head back, close my eyes, and listen to his mantra. “Turn on, turn on, turn on . . .”

“We're about ten minutes out,” Lexa calls from the cockpit a short time later.

I open my eyes and glance towards the cockpit. The copilot seat is now occupied by Regal, the hawk perched on the back of the chair, his eyes straight ahead as we zip through the clouds. Ella is still resting her eyes or meditating, I'm not sure which. Meanwhile, Bandit paces back and forth across the aisle in front of us, anxiously waiting for us to land. Daniela watches the raccoon pace, looking a little nervous herself as we approach what might be a battle. It occurs to me that this is all still extraordinarily new to her. She's hasn't even had her Legacies for a week
yet and now she's got to get used to charging into dangerous situations alongside shape-shifting alien animals.

“Don't worry. We can handle this.” I lean across Sam to tell her, even though I've got no idea what we'll be facing once we arrive at Niagara Falls.

“I'm good,” Daniela reassures me.

I turn to Sam to say something but cut myself off when I notice the look of deep concentration on his face. His eyebrows are scrunched up, and he's staring down at that inert Game Boy as if it's his worst enemy.

“Turn
on
,” he says through gritted teeth.

I actually jump when the handheld game chimes to life. Sam nearly fumbles the thing as he turns to grin at me.

“Did you see that?” he exclaims.

“Nuh-uh,” Daniela replies, leaning over. “Your finger was on the button.”

“It was not!”

“You did it, Sam!” I say, squeezing his leg. I'm thrilled for him, my own grin almost the same size as his.

Ella opens her eyes to watch the scene, a small smile on her face. “Congratulations, Sam.”

“Did it feel different?” I ask. “Do you remember how you did it?”

“It's hard to explain,” Sam says, looking down at the video game almost like he still doesn't believe what just happened. “I tried to picture the circuitry. At first it was just, like, a made-up picture in my head. I don't know
what the inside of a Game Boy looks like or how it works. But then, I don't know, the visual started to get clearer and clearer. Like a blueprint was forming in my mind. At first it was all made-up nonsense, but gradually it changed into something . . . I don't know. Something logical? Like I was learning the machine. Or the machine was telling me how it works. Does that make sense?”

“No,” Daniela replies immediately.

“It sounds kinda similar to how I use my telepathy,” Ella says.

I shrug at Sam. “Whatever works. Do you think you could do it again?”

“I think so,” Sam says, and once again concentrates on the video game. This time he raises his voice like he's scolding a badly behaving pet.
“Turn off.”

The Game Boy blinks off.

“Nice,” Daniela says. “You really are doing it.”

Instead of congratulating Sam, I tilt my head to the side. Something isn't quite right. The wind outside the ship is suddenly much louder. It takes me a moment to realize the reason why.

“We're falling,” Ella observes.

The ship's engines have stopped humming.

“Guys!” Lexa's voice comes from the cockpit, a slight note of panic there. “I've got some kind of malfunction up here! My systems just went dead!”

From the cockpit, I hear Lexa slamming levers and
slapping buttons, cursing when they don't do anything to turn her systems back on. Sensing trouble, Bandit scurries beneath a seat and puts his paws over his head. We're gliding now, and a quick glance out the window shows me that we're losing altitude fast. A golf course zooms by beneath us, a small town, a river.

Daniela and I stare at Sam in unison. His eyes are wide. He swallows hard.

“Oops.”

“YOU'RE SURE WE SHOULD BE DOING THIS?”
Nine asks me.

“We don't have a choice.”

The two of us walk down one of Patience Creek's many nondescript hallways. While the military presence has most of these hallways humming with activity as they get their operation running, this part of the facility has been left pretty much alone. We're in the small section that was built to hold prisoners, and, at the moment, we've only got one of those.

“All these new Garde popping up around the world, you'd think one of them would have the flying Legacy,” Nine says.

“Maybe one of them does,” I reply. “But we don't have the time to find them.”

“All right, all right,” Nine finally concedes, shaking his head. “Just let it be known, for the record, I'm against this.”

“Yeah, I get that. You put a signpost through his chest just a couple of days ago.”

“Ah, that's a nice memory.”

“Your reservations are clear.”

“I'll kill him if he tries anything.”

I glance at Nine. “I know. Why do you think I made you come along?”

Nine and I stop talking when we reach the padded room where we're holding Five. The reinforced steel door only has a small porthole for a window and opens with a heavy-duty wheel like you might find in a bank vault or on a submarine. There are two guards posted in front, grim-looking marines clutching automatic assault rifles that wouldn't do them a bit of good if Five managed to break out. They both look surprised to see us.

“I need him,” I say to the guards, nodding towards the locked door.

They exchange a look. “He's a prisoner,” one of them says.

“I know. He's
our
prisoner,” I reply.

“We are definitely not planning to let him loose,” Nine adds.

One of the guards steps aside and mutters something into a walkie-talkie. I let this all play out. Might as well make it look like I respect Lawson's authority here.

The guard returns, shrugs his shoulders and produces a key ring.

“The general would like you to come see him on . . . another matter,” the guard tells me as he unlocks a mechanism that holds a three-prong wheel in place.

“Oooh, you're in trouble,” Nine says.

“You can tell him I'll catch up with him as soon as we're done here,” I reply to the marine.

I figure word has reached Lawson that Six and the others left the base without notifying him. I've got no intention of wasting my time explaining our moves to the general; if he wants an update, he can come find me. I've got things to do. Of course, I don't say any of that to the guard.

The wheel creaks when the soldier turns it, the door swings open and both guards step aside in a hurry.

“Wondered when you would visit.”

Five sits cross-legged on the floor of his padded cell and smiles at me and Nine. His arms are secured in a straitjacket, his legs in a pair of loose-fitting pajama pants and he's barefoot. The floor underneath him is like one big cushion. There's nothing in this room for Five to touch that would allow him to activate his Externa. Worst-case scenario, he turns his skin to cotton.

I didn't supervise Five's imprisonment. I wasn't really in an emotional state to worry about him, so Nine and Sam arranged this setup. Looking at the padded room, you'd think it was specifically designed
to hold Five. Lucky for us the spies who'd originally built this place were prepared for every possibility, including one of their number losing their mind in a post-apocalyptic scenario.

Five's face is still bruised and swollen from where Nine decked him right after our battle on Liberty Island. In securing him down here, Sam and Nine even took away the grubby patch of gauze he'd been keeping over his eye. The empty socket stares at me.

“I need your help,” I say. The words leave a bitter taste in my mouth.

Five cocks his head to the side so that his good eye is focused on me. “You saved my life, John. I know you'll never trust me. Not after everything that's happened. But I'm at your service.”

Next to me, Nine groans. “I want to barf.”

Five turns to Nine. “You know, I accept responsibility for my actions, Nine. I know that what I did was . . .
misguided
. But when will you accept your part?”

“My part?”

“Always running your goddamn mouth,” Five growls. “If you only shut up once in a while . . .”

“So my jokes turned you into a psychotic traitor,” responds Nine. I notice his fists are clenched. He looks at me. “This is a stupid idea, John.”

I shake my head. “Look, when all this is over, if you two want to lock yourselves in a steel cage and work
your shit out once and for all, that'll be fine with me. But right now, we can't waste any more time.”

Nine frowns and falls silent. Five keeps on staring at me like he can see right through me. After a second, he clicks his tongue.

“What a difference a day makes,” Five says. Then he addresses Nine like I'm not even in the room. “Yesterday he was doing everything he could to keep us from killing each other, remember? The Boy Scout. Now it's all changed.” He fixes me with a smile that looks almost proud. “I see that look in your eyes, John. You weren't ready before, but now you are.”

“Ready for what?” I ask, inwardly kicking myself for how easily I took the bait.

“For war,” Five replies. “Ready to do whatever's necessary to win. Maybe ready to do more than what's necessary, hmm?” He looks at Nine again. “You see it, too, don't you? He's like us now. Bloodthirsty.”

Nine doesn't immediately respond. He's got an uncertain look on his face; and, I realize, despite his hatred for Five, what's just been said about me has struck a chord. How could I not be changed after what's happened? If I'm bloodthirsty, if I'm willing to do whatever it takes to end Setrákus Ra, well, I'm not ashamed of that.

I ignore the entire exchange and look Five in his one eye. “I need you to teach me to fly,” I say.

Five concentrates for a moment and then he floats up from the cushioned floor. Cross-legged and with his shaved head, hovering four feet off the ground, he looks like a twisted version of a monk.

“This what you want?” he asks.

I study the way he floats. “It isn't enough.”

He frowns at me. “You've got the copycat Legacy like Pittacus Lore, right? I saw what you did in New York with the new girl and her stone eyes. You just had to observe her Legacy. So, observe.”

It wasn't as simple as Five seems to think. First of all, I was desperate. That always seems to help when it comes to mastering Legacies. I could also feel the power building when I tried to heal Daniela's headache. My Ximic tapped directly into her budding Legacy, and I could actually sense how it worked. I think that's why I was able to copy Marina's healing Legacy without even knowing what I was doing and why I was able to re-create Six's invisibility without too many problems. I've actually felt those Legacies before, had them used on me, touched the power. Watching Five float around like a sociopathic Buddha isn't nearly hands-on enough.

“With Daniela, it was heat of the moment. Plus, I could sense how the Legacy worked,” I explain to Five. “Staring at you isn't going to do me any good.”

“I've flown you around before,” Five reminds me.
“Back on the first day we met. Don't you remember what it felt like?”

“Probably like being carried around by a chubby ass hat,” Nine offers unhelpfully.

Ignoring Nine, I close my eyes and try to recall what it was like flying with Five. The feeling of weightlessness, my legs dangling, the idea that he might drop me at any second . . .

I look down at my feet, unsurprised to find them still on the floor.

“I remember what it was like to be carried,” I say. “That's a lot different than actually propelling myself up in the air.”

Five gets a thoughtful look. It's almost nostalgic. Not something I've ever seen before on his usually rage-filled face.

“Flying is a lot like telekinesis,” Five says after a moment. “Like how you visualize an object you want to move floating through the air. How you imagine making that happen and it happens. You guys did that crap a million times just like me, right?”

Nine and I both murmur agreement.

“Well, imagine you're doing that to your own body,” Five continues. He jerks against his straitjacket suddenly and frowns. He was trying to spread his arms and forgot that they were strapped tight across his chest. “Hold out your arms and imagine strings
underneath them, pulling you up.”

“Like a puppet,” Nine says.

“Like an actor in a show,” Five answers, glowering. “Rising up above the stage. Graceful.”

“Even lamer,” Nine says.

“Try it, John,” Five says gently. “Hold out your arms. Imagine you're safely attached to the wires. Imagine your telekinesis can manipulate those wires and then stop imagining and
do it.
”

Even though I'm not entirely comfortable taking coaching from Five, I still extend my arms from my sides. I concentrate and try to imagine strings looped around me, connecting me to the ceiling, just like Five said. I pull at those strings with my telekinesis. I picture my feet leaving the ground, my body weightless on the air.

And then it happens. Something clicks, and I feel my sneakers lose contact with the floor. It's only a few inches at most but still—it's happening.

“Easy now,” Five says, his voice a whisper. “That's good. Focus on keeping your body straight. Keep pulling yourself up on your strings.”

Even as Five says this, I can't help but glance down at the floor to check on my progress. There's a foot of empty space beneath where my feet dangle, and seeing that is somehow completely disorienting. My instinct is to wave my arms like I'm losing my balance. Suddenly,
I'm pitched forward, still floating, but horizontal now, facing the floor.

“Focus!” Five snaps. “Remember the strings!”

The yelling doesn't help. I do remember my imaginary strings, but instead of gently pulling on them to straighten back up, I give them a frustrated mental tug. I rocket upwards, feel my spine smack hard against the ceiling and then fall onto my face. Lucky for me the floor of Five's room is padded.

Behind me, I hear Nine trying to stifle laughter. I push myself onto my hands and knees and glare at him.

“You could've caught me.”

Nine grins and mimes waving his arms in the air for balance. “Oh man, it was too good. I wasn't thinking.”

I stand back up. Five still effortlessly floats in front of me. At least he doesn't think my failure is hilarious like Nine does.

“It's a start,” he says, and shrugs through his straitjacket. “I don't recommend practicing where there's a ceiling, by the way. I learned mostly over water, so the falls don't hurt so much.”

“How long?” I ask. “How long did it take you to master?”

Five snorts. “It's not like shooting fireballs, John. It's more like learning to walk again. It took me months.”

I shake my head. “I don't have months. I need to fly up to one of the warships as soon as possible.”

Five raises an eyebrow. “Well now, that sounds interesting.”

“You aren't invited,” Nine says quickly.

Five sighs. “If you're determined to do it yourself, there's another training technique we could try.”

“What is it?”

I've barely gotten the question out when Five hits me in the stomach with his shoulder. The air goes out of me immediately. He's like a cannonball. He doesn't have arms to grasp me, so it's all force that keeps my midsection pressed firmly to Five's shoulder. We careen straight out the door of his cell, right past Nine, who doesn't react quickly enough. The marines outside scream in surprise.

We let our guard down for one second and this is what happens. How stupid could we be?

Five slams me up against the wall opposite his cell, high up, so the top of my head actually brushes the ceiling. I hear shouts from the soldiers, hear their weapons cock.

“Don't!” Nine shouts. “You'll hit John!”

Five flies away from me, and I start to slide down the wall. But he isn't letting me go; he's just getting a better position. As I fall, his legs wrap around my chest. One of my arms is pinned against my side in his leg-lock. The other I manage to squeeze free.

I fire up my Lumen on my free hand and grasp at
Five's leg, trying to pry myself loose. I burn through the front of his pajama pants, hear the skin on his leg crackle and pop and then—

Whoosh!

All of Five's skin becomes fire, his Legacy kicking in. Even though I'm immune to being burned, I still jerk backwards, surprised. The straitjacket burns clean off him, fiery shreds falling to the hallway floor beneath us. Now he doesn't need his legs to grasp me. He reaches down and wraps his flame-covered hands around my throat.

“Thanks for the fire, John, you predictable, arrogant prick!”

He flies us up, hard, and slams me against the ceiling. Then, immediately, back down, dashing me against the floor. Nine leaps at us, and Five swings me around like a human shield. I hear Nine grunt as my legs hit him across the side of the head. Then I'm rising up again, Five flying me down the hall at great speed.

“That first time I took you flying? God, how bad I wanted to drop you! You don't even know. Time to make up for that!”

It's dizzying. We go slamming through doors, into empty cells, into new hallways where panicked shouts greet us. Five takes every opportunity to throttle me against a wall or a ceiling or the floor. It's hard to tell sometimes just which surface my ribs are cracking
against, it's so disorienting. I catch a glimpse of Nine sprinting along behind us and realize that he's running on the walls, using his antigravity Legacy to keep from having to plow through any bystanders. Five must see him, too, because he doubles back, and we streak towards Nine like a meteor. Nine has to dive out of the way to avoid getting crushed or burned, and, before he can recover, Five has zipped us around another corner.