Five's Legacy (11 page)

We continue to silently wind through a few halls, down a set of stairs, and into what must be an underground level. Finally, we come to two doors next to each other.

“You’re in here,” one of the men says, motioning from me to the first door. Then he turns to Ethan. “You’re in the other one.”

“Wait,” I say, stepping forward. They can’t separate us. I don’t want to be alone in here. Panic starts to rise up in me. I can feel my skin start to change, taking on the properties of my duffel bag handles, all leathery and smooth. “Why can’t we—”

“It’s fine,” Ethan says in the most soothing voice he can. It works, because I start to calm down. “They just want to talk to you. It’s probably classified info or something like that. It’s okay. You’re their VIP. Don’t worry.”

I nod reluctantly. Ethan disappears into his appointed room. I stand in the hallway for a few seconds before one of the men clears his throat. I shoot him an annoyed look and then go inside.

It’s the kind of room I recognize from watching too many crime shows on cable over the last year. It’s empty except for a swinging light, a few chairs, and a big metal desk in the center of the room that looks like it could double as an operating table. An interrogation room. I swallow hard.

“Please, have a seat,” someone says.

I turn to see the Mogadorian Ethan was videoconferencing with last night standing in the corner. His gleaming black hair reflects the swinging light, black eyes twinkling. His lips spread across his gray teeth. He has to be seven feet tall, at least.

“We’ve been expecting you, Five,” he continues, his voice rich and low as he waves towards one of the chairs. I hesitate, and then take a seat. The Mog sits across from me.

I’m sitting across from a Mogadorian.

Suddenly, all I can remember are stories Rey told me growing up. About how the Mogs invaded, and about all the terrors they brought with them to our planet. You’d think that they were monsters—and though this guy is definitely creepy and intimidating, he doesn’t look all that different from me, all things considered.

Still, it’s hard for me to keep my fingers from drumming on the table. I pull my hands back, crossing my arms. That’s when I feel the Loric glove and its hidden blade.

Rey always told me that if I was caught I’d be tortured. If that’s what this is really about—all one setup to try to torture me—will I be fast enough to use the blade to escape? Either by destroying the Mogs or myself?

“We’re very pleased with your decision to join us, young Lorien,” the Mog says.

“I don’t have much of a choice if I want to live,” I say.

“An intelligent boy. I always knew we were correct in placing our bets on you. If only more of your kind were able to see the true extent of our might and the inevitability of the Mogadorian rule, we might have saved many casualties.”

“You’ve been in contact with the others?” I ask.

“In some ways.”

“What’s your plan? Are you going after Four next?”

“Based on the charm that protects all of you, that
would
make sense,” the Mog says, grinning widely, exposing those hideous teeth once again. “Of course, it’s possible that charm has its limits. How many times do you think it will work before it finally fails? We have so many soldiers and scouts willing to test out the spell’s longevity, happy to die in the name of securing our future.”

He’s going to try to kill me,
I think. In an instant, I’ve got one glove off and a hand on the table. It’s as if by instinct. I haven’t trained with my newest power, but I take a chance. Sure enough, my skin goes silver as I absorb the properties of the metal. If nothing else it should buy me some time if he attacks me.

The Mog laughs a little.

“Oh, don’t worry. We have
others
we could test that out on. Isn’t it obvious by now that we have a much brighter future prepared for you?”

“You have other Garde
here
?” I remember Ethan mentioning Nine being held captive. The idea of meeting another of my kind makes my pulse pound.

I don’t want to do it. Not now, at least. I couldn’t face one of them as someone who turned on them. Not until I’m stronger, until I’ve got my head on right and can really talk some sense into them.

“In due time, you’ll learn about all the ways that we’ve ensured our success in the extermination of the Garde. But we can’t just go around telling you all our secrets, now, can we? Not if you were planning on double-crossing us or were to report back to the Garde. You must prove your loyalty to us before we can continue.”

I hesitate, and focus on my breathing. On calming down. My body changes back to normal, and I place my palms on the table before me.

“A useful power,” the Mog says. “Ethan had not mentioned it in his reports.”

“It’s new,” I say. “Very new.”

He just nods.

“We can help you with that. With all your skills. By the time we’re through training you, you’ll be one of the most powerful players in our ranks. There is not a place on this planet that will be
worthy
of your rule.”

Something sparks in me. The memory of a place. A destination I never made it to.

“Canada,” I say.

“I’m sorry?”

“Canada. I would want to rule over Canada.”

The Mog looks confused for a moment, and then smirks.

“How about all of North America. To start with.”

I nod. I don’t know how else to respond to being offered a continent.

“But, first, your loyalty,” he continues. “This is the sort of deal that is usually inked in blood.”

Blood?

“What do you want me to do?”

The Mog turns his head, nodding toward Ethan’s room.

“He has served us well.”

“What?” I ask.
Ethan?
My stomach turns. Surely he can’t mean what I think he means—that he wants me to kill the only person I have in the world. “But you made a deal with Ethan.” My voice threatens to shake.

I start to go on, almost pleading, but the Mog just lets out what might be a laugh, but sounds more like choking.

“No, no, dear boy. We aren’t asking you to hurt Ethan. That human has served us very well. And we honor our deals. I simply point out that Ethan went through some of the same trials you will have to go through in the future to prove his intentions to us. Your loyalty to him is commendable, but we’re going to have to harden your resolve.”

I exhale long and hard.

The Mog places a folder on the table.

“There
will
be a sacrifice to us. Not immediately, but once you’re ready. When we’ve trained you, and helped you unlock your full potential. There’s a picture of your target in here.” He slides the folder across the table. “Would you like to see who it is?”

I don’t touch the document.

“We are offering you the world, Five. Prove yourself, and we will make you a god on this planet. If you are serious about joining us, this is the way it must be. Not only as proof of your loyalty, but proof that you have what it takes to rule in the name of Mogadore. There is much to come. We have no room for the squeamish.”

And if I
don’t
do it, he’ll have me thrown into a cell and probably tortured. Ethan too. This he doesn’t say, but I know it must be true.

For a moment this scenario seems strangely familiar. My mind flashes back to our little shack on the island. The hogs snorting wildly, practically screaming in their pen. The scared snake, raised halfway off the ground like a clenched spring, ready to strike. Rey telling me to kill it before it harmed one of us. It was the snake or us. It just had to be that way.

The memory seems so far away. So long ago.

I’d simply stood there, not wanting to have to do anything. Hoping that everything would work out somehow—that the danger would go away on its own.

But that’s not how the world works. It’s no use just sitting around waiting for danger to come to me. At least with the Mogs, I’ll know the danger. I’ll
be
the danger.

Do whatever it takes to stay alive.

Rey’s last words to me.

“All right,” I say. My voice wavers a little, and I try to even it out as I continue. “If that’s what it takes to show my allegiance.”

The Mog grins.

I stare at the folder. I don’t have to open it, but I realize that this—like so many other things in my life—is a test. To see if I have the stomach for what’s to come. I’m going to have to get used to this sort of thing. Harden myself. The Mogs won’t coddle me—of this I have no doubt. They’re ruthless and powerful. That’s what I’ll have to become.

I take a deep breath and open the folder.

Excerpt from
The Fall of Five

DON’T MISS BOOK FOUR IN THE
NEW YORK TIMES
BESTSELLING I AM NUMBER FOUR SERIES

CHAPTER ONE

TONIGHT’S ESCAPE FANTASY STARS SIX. A HORDE
of Mogadorians stands between her and my cell—which isn’t technically realistic. The Mogs don’t usually devote any manpower whatsoever to keeping watch on me, but this is a dream, so whatever. The Mog warriors unsheathe their daggers and charge forward, howling. In response, Six tosses her hair and turns invisible. I watch from between the bars of my cell as she slices through the Mogs, blinking in and out of visibility, turning their own weapons against them. She twists her way through an ever-increasing cloud of ash, the Mogs soon completely decimated.

“That was pretty awesome,” I tell her, when she reaches the door of my cell. She smiles nonchalantly.

“Ready to go?” she asks.

And that’s when I wake up. Or when I snap out of the daydream. Sometimes it’s tough to tell whether I’m asleep or awake; every moment tends to take on a drowsy sameness when you’ve been kept in isolation for weeks. At least, I think it’s been weeks. Hard to keep track of time since there are no windows in my cell. The only thing I’m really certain of is that my imaginings of escape aren’t real. Sometimes it’s like tonight and Six has come to rescue me, other times it’s John, and other times I’ve developed Legacies of my own and I fly out of my cell, pummeling Mogadorians as I go.

It’s all fantasy. Just a way for my anxious mind to pass the time.

The sweat-soaked mattress with broken springs that dig into my back? That’s real. The cramps in my legs and my backache? Those are real, too.

I reach for the bucket of water on the floor next to me. A guard brings the bucket once a day along with a cheese sandwich. It’s not exactly room service, even though, as far as I can tell, I’m the only prisoner being held in this cell block—it’s just rows and rows of empty cells connected by steel gangways, and me alone.

The guard always sets the bucket down right next to my cell’s stainless-steel toilet, and I always drag the bucket over next to my bed, the closest thing I get to exercise. I eat the sandwich right away, of course. I don’t remember what it feels like not to be starving.

Processed cheese on stale bread, a toilet without a seat, and total isolation. That’s been my life.

When I first got here, I tried to keep track of how often the guard came so that I could keep count of the days, but sometimes I think they forget about me. Or ignore me on purpose. My greatest fear is that they’ll just leave me in here to waste away, that I’ll just pass out from dehydration, not even realizing that I’m living my last moment. I’d much rather die free, fighting the Mogadorians.

Or, better yet, not die at all.

I take a deep swig of the warm, rust-flavored water. It’s disgusting, but I’m able to work some moisture back into my mouth. I stretch my arms above my head, my joints popping in protest. A jolt of pain comes from my wrists, my stretch pulling at the still-fresh scar tissue there. And that’s when my mind starts wandering again—this time not into fantasy, but memory.

I think about West Virginia every day. I relive it.

I remember darting through those tunnels, clutching that red stone Nine had loaned me, shining its alien light on dozens of cell doors. In each one I hoped to find my father, and each time I was disappointed.

Then the Mogs came, cutting me off from John and Nine. I remember the fear that came from being separated from the others—maybe they could fight off that many Mogs and Piken with their Legacies. Unfortunately, all I had was a stolen Mog blaster.

I did the best I could, shooting any Mog that got too close, all the while trying to find a way back to John and Nine.

I could hear John shouting my name above all the fighting. He was close, if only we weren’t separated by a horde of alien beasts.

A monster’s tail lashed across my legs. My feet went out from under me. I lost my grip on Nine’s stone and went tumbling to the ground. I hit face first, opening up a gash above my eyebrow. Blood immediately started trickling into my eyes. Half blinded, I crawled for cover.

Of course, considering the lucky streak I’d been on since arriving in West Virginia, it wasn’t that surprising that I ended up right at the feet of a Mogadorian warrior. He aimed his blaster at me, could’ve killed me right then, but reconsidered before pulling the trigger. Instead of gunning me down, he clipped me on the temple with the butt of the gun.