Pittacus Lore - The Fall of Five

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The Garde are finally reunited, but do they have what it takes to win the war against the Mogadorians?
John Smith—Number Four—thought that things would change once the Garde found each other. They would stop running. They would fight the Mogadorians. And they would win.
But he was wrong. After facing off with the Mogadorian ruler and almost being annihilated, the Garde know they are drastically unprepared and hopelessly outgunned. Now they’re hiding out in Nine’s Chicago penthouse, trying to figure out their next move.
The six of them are powerful, but they’re not strong enough yet to take on an entire army—even with the return of an old ally. To defeat their enemy, the Garde must master their Legacies and learn to work together as a team. More importantly, they’ll have to discover the truth about the Elders and their plan for the Loric survivors.
And when the Garde receive a sign from Number Five—a crop circle in the shape of a Loric symbol—they know they are so close to being reunited. But could it be a trap? Time is running out, and the only thing they know for certain is that they have to get to Five before it’s too late.
The Garde may have lost battles, but they will not lose this war.
Lorien will rise again.

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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.”

9

“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.

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