Pittacus Lore - The Fall of Five

“You’ve gotta chill out,” John says, locking eyes with Nine. “No punching our friends. No challenging them to rooftop fights. No bullshit.”

Nine stares John down and, for a second, I think he might take a swing at him too. He doesn’t. Instead, he slaps on a big grin, as if the whole thing was one big joke. “I’m like the shittiest welcoming committee ever, huh?”

“Back in Paradise, Sarah’s mom used to bake stuff for anyone new that moved into the neighborhood. Maybe you should have to bake some cookies every time you punch someone,” I suggest.

John laughs as he sets about healing Nine’s hand. “I love that idea, Sam.”

“I am not baking,” Nine growls, fixing me with a death stare.

My dad clears his throat. We all look over at him. Standing straight, his hands folded behind his back; it’s the same look I’m sure his students at the university used to get. “Nine, I was wondering if you might want to assist me in the Lecture Hall?”

“With what?”

“Your Cêpan built the equipment. I was hoping you might have some insight into how it works.”

Nine laughs with disbelief. “Yeah, uh, sorry, dude. I left the nerd stuff to him.”

“I see,” my dad replies, undeterred by Nine’s bluster. “In that case, perhaps we could figure out how it works as a team? Unless you’re too busy punching things.”

To my surprise, Nine actually considers this. I see the same wistful look on his face that I noticed on John’s face earlier and it occurs to me that they’re both thinking about their Cêpans. I realize then what my dad is doing, reaching out to the angry guy, trying to get him involved in a project, Afterschool Special style. It’s a total parent move, but I admire it.

“All right, yeah,” Nine says. “It’s my shit. I should know how it works. Lead the way.”

As Nine and my dad head into the Lecture Hall, John turns to me.

“Your dad’s a good guy,” he says. “We might have to make him an honorary Cêpan.”

“Thanks,” I reply, my smile brittle. A cold knot of dread forms in my stomach, because I know what happens to Cêpan around the Garde, what happens to adults. It’s a dark thought, I know, but I can’t suppress it. I’ve only just reunited with my dad––I don’t want to lose him. Without realizing it, I’ve started rubbing the scars on my wrists. John must intuit what I’m feeling because he puts a hand on my shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Sam,” he says. “We’re not going to lose anyone else.”

I hope he’s right.

“So when are you guys going to Florida?” Sarah asks me casually, like it’s a vacation I’ve been planning.

I’m beat. It’s a good kind of tired, though—today was a productive day. No time spent running and hiding, no time wasted. We cataloged the contents of our Chests, Sam managed to print up some solid fake IDs, and I got some training time in the newly refurbished Lecture Hall.

“Two days from now, I hope,” I answer Sarah, dropping down to the floor to knock out a quick set of push-ups before bed. “I want to get everyone together in the Lecture Hall tomorrow, see how the team looks. I don’t expect much trouble recovering Five’s Chest, but you never know. It’ll be good to have everyone get some experience together. And then we’re off.”

Sarah’s gone quiet. I look up at her. She sits on the edge of the bed—our bed, still weird to even think that—her legs curled beneath her. She wears her pajamas—a V-neck gray T-shirt and a pair of my boxers. She’s watching me, but isn’t paying attention to a word I’m saying. I clear my throat and she blinks her eyes, flashing a lopsided smile. “Sorry, you distracted me with push-ups. What were we talking about?”

I sit down on the bed next to her, curling my fingers through her just-brushed hair. She smiles at me and suddenly I’m not so tired anymore. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about what could happen with us sharing a bed. Things have been hectic since we’ve been in Chicago, between Ella’s nightmares, Five’s call for help, and my own insomnia. Plus with everyone else sleeping in the next rooms, it hasn’t felt right.

“Florida,” I remind her.

“Oh yeah,” Sarah says. “You lived there for a while, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, a few months. Why?”

“Just trying to fill in some blanks. There’s still a lot I don’t know about you, John Smith.” She puts her hand on my cheek, lets her fingers run down my neck, and then along my shoulder. “Also, talking helps distract me from what I really want to do.”

My hand slips through her hair, down the back of her neck, and slowly dances across her spine. Sarah shivers a little and I slide closer, bending my head down towards hers. “You know, it seems pretty quiet tonight. I think everyone’s asleep.”

Right on cue, someone knocks on our door. Sarah’s eyes widen and she laughs, her face flushed. “Is horrible timing one of your Legacies?”

I open the door to find Six waiting, her coat on, like she’s just come in from outside. She glances over my shoulder at Sarah, then catches my exasperated look, and cracks a devilish smirk. “Oops,” she says, “interrupting?”

“It’s cool,” I say, playing it off. “What’s up?”

“You need to come to the roof and see this. BK’s going nuts.”

We pull on some clothes over our pajamas and then race down the hall after Six. I can hear BK before I’m even at the staircase leading to the roof. The sound he makes is like a cross between a wolf howling and an elephant blowing through its trunk—it’s loud and soulful, not a bad sound at all, but totally not of Earth.

“He won’t shut up,” Nine says, as soon as I emerge onto the roof. He rubs his temples, probably exhausted from using his telepathy to try calming BK.

He is still pretty much in beagle form, although his shape bulges and stretches erratically, like he might change into something else at any second. The antler from Eight’s Chest is clenched in his teeth, the sound not at all muffled by it. Flecks of drool drip down the antler and into BK’s fur. He stands up on his hind legs, his snout pointed at the moon, the oddly melodic noise flowing out of him. It looks like he’s in some kind of trance.

Eight teleports in from downstairs. “I’ve got Sam and Malcolm monitoring emergency channels, just in case some nosy neighbor calls the cops,” he says. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him, John, but I think it’s got something to do with that antler.”

“No shit,” Six says. She snaps her fingers at BK. “Quiet, Bernie Kosar!”

BK doesn’t even seem to notice. I spot Marina over at the edge of the rooftop, using her night vision to keep an eye out for anyone that might spot us. Luckily, we’re high enough and Chicago is loud enough that I don’t think anyone will hear BK. Even so, I don’t want to take any chances.

“Did you try taking the antler from him?” I ask.

“Yeah,” Nine replies. “He didn’t like that. Growled at me and wouldn’t let go. I didn’t want to hurt him.”

“That doesn’t sound like BK,” Sarah says, her eyes widening with concern.

“Think this is some kind of Chimæra nightmare?” Six suggests.

I shake my head. All this weirdness with BK started when he got hold of that antler. It doesn’t seem like anything in our Chests should work against us. Even my bracelet, which hurt like hell initially, turned out to be helpful. There should be a rational explanation for this.

“Where is Ella?” Sarah asks. “Could this be like what’s happening with her, but for Chimæra?”

“Sleeping right through it,” Marina replies. “And this seems totally different.”