Pittacus Lore - The Power of Six

“You bet,” I say, and hold out my pinky. “Let’s pinky-swear on it.”

She smiles widely and hooks her pinky around mine. I shake it once.

“There, that settles it,” I say.

We turn back to the window, and Ella wipes her picture away with the heel of her palm. “I don’t like it here.”

“I don’t like it here either, believe me. But don’t worry, we’ll both be out of here soon enough.”

“You think so? We’ll leave together?”

I turn and look at her. That wasn’t what I had meant at all, but without thinking twice I nod in agreement. I hope it isn’t something I’ll regret promising. “If you’re still here when I leave, then we’ll leave together. Deal?”

“Deal! And I won’t let them hurt you.”

“Who?” I ask.

“The bad men.”

I smile. “I would appreciate that very much.”

She leaves the window and walks to another, again pulling herself up to look out. As always, she moves like a ghost, making no sound. I still have no idea where she might have hidden today, but wherever it was, it was clearly a place no one would think to look. And then an idea occurs to me.

“Hey, Ella? I need your help,” I say. Ella drops from the window and looks at me expectantly. “I’m trying to find something here, but it’s hidden.”

“What is it?” she asks, leaning forward in excitement.

“It’s a chest. It’s wooden and looks very old, like you might expect to see on a pirate ship.”

“And it’s here?”

I nod. “It’s here somewhere, but I have no idea where. Somebody did a very good job of hiding it. You’re just about the most clever girl I know. I bet you can find it in no time.”

She beams, rapidly nodding her head. “I’ll find it for you, Marina! We’re a team!”

“That’s right,” I agree. “We are a team.”

SIX DRIVES OUR CHARCOAL-COLORED SUV, WHICH we saw for sale in a yard two miles down the road for fifteen hundred dollars, into town to buy groceries. While she’s gone, Sam and I spar together in the backyard. The three of us have spent a week training, and I’m amazed at how good Sam’s gotten in the short amount of time. Despite his small size, he’s a natural; and what he lacks in strength, he makes up for in technique, which is much better than my own.

At the end of each day as Six and I retreat to the corners of the living room or to our empty rooms, Sam stays up studying fighting techniques on the internet. What Six learned from Katarina and I learned from Henri is a method of combat that loosely resembles a blend of jujitsu, Tae Kwon Do, karate and Bojuka here on Earth, a system designed to be committed to muscle memory, including grappling, blocks, fluid body movements, joint manipulation and strikes to vital points of a person’s central nervous system. For Six and me, having the benefit of telekinesis, it’s a matter of sensing the subtlest of motions in a radius around us and then reacting to them. Sam, however, needs to keep his enemies in front of him.

While Six ends each session without a mark, Sam and I both finish with new scrapes and bruises. But despite them, Sam never loses passion or drive. Today is no different. He comes at me, chin tucked and eyes alert. He throws a right cross that I block, then a left side kick that I counter by sweeping his right leg out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground. He stands, then charges me again. Though he connects often, with my strength, his shots aren’t very effective. But sometimes I feign pain to boost his confidence.

Six gets home an hour later. She changes into shorts and a T-shirt and joins us. We drill for a while, slowly doing the same block-counterkick over and over until it becomes second nature. But while I take it somewhat easy against Sam, Six goes all out against me, thrusting me backwards with such force that the wind is knocked out of me. Sometimes I get irritated, but I can still tell I’m getting better. She’s no longer able to deflect my telekinesis with a casual flick of the wrist. Now she’s required to throw her whole body into it.

Sam takes a break and watches from the side with Bernie Kosar.

“You’re better than that, Johnny. Show me the good stuff already,” she says after she upends me when I threw a sloppy roundhouse kick.

I charge her, closing the gap between us in a tenth of a second. I throw a left hook but Six blocks it, taking hold of my bicep and using my momentum to toss me over her head. I brace myself for a painful landing, but she doesn’t let go of my arm, instead twisting me back over her shoulder so my feet hit the ground.

She wraps her arms around my arms; my back is smashed against her chest. She sticks her face against mine and playfully kisses me on the cheek. Before I can react she kicks the back of my knees and my butt hits the grass. My arms are swept out from under me and I’m flat on my back. Six easily pins me, and she’s so close I can count the hairs on her brow. Butterflies flood my stomach.

“Okay,” Sam finally interrupts. “I think you got him pretty good. You can let him up now.”

Six’s smile widens, and mine does, too. We stay that way for a second longer before she leans back and hefts me up by my shoulders.

“My turn with Six,” Sam says.

I take a deep breath, then shake my arms to rid them of their jitters.

“She’s all yours,” I say, making a beeline towards the house.

“John?” Six says just as I reach the back door.

I turn, trying to tamp down a strange fluttery sensation at the sight of her. “Yeah?”

“We’ve been in this house for a week now. I think it’s time to lose whatever sentimentality or fear you’ve been holding on to.”

For a second, after what just happened I think she’s talking about Sarah.

“The Chest,” she says.

“I know,” I say, and I enter the house, sliding the door behind me.

I go to my room and pace, taking deep breaths, trying to figure out what just happened out in the yard.

I go to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face. I stare into the mirror. Sarah would kill me if she caught me looking at Six like that. I tell myself again that I have nothing to worry about because Loriens love one person for life. If Sarah is my one love, then Six is simply a crush.

Back in my room I lie on my back, fold my hands across my stomach, and close my eyes. I take deep breaths, holding each one in for a five-count before exhaling out my nose.

Thirty minutes later I open the door and creep down the hall, hearing Sam and Six milling about in the living room. The only place I could find to hide my Chest in the house was in the utility closet, on top of the hot water heater. I struggle getting it out, making as little noise as possible. Then I tiptoe back to my room, gently closing and locking the door behind me.

Six is right. It’s time. No more waiting. I grab hold of the lock. It quickly warms, then squirms against the palm of my hand, taking on an almost liquid form, and snaps open. The inside glows brightly. It’s never done that before. I reach in and remove the coffee can containing Henri’s ashes and his letter, still in its sealed envelope. I close the lid and relock it. I know it’s stupid, but I feel like I’m somehow keeping Henri alive by not reading the letter he left behind. Once the Chest is open, and once the letter is read, he’ll have nothing left to tell me, nothing left to teach-and then he’ll become nothing more than a memory. I’m not ready for it yet.

I open the closet where my clothes sit in a pile, and I bury the coffee can and letter under them. Then I grab the Chest and leave the room, hovering in the hallway to listen to Sam and Six streaming a show online called Ancient Aliens . Sam is asking Six about all the alien theories he knows and Six quickly confirms or denies them based on the teachings of Katarina. Sam furiously scribbles answers on his legal pad, which then breeds more questions that Six patiently answers or shrugs her shoulders at. Sam eats it up, drawing parallels to what he already knows.