Pittacus Lore - The Power of Six

“Try not to move,” I say, knowing it’s a futile plea. The nearest hospital is a half-hour drive. She’ll pass out from the pain by then.

She starts to rock in a rhythm from side to side. I hover my shaking hands over the shard of bone sticking out of her leg, not knowing if I should apply pressure or try to push it back under the skin. I decide on applying pressure, and the second my fingers touch her skin, Ella stutters with a sharp intake of breath. An icy tingle inches up my spine, a feeling much like the times I’ve brought life back to the flower in the computer room, and the feeling spreads throughout the rest of me. Is it possible that my ability to heal plants applies to people as well? Ella stops crying and starts breathing rapidly, her tiny chest rising and falling, rising and falling. I can feel the iciness concentrate in my palms and circulate outward from my fingertips. “I think, I think I can fix you.”

Her chest continues to rise and fall at an abnormal speed, but her face takes on a look of peacefulness, of detachment. I’m afraid to, but I place my hands over the piece of bone that sticks out from her leg. I feel its pebbly, broken end; and soon it begins to retreat back under the skin. The puncture wound turns from red and white back to the color of her skin; and I can see the jagged contours of her broken bone move and shift within her leg, setting itself back in place. I’m amazed at what I’ve just done. This could be my most important Legacy yet.

“Keep still,” I say. “One more thing.”

I close my eyes and wrap my hands around her thin right wrist. The iciness flows again through my fingertips. I open my eyes to watch her palm rise and her fingers spread away from each other. The cut between her index and middle fingers closes, and I see two broken knuckles straighten and mend. Ella clenches her hand and relaxes it.

I’ve done what Lorien has intended me to do, and that’s to undo damage that’s been inflicted on those who don’t deserve it.

Ella turns her head to the right to look at my hands wrapped around her wrist. “You’re fine,” I say. “You’re better than fine.” She raises her head off the ground and props herself up onto her elbows. I pull her into my arms.

“We’re a team,” I whisper into her ear. “We take care of each other. Thanks for trying to help.”

She nods her head. I squeeze her and then pull away. I look around at the girls, all of them unconscious but breathing. Sticking out of the opening of the nave, I see the edge of the Chest.

“I’m so proud of you for finding the Chest. You have no idea,” I say. “Let’s get it tomorrow morning after we’ve had some rest.”

“Are you sure?” Ella asks. “I can climb back up and get it.”

“No, no. You go wash up in the bathroom, and I’ll be right there.”

When she’s finally out of my sight, I raise my eyes to the Chest. Concentrating, I float it silently down to my feet. Now I just need to get Adelina to open it with me.

AS I BURST THROUGH THE BURNING DOOR AND land on the melting brown carpet of the living room, several things race through my mind. Sam. Henri’s letter. The Chest. Henri’s ashes. I engulf myself purposefully in flames in order to move easily from room to room. “Sam?” I yell. “Where are you, Sam?”

Past the living room, I see that the entire back wall of the house is burning. The house could collapse in a matter of a minute. I dart into the bedrooms calling Sam’s name. The bathroom door explodes with my kick. I check the kitchen, the dining room; and just when I’m about to try the living room again, I look out the window and see the Chest and a pile of our belongings, including the laptop, the coffee can of Henri’s ashes, and the unopened letter, on the lip of the pool. Something small bobs in the middle of the water; it’s Sam’s head. He sees me and waves his arms.

I crash through the window and knock over the grill. I dive into the pool, the flames surrounding me hissing into gray and black smoke. “You okay?”

“I, I think so,” he says. We pull ourselves out of the water and stand over everything Sam was able to save.

“What happened?”

“Dude, they’re here. They’re totally here. The Mogadorians.” The moment he says these words I feel sick to my stomach. My jaw quivers. Then Sam says, “I saw them in the front window and then, boom , the house is on fire. I grabbed what I could. . . .”

There’s movement on the roof. Between fissures of rising flames, I see a huge Mogadorian scout in a black trench coat, hat, and sunglasses marching down the decline, his feet sinking into the soft tiles with every step. He carries a long gleaming sword.

I kneel and grab ahold of the Chest’s lock, and it yields under my glowing grip. Brushing aside the crystals at the bottom of the Chest, I pick up the dagger with the diamond blade. Flames dancing from the house reflect in its sharp edge. To my surprise, the handle extends and wraps itself around my entire right hand. “Get back,” I say to Sam.

The scout reaches the metal eave of the collapsing roof, and he drops onto the patio below, his feet cracking the concrete when he lands. He slices the sword in the air in front of him and it leaves a glowing trail. I control my breath and go over the last week of training in my mind.

The moment my feet push me forward, the scout roars and rushes at me with his trench coat billowing behind him. I see myself in his sunglasses the second before his sword swings across my body. I lean back far enough for him to miss me; but when I right myself, I enter the glowing trail the sword left behind. Pain attaches itself to my neck and travels to my waist. I’m knocked backwards and into the pool.

When my head surfaces I see Sam squaring off with the scout. His bare hands are up and out; he bobs his shoulders left and right. The scout laughs and drops his sword to the concrete, and he then mimics Sam’s fighting stance. Before I can heave myself out of the pool to help, Sam drops his weight onto his left foot and circles his right behind him. His sopping right shoe comes back around and connects with the scout’s face with a force that staggers him back several feet.

The dazed scout picks up his gleaming sword. I’m up out of the pool before he can reach Sam, and I lift my dagger to block the plummeting sword. The blades meet, and there is a ball of light so bright I can’t see for an instant. When the light fades, the scout’s sword breaks at the exact spot my dagger collided with it. Not wasting the moment of surprise, I plunge the blade of my dagger into his chest and rip it downward. He turns to ash and it covers my feet.

The house finally collapses-beams of wood crack in different directions, windows pop and explode from the walls-the roof flattening over it all like a book with a broken spine. A storm cloud appears overhead and a lightning bolt slices through the sky, landing just on the other side of the house.

“We have to get to Six!” Sam shouts. He’s right; the proximity of the lightning can only mean she’s in the middle of a battle. Or finishing one. With my one free hand, I heft the Chest up and over the backyard’s brick wall after making sure the coast is clear. Sam tosses the rest up to me and I then pull him to the wall’s cement top. We jump and roll on the moist grass beyond the wall. Securing everything behind a thick bush, we run around to the front yard.

In the middle of the driveway, just feet from our SUV, Six has a scout in a headlock, the muscles in her arms pulsing in the squeeze. Two more scouts are approaching. One aims a long, cylindrical tube right at me and a green light blasts me backwards. I can’t breathe. I can’t see. I roll into the high grass and feel the heat from the house.