ISABELA SILVA
SOMEWHERE OVER BRITISH COLUMBIA, CANADA
NUMBER FIVE. THE ONE ALL THE OTHER LORIC hated. Isabela had heard the stories about him. He betrayed his own people to the Mogadorians, then changed his mind and tried to fight with the good guys once the invasion started. She’d watched YouTube videos of his fight with Professor Nine, the two of them brawling through the heart of New York City like a pair of superpowered moron jocks.
Five was supposed to be dead. That’s what Nine had told everyone, anyway. But he clearly wasn’t dead. He was just severely messed up.
Isabela tried not to let any fear or awe show as Five flung her back onboard their little aircraft. Isabela recognized the vessel, too. It was a Skimmer. One of the smaller ships piloted by the Mogadorians. Where had Einar gotten ahold of that? How had he hooked up with Number Five?
Thanks to Isabela’s escape attempt, the wind still rushed around them. She clutched a nearby railing so she wouldn’t get sucked out again. Meanwhile, Five wedged the Skimmer’s door back into place using a combination of telekinesis and brute strength. When he was finished, the door rattled like crazy but at least it kept the wind out.
“That was stupid,” Five said, rounding on Isabela. She had a hard time looking him in the face but managed to stand her ground.
“You were groping me,” Isabela replied.
“I was not groping you,” Five snarled. “I saved your life.”
Isabela tossed her hair theatrically. “My friend Taylor got rescued by John Smith,” she said. “She gets John Smith and I get the ugly one.”
Five’s mouth tightened. “You aren’t so pretty yourself.”
To that, Isabela had no comeback.
An impressively tall girl poked her shaved head out of an adjoining room, eyeing both Five and Isabela with skepticism. That was the one who’d shocked her back in California.
“What happened?” she asked.
“She tried to escape,” Five grunted.
“Does this pervert touch you when you sleep?” Isabela asked.
The girl raised an eyebrow, then looked at Five for clarification. “You were supposed to be watching her.”
“I was watching her!” Five shouted. A short temper on that one, Isabela realized. He grabbed Isabela by the arm roughly enough that she’d have bruises. “Go back to sleep, Duanphen, before I break your other goddamn leg.”
Duanphen gazed evenly at Five, holding her ground for long enough that she wouldn’t look like a total pushover. But Isabela could see it—she was afraid. Five was not someone to take lightly.
“You are okay?” Duanphen asked Isabela, pointedly ignoring Five.
“No, I’m not okay, you silly bitch,” Isabela answered. “You nearly killed me and now I’ve been kidnapped.”
“Mm,” Duanphen replied, simply. “Sorry about that. We thought you were someone else.”
With that, Duanphen turned and limped back into her room.
Breathing heavily through his nose in a way that made the air whistle, Five dragged Isabela down the hallway. She soon realized how small the ship was. No more than three rooms with bare cots and tables, all of them cluttered with junk—food wrappers, dirty plates, clothes, and weapons. A lot of weapons, everything from traditional guns to Mogadorian blasters to some of the high-tech Sydal Corp stuff Isabela had seen the Peacekeepers use during their training exercises.
And then there was the massive pile of money spread out in banded stacks on a vacant cot. Some of that had been blown over, presumably when Isabela broke the door.
So they were living on this ship, they were heavily armed, and they were rich as hell.
They reached the cockpit—a glittering panel of instruments, a windshield with a complicated display, and two bucket seats. Einar sat in one of them, one leg propped up on the console, steering laconically.
“She’s awake,” Five announced.
“I figured,” Einar replied. He hit a couple of buttons on the console, turning on some kind of autopilot, and stood up. Einar looked more put together than his companions, his preppy clothes clean and his hair meticulously gelled to one side. “Hello, Isabela. My name is—”
“I know who you are, pinto,” Isabela interrupted. “You’re the mind controller.”
“That’s not technically accurate.”
Isabela tried to jerk away from Five, to get closer to Einar. “Are you controlling this sack of shit right now?”
Five’s grip tightened. “No one controls me.”
“I don’t want to manipulate you,” Einar said, his hands open. He drew nearer. “I won’t use my Legacies against you, Isabela. Not unless you force me—”
He was close enough. Isabela lunged forward and kicked Einar between the legs.
“Coma merda! That is for Nige—!”
There was a brief moment of pure satisfaction as Einar doubled over and fell to his knees, simultaneously gasping and retching. But then, Five slammed Isabela up against a wall, knocking the wind out of her. Isabela’s feet were lifted off the ground, Five’s forearm pressed into her throat. She tried to jab at his pressure points, but his skin was suddenly made completely of metal and she only succeeded in jamming her fingers. There were gulfs in his metal carapace, though—the dark patches of skin that looked like tumors remained unchanged. Even gasping for breath, Isabela couldn’t bring herself to touch them.
“Five . . . ,” Einar wheezed. “That’s enough. You’ll hurt her.”
“She runs her mouth worse than Nine!” Five yelled back, his breath hot against Isabela’s face.
Isabela started to see spots in her vision. She pried uselessly at Five’s metal fingers. With a roar, he let her go. Isabela slid down the wall and, above her, Five punched the wall where her head used to be. Wham, wham, wham—like a hammer striking an anvil.
“Put me out,” Five snarled at Einar. “I don’t want to feel like this.”
Einar didn’t say anything, didn’t do anything that Isabela could see, but a moment later Five swayed on his feet. Isabela breathed raggedly, staring up at the imposing Loric. The bloodlust—so vivid in his remaining eye a moment ago—had seeped out of him.
“I’m . . . I’m sorry,” Five said. “I lose my temper sometimes.”
Isabela could only cough in response. Five’s eye was half-lidded and spacy, like he’d been tranquilized. Before she could do anything, the big bastard sank to the floor beside Isabela. He ended up with his head in her lap and Isabela was too horrified by the whole scene to stop him.
“If anything should prove my newfound restraint . . .” Einar paused to cough and wipe tears from his eyes, looking at Isabela across the narrow space. “It’s that I’m willing to let what you just did go.”
“You tried to kill my friends,” Isabela replied, her voice raspy.
“I regret that,” Einar replied. “I wasn’t in my right mind. But, in my defense, your ‘friend’ Nigel is probably a spy for the Foundation.”
Isabela snorted. “What?”
“His mother, Bea, is one of them,” Einar continued. “One of the important ones.”
“Bullshit.”
“His father, too. I can show you proof when I’m able to walk again.”
“Nigel’s dad just died. There was a fire at his house after the funeral. Him and his mom are missing.”
“Ah, well, the fire is probably Bea’s way of trying to throw me off her scent. I had nothing to do with that,” Einar replied, holding her gaze. “As for Mr. Barnaby? Well. They wanted a war with me.”
Isabela’s mouth fell open. Had this crazy bastard just admitted to killing Nigel’s father? Was she supposed to let that go? Part of her wanted to lunge at him again, even though she knew it would likely be futile.
“What were you doing posing as Alejandro?” Einar asked before Isabela could gather her thoughts.
“What were you doing trying to kill him?” Isabela countered.
“Duanphen, the third member of our revolution, she has an injured leg—”
“Boo-hoo,” Isabela interrupted. “My whole body hurts from that car crash, thanks to you assholes. So what?”
“We’d learned that the Foundation planned to acquire your friend Taylor again,” Einar continued over her. “Alejandro was in charge of that effort. We thought that he could be . . . convinced . . . to get us close to Taylor.”
Isabela snorted. “You think she would help you? She hates you. We all hate you.”
“I know Taylor wouldn’t let someone suffer,” Einar said. “The Foundation’s reports said she was fed up with the Academy. If she was so desperate to return to the Foundation, I thought she should know there was a third option. Us.”
“You idiot,” Isabela said, with a disbelieving laugh. “We were infiltrating the Foundation. Not to just—just randomly kill them, but to bring them to justice.”
Einar smiled at her indulgently. “Come on, Isabela. I’ve read your psyche profile. You’re no crusader. These people are too powerful. You know there won’t be justice for them unless we bring it to them.”
Isabela shifted uncomfortably, and not just because Five was practically snoring in her lap. She was used to being the one reading people and didn’t much care to be on the opposite side.
“There’s no we,” Isabela replied sharply. “Now. Are we done talking? Can you drop me off somewhere?”
“Back at your Academy, maybe?” Einar replied. “Where you’re trained to use your powers for the greater good, so long as the greater good lines up with the agenda of whoever is in charge?”
“Better than this shithole spaceship,” Isabela countered.
“These are humble beginnings,” Einar replied.
Isabela started to reply but let out a shriek instead. Five had grabbed her hand. So violent just moments ago, now he was like a child. Isabela felt a tickle on her palm and Five’s skin again changed to pale pink, the black splotches gone. Einar did a double take at the sight of his restored bodyguard.
Five chuckled. “Look at me, Einar. Whole again.”
“This is a freak show,” Isabela said. She didn’t try to pull her hand away, not wanting to upset the insane Loric.
“He can take on the qualities of anything he touches,” Einar told Isabela. “When he touches you, he must be able to tap into the shape-shifting qualities of your skin. Usually, he can’t transform those dark scars of his. They were caused by some toxic Mogadorian chemical and—”
“Seriously,” Isabela replied. “I don’t care.”
“You should. He’s from a different planet, but he’s one of us. A Garde. An outsider.”
“I’m not—”
“And surely you can sympathize with someone wanting to restore themselves to a better state,” Einar said, staring meaningfully at Isabela’s unblemished skin.
She glared at him. Of course, Einar kept on talking.
“Five was the first person I sought out when the Foundation cut me loose,” he said, speaking quietly so as not to disturb the spaced-out Loric. “Of course they had a file on him. A rogue Garde with flexible morals who isn’t participating in the Earth Garde initiative? They always planned to recruit him. But I got there first.”
“And mind controlled him,” Isabela said flatly.
“Only when he asks me to,” Einar replied. “He has demons. Anger, guilt, self-loathing. I can make him content. I can give him peace. He’s trying to do better. We both are.”
Isabela gazed down at Five. She felt the tiniest kernel of sympathy, though it was crushed by a metric ton of revulsion.
“Seems like therapy and smoking pot would be simpler,” she said.
Einar smirked. “He was hidden away on an island, unaware of what has been going on in the world. I told him about Earth Garde and the Foundation. How the other Loric do so little to help us, merely delaying the inevitable battle with humanity, letting the powerless majority subjugate us in the meantime. I told him what the Foundation is after . . .”
“What are they after?”
“Something the Mogadorians were working on. Technology that could even the playing field with their biggest adversary. Us. Unlike those other coddled Academy kids, the six of you who broke out—you’ve seen it. What the world is like outside Professor Nine’s protection. Where we’re heading.”
A chill went down Isabela’s spine. She told herself that Einar was probably tweaking her emotions, making her receptive to his ominous stories. But at the same time, there was an intensity to the way he talked that pulled her in.
“I know how we look,” Einar continued. She watched fractures form in his calm and calculated mask—genuine passion seeping through. “Like we’re insane, right? But that’s what happens when they force you to live on the fringes. You’re observant—I’m sure you saw the money room when Five brought you here. We’ve already acquired over three million dollars from the Foundation. We’re going to build something. A place where we can be free. Where we don’t have to answer to anyone. How does that sound, Isabela?”
“It sounds good,” Isabela admitted. “If only you weren’t the one saying it.”
Einar nodded, a hint of a smile on his lips. She’d conceded that his ideas sounded good and he must’ve viewed that as a small victory. Isabela thought about kicking him in the balls again.
“I appreciate that I’ll have to earn your trust,” Einar said. “Tell me, when you infiltrated the Foundation, did Taylor go, too? Is that how you got to Alejandro? By letting her be recruited?”
Isabela hesitated, not sure what she should tell him.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Einar replied. “That’s good. A brave plan. I’m honestly sorry we ruined it. Do you think she’ll be all right, without you watching out for her?”
Isabela gritted her teeth. She could already tell where this was going.
“Isabela,” Einar said. “I believe we can help each other.”