I sense movement to my left and turn my head. Outside the driver-side window is the pedestrian who got knocked down when Nine’s thunderclap went off. She’s a pretty, college-aged girl with big brown eyes. She looks shell-shocked and seems to be rooted in place – except she’s not so stunned that she failed to get her phone out of her purse. She’s just finished recording me healing our driver and is filming my face as I shout at her to run.

Another volley of Mog blaster fire bounces over the hood of our SUV, nearly hitting the girl. Sam springs out of the backseat and grabs her. He drags her farther down the sidewalk and puts her in cover behind some parked cars.

Months ago, my face on video after using my Legacies would’ve been a disaster. But now, I don’t even care. However, we can’t let any more innocent people wander into our war zone.

‘Turn the car!’ I shout in our driver’s ear. I’m not sure he can hear me, so I make a steering wheel motion with my hands. ‘Block the street off!’

He gets it and peels out – I can smell the burned rubber but don’t quite hear it. He gets the car parked perpendicular across the middle of the road, blocking any traffic.

I hop out of the SUV and turn towards the hotel just in time to see a Mogadorian warrior sheared in half and turned to dust by our car door, which Nine flung through the air discus style. Meanwhile, the agents in the second car have managed to collect themselves. Seeing our maneuver, their driver throws his SUV into reverse and they quickly block access to the road from the other direction. Then, they jump out, using their SUV as cover, and return fire on the remaining Mogadorians. Their gunfire is barely audible popping in my damaged ears.

One of the Mogs keels over from a well-placed bullet to the forehead. Outnumbered, the remaining Mog ducks into the hotel doorway for cover. I reach out with my telekinesis, grab a luggage cart parked behind the Mog and jerk it forward so that it takes out the back of his legs. As he stumbles out of the doorway, Walker’s agents light him up.

Nine glances back to me and I nod. Together, we rush towards the entrance. I look over my shoulder to check on Sam and see him still talking to that bystander, gesturing emphatically at her cell phone. No time to worry about that now.

Inside, the posh hotel lobby is completely deserted except for a frightened clerk cowering behind the front desk. Beyond the marble columns and leather couches of the waiting area is the elevator bank. Oddly, two of the three elevators are out of service, and the third is stuck up at the penthouse level. The Mogs might not have expected an assault, but they definitely took precautions.

With a moment to catch my breath, I press my hands to the sides of my head and let some of that healing energy flow into my ears. They pop and crackle, but sound slowly returns, like a volume dial in my head being gradually turned up. From outside, I can hear sirens, screeching tires, and Walker’s people yelling at local cops to stay back. Our plan to do this covertly is already shot; now we just have to be quick.

I grab Nine before he can make it to the elevators and clap my hands to the side of his head, healing him as well. When I’m done, he shakes his head back and forth, like he’s trying to dislodge water from his inner ear.

‘You’re an idiot,’ I tell him.

Nine shakes the sonic gloves at me before stuffing them in his back pocket. ‘At least now we know what they do.’

Seeing that we aren’t gun-toting Mogadorians, the guy at the front desk slowly comes out of hiding. He’s skinny and middle-aged, and from the bags under his eyes, he looks as if he’s having one terrible day.

‘What – what is going on?’ the clerk asks us.

Before we can answer, Walker strides through the door. She flashes the clerk her badge and then shouts, ‘What floor is Sanderson on?’

The wide-eyed clerk glances from Walker to us and then back. ‘Pent-penthouse,’ he stammers. ‘Those-those things you killed are with him. They cleared out the entire hotel this morning except for me and some of the staff. And I’m not even a manager.’

Nine stares at the clerk, trying to make sense of him. ‘Why would they keep you around?’

‘They’ve been ordering room service,’ he responds incredulously, his voice squeaky. ‘Acting like they own the place and we’re their servants.’

‘That’s some ballsy shit,’ Nine says, shaking his head. ‘Like they’ve already taken over or something.’

Walker squints at the clerk like she could strangle him, then turns to me, her voice still incredibly loud. ‘Goddamn it. I can’t hear this guy.’

I wave her over and press my hands to her ears. While I’m healing Walker, I look over at the clerk. ‘You should get out of here. Go outside very slowly, with your hands up. We’ll send out anyone else we come across.’

The clerk nods mutely, then begins taking baby steps towards the exit, his hands raised above his head.

Walker shakes off my hands as soon as her hearing is back. ‘What did he say?’

‘He said we’re going up,’ I reply, pointing to the elevator.

‘Actually,’ Nine says, ‘they’re coming down.’

The hotel’s one working elevator has begun to descend, the little lights above ticking off the floors. I light my Lumen, the whoosh of flames feeling good. Walker adjusts her grip on her pistol.

‘Easy, guys,’ Nine says. ‘I’ve got this.’

Nine picks up one of the leather sofas and holds it like a battering ram. Walker and I both step aside, giving him room. When the elevator dings and the doors slide apart, the four Mogadorians sent downstairs to reinforce the ones we’ve already dispatched are greeted by Nine screaming and shoving a sofa into them. One of them manages to get a burst of blaster fire off, but it sizzles harmlessly against the floor. The entire unit is pinned inside the elevator, the centermost Mog crushed outright behind Nine’s weight. Walker easily darts around Nine and picks the Mogs off with her handgun.