I can’t believe what I’m about to do.

I stop the bullets in midair with my telekinesis. I’m not sure if they would have even penetrated Setrákus Ra’s armor, but I can’t risk it. I don’t let Sam and the others have a chance to realize all their shots have missed. Instead, I shove the entire group backwards with my telekinesis. Not hard enough to hurt them, but hard enough to knock them over some of the broken stage debris. It’s also enough to put them out of range of Setrákus Ra’s whip. I’ll apologize later.

Setrákus Ra doesn’t give the agents a second look. The brief distraction was all he needed to reach the steps of his ship ahead of me. He bounds up them, dragging Ella along behind him, and disappears into the vessel.

I sprint forward, determined not to let him escape. The ship begins to rise up before the staircase has fully folded back into its smooth body.

I can still catch them. I can still stop him. I’m so close.

I dive forward and manage to grab the bottom step with my good hand.

The ship continues to rise while the steps recede back towards the open doorway. They pull me closer towards Setrákus Ra and Ella, even as the ship rises farther away from the Earth. I swing one of my legs up so that I’m hooked around the bottom step. Soon, we’re almost a hundred feet in the air, getting closer and closer to the warship above.

The steps fold up like an accordion into a panel at the base of the ship’s entrance. I push off the step I’d been grasping before I’m crushed in the mechanism and lunge for the open doorway. It isn’t easy to do with only one good arm. I end up hanging from the doorway’s edge, my good arm starting to feel hyperextended. My legs dangle above what is now a two-hundred-foot drop.

Setrákus Ra stands over me. His three-headed whip dangles in my face, the tips alive with crackling fire. I don’t think he plans to pull me the rest of the way in.

I catch a glimpse of Ella through his legs. She’s slouched in one of the cockpit’s chairs, looking totally sedated. I won’t be getting any help from her.

‘John Smith, isn’t it?’ Setrákus Ra asks conversationally. ‘Thank you for the help down there.’

‘I wasn’t trying to help you.’

‘But you did, regardless. That is one reason why I will let you live.’

I grimace. My grip slips a little. I need to come up with a play soon. It’s hard to chuck a fireball with one arm dislocated and the other holding on for dear life. It’ll have to be my telekinesis. Maybe if I can push him back …

It’s gone. My telekinesis is gone. Drained, just like before.

Setrákus Ra smiles at me. His Legacies are returning. I’ve failed.

He crouches down so he can get right in my face.

‘The other reason,’ he hisses, ‘is so you can see how I make this planet burn.’

Setrákus Ra straightens up again and nonchalantly flicks his whip at me. The three heads strike me right across the face. I’m immune to the fire, but the lashes still dig three grooves across my cheek.

It’s enough to make me lose my grip. I’m falling.

As I plummet towards the river below, I feel my Legacies snap back on. I must be far enough away from Setrákus Ra. Quickly, I push down with my telekinesis, doing everything I can to slow my fall.

I still hit the East River hard. It’s like getting slapped across my whole body. Dirty water floods my lungs and for a terrifying second I’m not sure which way is up, which way to swim. I manage to resurface, choking and spitting, and trying to swim against the current with only one arm. I end up doing an awkward backstroke, gasping for breath the entire way. I’m exhausted by the time I reach the bank, slightly downriver from the chaos at the UN, surrounded on all sides by trash and dead fish.

‘John! John! Are you all right?’

It’s Sam. He runs across the mud towards me. He must have seen me fall and followed me here. He skids into the muck next to me. I can only manage a groan by way of greeting. I think some of my ribs are broken.

‘Can you move?’ Sam asks, gingerly touching my screwed-up shoulder.

I nod. With Sam’s help, I make it back to my feet. I’m soaked, bruised, broken in places, with three long cuts across my face. I’m not sure what to heal first.

‘Where’s Nine?’ I manage to ask.

‘I lost him in the chaos,’ Sam replies, his voice breaking. ‘He and Five were killing each other. Walker and her people are trying to evacuate civilians. It’s crazy up there. John, what do we do?’

I start to open my mouth, hoping a plan will come to me if I just start talking, but a nearby explosion cuts me off. The impact is powerful enough that my teeth click together.

I look up at the sky just in time to see the Mogadorian warship open fire on New York.

29

Eight’s eyes, brightly glowing embers of pure Loralite, assess each one of us in turn. They linger for a particularly long time on Adam – long enough to make our Mogadorian ally take a nervous step backwards. Like Marina, I’m rooted in place, staring at our friend brought back to some kind of life. Eight floats over the Sanctuary’s well in a column of unleashed energy. No, he doesn’t just float in the energy. The energy is a part of him.

Or it. I’m pretty sure that’s not our sarcastic, goofy friend floating up there. Whatever it is, I feel a strange kinship with the entity, almost like the same energy now reanimating Eight is flowing through me, too. It’s the same electric rush I get when I use my Legacies. Maybe I’m looking at the essence of what makes me Loric, what makes me Garde.