Lorien Legacies: The Lost Files (78 page)

Is Ethan working for them? Is he
one
of them?

Nothing’s making sense. My thoughts race. The red mark on my calf burns.

“And Number Five?” the Mog bastard asks. “I trust his training continues as planned.”

My hands tremble.

“He remains well,” Ethan says. He cocks his head to the side just a bit. “In fact, he’s here right now.”

A little cry escapes through my lips.

“I’ll have to call you back,” Ethan says, tapping on the keyboard. The Mog disappears.

So do I.

I have to get out of this house. Whatever is happening, my cover’s been blown, and I can’t afford to stick around and try to figure things out.

I dart for the front door, but it’s locked. My key card is upstairs, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it wouldn’t do any good.

I head to the back door—the sliding one that opens up to the patio, the one that’s never locked—but it won’t budge. I pick up a nearby chair and slam it into the glass. It should be more than enough force to shatter it. Instead, the chair just bounces off.

This house suddenly seems like one big prison.

“Bulletproof,” Ethan says from behind me.

I whirl around, holding up my fists, ready to punch him or use my telekinesis against him. He just stands there unarmed with his hands out in front of him, the sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows.

“Explain yourself!” I shout with a fury I didn’t even know I had in me. I’m running on pure adrenaline now.

“Look, there’s no reason for us to fight. I don’t want to, and we both know there’s no way I could even attempt to match you if—” He takes a step forward and I blast him back, sending him toppling over a gray couch in the living room, crashing through a glass coffee table.

When he looks up, he seems oddly pleased.

“I deserved that.”

“Explain yourself,” I say again. Not as loud, but more earnestly.

What has he done? What have I done?

Ethan gets up slowly and sits on the edge of the couch. He pulls a piece of glass out of his palm, wincing slightly.

“All right,” he says. “Let’s be honest with each other for once.”

I nod. He takes a deep breath and then starts to talk.

“I am not a thief or playboy criminal or anything like that. Not originally, at least. That was just a persona that was created for me. We have so many ties to the people that run this city—both the criminals and the politicians—that it was easy to plant me here.”

“How did you even
find
me?” is all I can manage to sputter.

“You flew to shore last year. That sort of thing gets noticed. Maybe not by the media or the police, but people talk. And we were listening.”

“Who are you? You don’t look like a Mog.”

“Do you know about the Greeters?”

That word brings up memories of Rey talking. An image of us in Canada flashes in my mind, me tucked into bed and my Cêpan telling me about our escape from Lorien. Ethan just keeps on talking.

“The Greeters were humans who met the Cêpans when you first arrived on Earth. They helped the Garde transition into life here. That sort of thing.”

Garde. Cêpan.
It’s so strange to hear these words coming out of Ethan’s mouth—words I’ve kept hidden for so long.

“Right,” I say. “So what does that have to do with you?”

“I was supposed to be one of them.”

“You’re a Greeter?”

“I was a part of this message board that a man named Malcolm . . . You know what, that part doesn’t matter. What matters is that I predicted the future. I know power—know
potential—
when I see it. That part of me is true. And I could see that there was no way that Lorien’s squad of children could ever hope to stand up to the Mogadorians. So when the Mogs came to Earth looking for you, I struck a deal with them. In exchange for my service, I will be spared. Earth’s future belongs to the Mogadorians, and when they take over they’ll remember that I was the one who helped them.” He slumps a little, and when he talks again it’s more to himself than to me. “I chose correctly too. The Greeters haven’t necessarily had a great life since then.”

“You sold me out so you could live,” I say quietly, backing up against the door. My eyes dart outside. Suddenly I realize what this means. “They’re here to kill me already, aren’t they?”

“Whoa, whoa,” Ethan says, raising his hands again, one of them bloody from the glass. “You misunderstand. I’m not helping them by handing you over to them so they can kill you. They don’t want to hurt you at all. I’m helping them by training you. You’re going to rule here, Cody. The Mogadorians want you to reign alongside them.”

My mouth drops open.

“What?” I ask again dumbly, but it’s the only word I can summon right now.

“The Garde are done for,” Ethan says. “You’ve got another scar, right? That leaves six of you. The Mogadorians have an entire army—hell, entire
worlds
at their disposal. Do you really think Lorien poses any threat? That
Earth
could stop them?”

I don’t answer, just stand there trying to make sense of everything that’s happening.

“Why me?”

“They have others. Number Nine is in their custody
right now
, but he’s not leadership material. I know, because I’ve met him. You’re the one that’s got what it takes. The power and the hunger. All this—this house, the staff, me teaching you—everything was put together for you. To make you stronger.”

“You have Nine?” My mind races. For so long the other Garde have just been stories and scars—it’s almost shocking to hear that Ethan’s actually met one of them.

“Oh yes,” Ethan says. “You wouldn’t like him. He’s arrogant and cocky. A pretty boy. And do you know where he and his Cêpan were while you were picking pockets on the beach to stay alive? In a giant apartment in Chicago. Living a life of luxury. The life you
should
have been leading—and
have
been leading since you’ve been in my care.”

The last year of my life has been a lie. No wonder I haven’t felt like I’ve been hunted while in Miami—I’ve been in their care the whole time.

“But . . .” I struggle for words. “Rey . . . my destiny . . .”

“Your destiny is whatever you make of it,” Ethan says. He pats at something in his pants pocket and I can hear a metallic click in the door behind me. “You’re free to go if you want. But think about what that would mean. Three have fallen. The rest will fall in time. You can die with them, for some fight that you inherited, a fight that was forced upon you, or you can live like a king. The Mogs will give you Earth. They’ll give you anything you want. You were raised to think of them as the enemy, but that’s just because it’s all you knew. It’s a weird form of brainwashing. Try to put things in perspective. The Mogs are not your enemy. They’re your only chance for survival.”

No
.

Before Ethan can say anything else I’ve used my telekinesis to push open the back door and am soaring through the sky. I worry for a moment that something might shoot me down—that there are guns or lasers hidden in the trees around Ethan’s compound—but nothing stops me from going.

I fly out over the water, low enough that no one should be able to see me. The Garde. Ethan. The Mogs. My mind is a mess and I can’t think straight. It doesn’t help that I’m surrounded by nothing but ocean now, bringing back memories of Rey’s little sailboat and being lost out at sea, near death.

How is it possible that everything I’ve done has been so wrong?

I fly back to the mainland—miles and miles away from Ethan’s home—to try to calm down and think rationally. I land on the top of the tallest building in downtown Miami, perch on the edge of the roof. And there I sit, trying to make sense of it all.

Everything about my life after I crash-landed on the beach might have been arranged by the Mogs. Well, not everything. It would have taken a while for word to spread about me. Everything after meeting Ethan on the beach has probably been staged, but things before that might not have been.

Like Emma. Did she know about me? Was she just a plant to get me into Ethan’s sights? Part of the plan all along? For some reason, the answers to these questions nag at my brain. When she called me a monster, was it because she really thought I was one or because she was told to do so?

I take the little rubber ball from my pocket and roll it over the backs of my knuckles. It’s the only little piece of my past I have left. That and . . .

Shit
.

My Loric Chest is back in my room at Ethan’s. Of course I forgot it. I’m such an idiot. Rey would be furious if he were alive to know I’d left it like I did during his fake Mog attack back on the island.

But Rey’s not here. It wasn’t even a Mogadorian that killed him. It was this planet. Or his own body.

Rey’s not here. No one is. It’s just me.

I’m alone again.

My thoughts flash to the other Garde. The Mogs have Nine. That means there are only five of us alive and free. Five of us against the world. Against
several
worlds.

I wonder if Ethan might be right. Maybe Lorien’s last-chance plan of enchanting a bunch of little kids and sending them to another planet never had any hope of success. We never even got to question whether that was what we wanted to do or not. No one asked us if we wanted to be the chosen ones.

I’m suddenly reminded of a movie Emma and I saw together before everything went to hell—some horror flick we’d laughed our way through. There was an island inhabited by a cult and a man was stranded on it. He and the rest of the audience knew that the people in the cult were crazy, but they didn’t. They’d been a part of the cult their whole lives and just couldn’t see that they were the bad guys.

Was that my story too?

I wish Rey were here to make sense of things. Already he’s fading from my memory. And the things I do remember vividly are his rules, or his disappointment, or his failed training.

And his last words.
Do whatever it takes to survive.

I stay on the roof all night. By morning, I still don’t know what my next move should be. And even though I know I shouldn’t—that it’s probably being watched—I go to the beach where I first met Emma.

I find the arepa stand where I bought us snacks.

It takes the owner a few moments to recognize me with a few extra pounds and close-cropped hair. When he finally does, he looks spooked.

“Have you seen Emma around?” I ask him.

He shakes his head a little.

“She’s gone.”

“What do you mean, she’s gone?” I ask. My heart races. If the Mogs killed her . . .

“Her family moved a few months ago. Her brother had been in the hospital for a while, but when he finally got out, they wanted to start over somewhere new. They hightailed it out of here.”

His face is going pale. At first I think the Mogs have shown up behind me or something, but then I realize it’s me. Emma must have told him, or the other locals, what she’d seen. About what a freak I was.

The man crosses his hand over his head and chest. He keeps talking, but I walk away.

I wander aimlessly, frustration growing inside me. Four other Garde are free, but hidden away. Probably living in high-rises or penthouses like Nine was. And here I am alone again. Forgotten. Having to start over.

Something hot boils up inside me. I slam my fist against the brick wall of a store beside me. And then, something strange starts to happen.

My body changes.

I can feel it stiffening and growing heavy. My skin grows dry and looks brittle.

I take a few steps away from the wall and back into a stop sign on the street. I wrap my fingers around it for balance—my head is spinning—and squeeze. The metal crumples under my touch.

Then my skin changes again. It takes on a silvery sheen. I stumble forward, pulse quickening. I lean against a storefront window. Again I change. I raise my hand. I can see through it.

Glass
. I’ve turned into glass.

At first I think I’m dying—maybe I’ve been poisoned somehow. But with every step I take and every different material my fingers graze, it becomes more apparent what’s happening.

I’m turning into the things I touch.

My hands shake. My eyes grow wide and dry. It’s everything I can do just to keep breathing at a normal pace.

It’s early in the morning, and there aren’t many people around, but that will change. Soon, there’ll be crowds everywhere. Whatever is happening to me, I can’t stay out in the open.

I have to get to safety. To shelter.

I don’t want to be alone.

There’s only one person I know who can help me. Only one person I know, period.

I somehow manage to turn into a normal, fleshy human again, and then I’m in the air, flying faster than I ever have before, throwing caution to the wind as I soar high over the city. When I crash onto the beach at the back of Ethan’s property, one of the maids sees me and runs inside.

I try to stand on the beach, but suddenly I’m sinking—no, not sinking, I’m falling apart as my legs disintegrate, breaking up and turning into tiny pieces of earth. I’m becoming one with the beach. I scream as I start to collapse in on myself.

What’s happening?
I wonder frantically. And then another, more pressing thought appears.
I’m going to die a pile of beach.

“Cody!” someone shouts. It’s Ethan. The maid must have found him.

My torso’s falling apart now. I try to shout to Ethan but the only thing that escapes my throat is a dry wheeze. I reach forward, but my arm is already starting to break down.

He runs straight for me, grabbing my hand as best as he can, but half of it slips through his fingers. Part of me touches his watch and I start to solidify again, this time taking on a gold, metallic sheen. The rest of my body follows suit.

I hyperventilate. My heart thumps in my chest, and I swear for a moment it sounds like metal, clanging against my rib cage. That makes me freak out even more, and I can’t catch my breath.

“Calm down,” Ethan says. “This is . . .” He struggles to find the right word. “I guess you’re developing new powers or something.”