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“What am I supposed to be looking for, Walker?”
“That’s what I said. I missed it the first time, too,” Walker replies, running the footage back again. “Apparently, the thousands of highly trained military personnel didn’t notice this happen in real time either. Watch the river now.”
Sam leans in next to us, squinting at the video. “Something falls off the ship,” he states flatly, pointing at the screen.
He’s right. A round object about the size of Setrákus Ra’s pearl-shaped getaway ship drops from the warship’s belly. It hits the East River with a large splash and immediately sinks out of view.
“Ever seen anything like that before?” Walker asks.
I shake my head. “I’d never even seen one of the warships until the Anubis attacked New York.”
Walkers sighs. “So we’re still in the dark.”
“Are they sending that sub down to look for whatever that was?” Sam asks.
Walker nods. “The river’s only about a hundred feet deep, but they don’t want to risk sending divers down in case it’s some kind of weapon or trap.”
“What else could it possibly be?” I ask Walker, putting my hands on my hips and turning towards the river. Add this mysterious object to the long list of things I’ve got to worry about.
“The higher-ups are hoping it was an accidental drop, that something fell off the warship that we could potentially study or use against the Mogadorians, get a better understanding of what we’re up against.”
“Setrákus Ra doesn’t do anything by accident.”
“So you’re saying we shouldn’t send anyone down there?” Walker asks, one eyebrow raised. “You aren’t curious, John?”
Before I can reply, there’s a screech of tires from the end of the pier. One of the army jeeps comes in fast and has to slam on the brakes when it reaches the knot of soldiers milling around. Two soldiers, a driver and her passenger, jump out of the car. The driver throws off her helmet, revealing a sweaty shock of dark black hair. She yanks open the back door and the other soldier comes around the car to help her lift a third soldier out of the car. He looks wounded, although I can’t tell how badly from this distance. Other military personnel gather around, trying to help these new arrivals.
“Where are they?” shouts the woman. “Where’s the alien? Where’s that FBI bitch?”
A lump forms in my throat. Setrákus Ra put out a bounty on me and the rest of the Garde. Maybe these soldiers have decided it’s time to collect. All the same, I step forward. I’m not going to hide. The soldiers clustered at the end of the pier are pointing in my direction, anyway. There’s nowhere to go. I glance over my shoulder and see the high-ranking old men, the colonels and generals and whatever the hell else, they’ve all turned to watch this scene play out. They don’t seem all that interested in intervening should this turn dangerous.
Or maybe I’m just being paranoid. Maybe sensing that I’ve tensed up, Walker puts a hand on my arm.
“Let me handle this,” she says.
“We don’t even know what this is,” I tell her, striding forward to meet the soldiers.
“He’s all messed up,” Sam says, eyeing the soldier now being carried by the driver and her spooked-looking partner. The front of the injured soldier’s fatigues are soaked through with blood. He’s barely conscious and has to be held up by the others. The male soldier supporting him doesn’t look injured, but still looks almost dead on his feet. Shell-shocked. Only the driver seems at all with it, and she’s glaring daggers at Agent Walker.
“What happened, soldier?” Walker asks as the trio stops a few feet in front of us. I can see the last name embroidered on the driver’s shirt is Schaffer.
“We were doing what you said. Out looking for him and his friends,” Schaffer replies, jerking her chin in my direction. So there were other units in the city besides the one that pulled us out of the subway station. “We thought we’d found a survivor, but we got attacked.”
“Mogadorians did this?” I ask, taking a step towards the injured soldier. The front of his shirt is slashed open and so is the bulletproof vest underneath it. That happened while he was out trying to help me. “Hold him steady. Let me heal him.”
With Schaffer and the other soldier holding their injured partner up, I start to carefully peel off his shredded shirt and bulletproof vest. All the while, Schaffer glares at me.
“You’re not listening,” Schaffer snaps. “We found a kid, looked like he was made of metal. Thought he was one of you Garde freaks, so we told him we’d bring him back here to you. He came at us with a blade. He flew at us. Moved faster than anything should. Took our weapons, and did that to Roosevelt.”
I swallow hard. Only now do I notice that the soldier hasn’t just been slashed up. A message is carved into him.
5
“Where is he?” I ask, my voice like ice.
“He sent us back here to tell you,” Schaffer replies. “He said he’ll be at the Statue of Liberty at sunset. Wants you to meet him.”
“Was there anyone with him?” Sam asks.
“Big, dark-haired guy. Unconscious,” Schaffer says. She turns back to me. “He said to tell you what will happen if you don’t come. I don’t know what this crazy crap’s supposed to mean—he said meet him at sunset or he’ll give you a new scar.”
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
WE STAND AT THE EDGE OF THE GRASS IN FRONT of the Sanctuary, side by side, our backs to the temple. Together, we look out at the horizon, to the north. That’s the direction Setrákus Ra’s warship will be coming from. We’ve got until sunset.
The three of us are the last line of defense.
The day has only gotten hotter. At least that lets me pretend the sweat dampening the back of my shirt is all from the heat.
I point towards the tree line. “The Mogs did us a favor cutting down all that jungle,” I say as I cock my head, trying to gauge the distance. “We should be able to see the ship coming from at least a mile out.”
“They’ll see us, too,” Adam replies, his voice somber. “I don’t know, Six. This seems like madness.”
I’d been waiting for Adam to say something like that. I knew from the look on his face during our conversation with John and Sam that he wasn’t on board with us staying to fight Setrákus Ra and his warship.
“Setrákus Ra cannot be allowed to enter the Sanctuary,” Marina says, before I can reply. “That is a Loric place. A sacred place. He would defile it. Whatever he wants, we must stop him from getting it.”
I glance from Marina to Adam, and shrug at the Mogadorian. “You heard her.”
Adam shakes his head, growing more frustrated. “Look, I understand this place is special to you, but it’s not worth trading our lives for.”
“I disagree,” Marina replies curtly. She’s definitely already made up her mind. There’s no way she’s leaving the Sanctuary now, not after all that’s happened here.
“We accomplished what we needed to here,” Adam argues. “Some of the humans have Legacies now. There’s nothing Setrákus Ra can do to change that. He’s too late.”
“We don’t know that,” I reply, glancing over my shoulder at the Sanctuary. “If he got in there he could . . . I don’t know. Reverse what we’ve done, maybe. Or do something to hurt the Entity.”
Adam frowns. “He’s controlled your home planet for more than a decade and never been able to take away your Legacies. Not permanently, anyway.”
“Because Lorien was here,” Marina replies emphatically. “It’s been hiding here and now he’s found it. We can’t let him touch the Entity. The consequences could be catastrophic.”
Adam throws up his hands. “You’re not listening to reason!”
I glance away from Adam, towards the landing strip cluttered with disabled Skimmers. Of course, my eyes find their way to Phiri Dun-Ra. Still gagged and tied to a wheel strut, she’s made an effort to sit up straighter, probably trying to listen in to our conversation. I can tell by the way that her f
ace crinkles around the duct tape that she’s smiling at me. I remember what she said earlier this morning, when she was trying to convince me that Adam was secretly out to get us.
“You don’t think we can win, so you’re afraid to fight,” I say bluntly, regretting the words almost as soon as they’re out of my mouth.
Adam whips around to look at me, then follows my gaze to Phiri. He must make the connection between my statement and her earlier rant. He disgustedly shakes his head and walks a few steps away from me.
Marina nudges me, whispering, “Six . . .”
“I’m sorry, Adam,” I say quickly. “Seriously. That was a low blow.”
