I Am Number Four - Pittacus Lore Page 0,13

floating around are now all piled up against the walls.

I pick myself up off the ground.

Standing alone with nothing else around her, the girl looks more helpless than before. Long, black hair floats around her head like she’s been electrified. Slowly, it starts to fall down. Tears fill her eyes. She pushes her hands out again as my men get to their feet.

But this time nothing happens. No wave of telekinesis. Not even a breeze.

She looks frantic. Her eyes even wider now, mouth open in a silent scream.

“Looks like your power’s failing you,” one of my troops says with a grin.

She clenches her teeth and curls her hands into fists. The girl has fight, I’ll give her that. She’s worthier of our time than most humans.

“John Smith is going to hunt you down,” she screams. “I’ve seen him in my head. There are a bunch of us. Hundreds. You’ll never get away with this, you fucking monsters!”

I recognize the name she clings to. I know his face—the faces of all the Garde who have challenged us now that they too have come out of the shadows. But she places her faith in false hope.

“John Smith can’t save you.” I step into the apartment and motion to my squad members. “I told you to take her.”

She bites and claws at my men. Eventually she goes slack. An empty syringe breaks as it’s tossed aside.

On the way out, I see more eyes in the windows around us. Peeking out through parted curtains and slits in blinds. The other apartment doors stay locked. No one tries to stop us. Maybe it’s the thrill of the hunt or the high of the destruction we’ve wrought tonight, but knowing that all of these people think they’re safe behind doors makes my blood burn. There are explosive throwing disks on my belt, and for a moment I think of letting them loose. Toppling the entire complex.

But that’s not my mission. Our mayhem must be kept out of sight. At least until Beloved Leader decides that the humans are of no more use to him.

Praise his name!

Neither of our targets stirs on the flight back to the warship. A few of my men inspect flesh wounds they received during the girl’s attack.

“Damn human bitch,” one of them mutters. The new addition. “We should wake her up now and show her what pain means. Cut her up just enough to say it happened while we were trying to capture her.”

“Touch that girl and I’ll turn you to dust myself,” I say. “Beloved Leader wants these subjects alive. They’re his property. Would you mutilate something that belongs to him?”

The soldier is silent.

“Glory to Beloved Leader,” another says.

Again, the Skimmer is quiet.

The sun is still down when we get back to the warship. I’m sent up to the labs with our targets, carrying both humans over my shoulders. They’re light enough. Fragile.

There are several trueborn Mogadorians in the ward, huddled around various human specimens who’ve been secured tonight. Like our teenage boy from the Chicago suburb. He’s awake now. Gagged. Eyes big with fear as he’s poked and prodded by our doctors.

One of the trueborn turns to me as I enter. He wears a long, white lab coat. I’ve never seen him before, but that’s not surprising. I rarely mix with my trueborn superiors.

His eyes light up when he sees the humans bound up behind me. “A new delivery of specimens. How wonderful.”

He motions to a few empty metal tables. I place the targets on them.

“This girl definitely has telekinesis,” I tell him. “She put up a fight when we cornered her. You may want to keep her sedated.”

A grin crosses the trueborn’s face as he assesses the human.

“Perfect,” he says. “What is your name, soldier?”

“Vintaro Üshaba.”

He nods. “You’ve served Beloved Leader well, Vintaro. Your work will help us usher in a new age of Mogadorian Progress.”

Another trueborn steps up beside him.

“The ship is prepped and ready for the flight to West Virginia.”

“Wonderful,” he says, starting for the door. He points at the girl as he leaves. “And load her onto the ship. It sounds like she may be strong enough to survive Dr. Zakos’s procedures.”

CHAPTER NINE

I SLEEP SOUNDLY. SATISFIED.

I wake up hungry for more.

The vatborn barracks are in one of the warship’s lower levels, a giant room with a wall full of small sleeping units, just big enough for us to sit up in. They’re stacked one on top of the other, from the floor to the ceiling. Inside