“When was this picture taken?”
I hesitate, glancing at Zophie. “A few weeks ago.”
“They could be anywhere by now,” Crayton says. “Look, I don’t want to seem like I’m not excited about this, because I am. I’m just trying to be practical.”
“Janus is smart enough to know that zipping around in a ship on a foreign planet is a bad idea,” Zophie says. “This picture is probably from their landing. Janus said they had a contact here, someone Pittacus set up for them. They’ll want to be incognito, just like we’re trying to be. To blend in. I think the best lead we’re going to get on them is this photo. And the longer we wait to follow up on it, the colder their trail will get.”
Crayton looks to me, his eyebrows raised, waiting for me to respond. I bite the insides of my cheeks, staring at the lush green landscape in the background of the photo.
“Let’s take a day to think this over,” I say, even though I know what the decision will be. Of course we will track this down. Zophie wants to find her brother.
And I want answers.
There’s only one problem.
“It’s going to be incredibly expensive to get fake travel documents,” I say. Even though I’m not really familiar with the cost of things on this planet, I know that the price of arranging for fake passports is going to take a serious chunk out of what we’ve accumulated. “We have a couple of options. I can look into this planet’s banking systems and arrange for some funds to be siphoned into an account for us from other businesses and corporations. I’ve been so focused on finding leads that I haven’t looked into this, though. I don’t know how long it would take.”
“What’s the other option?” Zophie asks.
I walk over to the hotel dresser and pull out a small box. I toss it to Zophie, who opens it and finds a gold ring with a chunk of glowing Loralite in the center. One of the more ostentatious pieces from Raylan’s collection.
“There was a jeweler who said he’d pay me good money for any more items that had this ‘strange stone’ in them. Emir, I think his name was. I can probably make enough to pay for most of the documents that way. Maybe as soon as tomorrow.”
Zophie grins.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ONE OF THE PIECES I SOLD TO EMIR THE JEWELER—a silver necklace with a small Loralite pendant—is on display in his front window. Crayton stops to look at it before we go inside. Ella reaches a chubby fist out towards the glass.
“I probably should have saved some of these for her,” he says quietly, brushing Ella’s hair out of her eyes. “I think they were her grandmother’s.”
“She’ll be served better by safety and answers than by baubles,” I say.
He frowns a little. He’s seemed a little uneasy—unsure—since I broke the news of the photograph last night. Zophie has had the opposite reaction, of course. While Crayton and I are out selling the belongings of a man who is almost certainly dead, she’s packing our things up at the hotel.
“Come on,” I say, holding the shop door open for him.
We’ve come early, and Emir is the only person in the store, standing behind a counter in the back. He freezes when he sees me, obviously recognizing me as the woman who brought him the necklace with a stone he’d never seen before in it. His expression isn’t as excited as I’d hoped it would be, and I worry that maybe we won’t be getting as much for Raylan’s ring as I thought we would.
“You’re here,” he says as I cross the shop.
“You did say you’d be interested in any other . . . special pieces I had,” I say. I take off my backpack and start to dig out the ring.
Crayton pauses at one of the many tall jewelry cases that dot the store to point out some glittering trinket to Ella, who giggles at the sight of all the shiny objects.
Emir’s eyes go wide when he sees the child. He starts to say a few different things but stammers, never quite getting a full word out. Something about seeing Ella seems to have deeply unnerved him.
“Is everything all right?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
Emir shakes his head. I slide my hand into my coat pocket, curling my fingers around the hilt of my blaster.
He takes a few seconds to compose himself as he stares at a photo taped to the side of his computer. It’s of him and a young girl who looks to be a little older than Ella. His daughter, I assume. A bead of sweat drips from his temple, which he ignores. It’s only then that I notice the bruises—peeking out from his hairline and the collar of his shirt.
Everything suddenly seems very wrong.
“Oh, yes, the piece in the window,” he says as if I’d asked about it. He springs back to life, smiling for the first time since I walked in but in a forced, anxious way. “You’re right. The necklace is beautiful. But I’m afraid it’s not for sale. We’ve had very particular interest in that piece. Buyers who are very interested in where it came from. I’m afraid I can’t let you try it on.”
We stare at each other. His eyes flit to his right, nervously looking at something across the store. I follow his line of sight to find a camera mounted on the wall.
It becomes all too obvious that we shouldn’t be in here. Someone’s been asking questions about the Loric jewelry—someone who has obviously scared him. Someone is watching us, and I don’t want to find out who. At least, not like this. Not unprepared and with the child here.
“A pity,” I say, keeping one hand on my weapon as I turn away from Emir. “Good day.”
I grab Crayton’s arm with my free hand and pull him towards the door. He starts to protest, but I shoot him a look that causes him to go quiet. He follows, clutching Ella to his chest.
We’re almost to the entrance when a big, white van pulls up onto the sidewalk in front of the shop. Figures spill out of the back. I recognize them, even if they’re in dark, human clothes instead of the body armor they wore on Lorien.
Mogadorians.
“Run!” I shout. Crayton and I both turn—there has to be a back way out of the shop.
Emir is saying something about how sorry he is—that he’d already described me to “the monsters” and that he didn’t know there’d be a baby. He’s stopped midsentence by a bolt of energy that drops him to the ground behind the main counter.
“Going somewhere, Loric scum?” a huge Mog standing in front of the back door asks. He’s bald, but his head is completely covered in tattoos similar to the ones I saw on an invader the night Lorien burned.
There’s a blaster in the bastard’s hands.
I fire at him through my coat pocket but miss. At the same time, the windows behind us break as the Mogs from outside pour in.
We jump behind a jewelry case. Glass falls down over us as the top display is shattered in a barrage of blaster fire. Crayton huddles over Ella, protecting her and shouting desperate prayers to her in Loric. I peek around the corner. There are six Mogs advancing towards us and one—the big guy with the tattoos—blocking our exit through the back.
It’s not exactly the best odds.
I fire over the counter. The snarling bastards duck out of the way and behind cases. We have to do something—we’re outnumbered, all our exits are blocked and the only thing we have to protect ourselves with is a single blaster that I barely know how to use.
Actually, that’s not exactly true. We have something else.
I dig into my bag and pull out one of the small grenades Raylan included in his supplies. It’s a short cylinder covered in markings that identify it as a concussion and electromagnetic short-range hybrid bomb—in other words, not exactly a precise weapon but one that should be enough to knock down most of our assailants. I’ve never actually used one before, so I can’t be sure. Crayton looks back and forth between me and the grenade.
“You can’t be thinking—,” he starts, but another barrage from the Mogs causes chunks of our shoddy cover to shatter around us. I return fire, noting where our enemies are. The big guy has moved and is closing in on us fast.
We don’t have tim
e to plan or argue. I see only one way of us—of Ella—getting out of here.
“It’s our only chance,” I say. “Make for the back exit after it goes off. I’ll hold off any survivors.”
“What about you?” he asks.
“I’ll meet you back at the hotel.”
Before he can protest, I click the top of the grenade and toss it over the jewelry case. There are a few beeps as I dive to the ground, pulling Crayton and Ella down with me. And then a wave of force explodes from the center of the room, flattening us. Jewelry, glass and pieces of displays crash into the walls. The lights go out. The Mogs grunt, and I can’t help but grin when I see one of them slam into the cinder-block wall of the shop and disintegrate.
Not all of them are dead, though. A few have been blown outside and are already picking themselves back up when I check. The big guy from the back of the store is laid out on the ground, seemingly unconscious.
“Go!” I shout, pushing Crayton.
He hesitates for only a moment before running towards the back door, Ella in his arms. I try to fire at the Mogs outside, but my blaster has powered down due to the EMP. Shit.
Fortunately, the Mog weapons don’t seem to be working either.
Crayton’s almost to the back door when I see the big Mog move. Something shiny flies through the air and catches Crayton’s calf. Crayton falls onto his side, Ella still in his arms, a big sliver of glass sticking out of his leg. The monster crosses the room in just a few strides as Crayton struggles to get up. Ella starts to babble. Crayton looks back at me and then to the big Mog, now just steps away from him. I can see some kind of calculations being worked out behind his eyes. He knows there’s no way he’s going to outrun the big guy. Not now.
He winces as he shouts to me.
“Catch her! Don’t let them take her.”
Ella’s body flies through the air. She doesn’t cry. In fact, I think I actually hear her giggle. I catch her with one arm, pulling her in to me, trying to protect her. When I look up again, the big Mog is holding Crayton up off the ground, a sinewy hand around his neck. The monster’s black eyes are furious as he snarls. The creature pulls a small dagger from his belt and rears back, ready to plunge it into Crayton’s chest.
“No!” I shout. But it’s too late.
There’s a bang, and the Mog stops. His arm falls to the floor. Another shot sounds, and the Mog begins to disintegrate. Crayton falls to the ground, gasping.
It’s only then that I realize Emir is standing again, blood pouring out of a wound on his shoulder as he reloads what I think the people of Earth call a shotgun.
“Get that child out of here,” he says to me.
The two remaining Mogs look so stunned that their leader has fallen that Emir has just enough time to fire off a few shots and take them by surprise. They turn to ash as Crayton picks himself up off the ground and hobbles over to me. Emir babbles in a language I don’t understand, shaking his head. His eyes dart back and forth between the piles of ash, trying to comprehend what’s happened.
There are sirens coming from somewhere down the road, and we can’t be here when they arrive. I grab Crayton, and we sprint out to the van that brought the Mogs, our enemies, to us. We climb inside. The engine seems to be running, so I pull on various levers and push buttons until the vehicle is moving. The controls aren’t so different from a tractor I’d driven once or twice out on the Kabarak. Crayton and I barely speak to one another as we try to come down from the shock of what’s happened. Cars honk as I pass them, sometimes screeching to a stop—I’m probably breaking dozens of traffic laws. But I keep going. Eventually we park the vehicle far, far away from our hotel. From a small market, I buy some water, alcohol and gauze that Crayton uses to clean up the wound on his calf in a side alley. When he’s finished, we climb into a taxi to return to Zophie.
It’s only then, as we shoot through Giza, that Ella starts to cry, and Crayton turns to me, his face contorted with desperation.
“We’re not safe on this planet” is all he says.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE BLOOD DRAINS FROM ZOPHIE’S FACE WHEN we tell her what happened, and she starts to shake. We decide to leave. Immediately. None of us feels safe in Giza anymore. Fortunately, Zophie’s already packed most of our things in anticipation of our trip to the United States. The Chimærae shrink, and we take them and our bags down to the lobby. Then we’re in a taxi to Cairo, which is a city that doesn’t feel far enough away, even though it’s large and full of millions of people and is the kind of place where it should be easy to disappear. But without passports, we can’t leave the country yet, so our options are limited. Besides, this is where our documents—our tickets out of here—will be made.
The Mogs are on Earth. They’re seeking out the Loric here—they must be, if the Loralite necklace is the reason they found us at the jewelry store.
Why? What do they want? They already took our planet from us. What more could we possibly have to give?
In Cairo, we check into another hotel. It’s similar to the one in Giza, but it feels different. Everything feels different. The illusion of safety this world offered us has been destroyed. No one says it, but I know what we’re all thinking: What if the Mogs have gotten to Janus and the others already? And if not, are they aware that they’re being hunted?
While Zophie and Crayton unpack in their rooms, I refocus my efforts to try to find hints of the Garde and Cêpans online, anything that could be connected to them. We must find them now not just to reunite Janus and Zophie and get answers, but also to warn them.
Later that night I go to the restaurant on the first floor of the hotel to grab dinner and let my eyes take a break. I find Crayton at the bar, huddled over a glass of brown liquid.
“Do you mind?” I ask, motioning to the seat beside him. He shakes his head.
“Ella?” I ask. It’s unlike him to leave her alone.
“Zophie has her right now,” he says. “She wanted to feed her dinner for once, and I couldn’t say no to an evening that didn’t end with me smelling like mashed peas.”
I nod and order some food to take back to my room. We sit in silence until finally I speak again.
“How’s your leg?”
He shrugs.
“I’ll live. I don’t think I’ll be running much for the next few weeks, but it’s the least of my worries right now.”
I nod. We sit in silence again.
“Tomorrow morning we need to have photos taken,” I say. “For the passports. All of us—even Ella.”
He shakes his head, not in disagreement but in despair.
“You still aren’t sure we should be going after this photo lead, are you?” I ask.
“I think it sounds dangerous.” He stares down at the bar for a few seconds. “I know it’s what we always intended, but now that we’re on Ear . . .” He grimaces, and lowers his voice. “Now that we’re here, the idea of traveling all around the world looking for Janus and the others seems crazy. Especially because we know the Mogs are here. And looking for us. Or the Loric in general. By chasing after the Garde, we run the risk of chasing after the Mogs too.”
“You’re worried about Ella,” I say.
“Obviously.” He gives me a weak smile. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said to me on the ship. About how I’d do anything and tell her anything to keep her safe. I don’t think I realized what you meant until we got here, where everything is new. I just want to make sure I’m making the right decisions. How do I know? How do normal parents know?”
I think of Zane. Even though I wasn’t his parent, I was so overprotective of him. And look where that led.
“I guess you just have to figure it out as you go.”
He nods, motioning for the bartender to pour him another drink.
“Be careful,” I say. “I don’t think the drinks here are the same as the ampules back home.”
Crayton laughs a little at this, but then his face goes serious. He reaches into his pocket a
nd then slides a key to me.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“To my room.” He holds up his glass, shaking it back and forth before downing the rest of its contents. “Just in case I’m sleeping so deeply in the morning that I’m not up and ready to be photographed. One of you might have to drag me out of bed.”
My food arrives, and I tell Crayton good night. He leans over and hugs me unexpectedly. I stand there, one hand pinned to my side and the other holding a Styrofoam container. I wonder if he’s had too many drinks, or if this is just affection brought out by the fact that we came so close to being captured or killed by the Mogs earlier.
“I’ll keep her safe,” he says quietly. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
WHEN WE WAKE UP, CRAYTON AND ELLA ARE gone. There’s a letter on his bed, written on the hotel’s stationery.
Zophie and Lexa,
I’m not great at good-byes, but we have to go. The focus of my life now is to ensure Ella’s safety, and I know I can’t do that if I’m traveling the world in search of Janus and the others. It’s too dangerous. Soon, Ella will be able to speak well, and before I know it, I’ll have to explain everything to her. I don’t know how I’ll even begin to try to describe what our homeland was like, but I know it will be easier to do if we are nestled somewhere safe, somewhere hidden. Maybe I’ll be more open to finding the rest of the Garde later, but for now, I cannot go to the United States with you. I know you have to make this journey, just as I have to protect Ella.
I’m taking Olivia with us—Ella seems to like having her around, and I can use a spare set of eyes and claws. I’m leaving you the rest of the Chimærae. It pains me to do so, but I cannot travel with a menagerie. They are kind, gentle beasts, and they’ll protect you until their last breath.
The Mogs are on Earth looking for us. Chances are they’re following the same leads you are. There are so few of us left. Please, please be careful.
And please understand.
[Lorien Legacies 05.4] The Lost Files: The Navigator Page 6