I wrote this based on some of the events of the preview chapters of 'The Power of Six' inside the back of the special edition of I Am Number Four. There may be an Epilogue.

Reviews would be really, really welcome!

xxx

Second in Line

I stare at the curser blinking on the screen.

Enter your message here:

I have no clue what to write. How to ask them, how to find out with being discovered. My hands are shaking so hard that even if I did know what to write, I'd be hard pressed even to type out the letters. I don't know who they are, know what they look like, know which country they're in. All I know is that there are eight left and I'm next. I look up from the keyboard and can see my face reflected in the computer screen. Anxious almond shaped eyes, the colour of amber. Full lips which are normally curved into a smile. Long, ruler straight black hair surrounding the oval shaped face of a thirteen year old girl with skin the colour of honey. Here they know me as Katey.

Before, they knew me as Daniella.

The time before that, I was Mercy.

None of those names are real. None of them are me. I have no name, only a number. A number that controls my life and that will bring about my death.

I am Number Two. And they are hunting me down.

Tristan's out. He's gone down to the Sainsbury's in the town centre to stock up on food. I hope he brings back some Sensations. Walkers Sensations are my favourite crisps; Thai Sweet Chilli especially. He'd be furious if he knew what I was doing now.

But I have to know.

I can't remember them. That is, I don't think I can. Sometimes, when I screw up my eyes tight and search for the memories, or when I'm drifting on the edge of sleep I see old images, fireworks lighting up the sky, a frightened group of children being led away. And one last cold day in the dark when we went our separate ways. But I'm never sure if these are memories or dreams, or images I've fabricated from what little Tristan has told me.

Soon, he says, when you have your legacies. Then I'll tell you.

But we've been on this planet for seven years and I still am powerless. Still useless. If I had powers I could fight them, instead of sitting here passively in a dark bedroom the size of a broom cupboard in a musty flat in South London. I hate it here. I'll tell Tristan when he gets back that next time I get to choose the place. It was best down in Cornwall, on the South-West coast, where you could stand on the cliff and watch the waves smash down on the sand. I loved it there, especially the sea. Maybe next time we could try the coast again. Wales? I sigh and shake my head. I'm getting distracted. I should really write something; I can't just sit here, staring at an empty blog for the entire night. I have school tomorrow. Eugh. Double Physics. We're not even doing astronomy this term; it's all about Radioactive Materials. And the Physics on this planet is so primitive! I like astronomy even so- Tristan has told me everything- but I don't get to study the planets and stars until Year 11, when I'll be sixteen. And that's ages away! I sigh and stare at the computer screen once more. I really need to stop getting distracted; Tristan will be back soon. I glance at the clock and frown. Tristan should have been back by now actually. He could just be held up in traffic, but that doesn't stop me shuddering. I'll quickly type this post and then I'll call him. I look back at the empty text box and take a deep breath before typing. I carefully tap each key, knowing that getting one word wrong could be fatal and give away my position, resulting in my death. I have to make it ambiguous. But not so ambiguous that they won't recognise it...

Eventually I finish and sit back, biting my lip, re-reading the message over and over. It seems okay...I take a deep breath and click the 'Post' button. The message pops up on the screen.

'Nine, now eight. Are the rest of you out there?'

I take another deep breath and lean back in my chair. I signed it 'Two'. Was that too obvious? I'll ask Trisatn when he gets back, never mind if he yells at me. I look at the clock again and worry bubbles up in my stomach; he still hasn't returned. I grab my phone and dial his number.

Pick up. Pick UP! Please Tristan...

"Hello?"

"Tristan! Thank God!"

"Sorry, sorry Katey, I should have called..."

"Where are you?"

"At the roundabout, I've got you on loud speaker...Sorry it was hell to find parking..."

"S'okay. When will you be back?"

"Give me twenty minutes; if I'm going to take longer, I'll call you."

"Okay then. See you Tristan."

"Bye Katey. Look after yourself."

"Will do."

He hangs up and I put my phone down on the desk and sigh, before freezing as I hear a grating noise outside. Slowly I get to my feet and flick the light switch, so that the only light is the soft glow from the computer screen. Hardly daring to breathe, I strain my ears, listening desperately. Carefully, I edge towards the door, placing a hand on the handle and slowly twisting it. Tristan has a gun in his room...

I jerk with shock as the front door is forced open with a crash; panic floods through my body, hot and prickly. I can hear them coming. I search desperately around the room, looking for a weapon, and exit, some way to survive. I come up with nothing. There are only two windows in the flat; one in Tristan's room, the other in the kitchen, and I have nothing to defend myself in here, nothing- I freeze, staring at the bedside lamp. When the first Mogadorian bursts into the room, I'm ready.

I leap out from behind the door, wielding the lamp. I've removed the shade and smashed the bulb, so when the bare wire hit's his skin he goes down in a few seconds. I grab the blade from his back and lash out at the next one as he enters, and he dissolves into a pile of dust. Others are coming, I can hear them, and the fear makes it hard to breathe. I turn to leave the room, and glimpse the computer from the corner of my eyes. The computer. The website is still up on the screen. They can use it to find the others. I run to the laptop, fingers fumbling, desperate to quit the page, delete the history. I accidently press refresh. I freeze. A reply.

'We are here.'

Hope blossoms inside me, and a smile spreads across my face. They are out there. They are safe. I'm still smiling as the Mogadorian grabs me from behind. I struggle, but it's no use. The hand tight around my throat crushes my wind pipe, and I gasp for breath. The sword, when it comes, is almost a mercy.