A/N: Disclaimer in Chapter One. Well, this chapter came a little bit quicker than some of the others, so I'm making progress. This is actually the longest one yet, so more good news. I just wanted to thank everybody who was reviewed this story so far- for the most part you guys have been very positive and I really appreciate it. A (slightly belated) happy Canada Day to my fellow Canadians, and a (slightly early) happy Fourth of July to all of the Americans out there. I hope you enjoy Chapter 12.
Eight:
I whirl around when I hear Six's voice to see her standing behind me, a regally annoyed look on her face. It has the air of a very well-practiced look- she must use it often. I stand up to face her directly, and am very satisfied to notice that my chin is level with the top of her head.
"We were just talking about how you might be able to help John," I say coolly, staring her in the eye to gauge her reaction.
"Help him with what?" she asks, the look on her face momentarily switching from annoyance to confusion.
"Oh just the nightmares he had," I say nonchalantly. "Didn't you notice?"
The confusion quickly vanishes, to be replaced by… surprise! Annoyance. She stalks towards me, her glare defying all odds by becoming even more deadly. I glance back quickly at John, only to find his seat empty. He must have left, not wanting to get any more involved in this. I realize now that I probably shouldn't have aggravated Six, but I can hardly back down now.
She stops just in front of me, her look forcing me to involuntarily step back. I don't think it's a Legacy, though. She's just that intimidating naturally, I guess. I may be taller than her, but I can't match her sheer ferocity and… protectiveness. Then I realize- she's only acting this way because she thinks I'm a threat to her. I'm trying to figure out how to explain that that isn't my intention when she speaks.
"As a matter of fact, I did. I also noticed some other things while you were busy reading. Things that could have interested you, if only you hadn't had your head stuck in your book."
She takes another step forward as she speaks, spitting the last word in my face like venom.
All thoughts of apologies or explanations vanish from my head, covered by a haze of anger. I know perfectly well what she's talking about and I'm not going to let her attack Sam like that.
"You mean Sam? That's just a shame for you, isn't it? I mean, you must be so used to him padding after you- I'm sure it comes as a real shock to see him lose interest so… abruptly."
I know I'm being harsh, not least to poor Sam, but I couldn't stop myself even if I wanted to. I force myself to turn around and walk away from her before I do something I'll regret, but I don't make it more than a couple of steps before she pulls me back telekinetically.
She looks confused now more than angry, and I no longer find her intimidating.
"You misunderstand me," she says slowly, as if trying to understand it herself. "Sam is a nice guy who's had some tough things happen to him." She says this softly, and what looks like a hint of guilt passes quickly through her wavering tone before passing. "He doesn't deserve to be ignored by somebody like you who's too busy butting her head in on other people's business!" The volume of her voice increases steadily throughout this last sentence, and the last few words are practically screamed in my face. That draws the attention of several other people, who turn to look at us, but they wisely decide not to interfere.
"Look," I say, trying to sound both firm and somewhat apologetic, "the reason I'm worried about John is because he's one of us. Because if something happens to him it's going to be that much harder for us to defeat Setràkus Ra. Not because I have any special interest in him. Understand?"
I must have come across as patronizing, because instead of accepting my explanation she gives me a telekinetic shove, sending me several steps backwards, and then storms away. Almost literally, as her anger causes a small windstorm to form around her, ruffling the newspapers of people sitting nearby and tipping over a garbage can, spilling its contents everywhere.
I leave as well, deliberately walking in the opposite direction, deep in thought. Struggling to… well, not understand, but realize Sam's feelings for me. I understand it far too well- not to sound arrogant, but I've seen it all too often before. Six has one thing right though- Sam is a nice guy, from what I know of him. She sounded guilty, though, like she was responsible for some of the things that had happened to him. Maybe that's why she wants him to be happy.
Regardless of how nice Sam is, however, it's too early for me to tell if I'll just end up going through everything all over again with him. The logical part of me tells me I probably will, citing his behaviour on the plane, but then part of me thinks that he deserves a chance. That maybe the reason he's still focused on my appearance is because I've been too busy distancing myself from him for him to get to know me better.
It all comes back to Victoria, really. She always told me to be careful not to get involved with the guys at my school because human-Loric relationships typically didn't work well. Besides, we'd be moving somewhere else in a couple of months anyways, so it just wasn't worth it.
So maybe all that distancing made what would happen somewhat my fault, because the superficial stuff was all that anybody really saw. Having figured this much out, I finally come to the decision to give Sam a chance. I mean, the worst thing that could happen is—
"Watch where you're going!" somebody says as I walk into them, too deep in thought to pay attention to where I'm going. I look up to see a disgruntled Nine, picking up his magazine from the floor.
"Sorry about that," I say. "I was just thinking about something, and I didn't notice you until… well," I trail off, suddenly unsure of myself.
"That's okay. What were you thinking about?" he asks inquisitively, placing his magazine back on the rack, where I see its title for the first time- 'The Advantages of Total War'. I can't say I'm surprised.
"I was just… um…"
What was I thinking about? The truth jumps to the front of my mind, as usual, but I force it back and say the next thing that I think of.
"It was just this dream I had," I say offhandedly, trying to subtly discourage further questions.
I should have known that subtlety wouldn't work on Nine.
"So what happened in this dream of yours?"
I sigh inwardly, hoping I'll be able to stall long enough to make up something plausible, when my overtired brain finally realizes that I don't have to. Instead, I tell Nine, in glorious detail, John's dream, except I switch Nine out of it and put John in instead. It works perfectly- Nine doesn't suspect anything.
He nods knowingly when I finish, and then explains. "I'm fairly certain that the shadowy figure you saw was Phobos, one of Setràkus Ra's lieutenants."
"But then why was he in my dream?" I ask, confused as I pace around the terminal. Nine struggles to keep up, and eventually kicks in his enhancement to catch up with me.
"The lieutenants," he says, pausing to take a breath, "they can manipulate your emotions and expose your fears. If Phobos has truly appeared in your dream, he is using his power to try to paralyze you with your fears."
"So," I say, trying to piece this all together in my head, "that means I'm scared of Four?"
I don't say what it must really mean- this was John's dream, so he must be scared of Nine for some reason.
"No," he says sharply. "It's not that simple. Most fears are more abstract- people tend to be scared of things like abandonment, or decision-making. "If Four was in your dream," he concludes, stopping to face me directly, "it's not because you're scared of him per se, but because Phobos thinks that he can use something about Four to scare you."
So Nine was in John's dream because something about him frightens John. I'm curious as to what John's scared of, but I sense that asking him wouldn't be tactful.
"Thanks," I finally say to Nine, who's walking away but, spins back around when he hears my voice. "I feel better now- and I think I know what I'm scared of."
Thankfully, for once he doesn't press for the details. I check my watch as I walk away and am surprised to see that it's already 5:57. I need to get back to meet Crayton and the others. I walk quickly back to the meeting point, arriving just on time.
They are waiting just outside of the terminal- I infer from Crayton's absence that they are waiting for him to return. I head out through the sliding doors into the Australian heat and join them in waiting. I walk past John and Six silently, not daring to meet her gaze. I'll have to tell John what Nine told me later, when she isn't around to attack me. I go to stand next to Sam instead, not wanting to interrupt Seven and Ten's conversation. Sam doesn't notice me at first, too busy looking out into the distance at the planes landing on the runway, as well as the occasional one taking off. I wait there until he notices me, surprised.
"It's a nice city, isn't it?" he says softly, a melancholy look on his face.
I look out to where he was looking, but all I see are masses of people coming and going, planes landing noisily and, beyond that, just by the horizon, the beginning of what I know from geography classes to be an enormous desert. I shudder involuntarily, reminded of the desert in my nightmare- the one that simply refused to end. I've never really lived in a big city, so I shouldn't judge, but to me Sydney seems crowded, busy and loud. No wonder Five and his Cèpan are in Canberra and not here.
Nevertheless I say, "Yea, it looks like a really interesting place."
He nods. "My dad… he used to live here, before he got involved with, well, everything. He promised he'd take me here to see it someday, but he never had the chance."
I've never heard Sam talk about his dad before, so I don't really know what he means. Any number of ideas about what Sam's dad might have been involved in flood my mind, and I have to fight them off. It isn't easy, but then pessimism has always been an unfortunate habit of mine. This is Sam, though, so I promise myself that I will not assume the worst of someone who was so close to him. I realize after a second that that means I'll have to try not to hate Six, too. Another challenge for me- as if I didn't already have enough.
"What… was your dad involved in?" I ask tentatively. "Why did it stop him from taking you here?"
Sam cracks a slight smile, lowering his eyes apologetically. "Sorry," he says, "I always forget you guys don't know." He pauses for a second and then continues, sounding more sure of himself. "My father was a Loric ally- in fact he was the one who gave John and his Cèpan their first place to live."
I don't press further. It's obvious what must have happened to Sam's father.
"I'm sorry Sam," I say. "I didn't realize."
He shrugs, trying to stay composed. "It's okay. He's been missing for a while now. I'm not expecting to- it's just closure, really."
Six's statement about Sam having had difficult things happen to him re-enters my mind as Crayton pulls up by the curb, driving a truck that looks eerily similar to the one that we trashed back in Minnesota. Obviously having has father go missing at such a young age must have been traumatic for Sam, but that doesn't explain why Six seemed to feel guilty about it. She seemed to feel that she was responsible for Sam's misfortunes. She must have meant something different- she can't have been involved in something that happened that long ago. Right?
I hop into the backseat, still unsure of what to think. Crayton starts driving west towards Canberra, and I realize how tired I am. I really should have slept longer on the plane, but my book was just too good to put down for long. I lean back, relaxing, and the world around becomes a blur as my eyes slowly close. Just one thought remains in my head as I drift off to sleep:
I have to talk to John. I have to talk to John. I have to talk to John…
I find myself standing in the middle of a typical suburban street- there are block houses filling both sides all around me, but no light creeps through their windows. It's the middle of the night, and the only light is from the overhead crescent moon and a lone streetlight on the other end of the street. Despite my enhancement, I find it difficult to see more than a few meters away from me. I take no comfort in the darkness, even though I know it would be even harder for somebody else to see me. It makes me anxious, the thought that a scout, or a soldier could be lurking somewhere, out of si— Phobos!
My brain immediately kicks into gear as I realize just how devious Phobos is. I was fully aware that I was dreaming, and yet it still took me a good thirty seconds to remember that all of this is his doing.
I walk slowly towards the light, despite knowing that that's where Phobos will spring his 'trap'. It's because I know from experience that I won't wake up until I experience whatever he wants me to, and I'm going to go crazy if I have to stay on this barren street for any longer.
I stop in the middle of the pool of light, waiting, muscles tensing expectantly, but… nothing happens. No translucent specter lunges at me, a troop of Mogadorians doesn't descend from the sky, guns blazing, the ground doesn't vanish from beneath my feet, dropping me into a fiery hellhole. It's just me and this street, and it's really getting on my nerves. By now I'm far too anxious for it to be natural, and it occurs to me that maybe this is his plan. He'll make me wait it out, in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but my thoughts for company, and then when I least expect it, all hell will break loose.
"Eight?"
The voice comes from behind me, and I whirl around reflexively, shoving the speaker backwards telekinetically. Only… the speaker is John, or at least it looks like him, and he absorbs the energy of my shove, not even recoiling slightly. I know of course, that it isn't him- that it can't be him, but I play along, hoping to get this over with quickly.
"Oh, hey John, fancy seeing you here," I say with obvious false cheeriness. Meanwhile I back away slowly, trying to look for an escape route should I want it.
John rolls his eyes, but fidgets nervously, glancing behind him, like it's a challenge for him to hold his ground. He looks almost as suspicious as I am, and I find myself somewhat impressed, albeit unwillingly, by Phobos' ability to impersonate my friends so convincingly. It's also disturbing, of course, but I still have to remind myself that he isn't real, for fear that I'll forget.
"Knock it off," he says impatiently. "I know you're not real, so you might as well give it up now."
It's a nice try, but I'm not about to be fooled that easily.
"How do I know you're not the one who's not real?" I shoot back, trying to decide if it's worth making a run for it.
"Well, for starters," he says, annoyance evident in his voice, "do you recognize this place?"
"No. What's your point?" I snap, walking around him slowly, having noticed an ajar door on the other side of the road.
"As it happens, I do know where we are- the house behind you," he says, gesturing, "is the one that the Mogs burned down in Florida because they thought me and Six were in it."
I turn to look where he indicated, and sure enough a burnt-out shell of a house sits there, looking quite dilapidated. I could have sworn it wasn't there before, though, which serves to confirm my suspicions. Even in dreams, things don't just appear like that.
"So? What's your point?"
I really should just give in and get it over with, but my innate Loric paranoia is reluctant.
"If I know where we are, and you don't, then doesn't that prove that this is my dream, because it's happening inside of my head?"
Admittedly, he has a point, but I know, obviously, that I'm not some construct of Phobos'. Which means, logically, by the process of elimination, that he must be one. Still, though… this reminds me of the first time I 'met' John, during another one of these dreams. Only that one was real. Which makes me wonder: could this one be too?
Besides, I don't feel at all scared or frightened. My only other Phobos-affected dream had my heart pounding, had me worried, anxious and frightened the whole time. This definitely feels different.
"Fair enough. But… John- I'm just as real as you are."
He smirks, but looks uncertain. It's funny how now we've switched roles- now I'm the one trying to convince him that I'm real, instead of the other way around.
"You expect me to believe that?" he asks half-heartedly.
"Look," I say, exasperated, perhaps unfairly, "just hear me out, okay?"
I quickly relate to John (or at least, what I really hope is John) the details of my talk with Nine: how Phobos is one of the lieutenants of Setràkus Ra, and can prey on fears, and, with emphasis, how the appearance of a person in a dream doesn't indicate fear of them, but that Phobos thinks he can use them to scare you.
This last point seems to make John feel better, as he looks calmer. Far too calm, really. All I told him, in effect, was that he wasn't scared of Nine. So why does he look so… happy?
"Thanks," he says, a smile on his face for the first time. "That reminds me- I wanted to…well, apologize for Six, I guess. It's nothing personal, she just sometimes get a little…"
"Territorial?" I offer. I can't say I would blame her, to be honest. We are a group of six teenagers traveling together, after all.
"Yeah," he says, only the faintest hint of a blush on his face. "Anyway, I explained everything to her and she's calmed down now."
"You should tell her about Phobos, too," I say, out of self-preservation more than anything.
He nods. "I will."
We stand there for a moment in silence, when suddenly, out of nowhere, a handgun appears to my right, floating in the air.
John turns to look at it, smiling. "Speak of the devil," he mutters under his breath.
He probably thinks I can't hear him, but sometimes enhancement comes in handy.
"I think I have to go now," he says, before walking out of the light, into the shadow, and disappearing. The gun goes with him, as swiftly and silently as it appeared.
I'm alone in the light for the shortest of moments before the streetlight fizzles out and everything goes black.
I open one eye cautiously, surveying my surroundings. I'm still in the back of the truck, and seeing as we're still moving, we haven't arrived yet.
I lock eyes with John, giving him the slightest of nods. Just a confirmation that he's not going crazy.
I reach down for my backpack, rummaging through it for my book. I finished most of it on the plane, but I had left the last couple of chapters for later, and now I'm curious to find out what happens. I've just located my page and begun to read when we pass a 'Welcome to Canberra' sign on the road. I put it away, annoyed- if we're that close, there's no point in starting to read.
Crayton glances up at the GPS mounted on the windshield, and makes a sharp left turn, throwing everybody to the right. We're driving along a quiet residential street now, and I'm expecting us to stop any minute. Crayton keeps driving, though, and after a while I notice that we're going uphill. I look carefully into the distance, and I finally see where we're headed. There's a mansion on the top of the hill, complete with gardens, towers, spires and crenellated walls. It looks quite a bit like a castle, actually. It must have cost a fortune to buy- most if not all of the gems Five and his Cèpan got would have gone towards it. An investment that large also suggests that they've been there for a while, not moving around like we were all supposed to. They're incredibly lucky that the Mogs haven't swooped down on them yet- surely it must be obvious to them that this is where Five is living. Crayton seems to have come to the same conclusion, because he accelerates, muttering, "Idiots," under his breath.
We finally pull to a stop in the middle of the mansion's massive driveway, and Crayton turns to face us.
"I don't like this," he says. "It looks like Five and Alexis have been here for a while, and that makes it likely that the Mogs might know they're here. I want Six, Eight and Nine to come with me- the rest of you should stay here. Nine, if we get ambushed, I want you to tell Four telepathically that he, Sam and the girls need to get out of here. Four, if you get that message, you get out of here right away. No heroics. We'll meet up in Sydney tomorrow if we need to- if something happens to us and we can't meet you, you have the pendants in the trunk, and instructions on what to do in my bag. Hopefully it won't come to that and I'm just being paranoid, but better safe than sorry. If everything goes as planned, we'll be back here in a few minutes."
I'm sure we all look somewhat shaken after that speech, but Ella looks particularly nervous.
"But everything's going to be okay, right?" she asks anxiously.
Crayton nods. "I sure hope so."
With that he hops out of the car, closing the door behind him. I make my way carefully past Marina and Ella and join Six and Nine outside. John's there too- he hugs Six, whispering something in her ear. She nods, and he gets back in the truck. Sam has claimed the driver's seat, and Four is up riding shotgun.
The three of us Crayton chose take places around him, like bodyguards, as we walk up towards the mansion. I look back at the truck and see a steely look of preparation on Sam's face, and I know that whatever happens to us, they'll be okay.
The mansion is even more stunning and extravagant from close up, and I once again find myself amazed by the sheer amount of money it must have cost. Something doesn't seem right- Five's Cèpan should have known better than to live someplace like this.
Six and Nine exchange resigned looks, as if they know full well what's going to happen. They seem battle-ready, and I wonder for the first time why Crayton chose me to come with them. Six and Nine are both amazing fighters, and will be able to hold their own against even a couple hundred Mogs, probably, but I don't have any battle-useful Legacies. It doesn't make any sense that I'm here.
Crayton knocks on the front door, which is answered immediately by a balding, middle-aged man. I relax slightly- he's not a Mogadorian. We'll be okay after all.
"Five's in here, getting ready," he says, a slight Australian accent evident in his voice.
He pushes a door open at the other end of the entrance hall, and we step into a large, ornate room. That's when the wall explodes.
