The restaurant they eventually settled on was small and crowded, but comfortable. While there were more than enough people to overhear them, all of them were creating plenty of their own noise, making it very difficult to eavesdrop. Besides, the only people – if they could be called people – they were worried about were Mogs, to whom this would all be inconsequential, and no one else would likely take them seriously even if they were able to overhear.

Teresa looked a bit uncomfortable. She had changed her appearance yet again, now looking more like the first girl they had seen, but with entirely different clothes. Her fingers skittered nervously around the edge of her tea cup, just as her eyes did around the table, to Tyler, Patrick, Daniel, Ella, Six, Sam, John, and back again.

"Teresa," Six began. "Where were you born?"

"You start." Teresa said instead.

Six looked mutinous, but Patrick said "Fair enough." And began. He told the story of their home planet, of Lorien, of the Mogadorians attacking, of the escape plan, and of nine of the Garde being sent to Earth. About how these nine had legacies, powers no human had, and also about how the Mogs were still looking for them.

Teresa sat quietly throughout the entire story, hardly saying a word. She didn't ask many questions, but John wasn't sure if that meant she believed them.

"So the reason I'm – we're all – different," she said slowly, once the story was finished, "is because we're not human?"

"Ah." Six interrupted, cutting her off. "Before we answer any questions, we want to hear your side of the story."

Teresa didn't look too pleased, but she began.

"I don't know where I was born or who my parents were. I grew up in Mexico, with a woman who took in a bunch of other children."

"You say you did not know what a cepan was," Patrick said.

"I don't." Teresa said coldly.

"I'm not questioning you," Patrick said. "It's merely, well, impossible that a Lorien could have come to Earth without a cepan. Was there no one, no adult in your life who seemed to be looking out for you? Perhaps this woman?"

"No." Teresa shook her head firmly. "No, she wasn't like you. She was very kind to me, she took care of me, but she was perfectly normal. She wasn't a warrior. She had a family, she was completely human."

"Is she still alive?"

"I hope so." Teresa answered. "Can I continue?" Glancing around the table, she went on. "I lived there for a while, growing up. I'm not sure how long. Eventually I decided that it was time for me to leave; so I left. I've been moving around ever since."

Six stared at her, arms crossed. "A bit more detail, please?"

Teresa matched her stare. "What more do you need to know?"

"When did you leave Mexico?"

"I think I was about ten, I told you, I'm not sure how long I was there."

"You've been on your own since you were ten?" Ella asked, leaning forward.

Teresa nodded, her expression unreadable. "I figured out pretty fast that other people couldn't do what I could. But not fast enough, people there still knew me as the odd child. I needed to get away, to somewhere I could hide. I could make myself a new identity whenever I wanted, so I made myself look like an adult, and left."

"You had control over illusion since you were ten?" Patrick asked.

"I've had it my whole life." Teresa responded, glancing around at them. "Why? I thought you said we were the same."

"Usually your legacies – the powers – don't develop until you hit puberty, about thirteen." Tyler explained. "It's very unusual to realize them so early. But not in a bad way."

"Perhaps it was the trauma." Patrick speculated. "On your own, on a strange planet, could have brought it out early."

Teresa shrugged. "I don't know what did it. All I know is the end result."

"When was the first time you ran into Mogs?" John asked.

This made Teresa think for a moment. "They're the evil aliens." Sam put in helpfully. "They're good at looking like human, but they're pretty much always male, tall, and when not disguised, they these things like gills, instead of noses."

She nodded. "I'd never heard of them until today," she said slowly. "So I can't say for sure. But, I may have. Once. When I was living in Pakistan. There were a couple guys around, asking questions. They didn't seem quite – normal. But I didn't stick around to find out anything more about them, and I never saw them again."

There was silence for a few minutes, as each member of the table continued to digest the information.

"I still don't get it." Sam said at last. "How could you have not known you were Lorien? I know," he added hastily, "That no one ever told you about it before. But how could that have happened? Aren't you all supposed to have cepans, protectors? How come you didn't get one?"

"She had one." Patrick said firmly. "There were eighteen of us in the ship that left Lorien, nine garde children, and their nine cepans."

"Well, something must have happened once they got to Earth, obviously." Six said. "She probably died. It happens."

"Well but still, she – sorry, you – were just a kid. Why didn't one of the other cepan take you in?"

Teresa shrugged. "I'm the wrong person to be asking that question to." She said simply.

"We had no idea." Patrick said in reply. "It would have been far too dangerous for us to communicate with one another. We never knew."

"Well, now we all know." Six said firmly. "And we really ought to get going – we've been sitting here too long for my taste. Teresa, if you could pack and say you're goodbyes, I think we'd better leave in the morning."

"What?" Teresa asked, pulling back from the table.

"We're going to find the last of us, Number Nine." John explained. "If we all join together, we should be powerful enough to defeat the Mogs once and for all."

"Okay, that's great." Teresa said. "But I agreed to come and talk with you, not to go anywhere with you."

It was Six's turn to ask now, with narrowed eyes. "What do you mean?"

"It was nice to meet you, and hear your story. It really was." She said earnestly. "But I'm not going to go with you. I have a life here, and I don't want to get involved with your battle. I have enough problems of my own."

"It's your battle too," John tried to explain. "It's all Lorien's battle."

"The Mogs won't ask questions, Teresa." Six said. "They will come for you."

"Okay." Teresa said. "But really, how do you know I'm even the one you're looking for. Yes, I'm – different – like you, but like you were saying, I didn't have a – a cepen, or whatever. Maybe I'm not the right person."

"You are." Ella said firmly.

"Right." Teresa said, without much conviction.

"Teresa," Tyler said slowly. "Do you have scars?"

Once again, John saw the slight flicker in Teresa's clothes, momentarily replaced with the old jeans and t-shirt he had seen back on the street. Her head whipped around to face Tyler, a look of shock painted across her face.

"What?" She asked faintly.

Tyler leaned down, and carefully rolled up the left leg of his jean, revealing three spiral shaped scars, burned into his skin. "These." He said.

Teresa's mouth dropped open as she stared, her hand flying down to graze her own leg. "How –"

"We all have them." Tyler explained quietly. "All nine of us. It's part of the spell binding us together – remember? Every time one of us is killed, we get another scar, to let us know it's one closer to being us."

Teresa appeared to be at a loss for words, her eyes filled with the three scars. Her hand reached out slowly, stopping just from touching them.

"You would be safe with us Teresa." Six said. "Safer than you would be on your own. And you could really help us."

It took Teresa a moment or two longer, but her decision was made. "Alright." She said, without a trace of doubt. "I'm coming with you."