“Wait. Dead weight?” I think back to my conversation with Sarah in the Lecture Hall. Those were the exact words she used. “Were you eavesdropping on us?”
Six looks a little guilty at being busted, but more than anything she looks increasingly angry with me, her eyes flashing. “So what? I thought you might finally grow a pair and tell her that we kissed.”
“Why would I do that?” I snap, struggling to keep my voice low.
“Because the longer you put it off the more awkward it gets, and I’m getting sick of it? Because she deserves—”
Before Six can finish, the Civic roars to life, Sarah revving the engine. Nine steps back from the driver-side window, looking pleased with the way Sarah’s gunning it. Sarah leans out the window, peering back at Six and me.
“You two coming or what?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE PENTHOUSE FEELS EVEN LARGER AS SOON AS John, Six and Sarah are gone. I’m still not over the size of this place; it’s almost big enough to contain the entire monastery of Santa Teresa. I know it’s silly, but I find myself tiptoeing through it, feeling like I’m constantly disturbing these riches Nine and his Cêpan amassed.
The tiles in Nine’s bathroom are heated—they actually warm and dry your feet when you get out of the shower. I think of all the times I sat on my mattress, picking splinters out of my feet after crossing the uneven wood floors of Santa Teresa. I wonder what Hectór would think of this place, and I smile. Then, I wonder what kind of person I would be if my Cêpan had been Sandor instead of Adelina; a showy but dedicated guardian, frivolous in his purchases but not one to abandon his duties. It’s pointless to think such thoughts, yet I can’t help it.
But if I hadn’t been stuck so long in Santa Teresa, I never would have crossed paths with Ella. I never would have journeyed to the mountains with Six and met Eight.
All the hardship, in the end, was worth it.
I stifle a yawn with the back of my hand. None of us got much sleep last night, not with the excitement of finding Number Five. It was supposed to be my night sleeping in Ella’s room, shaking her awake when the nightmares got too bad. Actually, I don’t think Ella slept a wink in between the meeting and tagging along with Nine during his shift watching Five’s beacon. Apparently, to her, spending time with Nine is better than getting some rest. I wish I knew how to help, but my healing Legacy doesn’t extend to the dream world.
I find Ella curled up in a chair in the penthouse living room. Nine is stretched out on the nearest couch, snoring loudly, his hands curled around the contracted metal tube that turns into the staff I’ve seen him use with such deadly efficiency. He must have gotten it from his Chest when he still thought there was a chance John would bring him along on the mission. Nine clutches the weapon like a teddy bear, probably dreaming of killing Mogadorians.
“You should get some sleep too,” I whisper.
Ella looks from me to the sleeping Nine. “He said he was just going to rest his eyes and then he’d show me some ass-kicking techniques.”
I giggle. There’s something hilarious about Ella parroting Nine’s language.
“Come on, there will be time for training later.”
Nine grumbles something in his sleep and rolls over, burying his face in the couch cushions. Ella stands up slowly and we tiptoe out of the room.
“I like Nine,” she announces as we walk down the hall. “He doesn’t care about stuff.”
My brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“He never asks me how I’m doing or, like, worries about me. He just makes gross jokes and lets me walk on his shoulders across the ceiling.”
I laugh, but I feel a bit wounded. All of us have been so worried about Ella, always trying to get her to open up about Crayton—I’m still supposed to do what John asked and get to the bottom of that letter—and along comes Nine, taking her mind off her troubles with bluster.
“We’re just worried about you,” I say.
“I know,” Ella replies. “It just feels better not to think about it sometimes.”
Maybe this is a good time to give Ella that gentle nudge John was talking about. “My Cêpan, Adelina, she spent a long time trying not to think about her destiny—about our destiny. But eventually she didn’t have a choice. She had to face it.”
Ella doesn’t say anything, but I can tell by the way her face is scrunched up that she’s thinking about my words.
I find myself detouring away from the bedrooms and instead heading back into Sandor’s workshop. I stand over the plugged-in tablet, watching the dots that represent Four and Six crawl slowly towards Five’s stationary dot in Arkansas.
“Are you worried about them?” Ella asks.
“A little,” I reply, although I know the others will be fine. Even after meeting Nine, Six is still the toughest and bravest person I’ve ever met. And Four is everything Six said he would be—a good guy, the leader we need, even if sometimes I can tell he feels like he’s in over his head.
“I hope Five is a boy,” announces Ella. “There aren’t enough boys for all of us.”
My mouth hangs open for a moment, and then I start to laugh. “Are you matching us up already, Ella?”
She nods, looking at me mischievously. “There’s John and Sarah, of course. And you and Eight.”
“Wait a second,” I say. “Nothing’s happening with me and Eight.”