pouring out.
“Come on,” Sam says, impatiently jerking my hand.
Together we run the rest of the way to the tunnel’s end. There’s a massive door, forty to fifty feet tall and wide, made entirely of steel. To its right is a small wooden door. It’s unlocked, and instantly I see why.
“Holy God,” Sam whispers, taking in the beast’s enormity.
I’m momentarily stunned myself, and all I can do is stare at it: a hulking mass slumped in the room’s far corner. Its eyes are closed and it breathes rhythmically. The beast must be fifty feet tall when standing, and from what I can tell its dark body is shaped like a man’s, but with much longer arms.
“I want nothing to do with this place,” Sam says.
“You sure?” I ask, nudging him so his gaze leaves the monster. “Look.”
There, in the center of the room, at eye level atop a thick stone pedestal, is my Chest. And right beside it sits a second one, almost identical in appearance. Both of them there for the taking. Except for the iron bars around them, which are housed beneath a humming and crackling electrical force field surrounded by a moat of the steaming green liquid. And the slumbering giant.
“That’s not Six’s Chest,” I say.
“What are you talking about? Who else’s would it be?” Sam asks, confused.
“They found us, Sam. In Florida, they found us by opening Six’s Chest.”
“Right, I know.”
“But look at the padlock on it. Why would they put the lock back on a Chest that they probably had a hell of a time getting into in the first place? I think that one’s never been opened.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
“It could be any of ours,” I whisper, shaking my head while staring up at them both. “Number Five’s or Nine’s or anyone’s who isn’t dead yet.”
“So they stole the Chest and didn’t kill the Garde?”
“Like they did with me. Or maybe the Mogs caught one of them and they’re being held here like Six was,” I say.
Sam doesn’t get a chance to answer, because just then the alarm on his wristwatch begins to beep. Three seconds later it’s followed by the whine of a hundred sirens echoing off the walls of the cave.
“Aw hell,” I say, turning my head. “I can see you, Sam.”
He nods, a panicked look on his face. He lets go of my hand. “I can see you, too.”
When I look over Sam’s shoulder, the beast’s eyes have come open-blank and white-narrowing in our direction.
Chapter Thirty
THE GUNFIRE MAKES MY EARS RING LONG AFTER it’s stopped. Smoke rises from the end of the barrel, but Crayton wastes no time and drops the gun’s clip and snaps another in place. Heaping mounds of ash have given the air a thick haze. We stand waiting, Ella and I behind Crayton. He keeps the gun raised, his finger hovering on the trigger. A Mogadorian climbs into the entryway with a cannon of his own, but Crayton fires first, cutting him in half and hurling him backwards. The Mogadorian explodes before he hits the wall. A second jumps into view, wielding the same flashing weapon that tore my shoulder downstairs, but Crayton disposes of it before any light comes forth.
“Well, they know where we are now. Come on,” he yells, rushing forward and down the stairs before I can offer to float us out the window. Ella and I follow, still holding hands. Crayton stops after the second curve of the stairwell, pressing his fingers to his eyes. “There’s too much ash in my eyes. I can’t see anything,” he says. “Marina, take the lead. If there’s anything up ahead, yell and get the hell out of the way.”
I keep the Chest tucked beneath my left arm and Ella stays in the middle, holding my hand and Crayton’s. I lead them down and out the broken oak door just as the tower above us explodes.
I scream, ducking down and pulling Ella with me. Crayton instinctively begins firing. The gun unloads a rapid stream of ammunition-eight to ten bullets per second-and I can see an entire group of Mogadorians drop. Crayton stops firing.
“Marina?” he asks, nodding his head forward without seeing me.
I turn and study the hallway, thick with ash. “I think it’s clear,” I say; and the second the words leave my mouth, a Mogadorian leaps out of an open doorway and fires, sending a flashing white meteor raging towards us too bright to look at. We drop just in time, and the white death misses us by a hair. Crayton quickly lifts the gun and returns a barrage of bullets, killing the Mogadorian instantly.
I lead us forward. I have no idea how many of them Crayton just killed, but the ash stands thick on the floor, covering our feet and ankles. We pause at the top of the steps. Light from the windows comes through the fading ash, and Crayton has cleared his eyes. He takes the lead position, clutching the gun tightly to his chest while staying hidden behind the corner. Once we turn, all that separates us from the door leading outside are these steps, a short hallway, the back of the nave, and the main vestibule. Crayton takes a deep breath, nods his head, and then turns, dropping the barrel of the gun, ready to fire. But there’s nothing to fire at.
“Come on,” he grunts.
We follow him and he escorts us across the nave’s rear, which is black with fire damage. For a brief moment I glimpse Adelina’s body, looking small from as far away as we are. My heart aches seeing her.
An explosion erupts against the outside wall on our right side. The stones blow inward, and I instinctively lift my hand and prevent any of them from hitting Ella and me. But Crayton gets hit hard, and he smashes against the wall to our left, landing with a grunt. The gun rattles away from him, and a Mogadorian enters the cathedral through the newly created hole. He’s holding a cannon; and in one fluid motion, I heave the Mogadorian backwards with my mind, bring Crayton’s gun into my hand, and pull the trigger. The gun’s kick is a lot harder than I expected, and I almost drop it; but I recover quickly and keep firing until the Mogadorian is reduced to ash.
“Here,” I say, pushing the gun into Ella’s hands; and in the comfortable way she takes it, I can tell she’s no stranger to firearms.
I rush to Crayton. His arm is broken, and blood seeps from gashes on his head and face. But his eyes are open and he seems alert. I slap my hands on his wrist and close my eyes, the iciness crawling over my body and extending to Crayton. I watch the bones in his arm move under the skin, and the gashes on his face seal and disappear. His chest expands and contracts so fast I think his lungs are going to explode, but then he’s calm again. He sits up and moves his arm fluidly.
“Nice job,” he says.
He takes the gun from Ella, and we climb through the hole in the wall and out into Santa Teresa’s front grounds. I don’t see a single person as Ella and I run ahead and pass through the iron gates while Crayton sweeps his gun back and forth, looking for any reason to fire it. My eyes are drawn over Crayton’s left shoulder to a quick burst of red from the cathedral’s roof. With a loud blast, the discharged rocket surges towards Crayton. I stare at the rocket’s tip and raise my hands, concentrating harder than I ever have, and at the very last instant I’m able to slightly alter the rocket’s path. It misses him and angles off towards a mountain, where it hits it with a plume of fire. Crayton rushes us through the gates with eyes alert and the gun aimed. He pulls up and spins around.
He shakes his head, and from behind us we hear the church doors thrust open.
“He isn’t here,” Crayton says, and just before he turns around to begin firing, the sound of squealing tires pierces the air. The plastic covering that had kept the truck concealed falls off and its back side fishtails as Hector, wide-eyed behind the wheel, floors it. He comes racing our way and slams on the brakes when he reaches us. The truck screeches to a halt, and Hector reaches across the seat and throws open the passenger-side door. I toss my Chest beside Hector, and Ella and I jump in. Crayton stays out just long enough to empty his gun at the Mogadorians emerging from the church door. Several drop, but there are far too many to get them all. Crayton jumps in and slams the door, and the tires bite into the cobblestones in an attempt to find traction. There’s the sound of another rocket nearing, but the tires catch and we go racing down Calle Principal.
“I love you, Hector,” I say. I can’t help it; the sight of him behind the wheel fills me with such warmth that it
