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  “Jesus!” Caleb shouted. “What did you do?”

  “Go,” Einar said. “Get back.”

  The old man slumped against the café’s front, his narrow rib cage rising and falling, breath whistling through his nose. And yet, he still wore that demented smile and kept staring at the Garde.

  Ran rounded on Einar, eyes wide. “Why did you do that? You could have killed him.”

  “We need to leave immediately,” Einar insisted.

  He was right. The quiet street outside the villa was now a full-blown scene. The woman who first lured them down here was still shaking and holding herself while a group of people tried to make sense of what she was saying. Nearby, a handful of customers from inside the café checked on the old man. An apron-wearing Italian scrutinized the Garde.

  “Lo hai attaccato?” he asked them.

  As Caleb watched, the old man groped for the apron wearer’s leg and, as he touched him, the younger man’s face changed. He wasn’t angrily making accusations in Italian anymore. He was smiling at them and speaking English.

  “Just a bit of fun, pal,” he pronounced, smiling at Einar. “Next time, you won’t see me coming.”

  “Come on!” Einar yelled at Ran and Caleb. He turned and sprinted back towards the villa.

  As he and Ran chased after Einar, a thought occurred to Caleb that made him even more uneasy about this bizarre encounter. Back in Switzerland, Einar had been shot in the throat by Bea Barnaby and nearly bled to death.

  And yet, this was the most frightened that Caleb had ever seen him.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  TAYLOR COOK

  THE HUMAN GARDE ACADEMY—POINT REYES, CALIFORNIA

  KOPANO SET HIS BOOK DOWN IN THE GRASS AND yawned theatrically. “This Holden Caulfield is a real whiner, huh?”

  Taylor stirred. She’d been so lost in thought that she had forgotten to blink and now her eyes stung from staring into the cloudless blue sky. She’d also lost track of the fact that Kopano was there, even though her head was propped up on his thigh. The two of them were sprawled in the grass outside the student union. A passerby who didn’t know any better would’ve thought they looked pretty chill: an ordinary couple enjoying the bright sun on a cool day.

  Taylor would’ve scoffed at that. As if she could ever chill. The only reason she was lying around out here was because Kopano insisted. She would’ve much rather been pacing beneath the training center, watching the security monitors and waiting.

  For what? Well, she wasn’t quite sure yet. The next bad thing.

  She peered up at Kopano. “I don’t know Holden. What’s his Legacy? Is he new?”

  Kopano laughed and picked up his book, shaking it at her. “He’s fictional. Aren’t you reading this? It was assigned for literature class.”

  “Lit class was canceled,” she replied. “Professor Kellogg was too scared to keep working here, just like half the faculty.”

  “We’re still supposed to do the reading.”

  Taylor rolled her eyes. “There’s more important stuff going on than homework, Kopano. Besides, I read that back at my old school. I think you’ve got to be an angst-filled teenage boy to get anything out of it.”

  Kopano looked down at the book. “Maybe that’s why I’m not into it. I’m not angry enough. I just want to yell at this Holden—Cheer up, my dude!—and then slap him on the butt like all your American jocks do.”

  “I mean, you should be angry, though,” Taylor said. “Earth Garde forced you into a secret spy program and put a chip in your head against your will.” She chuckled bitterly. “Those Watchtower people don’t care about your grades. They just want you to do their dirty work. Why bother keeping up with the reading?”

  “I’m here until Agent Walker decides we should report back,” Kopano replied, lowering his voice like he was letting Taylor in on a secret. “And I don’t think she plans to do that. Now that people like Professor Nine and Malcolm know about Watchtower, it’ll get shut down. So what else am I going to do while I wait? I like the class. I don’t want to be behind once everything is sorted out and things go back to normal.”

  “Go back to normal,” Taylor repeated and looked away.

  She shaded her eyes with her hand, mostly so that Kopano couldn’t see the scorn on her face. He was so naïve. He still thought things would just go back to how it was when the two of them first arrived at the Academy. He really thought that any day now he’d resume taking classes the way he had before.

  Kopano refused to wrap his head around the fact that he was basically a fugitive. Or, at the very least, a deserter. So far, Agent Walker had been able to shield him. She kept filing phony reports with Watchtower that said she and Kopano were investigating leads in their hunt for Einar, while they were actually hiding out at the Academy and doing nothing of the sort. After the PR nightmare of Switzerland, Taylor got the sense that Earth Garde had bigger things to worry about than Kopano’s whereabouts, but eventually they would circle back to him and Walker. Nothing would ever go back to normal.

  “Why do you look mad all of a sudden?” Kopano asked her.

  Taylor sat up. “Honestly? Your constant positivity is driving me a little insane.”

  Kopano didn’t appear to take this personally. “Do you remember the solemn vow I made you when we first got here?”

  “You promised to keep my Academy experience as boring and normal as possible,” Taylor said. Then, she gently flicked Kopano’s forehead. “You really botched that, didn’t you?”

  Kopano’s smile faltered. “Yes, but . . .”

  “It’s okay,” Taylor said, guilty now for making Kopano feel bad. She rubbed his shoulder. “I release you from your promise. I don’t want boring anymore. I haven’t wanted that since the night Einar kidnapped me.”

  “Obviously boring is out of the question,” Kopano replied, puffing out his chest. “But maybe it wouldn’t hurt to relax sometimes, eh? Enjoy a sunny day in the company of a handsome young admirer.”

  Taylor made an exaggerated look around. “Where would I find one of those?”

  Kopano gave her a flat look. “You don’t take me seriously, but I am full of wisdom. You must learn to breathe, Taylor. To enjoy the smaller things. If you become too focused on all the work we must do, you’ll crack under the pressure. The kids here believe in you. They need you to lead them. And to lead them, you need to keep yourself sane.”

  Jesus. Taylor sucked in a breath. Kopano was right, but it was still weird as hell to hear.

  When had she become a leader?

  Kopano must have been able to read the uncertainty in her eyes. “I know better than anyone that you didn’t come here to be in charge,” he said, then chuckled. “You didn’t want to come here at all.”

  “From the day we met, you’ve been going on about being heroes and our responsibility to use our Legacies for good,” Taylor countered. “You must have brainwashed me.”

  Kopano winked at her. “Maybe enhanced charisma is another one of my Legacies.”

  “Maybe it’s supermodesty.”

  “Yes, that too, most definitely,” Kopano replied without missing a beat. “Anyway, as I was saying, you might not have wanted to be a leader, but you are one now. And when you are a leader, it matters how the others see you acting. Everyone here has seen the news, the videos of Einar, the loudmouths who think we should all be locked up. It makes them nervous. Scared, even. But if they see you out here, being chill, letting yourself relax in my absurdly muscular arms—”

  Taylor snorted.

  “—they’ll think, hey, things are not so terrifying. They’ll think—oh, right, life is dope here at the Academy and I am doing a good thing and this is a place worth fighting for.”

  “They’ll think all that just from seeing us together, huh?”

  “It would be more effective if we made out a little, yes . . . ,” Kopano said thoughtfully.

  Taylor chuckled and looked around. Further out in the grass, a couple tweebs tossed a Frisbee back and
forth without actually touching it. Past them, Lisbette Flores and Nic Lambert recorded the measurements of a tree for a biology class project. Nic said something—probably gross—and Lisbette slapped him hard on the arm with her clipboard.

  “You’re right,” Taylor told Kopano. She took a deep breath of the fresh air. “It’s okay for us to relax a little.”

  And then, as if on cue, because nothing could even stay nice for like five seconds, Taylor spotted Nigel. The scrawny Brit’s shoulders had been hunched more than normal since they’d come back from Switzerland a couple of weeks ago. If Kopano thought that Taylor needed to chill out, she could hardly imagine what he thought about Nigel, who was perpetually scowling, skipping classes and barely taking care of himself.

  “Uh-oh,” Kopano said as he too spotted Nigel.

  Taylor got to her feet and Kopano followed suit. Both of them knew immediately that Nigel wasn’t here to hang out.

  “Saw a bunch of Peacekeepers massing at the entrance,” Nigel said without any greeting. “Greger Karlsson is with them. They’re coming in. Something’s going down.”

  “Maybe they are coming to tell us what a good job we’re doing,” Kopano suggested half-heartedly.

  “Go find Rabiya,” Taylor said immediately. “Get her to create some Loralite so we can teleport out of here if things go bad. And then you two stay out of sight. You aren’t supposed to be here and we don’t want to give Greger any more excuses to cause problems.”

  “On it,” Kopano said, and jogged off towards the dorms to look for Rabiya.

  “Get everyone together,” Taylor told Nigel. “Like we talked about.”

  When Greger Karlsson and his Peacekeepers arrived at the administration building, Professor Nine was waiting for them with two dozen Garde at his back. Two dozen students who Taylor had picked because they could handle themselves. Two dozen who listened to her. And more watching from the dorms in case they were needed. She’d told them that they might need to show their strength. She’d planned for this and her classmates had mobilized quickly.

  “You aren’t welcome here, Greger,” Nine said, by way of opening the discussion. “Not after the shit you pulled with Ran and Kopano.”

  “Ironic,” Greger replied. “Because you are the one who is not welcome.”

  Taylor stood a few steps behind Nine, her face stony. For the last two weeks—as they replayed that video of Einar on the news over and over, as the world lamented what a tragic loss of life Wade Sydal was, as talking heads shouted over how Garde should be disciplined—Taylor had prepared for this. Really, she started preparing the day she got back from Switzerland.

  Greger extended an envelope bearing the official seal of the UN. He flinched when Nine snatched the paper out of his hand.

  “That is from the UN,” Greger said, taking a quick step back. “You have been terminated as headmaster of this training facility.”

  “Bullshit.”

  The tiny hairs on the back of Taylor’s neck stood up. She had the sudden feeling that she was being watched. Greger and his Peacekeepers were all warily keeping their eyes on Nine, though. She must have just been feeling the tension in the air. Not surprising, considering they were a bunch of teenagers taking a stand against a massive multi-government organization.

  “Don’t be dense, Nine,” Greger was saying. “After everything that’s happened, did you honestly expect them to keep you on? You’ve let this place get out of control. The public has no faith in you.”

  Nine opened the envelope but didn’t so much as glance at the letter. He tore it up while staring right at Greger, then let the wind carry away the pieces. That made Taylor smirk.

  “You want me out,” Nine snarled, “you’re going to need an army.”

  “That can be arranged,” Greger replied.

  The Peacekeepers backing Greger didn’t seem eager to make this a physical confrontation, though. The Garde at Nine’s back—Taylor, Nigel, Nicolas, Maiken, the rest—they didn’t so much as blink. She had told them to remain stoic and silent, to not invite trouble, but also to make it clear they weren’t playing. This wasn’t field day. This wasn’t capture the flag.

  Greger glanced at one of the Peacekeepers, and Taylor realized that was Colonel Ray Archibald, the commander of the Academy’s entire detachment of so-called protectors. She hadn’t recognized him in his body armor.

  “Well, Colonel? The Loric known as Number Nine is now on Academy grounds illegally.” Greger made this pronouncement like Nine wasn’t standing a few feet away with a feral grin on his face. “How should we proceed?”

  Archibald’s nostrils flared while Greger spoke. He took a long look at Nine and the rest of the Garde. Then, he replied to Greger, his voice neutral and flat.

  “You asked for an escort onto campus to deliver your message,” Archibald said. “That is all the activity my people are cleared for at this time, Mr. Karlsson. Anything else will need to be run up the chain of command. If there’s no pressing safety concern here, we’ll be heading back to base.”

  Archibald wasn’t stupid. He could see how the odds were stacked against his Peacekeepers. But Taylor thought she detected something else in his tone. He didn’t like Greger. He didn’t approve of firing Nine.

  Taylor spotted a flash of anger in Greger’s eyes when Archibald failed to play his role, but he covered quickly. He straightened his tie and turned his attention to the students lined up behind Nine.

  “I would like to remind everyone here that they are serving at the pleasure of Earth Garde,” Greger said. “Your actions are regulated under the Garde Accord. Any attempt to obstruct this change in the Academy’s leadership will be seen as a serious violation of your contract. There will be consequences and . . .”

  Greger’s voice got smaller and smaller until it was muted entirely, even though his mouth still moved. It took Taylor a moment to realize that Nigel had muted him.

  “What’s that, Greger?” Nine asked with a laugh. “I can’t hear you.”

  The Earth Garde liaison stomped his foot and made a cutting motion with his hand, but his voice wasn’t restored. Some of the Garde snickered.

  Archibald sighed and shook his head. “Peacekeepers!” he yelled. “On me.”

  The colonel turned sharply on his heel and led his soldiers back towards their camp. Greger scurried after them, getting into Archibald’s ear as soon as he was out of Nigel’s range.

  When they’d gone, there was a collective breath exhaled by the Garde. Some of them started laughing, mocking the way Greger had stomped his feet. Nine turned to look at his students, pushing loose strands of hair out of his face.

  “I appreciate the support, guys,” he said.

  “We got your back, Professor,” Nic said.

  “Hopefully, we got our message across,” Nine continued. “With any luck, Earth Garde will pull their heads out of their asses, fire Karlsson and we can get back to training.”

  Dr. Goode, who had been standing quietly beside Nine throughout the confrontation, stroked his chin. “I’m not so certain it will be that easy.”

  “No,” Nigel agreed. “That bellend will go put on his big-boy britches and then they’ll be back.”

  “If it comes to that,” Taylor said, “we’ll be ready.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  NIGEL BARNABY

  CONTAINMENT CELLS

  THE HUMAN GARDE ACADEMY—POINT REYES, CALIFORNIA

  “WELL, HELLO, DARLING,” BEA SAID. “HOW WAS school today?”

  Nigel rolled his eyes. She had asked him the same thing yesterday. And the day before.

  “Get some new material, Mum,” he replied as he dragged a chair into his mother’s cell, the legs screeching across the floor in a way that he hoped was extra insolent.

  “Isn’t that what a mother is supposed to ask when her child comes home?” Bea asked, her head tilted. She held up a wrinkled women’s magazine, which Nigel had given her last week after she requested something to read. “I’ve read this feature about being
a stay-at-home mother thrice over but I suppose I still don’t have a handle on the material.”

  “Telling, innit? That you’ve started to think of this place like home?”

  “Hmm. You do too, don’t you?” Bea smiled. “I’m merely pleased that we’re together.”

  Nigel frowned. At first, it had been a delight to see his mother locked in this subbasement cell, the powerful woman’s lavish lifestyle reduced to a stiff cot, a stainless-steel sink and a toilet. However, Bea didn’t seem at all fazed by her environment. She sat on her bed with legs crossed and back straight, imperious even in track pants and a hoodie taken from the lost and found, like this prison was her domain and she’d deigned to allow Nigel to visit.

  Two weeks. The woman had been down here two weeks and didn’t seem at all rattled.

  “Right, we can do the happy-family bit,” Nigel said, sitting down opposite his mom. “School was fine, I suppose. Learned a lot.”

  That wasn’t exactly true. Nigel’s class in conversational Chinese, which he was failing, had been canceled entirely, much to his relief. Meanwhile, his hour of social studies had been overseen by Dr. Susan Chen, the dean of academics, who was substituting for the fuzzy little historian who usually lectured. While her teaching was as sharp as ever, Nigel could tell by the amount of iced coffee she gulped down and the frayed quality of her braid that Dr. Chen was exhausted. She was teaching all nine periods now, in addition to her usual advising duties.

  Half the faculty had resigned or taken sudden leaves of absence in the last two weeks. More since yesterday, when Greger made his move on Nine’s job. Nigel didn’t have a head count of the kitchen crew and maintenance staff, but they’d thinned out considerably too.

  A lot of gaps in the adult population around here, all since the news of Wade Sydal’s death went public and the video of Einar ranting at the scene like a little Icelandic Hitler had gone viral. People who had worked at the Academy since it opened suddenly weren’t so eager to show up anymore.

  The whole thing irked Nigel to no end. The students here always had amazing powers, which, at the bare minimum, made them capable of at least maiming any normal human. That wasn’t new. The only thing that’d changed was the wall-to-wall news coverage of how dangerous Garde could be if left unchecked.