Page 21 of The Power of Six (Lorien Legacies 2)

“Lorien isn’t dead; it’s hibernating. You said so yourself. And the point is, we’re not dead. ”

She swallows hard. “A death sentence has been handed down to us all,” she says, and her voice slightly cracks. Then, in a much softer tone, she says, “Our lives were doomed from the beginning. We should do good while we’re here, so we may have a good afterlife. ”

“How can you say that?”

“Because that’s the reality. We’re the last of a dying race, and soon we’ll be gone, too. And may God help us when that time comes. ”

I shake my head at her. I have no interest in talking about God.

“Where is my Chest? In this room?” I walk around the room, casting my gaze along the ceiling’s edges, and then I crouch and peer beneath a few of the beds.

“Even if you had it, you can’t open it without me,” she says. “You know that. ”

She’s right. If I’m to believe what she’d told me years before, when I could still trust the things she said, then I can’t open it without her. The futility of it hits me all at once. The boot prints in the snow; John Smith on the run; the sheer and utter claustrophobia of Santa Teresa; and Adelina, my Cêpan, meant to help and assist in developing my Legacies, who has given up on our mission. She doesn’t even know what Legacies of mine have developed. I have the ability to see in the dark, breathe underwater, to run at superspeeds; to move things with my mind; and the means to bring plants back from the brink of death. Anxiety sweeps over me, and at the worst possible moment, Sister Dora enters the room. She props her fists on her hips.

“Why aren’t you in the kitchen?”

I look at her and mirror the same scowl she’s giving me.

“Oh, shut up,” I say, and march out of the room before she responds. I run down the hall, down the stairs, grab my coat again and push through the double doors.

I look wildly around as I move within the shadows lining the side of the road. Though I still feel as though I’m being watched, outside nothing seems a

miss. I race down the hill without letting my guard down, and when I reach the café, I enter because it’s the only place open. About half of its twenty tables are occupied, which I’m thankful for; I have the urge to be surrounded by people. I’m about to sit when I notice Héctor, alone in the corner, drinking wine.

“Why aren’t you at El Festín?”

He glances up. He’s clean shaven, and his eyes appear clear and sharp. He seems well rested; he’s even well dressed. I haven’t seen him this way in quite a while. I wonder how long it will last.

“I thought you didn’t drink on Sunday,” I say, and immediately wish I hadn’t. Héctor and Ella are my only friends at the moment, and one has already disappeared today. I don’t want to upset Héctor as well.

“I thought so, too,” he says, not taking offense. “If you ever know a man who tries to drown his sorrows, kindly inform him his sorrows know how to swim. Here, sit down, sit down,” he says, kicking out the chair across from him. I plop down in it. “How are you?”

“I hate this place, Héctor. I hate it with everything inside of me. ”

“Bad day?”

“Every day is a bad day here. ”

“Eh, this place isn’t so terrible. ”

“How are you always so cheerful?”

“Alcohol,” he says with a sideways grin. He pours himself what looks to be his first glass from the bottle. “I wouldn’t recommend it to others. But it seems to work for me. ”

“Oh, Héctor,” I say. “I wish you wouldn’t drink so much. ”

He chuckles. Takes a sip. “You know what I wish?”

“What?”

“That you didn’t look so sad all the time, Marina of the sea. ”

“I didn’t know that I did. ”

He shrugs. “It’s something I’ve noticed, but Héctor is a very perceptive man. ”

I look to my left and to my right, pausing to focus on each person here. Then I take the napkin off the table and put it on my lap. I put it back on the table. Then I put it back on my lap.

“Tell me what is troubling you,” Héctor says, then takes a larger sip.

“Absolutely everything. ”

“Everything? Even me?”

I shake my head. “Okay, not everything. ”

His eyebrows rise and then furrow. “Now tell me. ”

I have a deep urge to tell him my secret, the reason I’m here and where it is I really come from. I want to tell him about Adelina and what her role was supposed to be, and what it has instead become. I want him to know about the others, out there on the run or fighting, maybe sitting idly like me, collecting dust. If there’s one person I’m certain would be my ally, who would help me in any way he could, then surely it’s Héctor. He is, after all, a defender who’s meant to hold fast and who was born into power and bravery by such simple means as the name he was given.

“You ever feel like you don’t belong here, Héctor?”

---