A Hero in the Dark: 2nd Edition

Chapter 37: A Technological Wizard

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Em?" John asks as we walk up the old wooden steps to the isolated, and seemingly abandoned, house on Yellowhammer Ranch. I only inferred Lexa would be here. A lone house in a barren field on the outskirts of the state seems safe enough. I think it's why Crayton insisted on coming: to find someone that can help.

"Lexa's smart, John," I say. "She's basically a technological wizard. She'll be a great ally in our fight against the Mogs, so I think Crayton's right."

"I know, but if it's a trap?" He hasn't let go of my hand since we stepped out of the sedan.

"Then we'll find out for sure."

Everyone else is waiting on the lawn. They're far enough away to view the house as a whole and see if anything's coming at us. Six is invisible, circling around the perimeter with Eight. Pixie and BK watch the skies. I risk our chances and knock on the door.

Nothing but silence and the annoying sound of summer heat occupies our ears, until at last, something shifts on the other side. Locks? How many are there? John and I look at each other, neither of us sure what's going on. It keeps going, in front of us, then down, down below our feet, until suddenly, the floor opens from beneath us. We scream!

It isn't a long fall, but our cries echo down the deep narrow chute. We land with a thud in a pitch-black room. John stifles a groan and ignites his Lumen. "The hell? What is this? You okay? Are you sure this is the right house, Em?"

"Fine," I answer, aching at the knees. "This has to be the right house."

Henri calls down at us, asking if we're okay, and we tell him we are when there's another voice: "Could that really be you?"

John steps forward, putting me behind him as a silhouette comes into view. "Who's there?" he asks as the silhouette comes into the light.

It's not a Mogadorian though; the shadow... it's a woman's, and she's got long black hair pulled into a ponytail, the rest of her head shaved. "Lexa," she answers. "Nice to see you, John, and... Emily, I assume?"

"How do you know our names?"

"Please," she scoffs, waving this off. "You two are all over the news, not to mention government databases. I'm sure all of America knows about the school you destroyed."

I put a hand on John's shoulder to let him know she's for real. She's the one we've been looking for. He hesitates, but eventually makes his fire die out. "We didn't destroy the school," he spits. I think he's upset about the floor trap. "The Mogs did."

"Yes. I figured."

"Lexa, why do you have a trap there? We thought you were one of them—um, a Mogadorian."

"Sorry. It's for them of course, not you," she explains. "I can't have them snooping around one of my safehouses; now, can I?"

"One of your safehouses?"

"John, we have a lot to talk about," is all she says before she waves us over to follow her, and talk we do. We talk and eat frozen pizza late into the night, then Lexa settles us into rooms, says we can stay as long as needed; apparently, she built this place for us—or the Loric, I mean. John and I share a room because there aren't enough to go around. It's equipped with two singles, a closet, and a small writing desk in the corner.

It isn't until 2 a.m. that there's a knock on the door. I hear it crystal clear only because I wasn't sleeping. "John? You awake? D'you hear that?"

"Hm? Hear what?"

"Someone's here."

Even on the second level, I have the nasty sense a Mogadorian is lurking about. It's like knowing a storm is coming; you can tell by the clouds, the smell of farm, sometimes even hear the thunder before the rain even starts—I just know: There's a Mog and he's probably here for me.

I crawl out of bed and tiptoe out of the room only to find Nine on the ceiling. I jump. "Jesus! What the hell are you doing?"

"Same as you," he says, "trying to sneak up on Mogs if they're sneaking up on us."

I blow out a sigh and shake my head. I don't know what I was expecting. "Just don't be stupid," I urge, and we tread downstairs.

Lexa's already by the door. "Who is it?" I ask.

"Mog and an old man. I'm debating whether to put them down the chute or not," she says.

"Don't." Perhaps it's not the best idea to make them fall a great distance. It's not that I feel sympathy for the Mog—I don't. I'd feel sorry for the man. "Let me."

She makes a face. "You sure?"

I light my palm with the ergokinesis glow. Ever since I discovered the telepathy, I've been practicing, and on the drive to Alabama, I was actually able to replicate it. I just had to focus on that rage from the first time. It's still hard, and sometimes the light flickers, but Lexa looks amazed; she steps aside, and carefully, I walk up to the door, hiding the light behind my back. I could do away with it, but if I do, there's no guarantee it'll come back when I want it to. I don't have much control yet, so I let it burn, whip the door open, and aim.

I have no idea who they are; all I know is that they're not supposed to be here. As soon as I aim my palm—not at the old man as much but mostly at the Mog—he raises his hands. On his backstep, a tremor rocks below my feet, making me stumble 'till I fall. My light fades out, and again, a Mog is looking down on me. I'm defenseless, powerless, human, and alone... no matter how many times I try to call my weird power back.

"Sorry, I didn't mean that. You startled me, that's all." The Mog reaches out with his hand. "Adamus," he adds then. "But you can call me Adam, and I'm not like all the other—"

"Don't touch me," I snap. I pick myself up and they all just stare at me. "Adam," I repeat, testing the name. "Adamus Sutekh? What're you doing here? Do you know how late it is?"

The Mog—he looks surprised when I tell his full name, but quickly regains his cool. "Yes. This is Malcolm. We're looking for his son, Sam. I wasn't sure if it was right to knock on your door at this hour, but... he's desperate, as you can imagine."

"Have you seen him?" the old man asks.

My shoulders relax a little, but not enough; I don't know if they'll ever relax in the presence of one of them. A hand comes to my shoulder, and I turn to find a sleepy John. "No," I answer. "No, we haven't seen him. Not for a while at least..."

"A while?" the man asks. "So, you know Sam?"

"He's my best friend," John says. "We met in Paradise."

"Where is he?!"

John shakes his head. "I don't know," he says. "We think he might've been captured."

"Actually... I think—I might have an idea on where he is..." I mutter.

"You do?"

"Do you, um, do you want to come in?"