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left a trail of smoke behind it.”
    “Then it wouldn’t have made it here,” Six says.
    “Yeah, that’s what Henri said.”
    “Chimæra?” Sam asks. “The same kind of animal as Bernie Kosar?” I nod. He perks up. “Maybe that’s how Bernie made it here? Could you imagine if they all made it? After seeing what Bernie did during the fight?”
    “It’d be amazing,” I agree. “But I’m pretty sure old Bernie here was on our ship.”
    I run my hand down the length of Bernie Kosar’s back and can feel matted scabs still covering most of his body. Sam sighs, leans back in his seat with a look of relief on his face, probably imagining an army of Chimæra coming to our aid at the last minute to defeat the Mogadorians. Six looks into the rearview mirror, and the headlights from the car behind us illuminate a band of light across her face. She looks back to the road wearing the same introspective gaze that Henri always did when driving.
    “The Mogadorians,” she begins softly, swallowing as Sam and I turn our attention to her. “They caught up to us the day after we responded to Two’s post, in a desolate town in West Texas. Katarina had driven fifteen straight hours from Mexico, and it was getting late and we were both exhausted because neither of us had slept. We stopped at a motel off the highway, not all that different from the one we just left. It was in a tiny town that looked like something out of an old Western movie, full of cowboys and ranchers. There were even hitching posts outside some of the buildings so that the people could tie up their horses. It was very weird, but we had just come from a dusty town in Mexico, so we didn’t think twice about stopping.”
    She pauses as a car cruises past us. She follows it with her eyes and checks the speedometer before turning back to the road.
    “We went to get something to eat at a diner. About halfway through our meal, a man entered and took a seat. He was wearing a white shirt and tie, but it was a Western tie and his clothes looked outdated. We ignored him, even though I noticed the others in the diner staring at him, the same way they were staring at us. At one point he turned and gazed our way, but since everyone else had done the same, I didn’t piece it together. I was only thirteen then, and it was hard to think of anything at that point other than sleep and food. So we finished eating and went back to our room. Katarina jumped into the shower; and when she stepped out, wrapped in a robe, there was a knock at the door. We looked at each other. She asked who it was, and the man answered that he was the motel manager and had brought fresh towels and ice; and without thinking twice, I walked to the door and opened it.”
    “Oh no,” Sam says.
    Six nods. “It was the man from the diner with the Western tie. He walked straight into the room and shut the door. I was wearing my pendant in plain view. He knew immediately who I was, and Katarina and I knew immediately who he was. In one fluid motion he pulled a knife from the waistband of his trousers and swung for my head. He was fast, and I had no time to react. I had no Legacies yet, no defenses. I was dead. But then the weirdest thing happened. As the knife dug into my skull, it was his skull that split open. I didn’t feel a thing. I learned later they had no idea how the charm worked, that he couldn’t kill me until numbers one through five were dead. He dropped to the ground and burst into ash.”
    “Wicked,” Sam says.
    “Wait,” I interrupt. “From what I’ve seen, Mogadorians are pretty recognizable. Their skin is so white it looks bleached. And their teeth and eyes . . .” I trail off. “How could you not have known it in the diner? Why’d you let him into the room?”
    “I’m pretty sure only the scouts and soldiers look like that. They’re the Mogadorians’ version of the military. That’s what Katarina said, anyway. The rest of them look as much like normal humans as we