One of the Mogadorians manages to skirt Sarah’s blaster fire and charge us. Five steps in front of me. His skin suddenly gleams in the moonlight, shiny and silver. I remember the other ball he was carrying—a steel ball bearing. The Mog swings his sword at Five in an arc that should cleave right into his forehead, but with a resounding clang, the sword bounces off Five’s head. The Mog is stunned as Five winds up, delivering a massive haymaker, his steel-coated hand crushing the Mog’s skull.

Five looks back at me. “Never, uh, actually tried that before.” He starts laughing, relieved.

“Seriously?” I can’t help but laugh too, Five’s nervous energy contagious. “What if it hadn’t worked?”

Five just shrugs, rubbing the spot on his forehead where the Mog’s sword made contact.

We turn to watch a pair of Mogadorians fleeing towards the woods, Bernie Kosar snarling at their heels. Before they reach the tree line, Six appears in front of them. She slashes through them both with her borrowed Mogadorian sword.

I look around. The area is clear. The Monster Mart and its surroundings are pock-marked from blaster fire, and there’s still a plume of smoke curling up from the woods. Besides the dark patches on the ground where the dead Mogadorians turned to ash, there is no sign of our attackers. We wiped them out.

Sarah walks over to us, the Mog blaster propped up on her shoulder. “Is that it?”

“I think so,” I say, keeping my voice level. I feel like fist-pumping and high-fiving, but want to keep it cool. “For once, I think we caught them by surprise.”

“Is it always this easy?” Five asks.

“No,” I tell him. “Now that we’re all together, though . . .” I trail off, not wanting to jinx it. That fight couldn’t have gone much better. Granted, it was only one ship worth of Mogadorians; they’ve got entire armies stationed in West Virginia and elsewhere, not to mention Setrákus Ra. Even so, we mowed them down in record time, and I don’t think any of us suffered an injury. Yesterday, when Nine was all gung-ho for storming West Virginia and seeking out a rematch with Setrákus Ra, I’d tried to get across that I didn’t think we were ready for that. Now, after this performance, maybe it’s time to reconsider our odds.

“Where’s Six?” I ask, glancing around. “Someone must’ve heard that ship crash. We need to get out of here before the cops show.”

As if in answer, a low rumble comes from the tree line, from the direction where the Mogadorian ship fell. I shine my Lumen that way just in time to see Six sprinting towards us, waving her arms.

“Incoming!” she shouts.

“What’s incoming?” Five asks, swallowing.

“Sounds like Piken,” I reply.