As Marina takes over the telekinesis, I focus on the clouds rolling in on the evening sky. I don’t want to create a full-fledged storm—not with the Anubis and Setrákus Ra so close. Luckily, I don’t need one. There’s a dark cloud up there with just enough charge to generate a small lightning bolt. I send this arcing down into Phiri Dun-Ra, zapping her good. I guess there’s a chance this could kill her, but I don’t really have time to worry about that. The Mog spasms as the electricity shoots through her, then stops struggling against Marina’s telekinesis. She doesn’t disintegrate, so I guess she’s still alive.

When Marina’s dragged Phiri Dun-Ra over to the tree line, Adam grabs her under the arms and pulls her the rest of the way. He shoves her behind the log we’re hiding behind and begins retying her wrists and ankles.

“So, you guys are taking prisoners now?” Mark asks.

“She might come in handy,” I reply, shrugging.

“We can’t keep dragging her around,” Adam says as he finishes tightening the knots.

“We’ll leave her here. She mentioned loving the jungle, right?” I say, with a smile on my face. We’ve got bigger things to worry about than the fate of Phiri Dun-Ra.

“Let’s not jinx our chance at survival by making lots of plans,” Mark says.

Before anyone can reply, the jungle around us gets strangely quiet. I’d gotten so used to the incessant squawking of tropical birds that it’s absolutely jarring when it’s gone. Even the bug noises taper off. Across the clearing that the Mogs made around the Sanctuary, to the north, a whole flock of birds flies out from the trees and scatters.

The Anubis is here.

I hold out my hands and arms. “Grab on,” I tell everyone. “I’ll keep us all invisible until we’re ready to attack.”

Marina takes one of my hands and Sarah takes the other. Mark, detonator at the ready, gets hold of my shoulder. Adam is last. He gives me a nod, probably remembering when I told him how strange it was to hold hands with a Mogadorian. Until this is over, the two of us will be attached at the hip. I nod back, over it, and he squeezes in next to Marina, his hand on my upper arm. Only Bernie Kosar doesn’t get close to me. Instead, our Chimæra transforms into a toucan and flies into a nearby tree.

It’s sort of funny, the five of us crowded together like this. It almost looks like we’re posing for a picture.