The hug ends and Ella peers up at me. This version of her looks almost as I remember—wide-eyed and innocent—although there’s a tiredness around her eyes, a kind of weary wisdom, that wasn’t there the last time I saw her. I can’t imagine what she’s been through.

“What are they doing to you?” I ask, my voice quiet.

“Setrákus Ra calls it his Gift,” Ella says, her lips curling in disgust. She looks over her shoulder, watching herself get experimented upon, and hugs herself. “The stuff he’s putting into me, I’m not sure where it comes from. It’s the same weirdo genetic crap he grows the vatborn warriors from. It’s the stuff he used to augment some of the humans—you know about that?”

I nod, thinking of Secretary of Defense Sanderson and the cancerous resistance I felt in his body when I healed him.

“He’s doing it to you. His own—” I still hesitate to say this part out loud. “His own flesh and blood.”

Ella nods sadly. “For the second time.”

I remember how out of it Ella seemed during the battle at the United Nations. “He did it to you before the big public appearance,” I say, putting the pieces together. “Drugged you up so you couldn’t ruin his moment.”

“It was punishment for trying to escape with Five. The Gift . . . it makes it hard for me to focus, at least when I’m awake. I’m not sure how, but he uses it to control me. It could be related to one of his Legacies. I tried to figure out everything he can do, John, I tried to stop him, but . . .”

Ella’s shoulders slump. I place my hand gently on the back of her neck.

“You did everything you could,” I tell her.

She snorts. “Uh-huh.”

I take a long look at the machine Ella’s hooked up to, trying to memorize the details. Maybe if we ever manage to hook back up with Adam, he can shed some light on how exactly this thing works.

“He’s not controlling you now,” I say, gesturing around to the frozen-in-time Mogadorian operating theater. “You’re doing this. You’re still fighting him.”

“I’ve been able to hide that I’m telepathic,” Ella replies, straightening up a bit. “Whenever he hurts me, I hide inside my own mind. I practice. My Legacies are getting stronger. I could sense you down there from on board the Anubis. I was able to pull you into my, um . . . my dream? Whatever this is.”

“Just like in Chicago,” I muse, trying to work this out. “Only, you needed to touch me that time.”

“Not anymore. I guess I’m getting stronger.”