“Nah,” Daniela says, dismissing this notion with a wave of her hand. “Nobody would’ve believed that shit even a week ago. Not without people on CNN shouting about spaceships appearing over New York. I mean, you needed that whole UN fight for it to really sink in. Before that, the news people were debating whether it was a hoax, a viral stunt for a movie, whatever. I saw one lady on TV saying you were an angel. Pretty funny.”

I chuckle dryly, not really feeling in the mood. “Yeah. Hilarious.”

I realize that Daniela’s trying to comfort me in her caustic way. I’ll never know what would have happened if we’d spent the last few months trying to make our war with the Mogadorians public. There were humans at high levels involved with MogPro that would’ve made any attempt at exposing the Mogs extremely difficult, if not impossible. I know all this, logically. And yet I can’t help feeling that yesterday’s colossal loss of life is on me. I should’ve done more.

“How old are you, anyway?” Daniela asks.

“Sixteen,” I tell her.

“Yeah.” Daniela nods, like she already knew this. “You’re like the girl that narrates the video. You got that whole wise-beyond-your-years thing going, that’s true. And you look like you’ve been through some shit. But take a closer look . . .” She trails off, clicking her tongue in thought. “You should be finishing high school, man. Not saving the world.”

I can’t let what happened in New York bury me under guilt. I need to make sure nothing like it ever happens again. I need to find my friends and figure out a way to kill Setrákus Ra, once and for all.

I square my shoulders and smile at Daniela, affecting a nonchalant shrug. “Somebody’s gotta do it.”

Daniela smiles back for a second, then catches herself and looks away. For a second there, I thought she might volunteer to join the fight. I can’t make her stick with us after we get out of the subway. I just have to trust that she, and the other humans out there, have developed their Legacies for a reason.

“We need to get moving,” I say.

I shake Sam’s shoulder and he snorts awake. His eyes are bleary for a moment, adjusting slowly to the bluish LCD lighting of the subway car.

“So it wasn’t a bad dream,” he sighs, standing up slowly and stretching out his back. His gaze drifts over to Daniela. “You decided to hang around, huh?”

Daniela shrugs, like the question embarrasses her. “You mentioned getting some people out of New York . . . ,” she says to me.

“Yeah. The army and the police have secured the Brooklyn Bridge. They’re evacuating people from there. At least, they were last night.”