“I’d like to go there,” Daniela replies, standing up. She straightens her dust-covered and blood-spattered T-shirt. “Maybe see if my mom made it.”

“All right,” I say. I don’t want to push her on joining forces. If it’s going to happen, she’s the one who has to make the decision. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t stick together for the time being. “We should head that way too.”

Sam rubs his eyes, still working moisture into his mouth. “You think Nine and Five battled their way to the evacuation point?”

“Doubt it,” I reply. “But Nine’s a big boy, he can handle himself for a little longer. Priorities have changed. I really need to get in touch with Six. If anywhere has working phones, I think it’ll be the evacuation point.” I turn to Daniela. “Can you lead us out of here?”

Daniela nods. “Only one way to go with the uptown tracks caved in. We follow the tracks for a few more stops, we should just about make it to the bridge.”

“Wait. How did priorities change while we were sleeping down here?” Sam asks.

I tell Sam how Ella reached out to me telepathically from her prison aboard the Anubis, explaining that Setrákus Ra is headed for the Sanctuary. Daniela listens in, her eyes wide and locked on me, mouth slightly opened. When I’m finished describing the dreamscape, prophecies and endangered Lorien historical sites, she shakes her head in total mystification.

“My life has gotten so effing weird,” she says, walking down the train car towards the exit.

“Hey,” Sam calls after her. “You forgot your bag!”

Daniela glances over her shoulder. Then, she looks at me. I don’t know if she wants permission or if she’s challenging me to stop her. When I don’t say anything, she doubles back and lifts the heavy bag with a grunt.

“Use your telekinesis,” I say casually. “It’s good practice.”

Daniela eyes me for a moment, then nods and grins. She concentrates and floats the bag out in front of her.

“What’s in there, anyway?” Sam asks.

“My college fund,” she replies.

Sam gives me a look. I just shrug.

When Daniela reaches the end of the car, she levitates the bag aside and yanks the metal door open with a sharp clatter. She steps onto the gangway that connects to the next car. Sam and I follow a few feet behind her.

“Whoa, whoa,” Daniela says, her words not directed to us. Her duffel bag rockets back into our subway car, Sam and I both having to jump out of the way. Daniela telekinetically slides the bag under a bench, like she’s trying to hide it. A second later, she steps backwards through the door, her hands raised in surrender. Immediately, my muscles tense. I thought we were safe down here in the tunnels.

But we aren’t alone.