I turn to Nine, wide-eyed, and catch him staring at his gloved hands, also wide-eyed. I can’t hear what he says, and I’m not much of a lip reader.

But I’m pretty sure it’s “Oops.”

At the entrance of the hotel, one Mogadorian is down on his knees, clutching his head. The other two are pointing right at our SUV and raising their blasters.

So much for the element of surprise.

CHAPTER

TWENTY

WITH THE WAY MY EARS ARE RINGING, I DON’T really hear the first volley of Mogadorian blaster fire. But I feel it. The SUV is rocked to the side as the jagged energy bolts shear across the car’s bulletproof paneling. Walker huddles for cover behind her door, keeping her head down. Our driver isn’t so lucky; a blast comes sizzling through the window and hits him in the side of the neck. His flesh is burned badly and he immediately starts convulsing.

“Go!” I shout, unable to hear myself and not sure if anyone else can either. “Go!”

Nine rips open the back door of the SUV, literally. As he gets out of the car, he holds the door in front of him, using it as a shield to absorb the Mogs’ fire.

I lunge into the front seat and press my hands onto the FBI agent’s blaster wound, letting my warm healing energy flow into him. Slowly, the injury begins to knit itself closed, and his convulsions stop. The agent looks up at me with wide, grateful eyes.

I sense movement to my left and turn my head. Outside the driver-side window is the pedestrian who got knocked down when Nine’s thunderclap went off. She’s a pretty, college-aged girl with big brown eyes. She looks shell-shocked and seems to be rooted in place—except she’s not so stunned that she failed to get her phone out of her purse. She’s just finished recording me healing our driver and is filming my face as I shout at her to run.

Another volley of Mog blaster fire bounces over the hood of our SUV, nearly hitting the girl. Sam springs out of the backseat and grabs her. He drags her farther down the sidewalk and puts her in cover behind some parked cars.

Months ago, my face on video after using my Legacies would’ve been a disaster. But now, I don’t even care. However, we can’t let any more innocent people wander into our war zone.

“Turn the car!” I shout in our driver’s ear. I’m not sure he can hear me, so I make a steering wheel motion with my hands. “Block the street off!”

He gets it and peals out—I can smell the burned rubber but don’t quite hear it. He gets the car parked perpendicular across the middle of the road, blocking any traffic.

I hop out of the SUV and turn towards the hotel just in time to see a Mogadorian warrior sheared in half and turned to dust by our car door, which Nine flung through the air discus style. Meanwhile, the agents in the second car have managed to collect themselves. Seeing our maneuver, their driver throws his SUV into reverse and they quickly block access to the road from the other direction. Then, they jump out, using their SUV as cover, and return fire on the remaining Mogadorians. Their gunfire is barely audible popping in my damaged ears.