Marina looks out the window. ‘Six, look! Are those number –’

I finally see what they’re all staring at just as the door next to Marina is whipped open. The red smudges on the truck doors are all eights.

‘Out!’ the man yells.

‘Do as he says,’ Crayton says under his breath, voice calm. ‘For now, we do what they want.’

We carefully get out of the taxi, our hands up, all four of us transfixed by the red numbers painted on the truck doors. We must be moving too slowly because one of the men leans forward and impatiently yanks Ella forward. She loses her balance and falls down. I can’t help myself. I don’t care if they’re with Number Eight or not, you don’t knock a twelve-year-old girl to the ground. I heave the man into the air with my mind, tossing him onto the roof of a warehouse across the street. The other men panic, whipping their guns around and screaming to one another.

Crayton grabs my arm. ‘Let’s find out why they’re here and if they know where Number Eight is. If we need to, we’ll strike with full force then.’ Still furious, I shake off his hand but I nod. He’s right – we don’t know what they want with us. Better to find out before they’re unable to explain.

A tall bearded man wearing a red beret steps out of one of the covered trucks and slowly walks towards us. His smile is confident, but his eyes are wary. A small pistol sticks out of his shoulder holster.

‘Good afternoon and welcome,’ he says in thickly accented English. ‘I am Commander Grahish Sharma of the rebel group Vishnu Nationalist Eight. We come in peace.’

‘Then what are the guns for?’ Crayton asks.

‘The guns were to convince you to come with us. We know who you are and would never engage in a battle with you. We know we’d lose. Vishnu told us you are all powerful like him.’

‘How did you find us?’ Crayton demands. ‘And who is Vishnu?’

‘Vishnu is the all-pervading essence of all beings, the master of the past, present and future, the Supreme God, and Preserver of the Universe. He told us you would be four in total, three young girls and one man. He asked me to convey a message to you.’

‘What’s the message?’ I say.

Commander Sharma clears his throat and smiles. ‘ ’His message is: “I am Number Eight. Welcome to India. Please come and see me as soon as you can.” ’

4.

4.