Free The Fall of Five (I Am Number Four) by Lore Pittacus Page B

approaching warily, as if he’s expecting Nine to launch a counterattack. I’m expecting the same thing, cringing as I wait for Nine to throw anelbow into Eight’s face. Surprisingly, Nine doesn’t fight back at all.
    Eight teleports them back to the ceiling again, but this time, when he’s released from Eight’s grasp, Nine quickly reaches his hand up to touch the ceiling. It makes me queasy just to watch; Nine’s gravity shifting so that instead of falling to the floor, he’s doing a handstand on the ceiling. It all takes no more than a second.
    Eight’s already teleported away, reappearing back at my side. Just like Nine was expecting. Nine launches himself from the ceiling and, as soon as Eight materializes, Nine is plummeting towards him. Eight only has a moment to notice that Nine isn’t lying on the floor where he expected him to be. The next thing he knows, Nine’s foot is connecting with his sternum, sending him flying to the ground.
    Eight picks himself up onto his elbows, wheezing, the wind knocked out of him. Nine stands over him, his hands on his hips.
    “Predictable,” Nine says. “Why would you teleport back to the same place?”
    In answer, Eight coughs, rubbing his chest. Nine reaches down and helps him to his feet.
    “It’s all about surprise with you, man,” Nine explains. “You gotta keep ’em guessing.”
    Eight lifts up his shirt. There’s a foot-shaped bruise already forming over his ribs. “Damn. That was like getting hit with a sledgehammer.”
    “Thanks,” says Nine, and looks at me. “Here’s some practice for you.”
    I place my hands gently on Eight’s chest. The icy feeling of my Legacy tingles in my fingertips, passing through me and into Eight. It’s only a bruise so it’s easy; I don’t even have to concentrate. Which is good, because it’s not that easy for me to concentrate while touching Eight’s chest. If this is what training is going to be like, I could get used to it.
    “Thanks,” says Eight, when I step back.
    On the other side of the room, Nine has grabbed one of the stuffed Mogadorian training dummies and dumped it on the ground. He stands over it, looking at us.
    “Okay, here’s the game. We’re going to pretend this dummy is—I don’t know—Number Four. He gets hurt all the time, right? So, he’s wounded and, Marina, you need to get to him and work your magic. Eight, you’re going to help her.”
    “And what are you going to be doing?” I ask.
    “I’m going to be the surprisingly good-looking Mogadorian that’s standing in your way.”
    Eight and I exchange a look. “Two on one?” he says. “Sounds easy.”
    “Cool,” says Nine, extending his pipe staff and twirling it menacingly over his head. “Let’s see what you got.”
    Eight puts his arm around me, pulling me into a quick huddle. “He expects us to go right at him,” he whispers.
    I nod, catching on to the plan quickly. “You should just teleport the body back to me.”
    Eight holds his hand up to me for a quick high five, then spins back to face Nine. “Ready?”
    “Bring it on.”
    Eight starts forward and Nine stalks out to meet him in the center of the room. As soon as he’s drawn Nine a few yards away from the dummy, Eight disappears, reappearing over the dummy. It’s not that Nine doesn’t notice what Eight’s up to—he just doesn’t care. He bounds a few steps forward, coming straight for me. Caught off guard and more than a little nervous with Nine charging me, I backpedal. Nine is far too quick for me.
    When Eight reappears with the dummy, Nine is standing with the tip of his staff pressed against the side of my neck.
    “Good job,” he says to Eight. “Now you’ve got a wounded friend and a dead healer.”
    I’ve never trained like this before, so Nine coming right at me felt really intimidating. I have to get over that feeling. I know Six wouldn’t have just let Nine put that staff up to her throat. I need to prove to these boys that even though I