Free The Navigator by Pittacus Lore Page A

to the van that brought the Mogs, our enemies, to us. We climb inside. The engine seems to be running, so I pull on various levers and push buttons until the vehicle is moving. The controls aren’t so different from a tractor I’d driven once or twice out on the Kabarak. Crayton and I barely speak to one another as we try to come down from the shock of what’s happened. Cars honk as I pass them, sometimes screeching to a stop—I’m probably breaking dozens of traffic laws. But I keep going. Eventually we park the vehicle far, far away from our hotel. From a small market, I buy some water, alcohol and gauze that Crayton uses to clean up the wound on his calf in a side alley. When he’s finished, we climb into a taxi to return to Zophie.
    It’s only then, as we shoot through Giza, that Ella starts to cry, and Crayton turns to me, his face contorted with desperation.
    “We’re not safe on this planet” is all he says.

CHAPTER TWELVE
    THE BLOOD DRAINS FROM ZOPHIE’S FACE WHEN we tell her what happened, and she starts to shake. We decide to leave. Immediately. None of us feels safe in Giza anymore. Fortunately, Zophie’s already packed most of our things in anticipation of our trip to the United States. The Chimærae shrink, and we take them and our bags down to the lobby. Then we’re in a taxi to Cairo, which is a city that doesn’t feel far enough away, even though it’s large and full of millions of people and is the kind of place where it should be easy to disappear. But without passports, we can’t leave the country yet, so our options are limited. Besides, this is where our documents—our tickets out of here—will be made.
    The Mogs are on Earth. They’re seeking out the Loric here—they must be, if the Loralite necklace is the reason they found us at the jewelry store.
    Why? What do they want? They already took ourplanet from us. What more could we possibly have to give?
    In Cairo, we check into another hotel. It’s similar to the one in Giza, but it feels different. Everything feels different. The illusion of safety this world offered us has been destroyed. No one says it, but I know what we’re all thinking: What if the Mogs have gotten to Janus and the others already? And if not, are they aware that they’re being hunted?
    While Zophie and Crayton unpack in their rooms, I refocus my efforts to try to find hints of the Garde and Cêpans online, anything that could be connected to them. We must find them now not just to reunite Janus and Zophie and get answers, but also to warn them.
    Later that night I go to the restaurant on the first floor of the hotel to grab dinner and let my eyes take a break. I find Crayton at the bar, huddled over a glass of brown liquid.
    “Do you mind?” I ask, motioning to the seat beside him. He shakes his head.
    “Ella?” I ask. It’s unlike him to leave her alone.
    “Zophie has her right now,” he says. “She wanted to feed her dinner for once, and I couldn’t say no to an evening that didn’t end with me smelling like mashed peas.”
    I nod and order some food to take back to my room. We sit in silence until finally I speak again.
    “How’s your leg?”
    He shrugs.
    “I’ll live. I don’t think I’ll be running much for the next few weeks, but it’s the least of my worries right now.”
    I nod. We sit in silence again.
    “Tomorrow morning we need to have photos taken,” I say. “For the passports. All of us—even Ella.”
    He shakes his head, not in disagreement but in despair.
    “You still aren’t sure we should be going after this photo lead, are you?” I ask.
    “I think it sounds dangerous.” He stares down at the bar for a few seconds. “I know it’s what we always intended, but now that we’re on Ear . . .” He grimaces, and lowers his voice. “Now that we’re here, the idea of traveling all around the world looking for Janus and the others seems crazy. Especially because we know the Mogs are here. And looking for us. Or the Loric