Free Nine's Legacy by Pittacus Lore Page A

from the one grabbing my ankles and kick him in the chest with as much strength as my still-groggy body can muster. The Mog goes crashing backward into Maddy’s desk, knocking through her things. Her purse goes tumbling to the floor, spilling its contents next to a newly broken swimming trophy. When the Mog tries to regain his feet, he ends up shoving Maddy’s laptop to the floor as well.
    I’ve made a mess of her room. I’ve made a mess of her life.
    The other one’s gotten hold of my wrists and is pinning me to the bed. He grunts as I thrash against his grip, his face close enough that I can smell his sour breath. His face is close enough, in fact, that I can head-butt him.
    The blow caves in the Mog’s nose. His grip on my wrists loosens and I’m able to wriggle free. I bring my legs up, doing a backward somersault. My feet hit the wall and just like that my perspective shifts, the anti-gravity Legacy kicking in. I’m eye level with one of them even though our bodies are perpendicular, and I punch him in the face.
    Both Mogs are taken aback that I’m suddenly running across the ceiling. Good. That should buy me a second or two. I need to find Maddy and get us out of here. I wonder if she keeps an emergency bag hidden somewhere, but then I realize that keeping a bag of road supplies handy isn’t at all a human thing to do. I think about grabbing her purse, but when I see the contents spilled out of it onto the floor, dozens of plastic IDs with her photo smiling up at me—why does she have so many IDs, anyway? I wonder—I know there’s no time. Sandor will just have to make her a new identity on the fly.
    I kick open her bedroom door from the ceiling, leaping over the uppermost part of the doorframe as I go. There’s another Mog waiting outside, but he didn’t expect me to come from above. The ones behind me shout a warning at their friend. Too late.
    With a roar, I grab the surprised Mog under the chin with both my hands. Then I jump from the ceiling, simultaneously pulling back on his head. The physics are impossible. I can hear bones popping inside the scout as I spike his head into the ground, his forehead touching the floor a few inches from his heels.
    The Mog disintegrates into a cloud of ash. The pictures of Maddy’s family that line the hallway are covered in dust. I feel guilty once again. Maddy’s home felt so perfect when I arrived last night, and now, by bringing the fight here, I’ve roped her and her perfect family into an intergalactic war. Great.
    I run back up the wall, onto the ceiling, and sprint toward Maddy’s living room, screaming her name. The two Mogs from the bedroom chase after me, one clutching his broken face.
    There are three more of them in the living room. Two of them flank the couch where Maddy sits with her head in her hands. I can’t tell if she’s hurt or crying or both.
    “Maddy!” I shout. “We have to run!” She flinches at the sound of my voice, but otherwise remains still.
    The third Mogadorian stands in front of the apartment’s door. He smiles when he sees me. It’s a sickening expression; his teeth are gray and rotting, pointing in all the wrong directions. This one is larger than the others. He must be the leader. A wicked-looking sword dangles from his hip, but he makes no move to reach for it. He seems content to just block our only exit.
    He doesn’t realize that there’s always another exit when you can walk on walls.
    I stoop down and, with a shout, tear the ceiling fan at my feet from its moorings. I wish I had my pipe-staff, but this will have to do.
    With the exception of their leader, the Mogadorians have all converged on me. I jump off the ceiling with the fan in hand, bringing it down on top of the closest Mog’s head. The wooden fan blade snaps in half as it splits his skull. His body immediately decomposes into ash, mixing with fan fragments on Maddy’s carpet.
    Two down, four to go.
    I spin in a circle, swinging the remains of the fan