“Morning. Didn’t you cook last night? Someone else should take a turn.”
“I really don’t mind,” Marina says. She cheerfully pulls a smoothie blender down from a shelf. “I still can’t believe this place. I’m kinda jealous Nine got to live here for so long. It’s so different from what I’m used to. Is it weird that I just want to try everything out?”
“That’s not weird at all.” I help her finish wiping down the counter. “As long as we’re staying here, we should at least start taking turns cooking and cleaning.”
“Yeah.” Marina nods, glancing at me sideways. “We should figure that out.”
“What’s with the look?”
“It’s nothing, dividing up chores is a good idea,” Marina says, then nervously looks away. She definitely has something else on her mind.
“Come on, Marina. What’s up?”
“I just—” She picks up a dishtowel, wringing it while she speaks. “For so long, I was living without direction, not really knowing what a Garde should be like. Then, Six came to find me in Spain and showed me. And then we met up with you and Nine, right before you led us into battle against the most evil Mogadorian in existence. It was like—wow, these three really know what they’re doing. They can handle themselves.”
“Uh, thanks.”
“But now it’s been days since we got back, and I’m starting to get that feeling again. Like we don’t know what we’re doing. So I guess, what I’m wondering, is if there’s a plan beyond chore duties?”
“Working on that,” I mumble.
I don’t want to tell Marina that our next move—or lack thereof—is what’s been keeping me up at night. We have no idea where Setrákus Ra might be holed up after the fight in New Mexico and, even if we did, I still don’t feel like we’re ready to take the fight to him. We could go looking for Number Five; the locater tablet we found in Malcolm Goode’s underground bunker showed us a dot off the coast of Florida that pretty much has to be him. And then there’s Sam. Sarah swore that she saw him in New Mexico, but we never came across him at Dulce. With Setrákus Ra apparently able to take on other people’s forms, I’m starting to believe that’s who she saw, and that Sam’s being held somewhere else. Assuming he’s still alive.
So many decisions to make, not to mention the training we should be doing. Yet I’ve been dragging my feet these last few days, too stuck on our near defeat in New Mexico to focus on making a plan. Maybe it’s the comfort of Nine’s penthouse after a near-death experience, not to mention years on the run for all of us, but it seems like the entire group needs a breather. If any of them have been beating themselves up over not having a proper plan, they haven’t shown it.
Oh, and there’s something else distracting me too. I guess it’s sort of like Marina wanting to try out all the appliances in Nine’s fancy kitchen; I want to spend some time just being with Sarah. I wonder what Henri would think of that. He’d be disappointed in my lack of focus, I know that, but I can’t help myself.
As if on cue, Sarah wraps her arms around my waist from behind, nuzzling her face into the back of my neck. I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I didn’t even hear her pad into the kitchen.
“Good morning, handsome,” Sarah says. I turn around and give her a slow, sweet kiss.
Stressed out as I’ve been, I’m sort of getting used to mornings like this. Mornings where I get to wake up and kiss Sarah, then have a normal day with her, and go to bed knowing she’ll be there when I wake up.
Sarah puts her face close to mine, whispering. “You were up early again.”
I grimace; I thought I’d been quiet sneaking out of bed in the morning to go think things through on the roof.
“Is everything all right?” Sarah asks.
“Yeah, of course,” I say, trying to distract her with another kiss. “You’re here. How could it not be?”
Marina clears her throat, probably worried we’re going to start making out right in the kitchen. Sarah winks at me and turns away, plucking Marina’s floating whisk out of the air and taking over on the eggs.
“Oh,” Sarah says, looking back at me. “Nine’s looking for you.”
“Great,” I reply. “What’s he want?”
Sarah shrugs. “I didn’t ask. Maybe he wants to share some fashion tips.” She touches a finger to her lips thoughtfully, studying me. “Actually, that probably wouldn’t be so bad.”
“What do you mean?”
Sarah winks at me. “He lost his shirt. Again.”
I groan, heading out of the kitchen to go find Nine. I realize the penthouse is his home and he has a right to make himself comfortable, but he’s been strutting around shirtless almost every opportunity he gets. I’m not sure if he expects the girls to suddenly start fawning over him, or if he’s just doing the whole gun-show thing to annoy me. Probably both.
I find Six sitting in the penthouse’s spacious living room. Her legs are tucked underneath her on a plush white couch, a cup of coffee cradled in her hands. We haven’t talked much since coming back from New Mexico. I’m still not totally comfortable being around her and Sarah at the same time. I think Six might feel the same, because I definitely get the sense that she’s avoiding me. Six looks up when I enter, her eyes half opened and drowsy. She looks as tired as I feel.
“Hey,” I say. “How was she last night?”
Six shakes her head. “She was up all night. She’s just now getting some good rest.”
Add Ella’s nightmares to the list of problems we need to deal with. They’ve been a nightly thing ever since we left New Mexico, so bad that Six and Marina have been alternating sleeping in her room, trying to make sure she doesn’t get too freaked out.
I lower my voice. “Does she tell you what she sees?”
“Bits and pieces,” Six says. “She hasn’t been real talkative, you know?”
“Before New Mexico, Nine and I had visions that seemed a lot like nightmares,” I say, trying to think this through.
“Eight mentioned something similar.”
“At first we thought they were Setrákus Ra taunting us somehow, but they also seemed like some kind of warning. At least, that’s how I thought of them. Maybe we should try figuring out what Ella’s mean.”
“Sure, I guess they could be some coded message,” Six says dryly, “but have you considered there’s a simpler explanation?”
“Like what?”
Six rolls her eyes. “Like she’s a kid, John. Her Cêpan just died, she was almost killed herself just a couple days ago, and who knows what’s in store for her next? Hell, I’m surprised we don’t all have nightmares every freaking night.”
“There’s a comforting thought.”
“These aren’t real comforting times.”
Before I can reply, Eight appears on the couch next to Six. She jumps, nearly spilling her coffee and immediately fixes Eight with a steely glare. Eight puts his hands up defensively.
“Whoa, sorry,” he says. “Don’t kill me.”