The Revenge of Seven by Pittacus Lore Read Free Book Online Page A

reporter stands in front of a line of police tape, the John Hancock Center looming in the background.
    ‘What the hell?’ I say under my breath. The roof shakes from a sudden peal of thunder outside. That was me, letting some of that rage slip.
    The newscast switches over from the reporter to taped footage of the top floors of the John Hancock Center in flames.
    ‘This can’t be happening,’ Marina says, her eyes wide, looking to me for confirmation that this is just some sick joke. I’ve been trying to be the stable one, but I can’t find anything reassuring to say.
    The bartender clicks his tongue, watching the TV, too. ‘Crazy, right? Freakin’ terrorists.’
    I lunge across the bar and grab him by the front of his apron before he can even think of reaching for his hidden shotgun. ‘When did this happen?’ I snap.
    ‘Damn, girl,’ the bartender says, sensing something in my eyes that makes him decide not to struggle. ‘I dunno. Like, two days ago? It’s been all over the news. Where the hell you been?’
    ‘Getting our asses handed to us,’ I mutter, and shove him away. I try to pull myself together, to beat back the panic. Nine’s been completely silent since the report came on. When I look over at him, his expression is completely blank. He stares at the television, watching footage of our penthouse headquarters and his former home burning, his mouth open just a little, his body completely still, almost rigid. He looks like he’s shutting down, as if his brain isn’t capable of processing this latest blow.
    ‘Nine …,’ I start, and my voice breaks his trance. Without a word to me or Marina, without so much as a look, he spins around and heads for the door.One of the pool players isn’t quick enough to get out of Nine’s way and gets shouldered to the floor.
    Trusting that Marina won’t freeze anyone to death in my absence, I chase after Nine. By the time I’m out on Trapper’s porch, Nine has already made it into the parking lot, stalking intently towards the gravel road.
    ‘Where are you going?’ I shout after him, hopping the porch railing and jogging to catch up.
    ‘Chicago,’ he answers bluntly.
    ‘You’re going to walk to Chicago?’ I ask him. ‘That’s your plan?’
    ‘Good point,’ he replies, not slowing down. ‘I’ll steal a car. You guys coming or what?’
    ‘Stop being an idiot,’ I snap, and when that doesn’t slow him down, I reach out with my telekinesis and grab him. I turn him around so he’s facing me, his heels digging divots in the gravel as he tries to fight.
    ‘Let me go, Six,’ Nine growls. ‘Let me go right now.’
    ‘Stop and think for a second,’ I insist, realizing as I start that I’m not just trying to convince Nine but also myself. My fingernails dig into my palms – not sure if that’s from the concentration required to hold Nine with my telekinesis or from me straining to keep it together. Back on the roof of the John Hancock Center, I’d told Sam that we were at war and that there would be casualties. I’d thought I was prepared for that, but losing Eight – and now maybe losing the others in Chicago – no, I can’thandle that. That can’t have been my last conversation with Sam. It can’t.
    ‘They wouldn’t be in Chicago anymore,’ I continue. ‘They’d run. That’s what we’d do. And we know John is still alive or we’d have another scar. He’s got the tablet; he’s got his Chest. They’ve got a better chance of finding us than we have of finding them.’
    ‘Uh, last time I saw John he was comatose. He’s not up for finding anyone.’
    ‘An exploding building tends to wake a person up,’ I counter. ‘He got out. We’d know if he didn’t.’
    After a moment, Nine nods reluctantly. ‘All right, all right, let me go.’
    I let him loose from my telekinetic hold. He looks away immediately, peering down the darkened road, his broad shoulders slumped.
    ‘I feel like we’re screwed, Six,’ Nine says, his voice