iMog never vibrates. Wherever those Mogs came from, they’re gone now.
I call Sandor and tell him what happened. I catch him as he was on his way to try and find me—just as I suspected, he was monitoring me the whole time and freaking out.
It’s past midnight when I make it back home. Sandor is waiting for me outside the building.
“What the hell?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I say. “They just appeared.”
“A high-speed chase through the middle of Chicago? What were you thinking?”
“It was the only way.”
Sandor groans, dismissing that with a wave of his hand.
“You’re acting like a child.”
“You said there weren’t any Mogs in the city,” I protest.
“So stupid,” he says. “I was so stupid to let you take that car. To even let you out of my sight. All because of some girl.”
“She’s fine, by the way,” I snap.
“Who cares?” Sandor hisses, getting right in my face. “She doesn’t matter. You matter. Do you understand what you’ve put at stake? The years of progress you’ve undone in one night, all for some stupid crush?”
I take a step away from him. “Don’t talk about her that way.” He’s being such a hypocrite. He was the one who wanted me to go after Maddy in the first place.
Sandor rubs his hands over his face, exasperated.
“Where did you leave the car?”
I give him the rough address of the alley.
“It needs to be destroyed,” he says, “our presence here minimized. I’ll handle that. You—you go upstairs and pack a bag.”
“What? Why?”
“We’re leaving in the morning.”
I was close. So close to having a life that was more than just Sandor, more than just training.
I pace around the penthouse, letting my gaze drift aimlessly across all the luxuries we’ve amassed over the last five years. Five years living here in peace and comfort—all ruined because I was bored. When I killed that Mog in the elevator, I thought things would change. I thought that I would assume my destiny and begin the war against the Mogadorians. I thought that would make me happy.
Instead, it’s only made things worse.
What felt best about killing that Mog wasn’t that some small justice was done. It was that I had chosen how and when to do it. It was my choice.
And yet now my options are fewer than ever. Sandor wants us back on the road, just when I was starting to figure things out. It doesn’t seem right that he should get to call all the shots.
Shouldn’t I get some say in our next move?
I can’t bring myself to pack a bag. I’m still clinging to some hope that Sandor will change his mind.
I try to call Maddy, but her phone goes right to voice mail. Not that I would know what to say if she did answer. What kind of lie could I tell her? I spend the better part of an hour trying to compose an apology for nearly getting her killed, for scaring her, and for not even realizing that I was doing it.
In the end, I settle on texting a simple “I’m sorry.”
There’s going to be no sleep for me tonight.
I pass through Sandor’s workshop and into the Lecture Hall. There are automated training modules programmed into the room’s interface. I select one at random and stride into the center of the room, holding my pipe-staff.
When the first ball bearing fires out of the Lectern’s turret I don’t deflect it with my telekinesis or bat it away with my pipe-staff. I let it hit me right in the chest. I suck in my breath as dull pain courses through my sternum.
Gritting my teeth, I clasp my hands behind my back and lean forward. The next ball bearing strikes me a few inches to the left of the first, bruising my ribs.
When the third ball bearing is fired, my instincts take over. I push it aside with my telekinesis and pivot to the side, anticipating the next shot. I spin my pipe-staff over my head as the program really gears up, heavy bags swinging at me from behind, a mechanical tentacle grasping at me from the floor.
My mind turns off. I fight.
I’m
I call Sandor and tell him what happened. I catch him as he was on his way to try and find me—just as I suspected, he was monitoring me the whole time and freaking out.
It’s past midnight when I make it back home. Sandor is waiting for me outside the building.
“What the hell?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I say. “They just appeared.”
“A high-speed chase through the middle of Chicago? What were you thinking?”
“It was the only way.”
Sandor groans, dismissing that with a wave of his hand.
“You’re acting like a child.”
“You said there weren’t any Mogs in the city,” I protest.
“So stupid,” he says. “I was so stupid to let you take that car. To even let you out of my sight. All because of some girl.”
“She’s fine, by the way,” I snap.
“Who cares?” Sandor hisses, getting right in my face. “She doesn’t matter. You matter. Do you understand what you’ve put at stake? The years of progress you’ve undone in one night, all for some stupid crush?”
I take a step away from him. “Don’t talk about her that way.” He’s being such a hypocrite. He was the one who wanted me to go after Maddy in the first place.
Sandor rubs his hands over his face, exasperated.
“Where did you leave the car?”
I give him the rough address of the alley.
“It needs to be destroyed,” he says, “our presence here minimized. I’ll handle that. You—you go upstairs and pack a bag.”
“What? Why?”
“We’re leaving in the morning.”
I was close. So close to having a life that was more than just Sandor, more than just training.
I pace around the penthouse, letting my gaze drift aimlessly across all the luxuries we’ve amassed over the last five years. Five years living here in peace and comfort—all ruined because I was bored. When I killed that Mog in the elevator, I thought things would change. I thought that I would assume my destiny and begin the war against the Mogadorians. I thought that would make me happy.
Instead, it’s only made things worse.
What felt best about killing that Mog wasn’t that some small justice was done. It was that I had chosen how and when to do it. It was my choice.
And yet now my options are fewer than ever. Sandor wants us back on the road, just when I was starting to figure things out. It doesn’t seem right that he should get to call all the shots.
Shouldn’t I get some say in our next move?
I can’t bring myself to pack a bag. I’m still clinging to some hope that Sandor will change his mind.
I try to call Maddy, but her phone goes right to voice mail. Not that I would know what to say if she did answer. What kind of lie could I tell her? I spend the better part of an hour trying to compose an apology for nearly getting her killed, for scaring her, and for not even realizing that I was doing it.
In the end, I settle on texting a simple “I’m sorry.”
There’s going to be no sleep for me tonight.
I pass through Sandor’s workshop and into the Lecture Hall. There are automated training modules programmed into the room’s interface. I select one at random and stride into the center of the room, holding my pipe-staff.
When the first ball bearing fires out of the Lectern’s turret I don’t deflect it with my telekinesis or bat it away with my pipe-staff. I let it hit me right in the chest. I suck in my breath as dull pain courses through my sternum.
Gritting my teeth, I clasp my hands behind my back and lean forward. The next ball bearing strikes me a few inches to the left of the first, bruising my ribs.
When the third ball bearing is fired, my instincts take over. I push it aside with my telekinesis and pivot to the side, anticipating the next shot. I spin my pipe-staff over my head as the program really gears up, heavy bags swinging at me from behind, a mechanical tentacle grasping at me from the floor.
My mind turns off. I fight.
I’m
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