I Am Number Four: The Lost Files: Last Defense(24)

She takes a deep breath and swallows hard, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands, smearing them with mascara and eyeliner. She notices this and suddenly looks embarrassed.

Jackson hugs her again, and questions start to spill out of her mouth. Why her? What other things can the Garde do? Is this contagious? I do my best to reassure her, but I don’t have many answers myself. Finally, exhausted, she turns to her father.

“Can you just leave me alone for a little bit?” she asks.

“Melanie . . . ,” Jackson starts.

“Like ten minutes, Dad,” she says. “I just found out I have superpowers, and I kind of want to freak out for a little bit. Alone.”

Jackson nods and stands, ushering me to the door. As soon as it clicks behind him, he pulls me out of earshot of the Secret Service agents and speaks in hushed tones.

“What’s wrong with her?” His breath is shaky, like he’s trying not to completely lose it. Which, given what he just saw, is pretty warranted. “How did this happen?”

“I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but I can assure you nothing is wrong with her.” This comes out a little harsher than I expected, probably because I’m thinking about Sam again. I take a deep breath. “I think this is happening to lots of people. I don’t know how many, or how they’re chosen, but from what I can deduce the same powers the Garde have are being given to humans—kids—around the world. Telekinesis. Maybe other things, I . . . I don’t know.”

“Did the Garde do this?”

“I don’t think so. When I . . .” I remember that I’m not supposed to be in contact with the outside world. “This is happening to my son, Sam, like I said. When I talked to him about it, it sounded like the Garde were as surprised as he was when he got this ability. And the Mogs certainly wouldn’t want to empower the people they’re trying to conquer. I don’t know what force is at work here.”

Jackson keeps shaking his head, moving his jaw back and forth as I speak. He processes things for a moment, wiping a sheen of sweat off his brow.

“We received a video this morning,” he eventually says. “Ra knows about this. He said it’s the Garde’s ‘mutations’ that are giving people powers. He insists we turn anyone showing unnatural abilities over to him for ‘treatment.’” His eyes meet mine. “He wants my daughter.”

“And my son,” I say, my pulse doubling. It’s always been dangerous for him to face the Mogs, but now that he’s got powers they’ll be targeting him specifically. “We can’t let the Mogs have them.”

“Of course not,” he says quickly. Then he composes himself. “I don’t know if he has a way of tracking people with new powers, but if he can . . . He’s given us forty-eight hours to hand over the Garde and anyone who’s been mutated. After that, he’s declaring war.”

“No . . . ,” I say. A useless protest. “You can’t just hand innocent people over to him. And the Garde are our only chance, like I said earlier. They’re on our side. You have to trust me. You have to believe in them. Hell, I’ve dedicated years trying to help them. I’ve trusted them with my son’s life. Think of what that means, from one father to another. You can’t turn them over.”

Jackson bangs a fist against the wall beside us, clenching his jaw.

“Dammit,” he spits, all the frustration and fear boiling over. Then his voice gets quieter. “Why her? She’s a teenager. A child.”

“People her age are the reason this planet hasn’t completely fallen already. I’ve watched sixteen-year-olds obliterate entire squadrons of Mogadorians. These kids can walk on walls, conjure storms—some of them can heal wounds that should be death sentences. Even the unpowered among them are fighting with every ounce of strength, doing what they can.

“And we have no idea how many of these kids who just got superpowers are in the US, right? Jesus, we’re talking about American citizens. We can’t hand them over to invaders.”

I think back to what his daughter said, trying to make sense of everything that’s happening. The shared dream. Ra’s threats. The Loralite stones.

“If there are teleportation areas popping up around the world, you may also be dealing with an influx of these newly powered individuals traveling to the US. It sounds like John Smith is rallying them behind him. And he’s in New York.”

“A whole army of superhuman teenagers,” Lawson says from behind me. “Interesting.”

Jackson shoots him a pointed look. I don’t know how long he’s been standing just around the corner, but he’s obviously heard plenty.

“These kids you’re talking about could make for good soldiers if we provide them with strong leadership,” he says. “Not Melanie, of course. She’ll stay hidden away for security reasons. But if there’s an army of brand-new superheroes out there, we’ll want them fighting on our side. The faster you can get a leash on them, the better things will be in the long run.”

“They aren’t dogs, General,” I say, turning to him. If he tries to put a leash on my son, I’ll remind him that I don’t have to have superpowers to fight.

“Of course not. Sounds like they’re weapons. Isn’t that what you’re getting at?”