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Pittacus Lore is Lorien's ruling Elder. He has been on Earth preparing for the war that will decide Earth's fate. His whereabouts are unknown. Pittacus Lore. Contents. Chapter One. IN THE BEGINNING THERE WERE NINE OF US. We left Chapter Two. I STAND IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DRIVE AND. Nine Loric children were sent to Earth to live in hiding until they grew up and developed their Legacies, powers that would help them fight back — and help them.

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Chapter Twenty-Nine. Chapter Thirty. Chapter Thirty-One. Chapter Thirty-Two. Chapter Thirty-Three. About the Author. Also by Pittacus Lore. Credits. Copyright. Chapter Twenty-Three. Chapter Twenty-Four. Chapter Twenty-Five. Back Ads. About the Author. Books by Pittacus Lore. Credits. Copyright. About the Publisher . Review | I Am Number Four (Lorien Legacies, #1) by Pittacus Lore. "You can go The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry (epub, pdf).

Nine aliens who left their home planet of Lorien when it fell under attack by the evil Mogadorian. Nine aliens who scattered on Earth. Nine aliens who look like ordinary teenagers living ordinary lives, but who have extraordinary, paranormal skills. Nine aliens who might be sitting next to you now. The Nine had to separate and go into hiding. Followed the stories about what happened in Ohio. John Smith, out there, on the run. To the world, he's a mystery. But to me. Nine of us came here, but sometimes I wonder if time has changed us—if we all still believe in our mission. How can I know? There are six of us left. We're hiding, blending in, avoiding contact with one another.

I pieced some stuff together. Those nine children, all of them so frightened. It was like a curtain being pulled back revealing a universe of possibility. We had families. The Mogadorians found us. He sighs. Imprisoned by the Mogs for all these years; I feel bad asking him to go back to what must be horrible memories.

I let him take his time, leaning down to unlace my shoes. My toes are swollen from where I kicked that Mog in the face.

Anything that might help them hunt the Garde. He pulls out one of those cheap-looking plastic cell phones they sell over the counter at gas stations and looks forlornly down at the screen.

Maybe he lost his phone. He holds the phone up to his ear, listening. After a few seconds of silence, he hangs up. The hot water feels amazing, washing away weeks of Mogadorian captivity. After wiping fog off the cracked bathroom mirror, I take a long look at my reflection. So, this is what a human freedom fighter looks like.

Generation One Lorien Legacies Reborn, by Pittacus Lore

My stomach growls and I pause to wonder what kind of room service a sleazy motel like this might have. I bet the old man behind the front desk would be happy to send over a grilled-cheese-and-cigarette-butt sandwich.

Back in the room, my dad has set up some of his equipment. Still, badly as I want to hook up with the Garde, I was hoping our next move could be a stack of pancakes at the nearest diner. He glances listlessly over at the laptop. I reach down to ease the phone out of his hand, but he pulls it away.

When it dawns on me, I thump down on the bed, feeling as speechless as my father. I think I yelled that I loved her over my shoulder. I swallow hard.

Maybe we should wait until tomorrow? Who knows what might happen to us tomorrow? He holds the phone to his ear nervously, waiting. I have memories of my mom and dad together—old memories from before he disappeared.

They were happy together. He looks almost relieved. Then, he covers the phone with his hand. His mouth works soundlessly as he tries to figure out what to say. He—I promise to keep him safe. I love you. I take it. Or he found me. His eyes are still shining as he reaches out and pats me on the knee. We made it back to Chicago a few days ago, the first half of the journey in a stolen government van, the second onboard a freight train. I walk across the rooftop, peering over its edge as Chicago starts coming to life.

The streets, the arteries of the city, are soon pumped full of bumper-to-bumper traffic and commuters hustling across the sidewalks. I shake my head as I look down at them. He stretches, yawns and then nuzzles my hand. I should feel happy to be alive. I saved her. I look down at my hands. Back in New Mexico, they were covered with blood. By the time I come down from the roof, most of the others have woken up.

Marina waves when she sees me. Someone else should take a turn. She cheerfully pulls a smoothie blender down from a shelf. Is it weird that I just want to try everything out? She definitely has something else on her mind. 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. They can handle themselves.

Pittacus Lore

Sarah swore that she saw him in New Mexico, but we never came across him at Dulce. So many decisions to make, not to mention the training we should be doing. I wonder what Henri would think of that. As if on cue, Sarah wraps her arms around my waist from behind, nuzzling her face into the back of my neck.

I turn around and give her a slow, sweet kiss. Sarah puts her face close to mine, whispering. How could it not be? Maybe he wants to share some fashion tips. Probably both. Her legs are tucked underneath her on a plush white couch, a cup of coffee cradled in her hands.

Six looks up when I enter, her eyes half opened and drowsy. She looks as tired as I feel. I lower my voice. 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. Eight is dressed in workout clothes, his curly hair shoved underneath a fuzzy sweatband. He nods to me, then aims his most disarming smile at Six. Before giving chase, Six looks back at me. I glance up at the ceiling. This should come in handy when we make our assault on the place.

Before we left for New Mexico, he was in Jamaica. His moving around is standard Loric on-the-run protocol. Finding him, even with the tablet to point us in the right direction, might not be easy. The more of us the better, right?

We should finish it off now. After the beating we took at Dulce? How close we all came. Six went off on her own too, Eight got wrecked, and everyone else was getting shot up. But you kept it together, man. You kept us together. Everyone knows it. The point is, I need you to tell me what to punch. From the look of it, he probably got right to work on these drawings as soon as we returned from New Mexico. Someone that could tell us what to do next.

This is his version of a pep talk and, embarrassing as it is, I sort of need to hear it. Somehow she looks smaller than usual, and I wonder if stress is causing her to revert back to a younger age. It comes all the way down to her knees. I guess this is a good opportunity to get to know her better, although I wish it was under better circumstances.

I try to sound confident. She stands up, kicking some loose gravel across the roof. Tentatively, I put my hand on her shoulder. I dunno what it is exactly, a broken piece of a sword maybe. When I touch it, it starts glowing in my hand.

My big plan was to just chuck stuff at him until he stopped hitting Nine. I thought it was something you got from your Chest. I pick up a handful of the loose stones from the roof and hold them out to her. I let the stones drop back to the roof. We can worry about that later. Finish telling me about the dreams. But, after a moment, she starts again. Just like at the base. Smiles at me with those horrible teeth. Like, caresses it with the back of his hand. His touch is ice cold. And then he talks to me.

I only know how painful they can be. And when he tries to hold your hand, you punch him right in his ugly face. She charged up that projectile and, somehow, it hurt him, or at least distracted him enough that we Now I just need to convince her to try doing it again, and hopefully figure out exactly what this new Legacy can do.

If it worked once, maybe it will work again. I remember when Henri used the warming stone on me to help me first gain control of my Lumen. I wonder if something like that would help Ella.

I flinch automatically, hunching down, my hands growing hot as my Lumen switches on. Even considering all that, my heart is still pounding and I feel ready for a fight. Instead, I find Sarah squeezing off the last round from a small handgun. The bullet tears through the shoulder of a paper Mogadorian hanging at the far end of the room. Six uses her telekinesis to pull the paper Mog closer.

One, however, tore through right between his eyes. Sarah pokes her finger through that hole. Sarah unloads her spent cartridge and jams home a fresh one. I know I should come clean about that to Sarah. I clear my throat, trying to sound casual. Sarah smiles big and waves with the hand not holding the gun.

Not that Sarah needs my permission to do anything. The whole situation has me feeling She clicks the safety on and holsters it. Sarah and I stand in silence for a moment, the lights of the Lecture Hall buzzing overhead. I just never took you for the armed and dangerous type.

And then, I mean, John, you pretty much brought me back to life. The Mogadorians or the government could be monitoring your house for phone calls. They could be tracking us. I want to stay here with you guys and fight. I want to practice shooting so I can be more than that. I need you here with me. That whole saying about behind every great man there is a great woman?

I can be that for you. I just want to be a great woman with excellent aim. She wraps her arms around my waist and we hug. Coming up with a battle plan to take down the Mogadorians? No problem.

(The Lorien legacies: The Lost Files) Sarah's Journal.pdf

Eight teleports into the room with a puff of displaced air. With that cryptic message, Eight teleports away. Nine is already there, his arms crossed as he watches the bank of television screens on the wall. Nine pauses the broadcast when we enter, freezing a still image of the gray-haired anchor. Except this popped up tonight. The prevailing theory is high-school prank, but others have suggested. It might look like a juvenile prank to the newscaster, but we recognize it immediately.

Burned into those crops with jagged precision is the Loric symbol for Five. Just a guess. Because if we noticed it, then the Mogadorians definitely did too.

Nine has paused the newscast on the overhead shot of the Loric symbol while we figure out what to do next. I have the macrocosm from my Chest open, the holographic Loric solar system floating peacefully in the space over the table.

The newscast blips out of existence, replaced by a map of Earth. Nine looks over at me. We watch as the blue dot crosses right through Nashville, never slowing down or changing directions. We need to get to Five before the Mogs do. I linger in the workshop after the others have gone. Any idea what that could mean? Too quickly. I pause, thinking back to when Henri was killed. Losing him was like having the world ripped out from under me.

I was older than Ella when it happened, too. I sit down next to Marina, sighing. He gave it to me when he was dying. We were on the road for days before I could bring myself to read it. She needs to grieve.

But until then, we need to gather all the information we can and find anything that might work to our advantage. This is probably what she was expecting to hear from me this morning when she gently asked if I had a plan for us. You guys are close. Maybe you could nudge her along? Eight appears in the doorway of the workshop, holding two cups of tea. I notice a blush creeping up her cheeks.

I, uh, only made the two cups. The others are already gathered in the workshop. Six sits in front of the computers, Marina next to her. Ella is sitting Indian style on his back, wrapped up in a blanket. I arch an eyebrow at her. He hunches his shoulders, jostling Ella. She almost falls off his back, but laughs—a rare laugh—and hangs on. She slaps his back in annoyance. Then started up again. It now hovers around the eastern border of Arkansas. Marina narrows her eyes at Nine.

He or she is probably alone and scared. I stay focused on Six and the computer screen. She opens up a window and drags it over to where we can all see it on the big screen.

Anonymous writes: Five seeking 5. Are you out there? Need to meet. Will be with the monsters in Arkansas. Find me.


He sets her down and cracks his knuckles. Hopefully, that gives us a head start on the Mogs. We need to be fast and we need to be sneaky.

Six and I will go to Arkansas. With her invisibility, we should be able to sneak Five out without tipping off the Mogadorians. Ella gives me a small smile from her spot next to Marina. Sarah says nothing, looking away. I shake my head in disbelief. That stone. She can use it to copy her powers.

Whatever dangers you have to face, I want to be by your side. I suppose part of being a good leader is knowing when to accept defeat. I guess I should grab the Xitharis stone out of my Chest too. Nine rides the elevator down with us to the parking garage. Sarah rolls her eyes. I glare at Nine. You know we need you here, in case something happens.

Not worth it. BK immediately bounds into the passenger seat, excited to get going. Sarah shrugs. Show me how it works. She wanted to come along. She can think for herself.

Dead weight? Those were the exact words she used. I thought you might finally grow a pair and tell her that we kissed. Sarah leans out the window, peering back at Six and me. I think of all the times I sat on my mattress, picking splinters out of my feet after crossing the uneven wood floors of Santa Teresa. I never would have journeyed to the mountains with Six and met Eight.

All the hardship, in the end, was worth it. I stifle a yawn with the back of my hand. None of us got much sleep last night, not with the excitement of finding Number Five. Apparently, to her, spending time with Nine is better than getting some rest. I find Ella curled up in a chair in the penthouse living room. He must have gotten it from his Chest when he still thought there was a chance John would bring him along on the mission. It almost seemed like he felt sorry for me—like he didn't want me to be alone.

We just looked at each other for a while.

Lorien Legacies by Pittacus Lore | Epic Reads

It made me feel good to have company, and then I pretended he was a real person who could understand me and told him first one joke and then another. It was obvious from the way his nose twitched that I was really cracking him up. For a few minutes, I felt like my old self. And then I was a black rabbit too. I didn't even notice it happen at first—I just knew that the world seemed different.

Everything was bigger but also easier to understand. Smells and sounds took on their own form and shape; paths appeared where they hadn't been before. My memories gave way to instincts. The rabbit and I began chasing each other through the bushes, jumping over rocks, darting behind trees. Just having some good, old-fashioned rabbit-style fun. Then I heard a noise behind me. It was nothing—just a rock falling—but before I knew it, I'd been frightened back into my own body.

The other rabbit was gone. I never saw him again, but he'd reminded me that I had a job to do, that I had to stop feeling sorry for myself and start having some fun again. He'd also showed me my newest Legacy—the power to change shape. I wonder if I would have been able to save Reynolds if I'd had this shape-changing Legacy when Lola betrayed us. Late at night, when I can't sleep and Reynolds's final moments are flashing through my mind, I imagine how I might have done it.

I picture myself turning into a lion and ripping the Mogadorians to shreds. Or becoming a dragon and breathing flames and destruction down on them. But these are still only fantasies. Because even now, even though I've had this Legacy for a while and have been practicing as often as I can, I can't become a dragon or a lion. And I don't know what good the ability to become a bunny is going to do against an alien army.

I've tried—have spent hours in my cave making myself angry, trying to summon a lion's fierceness and strength and pride. It never works. I can only become a small black rabbit. This morning I wake up and crawl out from under the outcropping of rocks where I have made my home and look up at the sky.

Just like always. I know that I can't stay here forever, but I also know that I'm not ready to leave yet. I stretch and yawn and try to be grateful that I'm still alive. It's not until I take on my rabbit form to go forage for food that I realize something's different. I can smell it: There's someone nearby.

I am not alone on this mountain anymore. I should be frightened, but I'm not.

Not yet, anyway. I'm mostly curious. Without thinking about the danger, I bound through dirt and grass and rocks toward this smell that I don't understand but that I know is out there. When a hawk swoops down at me from the sky, my heart begins to pound and I move faster, leaping into a thick green bush where I will be safe from his predatory eye.

The hawk screeches in frustration at losing sight of his tasty meal and soars back into the sky. He'll have to find his lunch somewhere else. I hear you can get a mean samosa not too far away. I wait a few moments, cautiously sniffing the air, before I creep out again and continue on my path. I finally find what I've been seeking near the lake. A man sitting against the rocks with his eyes closed. He's wearing a peaceful smile.

Although he is old and gray and wrinkled, he has a strength about him too, a quiet confidence that has something to do with the way he's smiling. I suspect that he's more than he seems, though I don't know why I think that. Or what that could even mean. Reynolds's death taught me never to trust anyone. If Reynolds hadn't trusted Lola—hadn't fallen in love with her—he never would have told her our secrets.

Then she never would have been able to betray us to the Mogadorians. And Reynolds would still be alive. Trust is dangerous.

But as much as I resist it, I can't help trusting this man. I watch him from a distance for a while. In my rabbit form, I can instinctively understand what another creature is going to do next from just the tiniest gestures and signals. There's something about this man's steady breathing, the way his eyes are moving lazily behind his eyelids and the way his ears are pricked, that tells me he knows I'm here watching him. But I also know that he's not going to approach me.

He's just going to sit there. I could stay or go. It's up to me. Finally he laughs and opens his eyes. Then, before I even realize what I'm doing, I have hopped into the bushes, shed my rabbit skin, and teleported behind a line of trees in the opposite direction.

When I step out from behind a tree, I am standing before this strange man in my human form. Number Eight. His eyes land on me. I decide to use the name I'd taken on when Reynolds and I moved here to India. You have much power, but you have much more to learn.

I stare at him, confused. For some reason, I feel like I've known this man all my life.

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