‘Lucky,’ I say, regretting I said anything.
‘Really? Sounds like somebody wants a rematch.’
Enough, Bernie Kosar says. No more fighting. Save your strength.
I ignore him. ‘Fine. A rematch it is, then.’
‘If you want to take me on again, then there’s going to be a change of venue. And to make it even more interesting, Pittacus, I say we each get to use one item from our Chests.’
‘Fine.’
I open my Chest, reaching immediately for the four-inch dagger. The handle vibrates the moment I touch it and quickly wraps itself around my fist. I see Mog ash still stuck in its grooves; the smell of it makes me hungry for another fight.
Nine grabs the short silver staff with his right hand. Okay, that makes me nervous; I saw how he decimated all those pikens in West Virginia with that thing. He waves his finger at me when he sees my dagger. ‘Ah, ah, ah. I said only one item.’
‘I have my dagger. That’s it. And that’s all I’ll need.’
‘And what about your cute little bracelet?’
‘Uh, I forgot about it. It’s probably the better choice for me. Thank you.’ I toss the dagger back into my Chest.
‘Follow me,’ Nine says. Ignoring Bernie Kosar and his pleas to stop, I follow Nine through the apartment and into the elevator, both of us silent. I assume the fight will be in the building’s dark basement among columns and cement walls, our powers hidden from the world. Instead, we ascend. The elevator doors open and Nine punches a keypad by the door in front of us, and it clicks open. We’re on the roof of the John Hancock Center.
‘No way, no freaking way. Too many people can see us up here!’ I say, shaking my head, turning back towards the door inside.
Nine walks out onto the roof. ‘Nobody can see us up here. That’s what’s so great about being at the top of one of the tallest buildings in the city.’
I don’t want to look like I’m chickening out, so I follow, showing a lot more confidence than I feel. But I’m not prepared for the fierce wind that hits me hard, almost pushing me back into the doorway. Nine keeps walking, his black hair whipping around his head, seemingly impervious to the force of the wind. His white T-shirt balloons around his torso until he strips it off and lets it fly over the ledge. When he gets to the center of the roof, he snaps his wrist, expanding the silver staff at both ends until it’s over six feet long and glowing red. He turns to me and curls his palm, beckoning me closer. Like a tightrope walker, I take a deep breath and put one foot in front of the other to walk towards him. We’re in the giant shadow of the looming white spire at the far end of the roof and, just as I near him, Nine turns and runs towards it.
I have no idea what he is about to do, so I stop walking to watch his next move. Without breaking stride, he sprints straight up the spire until he reaches the top. The spire is swaying in the wind and I’m dizzy just looking at him, teetering up there. Nine pulls the red staff over his head and, before I can register what he is doing, he hurls it. The second it leaves his hand, Nine dives headfirst towards me, and I’m faced with dodging two flying objects at once. I just manage to roll away from the sharp staff as it nears me, and I watch as it plunges into a metal beam at an angle. I turn to deal with Nine’s approach and as he’s about to tackle, I land a blow so hard I send him flying across the roof.
I reach over and yank Nine’s red staff out of the metal beam. Henri never trained me with anything like it, but I twist it over my head and charge anyway. Nine stands and steels himself for my attack. I swing the staff across his body, but he parries it away with his wrist and immediately moves to kick my newly repaired knee. I pull my leg back so he misses, but he’s able to get his hands on the staff. We both struggle to gain control of it, circling and kicking, dodging and blocking. He uses his telekinesis to float my feet off the ground. I start to resist but then realize I can use it to my advantage with the strong wind up here. Carefully timing my moves with a hearty gust, I flip over the staff; in a fraction of a second, I’m behind Nine with the staff against his throat.
‘We should be on our way to New Mexico,’ I say, pulling us towards the door that leads back to the elevator.
Nine head-butts me with the back of his skull, right into my nose, and I lose my grip on the staff. He grabs it as I stumble backwards and slam into an electrical box.
‘Is that you talking, Johnny? Or, is it Pittacus?’ he says mockingly as he swings the staff. My bracelet expands just in time to deflect his blow. The electrical box I’m next to has been sliced in half by his near miss. Sparks fly everywhere, including inside my open shield and onto me. When they bounce onto my shirt, I let the fire catch and spread. My shield shrinks, and Nine stares, stunned at the sight of me consumed by flames.
He shakes the surprise off. ‘Why didn’t you turn into a human fireball when we were on the same team?’ he shouts.
The fire around my body crackles and hums in the strong wind. I walk towards him. He may think this is all fun and games. I don’t. ‘Are we done now?’
‘Not quite.’ He smirks.
I form a small ball of fire in my palm. I figure I’ll make my lack of humor about the situation clear enough if I bowl the ball of fire at his legs, but he knocks it away with the end of the staff like a hockey player. I skip two more fireballs down the roof, each one faster than the last, but he uses his mind to push them to the side. The first one rolls off and ineffectually burns out; the other makes its way to the edge of a fan casing. The heat melts it away, and the high winds tip the whole cover off the enormous fan, leaving it exposed.
I raise my hands over my head to create a fireball the size of a refrigerator, but as it grows, Nine charges at me with the staff over his shoulder. He plants one end of the staff in the ground and vaults himself, feetfirst, at my flaming chest. He screams in pain as the soles of his shoes connect with my burning body, and I’m sent flying backwards. The world that had been reds and yellows is now grays and blues. On my final rotation, I realize I’m flying directly into the exposed fan. At the last possible moment, I spread my arms and legs out and catch myself, mere inches from its blades. The fan is powerful enough to nearly extinguish what’s left of my dwindling fire before I dive off and roll away.
‘Trying to cool off?’ Nine asks, hands on hips, as if simply observing my technique. He’s kicked off his half-melted shoes.
‘I’m just getting warmed up!’ I leap to my feet to ready myself to respond to his next move.
Nine sprints to his left and I follow. He jumps over some pipes onto the raised ledge. Again I follow. We are now both inches from a thousand-foot drop onto the street below. To my utter shock, Nine then steps off the ledge. I yell and lean over to grab him, but when I do, I don’t see him sailing to his death. He’s standing, horizontal, on a window with his arms crossed, that same, big, smile on his face. I’ve leaned too far, trying to grab him, and I frantically wheel my arms to regain my balance. But I can’t catch myself and suddenly I’m tipping further over the abyss. Nine sprints back up the side of the building and hits me with a powerful uppercut to my jaw. I’m knocked backwards but I don’t have the chance to land. Nine catches me by the neck, spins and holds me over the ledge.
‘Now, Number Four. All you have to do to get me to set you down, all safe and sound, is say it.’ He holds the staff with his other hand over his head. ‘Say you’re not Pittacus.’
I kick at him, but he holds me out, just out of range. I end up swinging back and forth like a pendulum.