Malone bore down. He could feel power draining out of him, but he held on, willing the boys to remain in the room, blanking out their own teleportative abilities with his stronger ones.
The eight boys stood, frozen, in the center of the lit room.
Malone let another second go by, and then he stepped out from behind the curtains.
"Hello, boys," he said casually.
Mike stared at him. "It's Malone," he said.
"That's right," Malone said. "Hello, Mike. I've been waiting for you."
Mike gulped. "You found us," he said. "Somebody talked."
Malone shook his head. "Nobody talked," he said. Concentration was getting easier; the longer the situation remained the same, the less power it took to keep it that way. He wished he had brought a cigar, and compromised by fishing out a cigarette and lighting it.
Mike said: "But—" and was silent.
"I knew where you were going to be," Malone said. "You see, I've got a few—powers of my own, Mike."