Lesser Gods (22 page)

“Did you kill him?” I asked.

“Not personally, but he’s dead now,” replied Terry. “Lestor knew that we were on to him, so he tried to give us the slip a couple of times. I was for just catching and delving him, but Mr. Simms was afraid that Lestor might kill himself before we could get him to talk. Slayers do that sometimes. In the end, all we could do was follow him.”

That was why Father Lestor had been delayed.

Terry continued, “We were pretty certain you were in there, since we intercepted some calls made to Lestor by his men. We were afraid Lestor would terminate you before sundown, so we attacked as soon as we saw him enter the building. It was a bit messy, but we didn’t want to take any chances with you.”

“I’m glad,” I said. “I don’t know if Lestor would have ordered me killed, but I might have died anyway if you had waited any longer.”

Terry laughed. “It certainly looked that way. It’s good that Cindy let Alia come with us. The other two healers we brought were too busy upstairs to bother with you.”

“There were casualties?” I asked anxiously.

“Well, no one died, if that’s what you’re asking. But three Lancers were shot up and another was burned with some kind of acid from a trap. That’s what happens when you breach without gathering intelligence on a target.”

I bowed my head and sighed, but Terry said, “Don’t feel bad about it, Adrian. This is what the Knights do.”

“I guess so,” I said uncertainly, and then turned toward Alia. “I’m glad you came too, Ali.”

“Thanks, Addy,” she said aloud. “I have your pendant here, but I’ll keep it till you’re cleaned up, okay?”

I nodded.

“Alia was a real trooper, Adrian,” said Terry. “She was with us for the other two raids as well, and thanks in part to her, we haven’t lost a single Knight yet.”

I chuckled weakly. “Maybe I’ll have Alia do my fighting from now on.”

“You may have to,” Terry replied semi-seriously. “I don’t know how we’re going to get your eyes fixed.”

I remembered that Mr. Baker didn’t seem to know either. “Psionics can’t heal them?”

“You’re sitting next to a healer, Adrian,” said Terry.

“Yeah,” I said gloomily.

“Listen, we’ll just start with a good eye doctor. For now, try not to worry. There’s always something.”

Alia touched my hand, saying, “At least you’re still alive, Addy.”

I smiled. “Thanks to you.”

The car made a sharp left turn, and a minute later came to a stop. I could hear the sound of a jet engine not too far away.

The driver, who I discovered was Jack P, unfolded the wheelchair again and helped me onto it. I was wheeled down a runway to a rented medium-size twin-engine corporate jet, or so Terry told me. Picking me up in his arms, Jack P carried me up some steep stairs into the aircraft and placed me on a soft reclining chair.

I was given a tuna sandwich and some orange juice as the jet prepared for flight. Alia insisted on hand-feeding me, claiming that my fingers were too dirty even after I had wiped them. I didn’t doubt it, but I also suspected that my sister just wanted to take care of me.

I was still feeling mildly weak and exhausted after eating, so when Alia told me to go to sleep, I didn’t argue. I had barely felt the plane lift off before I fell into the deepest, most comfortable dreamless sleep I had ever experienced in my life.

When I groggily came to, I was no longer in the jet’s reclining chair, but back in my wheelchair which suddenly came to a halt.

I felt upward motion, and asked, “Where am I?”

“Home, Addy,” said Alia.

I had apparently slept straight through the car ride from the airport.

The elevator came to a stop, and I was wheeled out. I heard a door open, and a moment later I was pushed forward into what I instantly recognized by everything I couldn’t see as the penthouse living room of New Haven One.

I heard Cindy’s gentle voice call quietly, “Welcome home, Adrian.”

“I’m home,” I whispered to myself, breathing in the delightfully familiar air.

I felt Cindy’s hands grasp mine, and I tried to picture her face in my mind. What did she see before her? Did she see an injured soldier returning from a distant battlefield? Or did she see a selfish runaway child taken into custody?

Her son, I finally decided. That was what she saw. Her son, who had come home.

“I’m home,” I whispered again.

Nobody spoke for a moment. Cindy hadn’t commented on my eyes, so I guessed she had been forewarned. But a moment later I heard Cindy let out a quiet sob.

“Happy birthday, Cindy,” Terry said in a smiling voice. “Sorry it took so long to get him.”

“Thank you, Terry,” replied Cindy, her voice completely cracked with tears. “Thank you.”

Cindy gently put her arms around my neck. I hesitantly hugged her back, unsure how dirty I was making her by doing so, but then I figured Cindy probably didn’t care.

“Happy birthday, Cindy,” I mumbled in embarrassment. “I wish I could have brought you something aside from my own smelly self.”

“Adrian! Oh, Adrian!” cried Cindy, holding me tighter. “Oh, thank God you’re home!”

It took a while, but we eventually ran low on tears.

Releasing me, Cindy said hoarsely, “You look a right awful sight.”

“I guess I’m just not the soldier type,” I said quietly.

“Let’s get you to the hospital,” said Cindy. “You should get a full checkup just in case Alia missed something.”

I shook my head. “No, Cindy. I’m okay. Alia doesn’t miss things. Aside from my leg, I’m fine, and Alia can take care of that as soon as I wash up.”

“Are you sure?”

I smiled. “Cindy, you used to be a nurse, and Alia is a healer. I think I’m in pretty good hands right here. I just want to take a bath and then get something to eat.”

Cindy took a moment, possibly looking me over, before answering, “Alright, Adrian. But you’re going to get a checkup first thing tomorrow morning, okay?”

“Sure,” I said.

I turned my head to the left, where I believed my sister was standing, and asked, “Is it okay if I try standing up now, Alia?”

“If you think you can,” she replied from my right.

I wasn’t certain, but I was certainly going to try.

“Here, use this,” said Terry, and I felt a smooth wooden stick being placed in my hands: Terry’s jo stick.

Leaning on it, I carefully lifted myself out of the chair. Then I limped forward five small steps, keeping most of my weight off of my left leg. My calf was still swollen and hurt a great deal with the slightest movement.

“First stop is the bathroom, Adrian,” announced Cindy. “We need to get you cleaned up before dinner.”

I didn’t like the sound of “we” but I let Cindy lead me across the living room and down the hall. It was very slow going. In addition to my limp, I was still wrapped in the blanket from the Slayer house and I had to take care not to trip over the bit that was dragging on the floor. I could hear Alia’s footsteps following close behind.

We came to a stop. A door clicked open as Cindy said, “You are so unbelievably filthy I’m not even sure where to start.”

“I can wash myself, Cindy,” I informed her.

“Not today,” said Cindy.

“Cindy, please,” I begged.

But Cindy said firmly, “You’ll do as you’re told, Adrian.”

“You sound like Alia.”

“Actually, your sister just told me to say that to you,” said Cindy, chuckling.

“Figures,” I muttered.

“You wouldn’t argue if you could see how dirty you are.”

And if Cindy had ever been fourteen years old, she would’ve been more understanding.

Alia asked in a hopeful tone, “Can I help?”

“No!” I nearly shouted as Cindy led me into the bathroom – I could tell it was the bathroom because I could feel the cold tile floor under my bare feet.

After closing the door on my sister, Cindy unwrapped the blanket from around me, and then removed the cotton from my left calf. Even after Alia’s earlier work, the dressing was painfully stuck to the wound with fresh blood, and it took a while to pull it all off.

“You’re not just dirty, Adrian,” said Cindy. “You’re terribly infected. Alia was right. Your leg needs cleaning before she can finish healing it. A couple more days and you might have lost it.”

A couple more days and I would have been dead anyway.

“The Slayers already removed the bullet,” I said.

“They did?” Cindy asked in surprise.

“It’s a long story.”

“Well, thank God for small favors, anyway.”

“How bad is my leg?” I asked.

“The bone is probably chipped. This is your third gunshot wound, isn’t it?”

I nodded.

Cindy let out a long and deliberate sigh, saying resignedly, “Adrian Howell, human bullet magnet.”

As painful as my leg was, I couldn’t help but laugh a little at that.

“There won’t be a fourth,” I promised.

Cindy turned on the shower. I winced in pain as the lukewarm water touched the torn flesh.

“Sorry, Adrian, but this’ll hurt a bit,” said Cindy. “You have a lot of pus here.”

I gritted my teeth and managed to keep it to a quiet whimper as Cindy carefully washed my leg with water and disinfectant. Then, ignoring my protests, she temporarily let Alia in to finish healing the wound. The pain, along with much of the swelling, gradually receded. My calf was still sore enough to make me limp a little, but at least the worst of it was finally over.

Shooing Alia out of the bathroom again, Cindy helped me scrub the rest of my body clean. It took quite a long time, and I’m sure Cindy noticed that I had more than just blood and basement dust on me, but she didn’t comment.

After toweling me dry, Cindy handed me some clothes that were soft and thin like a pair of pajamas, which they probably were.

Seeing me struggling with my shirt, Cindy said kindly, “Let me help you.”

“I can dress myself, Cindy,” I insisted.

“If that were the case, Adrian, you wouldn’t have your arm through your pant leg.”

Once I was properly clothed, Cindy opened the bathroom door to my sister, who was still waiting outside.

“Here, Addy,”
Alia said telepathically,
“I was always hoping I could return this to you while you were still alive.”

I felt her hands place my amethyst pendant back around my neck. Actually, for all I could tell, it might have been her bloodstone, since they were the same size and shape, but I would have been happy for either.

“Now you look like Addy again,” Alia said happily.

“I’ll get dinner ready,” said Cindy. “Hope you’re hungry.”

“Very,” I said, and my stomach emphasized the point by growling noisily.

Cindy laughed. “I better get going. Alia, make sure Addy doesn’t crash into any walls.”

I heard Cindy’s footsteps quickly retreat down the hall.

I had left Terry’s jo stick leaning against a wall somewhere and I couldn’t find it again, but I didn’t need a blind man’s cane in this house. Alia was only too happy to lead me.

“Where to?”
she asked, holding my left hand.

“Where’s Terry?”

“I think she’s in the living room.”

“Take me to her, please.”

She did, keeping a gentle grip on my hand and carefully leading me to one of the long couches in the living room. Sitting down, I felt Alia curl up beside me, resting her back against my side.

When Cindy had dressed me back in the bathroom, I had feared that she might have reverted to her old ways and given me something girly to wear, but I didn’t hear Alia or Terry laugh, so I guessed I was alright.

“You actually look good, Adrian, now that you’re cleaned up,” said Terry’s voice across from me, “but I’m sure it’s just an illusion that we’ll get over soon.”

When I didn’t offer a nasty comeback, Terry asked, “What’s the matter, Half-head?”

I asked seriously, “Terry, what happened to Raven Three?”

Terry let out a little sigh and answered gravely, “I’m sure they’ll ask you the same thing at the debriefing tomorrow. You’re the only survivor.”

“They’re all dead?” I asked quietly.

“We called Raven Three right after the raid, and when we couldn’t get through, we sent a team back to investigate. They found everyone shot and you missing.”

“How did you guys know I was even alive, Terry? I could’ve been dead in the forest.”

“Your Mr. Barnum,” Terry replied simply. “He told us.”

“Then he’s alive?”

“Not anymore. The Slayers had shot him four times, twice at point-blank range. Slayers usually put extra bullets into psionics just to make sure they really die. By the time the scout team found Mr. Barnum, he couldn’t even speak, but a delver heard his last thoughts.”

It took a moment for that to sink in. Mr. Barnum was dead. As was Mr. Watson, and all the other Knights of Raven Three. I was the only survivor, thanks to Mr. Art Barnum, who had clung onto his life just long enough to set my rescue in motion. There was a wide range of emotions connected to that thought, and guilt was high among them.

Staring into the opaque light that my visual world had become, I could still hear Mr. Watson’s voice saying, “Oh, don’t you worry about Hansel. He’s Rabbit’s boy. He knows what he’s doing.” And Mr. Barnum, who had said to me in the motorhome, “I’m glad you’re staying behind, Hansel. I was feeling a bit lonely myself in this crowd.”

“Adrian,” said Terry, “you just have to–”

“Don’t tell me to get over it, Terry!” I snapped, getting to my feet.

I just wanted to be alone. If I could see, I would have been free to leave the living room and find some privacy, but instead I had to ask Alia, “Would you please take me to our room?”

“Sure,” said Alia. “Just hold my hand.”

As my sister guided me out of the living room, I heard Terry call, “It wasn’t your fault, Adrian.”

I ignored her.

Back in our bedroom, Alia instinctively took me across the room to our window where we often sat quietly together. I didn’t sit in the chair though.

“Alia, I’m never going to kick you out of this room again,” I said carefully, not wanting to hurt her feelings, “but I could really use a little time alone right now.”

“Are you alright, Addy?”