Lesser Gods (30 page)

“Don’t talk like that, Adrian,” said Terry, touching my arm lightly with the end of her left stump. “You never gave up on me, remember?”

I smiled as the elevator reached the ground floor. “Give my regards to the Historian, Terry.”

Riding the elevator back up to the penthouse alone, I felt that the next seventeen days waiting for Terry’s return would be as unbearable as my seventeen days in Slayer captivity.

And, though in a less physically damaging way, they were.

Between Alia who was absolutely certain that I would see again by my birthday and Cindy who consistently reminded me not to give up my Braille studies, my hopes and fears took a rollercoaster ride as I spent the week wondering where Terry was and what she would hear when she finally got to meet the mysterious Historian.

My tension having reached an all-time high, I could barely touch my meatloaf dinner on the last night of September. Terry had been gone ten days now, and assuming no setbacks, she would already have her answer and possibly even be starting back.

“I just wish I could know one way or the other,” I muttered.

“I just hope they’re alright,” said Cindy. “Eat up before it gets cold.”

I still didn’t touch my plate.

Cindy had been carefully following the Lancers’ progress to the Historian’s mountain retreat. The last time the Lancer Knights contacted New Haven was several days ago, just before they set out on foot for the final approach. The Knights wouldn’t be able to call again until they were back in civilization.

“Terry’s with them,” I said. “They’ll be alright.”

I shared Cindy’s worries about the expedition up to a point. After all, I knew from bitter experience that any mission could suddenly go drastically wrong. But my trust in Terry’s abilities and my hopes for what I might gain from her journey kept my anxieties to a minimum.

“You’re probably right, Adrian. Terry’s one of the strongest people I’ve ever known,” said Cindy, though not without a touch of uncertainty in her voice. “Eat.”

I forced myself to take a small bite of salad as Cindy continued, “Oh, and Adrian, now that you’re getting fairly good at your Grade One Braille, I’m going to send out for your advanced books soon.” It hadn’t been lost on Cindy that I refused to touch my Braille books ever since Terry had left. “There’re a lot of good novels in Braille these days, and you’re probably getting tired of that little-kid stuff you’re working on.”

“True, but–”

“No buts! Even if Terry does hear something that could lead to your recovery, it could still take a long time to make it a reality.”

Always the voice of reason. That was Cindy for you.

“You used to be an optimist,” I grumbled.

“I
am
an optimist,” insisted Cindy, “and I really do hope Terry finds something for you. I just don’t want you to get hurt again.”

I shrugged. “I’ll study tomorrow, okay?”

Each day passed slower than the last, and the Lancers did not reestablish contact with New Haven on their scheduled day.

“There are bound to be delays when traveling on foot through a mountain range,” Cindy said bravely. “Give it another day or two.”

We did, and Cindy was right.

Two days later, upon returning from an afternoon Council meeting, Cindy said, “We just got word, Adrian. The Lancers are alive and well and should be back in New Haven in three or four days.”

“Any news?” I asked.

Cindy laughed. “Yes, Adrian! They’ll be back in three or four days!”

“Cindy!”

“Patience! You are not the only reason the Guardians traveled to see the Historian. At least Terry will still be back in time for your birthday.”

I groaned. I remembered how, as a young child, I couldn’t eat or sleep before a birthday, but now I hardly cared at all about becoming fifteen years old. Terry might be bearing a gift far greater than anything I had ever received.

Then again, she might not. I might as well have been pulling petals off of flowers for all the restlessness I felt during the final days awaiting Terry’s return.

“Tonight or very early tomorrow, Adrian,” said Cindy after breakfast on a chilly Friday morning. “Just try not to get your hopes up too high.”

“I know,” I lied.

“Well, do you also know that you need a haircut?”

I did. This wasn’t the first or even tenth time Cindy had mentioned it. Living with Cindy and Alia meant I couldn’t get away with poor hygiene, but I had pretty much stopped caring about how I looked, and a haircut seemed an unnecessary bother.

“We better do something before you trip over it,” joked Cindy.

I shook my head vigorously.

Cindy laughed. “You’re starting to look like one of those sheepdogs, Adrian. You know, the ones where you can’t see the head under all the shaggy hair?”

“Well, woof,” I replied gruffly. At least my ears were properly covered now.

“I have another meeting I’m rushing off to in a moment, but I’ll trim it for you when I get back. You’re going to have guests on Monday, after all.”

October 12th, my fifteenth, would be the following Monday, and Cindy had invited Mark and Laila over for dinner.

After Cindy left, I heard Alia say into my head,
“You really do look like a sheepdog, Addy. I can cut it for you.”

“You mean let you get near me with scissors, Alia?” I asked dryly. “I don’t think so.”

“Please, Addy? I want to surprise Cindy when she gets back.”

“How?” I laughed. “By cutting off my other ear?”

Alia laughed too.
“At least you’d be balanced. Anyway, who could heal you better than I if you got hurt?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Remember I used to cut your nails for you back when you couldn’t balance your power?”

I cringed. “I do remember, Alia, but that’s different. Sorry, but I’ll wait for Cindy.”

But Cindy called during the early afternoon to tell us that she was going to be late coming home, and my sister continued pestering me until I finally gave in.

“Just make sure you stay under my ears,” I said as she sat me in a chair in the bathroom and draped a sheet around me.

“Trust me,”
Alia said confidently.

“You know I’d trust you with my life, Alia, but you have never cut anyone’s hair before.”

“I thought you didn’t care how you looked, Addy, so how could I make it any worse? Now stop moving your head.”

I obeyed, and pretty soon I heard the snip-snip-snip of scissors snapping around my head as bits of cut hair tickled my nose and cheeks.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” I asked, trying hard not to sneeze.

My sister’s concentration was such that she didn’t answer, even telepathically. I feared the snips were coming too fast to be very accurate, but at least I wasn’t bleeding yet.

The snipping stopped abruptly.
“Umm...”

“Please don’t ‘umm’ into my mind, Alia,” I said worriedly.

“It’s alright,”
she said, starting up her scissors again.
“I think.”

The doorbell rang and Alia ran out to answer it. She returned with another pair of footsteps.

I heard Laila’s voice say, “Hi, Adrian, Ms. Gifford called me and – oh my goodness! It’s almost a blessing that you’re blind.”

I snapped my head toward her voice. “That was a joke, right?”

“Well,” said Laila, walking around me once, “at least it’ll grow back.”

“I was probably better off as a sheepdog,” I muttered.

“Don’t worry,” said Laila, stifling a laugh. “I think I can still do something with it. You’d better let me take over, Alia.”

“Sorry,” Alia said in a tiny voice.

“It’s alright,” I said to her. “It’s my fault for letting you talk me into this anyway.”

Besides, I had a more pressing question. “Laila, why did Cindy call you?”

Laila replied, “She asked me to help you two cook a proper dinner tonight because Terry is coming home today. The Lancer team just returned to New Haven, but Terry’s going directly to the Council meeting before coming back here with Ms. Gifford.”

My heart skipped a beat. I would have my answer tonight!

As Laila started the damage-control on my head, I asked her, “Why is Terry going to the Council meeting?”

“She’s helping the Lancer unit leader report the Historian’s answers to the Council,” said Laila, and I couldn’t help noticing the slight reservation in her voice.

“Why does Terry have to...” I started, but suddenly I knew. “Terry just wanted to talk to Cindy first.”

“I think so,” Laila agreed quietly.

I
knew
so. If Terry had any good news, she would have come directly to me even if she had been ordered to attend the Council meeting, which no doubt she hadn’t. Terry wanted Cindy to know first. I had never once seen Terry hide behind someone before, but then again, my combat instructor had always been a little off-center since the raid on the Holy Land.

Not that I was any better. I remembered how Cindy repeatedly warned me not to get my hopes up too high. I didn’t need her reminders to know that hope was a dangerous thing, but nevertheless I had hoped.

I sat silently as Laila finished cutting my hair, and then she and Alia went to the kitchen to cook. Even blind, I could have helped a bit, but I didn’t.

Instead I walked back to my room alone and ran my fingers across the cane propped up against my desk. I wondered if the room light was on or off. I could no longer see enough light to be entirely sure. I walked over to the window and pressed my hands against the smooth, cold glass. Then my forehead too. It was already too dark outside to make any difference. What would happen when I completely lost the ability to see light? Would I see only darkness? Or perhaps I would not even see darkness, but rather nothing at all. Try as I might, I couldn’t imagine what that was like.

Suddenly I heard a dull thump outside the bedroom, so I walked over to investigate. Opening the door and stepping into the corridor, I tripped over something soft. It let out a surprised squeal.

“Alia?!” I said, pulling her to her feet. “What are you doing on the floor?”

“I bumped into the wall,”
Alia replied in my head.
“Really hard.”

That sounded peculiar, but I was too annoyed to be interested. “Well, watch where you’re going! You know I can’t see you.”

“I can’t watch where I’m going, Addy.”

“What are you talking about?” I said, my irritation mounting ever higher.

However, as my arm brushed up against Alia’s head, I noticed that something wasn’t right. Touching her head more carefully, I realized that it was wrapped tightly in a large bath towel.

“What the heck are you doing, Alia?” I asked, trying to pull the towel off.

“Don’t take it off!”

“But why is your head mummified?”

“Laila did it for me,”
Alia said happily.
“I asked her what it was like to be blind.”

For a split second, I could almost see myself precariously perched on a knife’s edge between fury and amusement. I pictured my sister’s head wrapped in the bath towel, as well as what no doubt caused the loud thump I had heard. Suddenly I burst out laughing, my disappointment with Terry’s impending report not forgotten, but suddenly irrelevant.

Alia was laughing loudly too, and a moment later I heard Laila say cheerfully, “Looks like you two found each other.”

“More like crashed into,” I said, still chuckling.

Laila returned to the kitchen, and I chased Alia around the penthouse laughing with her as she crashed into the walls and furniture. Once the dinner preparations were on autopilot, Laila put a towel over her own eyes too and joined us in a game of tag. Fortunately, there was only minor damage to the penthouse.

Once we were sufficiently out of breath, Laila said to me, “You know, I was afraid you might be offended for turning your handicap into a game.”

I gave her a broad smile. “I’m not. It was fun. Thank you, Laila.”

But I realized that I easily might have been upset over that. I didn’t like having a short and fickle temper, and I had made honest efforts to change in the past, but nevertheless I had to admit that I was still unstable. At least this time I was happy, and that was definitely a good thing considering what was to come later that evening.

Cindy and Terry returned at a little past 8pm.

After greeting us, Terry began hesitantly, “Adrian, I...”

“It’s alright, Terry,” I said as reassuringly as I could. “I already know what you’re going to say. I’m glad you’re home safe. Let’s just eat dinner, okay?”

“I’m really sorry.”

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry about, Terry,” I said matter-of-factly. “And like you keep saying, I’ll get over it.”

Terry remained silent.

I smiled, adding gently, “And so will you.”

Chapter 10: Terry and Laila

I spent much of that weekend sitting in the greenhouse, but while I might have appeared to be wallowing in self-pity, I wasn’t to any great degree. I was just willing myself to finally come to terms with the now inescapable truth. After every possible resource had been exhausted, the situation remained unchanged. In a strange way, it was even a little liberating knowing that there was nothing left to try. At least the suspense was finally over, and I could get on with my life.

There was plenty to be happy about, too. After all, I had been blind for more than two and a half months, and I was quite used to it by now. Terry was safely back in New Haven. The Slayers who had taken my sight were dead and gone. The Guardians could be trusted to rescue Cat in my stead. What did I care if the Historian couldn’t help? Did I still want to go kill Slayers with the Ravens? Of course I did! But nobody gets their own way in everything.

On Monday evening, Mark and Laila arrived early to help prepare my birthday dinner, and none other than Mr. Baker himself arrived just in time to help eat it.

As we sat down at the table, Mark said to me, “I remember wishing you a better year on your last birthday, and I know it didn’t turn out that way, so I almost hesitate to repeat that wish for fear it might be jinxed.”