Lesser Gods (31 page)

I laughed. “I’m sure this year will be better anyway. At least I’m no longer being pushed around the dojo by Terry.”

“Don’t count on it, Adrian,” Terry said from my right side. “I’m not letting you off the training program, and I’m pretty sure I can still teach you some basic grappling moves that you can use even without your eyes.” Terry ignored my loud groan. “As unlikely as it may be, Adrian, you should still be able to handle someone if they were to jump on you.”

“The only person who jumps on me these days is Alia, and I think I can handle her just fine,” I told her. “My fighting days are over whether I like it or not, Terry. Someone else is going to have to deal with the Angels for me.”

Mr. Baker cleared his throat and said, “I wasn’t even sure I could come today and I haven’t brought you any gifts, Adrian, but allow me to reiterate my promise that if we can locate your sister, we will do all that we can to save her.”

“Thank you, Mr. Baker,” I said sincerely. “That means a lot to me.”

“That’s probably the best gift you can hope for in the long run, Adrian,” said Cindy, “but in the meantime, the rest of us have tangible presents for you. Eat up so you can open them.”

“You mean you actually
wrapped
them?” I asked, laughing.

“I suppose it was a bit silly,” admitted Cindy, “but it still seemed the right way to do it.”

Mr. Baker had to rush off before we even got to the cake, but Laila and Mark stayed, and once our dessert plates contained only crumbs, I was handed my birthday presents one at a time.

Cindy’s was a small, carefully wrapped box which contained a strange-shaped plastic gadget that easily fit in the palm of my hand. I ran my fingers over the device several times but couldn’t figure out what it was, so I conceded defeat and asked.

“It’s a proximity sensor,” said Cindy. “It tells you how close you are to whatever you’re facing, like a wall or a person.”

“How do I use it?”

“You clip it on your left ear,” said Cindy, taking the device and fitting it for me. It was probably something that looked very much like a single-ear hearing aid, but with some kind of sensor to measure distances built into it. Cindy switched it on, and I heard an electronic humming sound in my ear. Turning my head, I noticed how the pitch of the hum changed constantly.

“The closer you are, the higher the tone,” explained Cindy, but I had already figured that out.

“This is amazing, Cindy!” I said excitedly as I used the electronic hum to “look” around the room. Even the highest pitch sound wasn’t annoyingly so, and I decided that a mild hum in one ear was a fair price to pay for knowing how much space there was between me and the next thing I might crash into. I might even be able to fly with this.

“Just remember that it doesn’t replace your cane,” said Cindy. “You’ll still need that to avoid things low on the ground, and your earpiece has trouble detecting fences and windows.”

“Where did you find this thing?” Terry asked in wonder.

Cindy replied, “Actually, I had the guys at our tech department build it specifically for Adrian.” Then she said to me, “The battery only lasts about two hours, so be sure to recharge it. There’s a power adapter that plugs into it, which I’ll show you later.”

“Thanks a lot, Cindy,” I said happily. “I’m guessing this is a not-so-subtle message to get out more.”

Cindy laughed. “You’re welcome. It is and I hope you do.”

Cindy wasn’t the only one who had found me adaptive technology for my birthday. Terry’s gift was a handheld talking compass which read aloud my current heading whenever I pushed the button on it. Between this and my ear-mounted proximity sensor, I could probably navigate all of New Haven without help if I needed to. When I thanked Terry, I got a slap on the head in return.

“What was that for?!” I asked, wincing in pain.

“I don’t know,” laughed Terry. “I just felt like it.” Such was Terry’s way of saying, “You’re welcome.”

Mark, who had given me a wristwatch for my birthday last year, gave me another, but this time it was an analog watch with a glass cover that could be lifted up to reveal the minute and hour hands.

“A Braille watch,” I said, feeling the hands on the watch face. “I’ve read about these in my Grade One Braille text.”

“This one is a bit old-fashioned so it doesn’t talk,” said Mark.

“That’s probably for the best,” I said, thinking of my bedside clock’s attitude problem.

The watch’s band probably had originally been metal, but Mark had replaced it with a cheaper Velcro watchband. He had put some tape over the back of the watch as well so that the metal wouldn’t directly touch my skin, and I thanked Mark for the extra consideration.

Laila’s present was a thick wool scarf for the coming winter. It was dark blue with three wide green stripes diagonally across it.

“I like the color,” I said, smiling as I felt the warmth of the scarf in my hands. “Thank you, Laila.”

“You can see it?” Laila asked in a surprised tone.

“Alia’s whispering in my head,” I explained.

I knew that my sister had deliberately waited to the end to give me her present.

She started with a birthday card which had been written in Braille. A few days ago, someone had moved my Braille writer from its designated corner on my desk, and I suspected it was Alia, so this was no great surprise. Writing in Braille required you to punch the dots from the other side of the paper. It was difficult because you had to make the dotted patterns in a mirror image. Alia had made her fair share of mistakes but, running my fingers along the card, I slowly read, “Happy 15th Birthday, Addy. You are the...”

I stopped reading aloud, but apparently Alia had written regular letters on the card too, because Cindy finished reading for me, “...the best big brother in the whole world.”

Terry laughed, saying, “Somehow I doubt that.”

I doubted it too, but it was excruciatingly touching all the same.

“Here, Addy,” said Alia, placing a wrinkly paper package in my hands.

I carefully undid the wrapping and pulled out a soft, long-sleeve garment. “A sweater?”

“She made that herself,” said Cindy. “It’s deep purple.”

As a paid Guardian Knight, Alia could have easily bought something for me like the others had, but she had chosen to stick with hand-made this year too. I tried it on over my shirt.

“It’s perfect,” I said. The sweater was actually a touch big for me but it would probably shrink in the wash. “You did this all by yourself?”

“Cindy helped me,” said Alia.

“I showed her how to use the knitting needles,” said Cindy, “and I helped a bit with the sleeves, too, but Alia did most of the work herself.”

“When did you find the time to...” I began, but then I realized I already knew the answer. I gave Alia a big hug and said, “I promise we’ll go outside more starting tomorrow.”

Then I laughed, saying, “Between a sweater, a scarf, watch, compass and proximity sensor, it would be a tragedy if I stayed indoors this winter.”

That is not to say that I had completely overcome my frustration, anger, resentment, and all the other nasty feelings that had anchored me to the greenhouse chair for much of the previous month. I still sat alone brooding from time to time, but as the days passed, such occasions became fewer and shorter. I found more time to play with Alia in and outside the penthouse, and while I was still a far cry from the best, I hoped that I was no longer the worst big brother in the world.

Equipped with my ear-mounted proximity sensor, I could actually run at a fair speed on the park’s jogging path. My feet had memorized every turn in the course, so all I had to do was keep from crashing into other people. Alia and Terry made sure I didn’t miss anything low on the ground such as an overturned bicycle. When the weather kept us trapped indoors, there were board games and an occasional round of blind tag to keep us occupied in our free time.

Though Terry was no longer busy hunting for a solution to my blindness, she outright refused Cindy’s offer to home-school her. Alia and I vouched for Cindy’s skills as a tutor, but Terry insisted that she was done with school, and nothing Cindy said could change that.

Actually, I had also put my foot down and refused to be taught a regular ninth-grade curriculum this school year. I had instead promised Cindy that I would do my studies and cover as much as I could, but in my own good time. I wanted to master Grade Two Braille first and follow a program designed for the blind so that I wouldn’t have to have my schoolbooks read to me. Thus Cindy worked mainly with Alia, who had become a fourth grader as of this September.

In the dojo, Terry made good on her threat to teach me blind wrestling. Perhaps taking the idea from Laila’s game, Terry wore a blindfold herself whenever she grappled with me, and of course she always won. I also continued to exercise regularly down in the dojo while my instructor sparred with other Guardian Knights. I could only listen to the ferocity of these matches, but it sounded like Terry remained undefeated on the mat.

Outwardly, it seemed that Terry had returned to her normal, menacing self, but I still felt from time to time that she was looking for some breakthrough that would lead to recovering my eyesight. It was only after the start of November that I seriously began to worry about her.

Terry had been gone on a mission for the Ravens. She left early one Monday morning and was gone all week on a Slayer hunt. Except that I had a chance meeting with Mr. Simms in the park on Wednesday afternoon, and he didn’t know anything about it. Mr. Simms further informed me that Terry had resigned from the Ravens the day after she returned from her trip to the Historian’s mountain.

“You didn’t know?” Mr. Simms asked incredulously.

“No,” I replied, feeling silly. “Terry’s been acting strange for a while now. I guess she just wanted some time to herself.”

“I hope she’s not plotting something again,” Mr. Simms said in a very serious tone.

My temper flared at the notion. “Terry’s brother is dead, Mr. Simms! If she’s plotting anything, it won’t hurt New Haven!”

I felt his hand on my shoulder as he said reassuringly, “I was joking, Adrian.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled embarrassedly. That was the problem with not being able to see people’s faces.

I found it impossible to believe that Terry could resign from the Ravens and then leave on a fake mission without Cindy knowing about it from her perch at the top of the information chain. When I confronted Cindy that evening, she said, “Terry asked for some time to check something out. I’m guessing she didn’t want to get your hopes up again.”

“Figures,” I said. “Well, I’m not going to get my hopes up this time, that’s for sure. But I clearly remember you had Terry promise to give up any more wild-goose chases.”

“Terry claimed it had nothing to do with your eyes,” said Cindy, and before I could respond, added, “Of course it probably has everything to do with your eyes, but I couldn’t prove it and she promised to be back by Friday. Give her some time, Adrian. I think Terry was even more disappointed with the Historian than you.”

I pursed my lips, and Cindy said, “Would it be too much to ask for you to pretend that you don’t know about this?”

Terry did return on Friday, but only just. She arrived near midnight and, refusing to tell me anything about her “mission” except that she had helped the Ravens kill some Slayers, she went straight to bed.

More than once the next week, I heard Cindy and Terry arguing late at night, and while I didn’t spy on them anymore, I guessed that Terry was still unwilling to give up the quest. As per Cindy’s request, I continued to feign ignorance.

Blindness had fine-tuned my ears, so when I woke to Alia’s soft breathing one night in mid-November, I knew it was still far from morning and that someone had just walked down the corridor past our room door.

I tapped on my bedside clock, which yawned loudly and said, “It is 1:14 in the morning. Please get a life!”

I heard Alia say groggily into my head,
“Addy?”

“Sorry, Alia,” I whispered as I got out of bed. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.”

“Where are you going?”

“To get a glass of water,” I replied. “Now go back to sleep.”

I actually was a bit thirsty, but I was more curious about the footsteps I had heard. I let my feet guide me toward the kitchen, but while I was crossing the dining room, I sensed a presence to my left.

“You can’t hide that easily, Terry,” I said, grinning.

“What are you doing up?” asked Terry. Though clearly in the same room, her voice nevertheless sounded strangely distant.

“Just getting some water,” I told her.

“Let me help you.”

“I don’t need your help, Terry.”

“I know you don’t,” Terry said gently. “Let me help you anyway.”

I heard the kitchen faucet run for a moment, and then Terry put a glass in my hands.

“Thanks,” I said, and took a sip.

Terry whispered, “You know, Adrian, I never meant for any of this. I was just trying to protect you.”

“I know that,” I said, shocked at how fragile Terry’s voice sounded. And I knew something else. “You’re going away again, aren’t you?”

Terry’s voice seemed to quaver a bit as she answered, “Yes.”

“You sound like you’re not coming back.”

“I’m not,” said Terry. “Not for a while. Maybe not ever.”

“I know you left the Ravens, Terry, and I know you weren’t on a Slayer hunt the other week. If you’re still looking for a cure to my blindness, just say so.”

“I wish I was, Adrian, but I guess I knew deep down that it was hopeless even before I went to see the Historian.”

I put my glass down on the dining table. “Then what is this, Terry? Another adventure?”

“No more adventures for me,” said Terry. “But I can’t stay here.”

“Why not?”

Terry let out a long sigh. “I was hired as your trainer.”

“And now you’re our bodyguard,” I reminded her. “You’re the only one Cindy trusts enough to have in this house.”

“Even so, I just can’t.”

“Terry, why don’t you go on a real mission?” I suggested semi-seriously. “Kill some Slayers for me. It’ll make us both feel good.”