Lesser Gods (38 page)

I smiled, saying, “Well, I’m sure she’ll drive me crazy with it, but then again, what are sisters for?”

We celebrated Alia’s birthday on a Wednesday evening, and both Laila and Mark came early enough to help with the preparations. Cindy asked me to keep Alia out of the penthouse while everyone put up decorations.

I took my sister for a long walk through the park, stopping at the playground to give her some time on the swings. I would have pushed her back for her, but the last time I had tried that, her swing had smashed into my forehead.

“Ten years old, give or take,” I said as I stood by and listened to the creaky chains on Alia’s swing. “How does it feel?”

“Great, Addy,”
said Alia.
“I’m almost surprised I lived so long.”

I laughed. “I know what you mean.”

The next moment, Alia screamed shrilly as a hand suddenly grabbed my right forearm and twisted it painfully around behind my back. Before I could react at all, I was shoved facedown onto the ground.

A harsh female voice hissed nastily, “Well, if it isn’t the famous Adrian Howell and Alia Gifford! No tracer bands, no Knights in sight. I could kill you both right here and be clear of New Haven before your blood cooled. Guardian VIPs really should have better protection.”

Futilely trying to break free of the iron hand pinning me to the ground, I shouted back furiously, “Well, our stupid bodyguard up and quit on us when we needed her most! What the hell are you doing here, Terry?!”

Terry released my arm. “I came for Alia’s party, of course.”

My sister had stopped screaming, and I now realized that it had been a cry of joy. As I picked myself up, I heard Alia jump off the swing and, bawling her eyes out, rush up to us.

“Terry!” Alia cried loudly. “Terry! Terry! Terry!”

“It’s alright,” said Terry, whose voice sounded just a bit watery too. “I’m back, Alia.”

I sorely wished I could see her. “Are you alright, Terry?” I asked hesitantly. “I mean, how are you doing?”

“I’m better,” replied Terry, lightly touching my arm. “Actually, I had been back since yesterday, and Cindy already knows. I was planning to surprise Alia at the party, but seeing you two here, I just couldn’t resist.”

I wasn’t sure which I wanted to do more: hug her or punch her. But even sighted, I probably couldn’t have done either, so I settled for a wry smile. Then I felt the hands on my Braille watch. “It’s about time we start heading back. They should be ready.”

Cindy wasn’t the only one who already knew about Terry’s return to New Haven. Laila had apparently heard from her mother, and Mark from Cindy. Over the party, I asked Terry several times where she had been and what she had been doing, but Terry flat-out refused to answer, saying only, “You’ll find out later.” I couldn’t bring myself to ask if she was going to stay.

We told Terry what had been going on here, though.

When Terry learned that Laila and I had been seeing each other since the day after Terry’s departure, she laughed loudly, saying, “Well, I’m glad to see neither of you wasted any time missing me!”

“That’s not fair, Terry!” Laila and I said in unison.

“I’m kidding!” said Terry, giving me a push from the side. “Where’s your sense of humor?”

Terry shrugged off our story of the New Year’s Eve attack as a petty Angel prank, insisting that since they didn’t have a chance from the start, there was no reason to worry about it. She did apologize to Laila for putting her into a position where she had to hold a gun, but then added in an accusing tone, “Adrian would never let me teach Alia how to shoot.”

“Hey, I’m not against it anymore,” I said, putting my hands up in defense, “but Ali hates guns as much as I do.”

Terry asked Alia in a surprised tone, “And you a Guardian Knight and all?”

“Sorry, Terry,” Alia replied meekly. “But Addy’s right. I’m a healer.”

Terry laughed. “Nobody’s perfect.”

I then told Terry how I decided to learn to shoot blind, to which she showed no particular surprise until she discovered who my new instructor was.

“My grandfather?!” Terry asked incredulously. “How do you stand him?”

“The same way I survived you in the dojo, Terry,” I retorted. “By having no choice.”

“Thanks a lot, Half-head!” said Terry, and then added nastily, “At least your aim can’t be much worse than when you first started learning to shoot.”

“Ralph won’t be back for a while. Maybe tomorrow you can come down to the shooting range with me and see for yourself,” I said, hoping that Terry might hint at how long she was planning to stay.

Terry didn’t take the bait, replying simply, “Maybe.”

After the cake, Alia received what sounded like an unnecessarily large addition to her wardrobe, mostly spring and summer clothes, as well as two board games that she could play with a blind brother. The sing-a-long player I gave her contained more than fifty children’s songs, including a few that Alia already knew, and I could hear her jumping up and down as she read through the list. Batteries weren’t included, but we pulled them out of my radio, and we spent much of the next hour going through her favorites and teaching her a few more. As delighted as my sister was with her birthday gifts, I could tell that her personal best present was simply that Terry had come back.

After Alia had gone to bed that night, Terry led me to the greenhouse for a private chat. The way Terry solemnly requested my company, I had a feeling that I was about to hear the real reason she had returned to New Haven, and I wasn’t disappointed.

“So, Adrian, you wanted to know where I’ve been and what I’ve been doing,” Terry began slowly. “Well, I’m still not going to tell you because I know you wouldn’t approve. But I will tell you why I came back. I found someone who just might be able to heal your eyes.”

“You found – what?!” I sputtered, disbelieving my ears.

“I can’t guarantee it, but I’m pretty hopeful.” Terry tapped me on my left shoulder. “I think you’re going to see again.”

I was still having trouble grasping the idea. “I’m... You mean that...”

Terry said cautiously, “I don’t want to get your hopes up too high, because it might not work, but we’re definitely going to try.”

I had to take two slow breaths before I could ask, “How? Did you find a regenerative healer?”

“No, but I’ll admit that the cow was on the right track. I found something almost as good.”

“What?”

“A
reconstructive
healer,” replied Terry. “That’s what I call him, anyway. He’s one of a kind, Adrian. He can’t re-grow lost parts, but he can heal things so that only the smallest of scars remain. Often there’s no scar at all. Somehow, when he heals injuries, as long as the torn flesh is all still there, it comes back together like a neatly fitting puzzle.”

“But my eyes are already healed,” I said, shaking my head.

“I know. We’re going to re-damage them.”

I threw a blank stare in Terry’s direction, and she explained, “We’re going to get a qualified eye surgeon to carefully recreate the damage to your eyes, and then have this healer re-heal the new damage in order to restore your eyeballs into their proper shape.”

I scoffed at the idea. “That’s like unscrambling eggs to make them sunny side up.”

“That’s why I warned you not to get your hopes up too high,” said Terry.

“It’s insane, Terry. I mean, this is even worse than your usual insanity.”

“Well, sure it’s insane, but what do you have to lose?”

“Nothing,” I admitted. “Except that it’ll probably hurt like hell.”

“I’m pretty sure you won’t be conscious during the operation.”

“I’ll do it,” I said happily. “Just answer me a few things, though.”

“Depends on the questions.”

“Where did you dig up this reconstructive healer?” I asked.

“I found him,” Terry replied evasively.

“Where, Terry?” I asked again.

“Somewhere.”

“Where?!”

Terry snapped at me, “I kidnapped him from an Angel fort! Don’t bother asking me how because I’m not going to tell you.”

“I’m probably better off not knowing,” I muttered.

“Believe me, you are.”

Then I laughed and said, “You planned it this way from the start, didn’t you? You wanted us to believe that you were just going away to live peacefully so we wouldn’t be worried about you.”

I heard Terry sigh. “I wish I could say that was true, Adrian, but no. I really had given up once. It was that hopeless. But after I got some rest, I went back to the Historian by myself and begged him again for his help.”

“And the Historian told you about this reconstructive healer?” I asked.

“That’s right.”

“Why didn’t he tell you the first time you went?”

“I don’t know,” said Terry. “I didn’t ask him why. That’s not the kind of question you ask the Historian if you want to stay on his good side. Anyway, he knew about this healer and he also knew that I had left the Guardians, so he agreed to direct me to the Angel fort only if I swore not to enlist any Guardian help in taking it.”

“But why?” I asked, not understanding at all. “I thought you said that the Historian’s vow was to never use his psionic powers to change the course of history. All he gave you was information. Isn’t that fair game?”

Terry replied in a slightly uncomfortable tone, “Well, the truth is, when I went to him the second time, I had no gifts to trade. I told you already, but the Historian is a very fickle person. When he learned that I had nothing to offer him, he asked me instead for my resolve.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Your resolve?”

“The Historian wanted to see how much I was willing to risk for you, Adrian. He said that if I went alone, the price of his information would be appropriate because the odds would be against me.”

Shocked, I asked, “And you actually decided to honor this promise after you got the information you wanted? Why didn’t you just return to New Haven for help? I know you’re strong, Terry, but aren’t you the one who said there’s no need to deliberately put yourself in danger?”

Terry said seriously, “Anyone who breaks a promise with the Historian is deliberately putting themselves in danger, and lots of it. I’d face an army of Angels over the Historian any day.”

So much for the cute guy.

I grinned, saying, “I distinctly remember you promising Cindy that you’d give up looking for a cure.”

“Well, some promises are made to be broken,” said Terry. “I’m not very good at giving up.”

“I’m sorry I called you a coward.”

“Don’t be,” Terry replied peacefully. “I was, and in some ways, I still am. Everyone has limits, Adrian. Even me.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, and there was a short, uncomfortable silence. But then Terry suddenly laughed, adding threateningly, “But once you get your eyes back, you had better be ready for some serious pain because I’m going to get you back into shape.”

I laughed too. “It’s great to have you back, Terry.”

“Thanks,” said Terry. “In case you’re still wondering who telephoned here on New Year’s Eve just before the Angels’ attack, it was actually me. I was about to head out to meet the Historian, and I just wanted to hear your voice and make sure you were alright, but I was happy to settle for Alia.”

I finally found the courage to ask, “Terry, are you back for good?”

“I’m back for now,” she replied. “One step at a time, okay?”

It wasn’t okay but I nodded anyway.

I wasn’t at all surprised to find that my sister was still awake when I returned to our bedroom later that night.

“Are you really going to be able to see again, Addy?”
she asked the moment I entered.

“Well, Terry seems to think so,” I replied, lying down on my bed. “How did you know about that, anyway?”

“Cindy told me when she was tucking me in.”

“Figures,” I muttered. Cindy would have known since yesterday that Terry had returned to New Haven with an Angel prisoner in tow.

“It sure would be nice if you got your eyes back,”
said Alia.

“I suppose,” I agreed quietly.

Alia asked in a surprised tone,
“Don’t you want to see again?”

“I really don’t care one way or the other, Alia,” I said flatly. “Now go to sleep.”

I’m sure Alia knew I was lying, but she didn’t contest it. Of course I would have liked nothing more than to believe beyond doubt that I was only days away from a brilliant world of light and color, but I couldn’t allow myself hope. It would be too painful to go through that disappointment again.

The next day after breakfast, Terry took me down to the holding block in the subbasement.

The last time I had been down in the holding block was back when Terry had been locked up for her involvement in Cindy’s abduction. Lining one wall of the large concrete room were eight jail cells with thick iron floor-to-ceiling bars. Each cell wasn’t much bigger than a walk-in closet, and contained only a bed and toilet bowl.

At least, that was how I remembered it. Being led there by Terry, I knew we had arrived only when the heavy steel door clanged shut behind us and I breathed in the cool, stale air.

Terry led me closer to one of the cells, announcing, “Here he is, Mr. Kremer. This is Adrian. Heal him, and you are free to return to the Angels.”

I heard the sound of creaking metal as Mr. Kremer probably stood up from his shoddy bed.

“Very well, Adrian,” he said quietly. “Let’s have a look at you.”

I took another step forward and found the bars with my hands. Gentle fingers touched my face, slowly spreading my eyelids open for a few seconds. “Hmm...” said Mr. Kremer. “Well, these are quite damaged, I see.”

Mr. Kremer, who sounded like a middle-aged man, seemed strangely calm for an Angel in Guardian custody. Perhaps his lack of fear came with the knowledge of the special position of healers among psionic factions.

Mr. Kremer asked, “Can you handle truth, Adrian?”

I nodded solemnly, and the healer said, “Deliberately damaging and re-healing an organ as complex as the human eye is... Well, you have to understand that this has never been tried before. If this is to be the price of my freedom, I certainly wouldn’t mind giving it a shot, but you must accept that it will be a bit of an experiment.”