Lesser Gods (54 page)

Just like the Angels, Terry and I had fallen right into this. Mr. Baker probably suspected that Terry would talk to me, but it didn’t matter since Terry herself had been given false information. Mr. Baker could send me into the Angel camp without fear of me being delved. If the Angels had read my mind, it merely would have confirmed the Guardians’ fake plot to assassinate Number Two.

And that was where my plan had utterly failed. The shape-shifter posing as Angelina Harrow was staying in the Angel camp, but Larissa Divine herself had been kept hidden in the Angel side of the factory building. After all, any decent sharp-shooter, such as Jack F for example, could have put a bullet through the queen’s head had she been wandering about in broad daylight.

Laila’s mother, in agreeing to be bait, had been given the same false story as Terry. Mr. Baker had been counting on Mrs. Brown being caught in the Angel camp and then taken to Larissa Divine for conversion. Once Mrs. Brown was inside the Angel side of the factory, the Guardians would cross the divide.

That was why the Knights didn’t come for me while I was with Cat in the Angel camp. Only after our spotters on the roof of the office building saw Randal Divine lead me into the north side of the factory could Mr. Baker give the order to attack. There had never been any chance of forcing Cat to come with me.

The Lancers had expected to find me near Larissa Divine, but of course they didn’t. Still, the hit was a success, and once the Angel queen was no more, with careful planning, the Guardians managed to pull off the greatest escape in psionic history.

Of the two hundred and fifty witnesses on both sides, the Angels had brought nearly two hundred Seraphim, compared to a mere one hundred Knights on the Guardian side. But the Seraphim were mostly destroyers and controllers. They had been brought to fight, and most of them were assigned to the ambush around their shape-shifter.

After the kill, as the Guardian witnesses began their retreat, the Knights unleashed a barrage of CS gas to cover our escape. Naturally, the Angels tried to counter this by using their windmasters to blow the smoke away. But the Guardians had complete control of the air. Mr. Baker’s decision to bring more ordinary witnesses than Knights had been to ensure that our side had twice as many windmasters. These civilian volunteers had been handpicked for their skills at psionic blocking. They weren’t in on the full plan, of course, but they knew what to do when Mr. Baker ordered the retreat.

Having involved innocent civilians, children, and even a few non-Guardians in an event that he knew would end in bloodshed, Mr. Baker had gone all-out to guarantee the safe escape of the witnesses. After being laid out cold by Terry, I had regained consciousness aboard an in-flight commercial helicopter, one of many that had been waiting for us just a few miles from the factory. Vehicles and material possessions were lost, but lives were saved.

Of course, that didn’t mean there were no casualties. Laila and her mother were among seven non-combatants that had been killed during the aftermath of the queen’s assassination. Another thirty-seven Knights died, many of them Ravens who didn’t have the blocking skills to prevent Angel controllers from entering their minds.

Ralph Henderson was among the few Lancer Knights who were killed during the lightening raid on the queen’s chamber. Ralph had led the attack. According to the accounts of his team, he was shot more than ten times before he detonated a grenade that killed Larissa Divine, and himself. If not for his sacrifice, many more Lancer Knights might have been lost, and the attack itself might have failed.

When Mr. Baker told me about Ralph, all I could manage was a simple, “Oh.” I felt nothing. I didn’t have the emotional capacity left to care one way or the other about Ralph’s passing. Terry remained expressionless too. Only Cindy had frowned.

“Adrian?” said Cindy, and I looked up from my empty hands. Cindy was standing at the door with Alia. “I’m home.”

“Hi, Cindy,” I said in a monotone.

“Dinner?” she asked quietly.

I shrugged. I had hardly moved since morning. I wasn’t hungry.

“I’ll make something anyway,” said Cindy. “Were you here all day?”

I nodded dully.

“It’s okay, Adrian,” Cindy said gently. “Take your time.”

I did.

In the days that followed Laila’s funeral, I found that I could no longer concentrate on any one task for very long. Whether it be cooking, cleaning, studying or even playing, everything I did seemed to be, at the same time, entirely trivial and yet a painful burden. When I was alone, I felt a desperate need for companionship, but as soon as someone spoke to me, I wished I was alone.

I was so completely torn up inside that I couldn’t even be sure what I was really feeling anymore.

First there was Cat, who had
chosen
to stay with the Angels. When asked about what happened over there, I had first told Cindy, Terry and even Alia that Cat refused to come back with me because she had been psionically converted. Unable to right the wrong that I had helped to create, I simply couldn’t bear to admit to what I had seen and heard. But then Cindy and Terry tried to cheer me up by reminding me that since Larissa Divine was dead, it would only be a matter of months before Cat’s conversion wore off and then, with luck, we could still get her back. So I told them the truth.

“It happens sometimes, Adrian,” Cindy had said consolingly. “Catherine was just as scared as you were. She needed a home.”

I could understand how alone and frightened Cat must have been, kidnapped on the night our parents were murdered. And I knew that the Angels had lied to her. But to call those people her family, and to call that man “Father”? Randal Divine who, minutes later, had tried to execute me. Cat was gone now, probably forever. My first sister was Catherine Divine, adopted daughter of the Angel queen’s nephew. If Cat had been converted, then I could still have forgiven her. And I could have forgiven myself for having failed her so completely. I wasn’t sure which hurt me more: her betrayal or my own.

Then there was Mr. Simms. Every time I thought of what I had done to him, I asked myself if it had been right. And every time I asked, I came to the opposite conclusion.

Jason Simms had not only killed Grace and who-knew-how-many other children, but he had
enjoyed
it. Not even Ralph killed people for sport. The Sky Guardians under Mr. Simms had acted just as vilely as the Slayers. Perhaps even worse. At a moral level, the last Sky Guardian was no different from the pair of psychos who had sliced up Alia’s back. Mr. Simms got what he deserved.

But what I did to him wasn’t to defend myself or anyone else. What I did, I did out of hatred and vengeance. I had
wanted
to hurt Mr. Simms. I could have just killed him, but instead I had deliberately prolonged his life so that he would suffer more before his end. I felt that I had crossed a line I should never have approached, and in leaving him to die in slow agony, I was perhaps not so different from Mr. Simms himself. Every time I remembered how I had lied to Ms. Decker and got her to lock that door, I wandered between grim satisfaction and utter self-disgust.

And finally there was Laila, who would probably be alive today had I only been honest with her. She and her mother died because I had crossed into the Angel camp. I had tried to justify my actions to myself by thinking that, in taking Mrs. Brown’s place, I was preventing Laila from losing her mother. But I knew inside that that was an empty excuse from the start.

As much as I hated to admit it, Terry was probably right in knocking me out cold. My refusal to leave without Laila could have cost Terry and me our lives. But I still wished Terry had left me there. When I was told that Laila and her mother had both died in the factory, I wished I had died with them.

Emptiness. Despair. These are just words that describe feelings. They’re not the same as real feelings. Real feelings are beyond words. Day after day, I roamed from room to room, and often through the park and elsewhere, looking for someplace that I could find peace. Anywhere but wherever I currently was.

In the end, I discovered that I was most comfortable when people were nearby, but minding their own business. I finally fully appreciated my sister’s strange need for silent company. Alia had been there and back. She knew my pain because she felt it too. And she understood the importance of time. For many days, she just stayed with me, silent, steady, accepting.

Taking her cue from Alia, Cindy also stopped trying to cheer me up with words, for which I was grateful. Instead, when Cindy was home, we often sat quietly in the greenhouse tending the plants. I enjoyed the work. The peaceful simplicity of it helped clear my mind. The sunlight felt good, and the many scents calmed me. Alia usually joined us.

Terry, on the other hand, took the complete opposite approach to dealing with the loss of the one friend who stood stoutly by her when no one else would. Outwardly, my combat instructor remained her usual blunt self. At home, she continued to help with all the chores except the cooking. But with each passing day, Terry spent increasingly long hours in the dojo, training and sparring with other Knights. She no longer invited me to join her, and often came back with bloody knuckles, scars and burns. As often as not, she refused Alia’s healing.

“You’ve got to ease down, Terry,” Cindy said to her worriedly.

“I’m not Adrian,” Terry replied icily. “And you know perfectly well that the Council still has all the Knights on high alert.”

It had been over three weeks now since the death of Larissa Divine. The Council believed that the Angels, many of whom were still under the influence of Larissa’s conversion, were gearing up for a major attack on New Haven to avenge their fallen queen. Terry insisted that she was just being extra prepared for the inevitable counterstrike.

But we all knew Terry better than that.

“I’ll take care of her,” I promised Cindy when Terry missed dinner for the fifth night in a row.

Cindy probably knew what I meant by that, but kindly didn’t comment. The next day, with Cindy off at yet another Council meeting, I grabbed Alia away from her home studies.

“Come with me,” I said to her grimly. “I’m going to get hurt today.”

I was still struggling with my own grief and I didn’t feel at all up to this, but I wasn’t going to lose Terry again.

When we entered the subbasement dojo, I found Terry grappling with a Knight twice her weight. The fight ended quickly.

As Terry helped the Knight to his feet, I called out to her, “My turn.”

Terry turned to Alia and me and scowled, saying nastily, “Aren’t you girls supposed to be tending the flowers?”

“I never got the chance to repay you properly,” I said, leaving Alia by the door and stepping up onto the gym mats. “You know, for knocking me out when we could have gone searching for Laila? But I guess betrayal is just like killing. It’s easier the second time, isn’t it?”

“Come on, then,” Terry said quietly. “Let’s see what you got.”

Terry’s hook attachment was lying on the mat where she had left it before sparring with the Knight. I telekinetically picked it up and tossed it to her. “You’ll be wanting that, Teresa.”

Terry stared at me for a few seconds before silently strapping the hook onto her left stump.

Then Terry said to the Knight, “Leave us, please. Apparently I have a lesson to teach.”

The Knight obeyed, leaving Terry and me alone in the giant room. My sister stayed by the exit, watching us anxiously.

Tightening the strap on her hook attachment, Terry asked, “So, Adrian, do you want to do this with or without psionics?”

“With,” I replied. “But up close.”

We squared off on the mat, two yards apart. I didn’t have a distance advantage on her so she’d be on me before I could levitate her. Good. I didn’t want this to be easy.

“What are you waiting for, Half-head?” Terry said tauntingly. “Shall we bow first?”

I thrust my right arm forward as if to release a telekinetic blast, but, knowing Terry would automatically sidestep it, I didn’t actually fire. Terry hopped lightly to her left and then stepped forward, closing the gap between us in a move that I knew would instantly end the fight.

But I had already prepared a psionic blast, not aimed through my arm, but in the space between us. Terry stepped right into it. My non-focused blast was hardly stronger than a light slap, but it caught her off guard.

I lashed out with my left fist, aiming a punch at her face, but she easily ducked it and, a moment later, I felt her metal hook slash through my sweatpants, slicing open my right thigh.

I was drained, but not yet enough to completely lose my psionic power. I rammed my right hand into Terry’s stomach and blasted her again, knocking her back. I staggered backwards too, limping as the pain in my right thigh caught up with me. Terry was clutching her stomach and staring at me as if she had never seen me before.

As more blood poured down my leg, my power faded away. Breathing heavily, I said, “Is that the best you can do? No wonder you’re down here training all day.”

Terry’s eyes burned with rage. “I’ll give you my best, Adrian,” she shouted furiously, “when you’ve goddamn well earned it!”

In all my time with Terry in the dojo, I had never once seen her so completely lose her calm during a fight.

Terry threw herself forward, her hook coming dangerously close to my neck as I tried to step clear of her. Even with two good legs, I probably wouldn’t have been fast enough. We grappled for a second, and then Terry had me on my back. Sitting on my chest, she slammed her right fist into my face. Again. And again. I felt my nose break.

“Terry! Stop!” screamed Alia. “Please stop! Please!”

Terry’s fingers found my neck. I choked. I knew I couldn’t break free, but I struggled anyway. I wasn’t going to let Terry show me any mercy. Not while I had a single breath of life left in me.

On the very edge of darkness, I heard a snapping sound, and Terry’s grip on my neck loosened. I felt Terry’s weight lift off of my chest.

As my eyes came back into focus, I saw Alia standing over me, wide-eyed, gripping a jo stick in both hands. Terry was kneeling beside me and clutching the back of her head with her right hand as blood oozed from between her fingers.