Lesser Gods (8 page)

Serving myself next, I said, “Thank you also for allowing Terry and me to join your team. But I’m wondering what you wanted to talk to me about today.”

“Eat first!” said Mr. Simms. “Then we’ll talk business. Besides, I haven’t let you on the team yet, young Knight. I wanted to get to know you first. Now eat up while it’s hot!”

Alia hadn’t touched her spoon yet, so I decided to set a polite example and dipped my plastic spoon into my bowl. It was a spicy but surprisingly good meat stew. I wasn’t exactly sure what kind of meat, though.

“It’s delicious,” I commented, and then commanded to Alia, “Eat.”

My sister took a sip, and then a mouthful, and finally smiled across the table at Mr. Simms. “I like it,” she said carefully.

“I was hoping you would,” said Mr. Simms. “I know it’s no match for your mother’s cooking.”

“What’s in it?” I asked.

“Oh, this and that,” Mr. Simms said airily. “Bit of a trade secret. But I guarantee it’ll put some hair on your chest.”

Alia hastily put her spoon down and stared at me.
“I don’t want a hairy chest, Addy.”

I nearly choked laughing. “I’m sure he’s joking, Alia.”

Once we were about through the meal, Mr. Simms leaned back in his chair and, stretching his arms, said, “Okay, to business, then.”

“Sure,” I replied. Patience was never one of my strong points, and I had been itching for him to get down to business all through dinner.

“First off, Mr. Baker told me that you were fourteen years old. Is that correct?”

“Yes,” I answered in a defensive tone because I knew, of course, why he asked. Alia and I were both small for our respective ages. With Alia, it was most likely because of malnourishment during her early childhood, but in my case it was probably hereditary: my father wasn’t exactly a beanstalk either.

“Very well,” replied Mr. Simms, looking curiously at me. “So, Adrian, the main reason I asked you to join me this evening is that I want to know why a fourteen-year-old wild-born is so eager to go on a dangerous Guardian mission. You are an Honorary Knight already, and receiving the full pay of a veteran Knight. Isn’t that correct?”

I nodded. I had received my first pay in cash at the end of April, and May’s salary was put into a Guardian-controlled bank in New Haven. I hadn’t actually gone to the bank yet to withdraw any money, but I knew it was there, and more would come at the end of this month and every month for the next three years. That was how much the Guardians valued my role in rescuing Cindy.

Mr. Simms continued, “Do you realize that you are the first child ever to be granted this status? Furthermore, Honorary Guardian Knights are usually ordinary Guardians, peacefully employed, that do some great service to the Knights. As such, these people do not commonly take us up on mission offers. To be perfectly blunt, Adrian, why are you here?”

“Terry is my friend, and I promised her that I would fight,” I said, and then added quietly, “because of what the Angels did to her brother.”

“You feel sorry for Terry’s brother?” asked Mr. Simms. “You wish to avenge him?”

“I never even met Gabriel, Mr. Simms. I feel sorry for Terry.”

“I see,” said Mr. Simms, stroking his beard. “But Adrian, pity is a very poor excuse for walking onto a battlefield. Is there nothing you want for yourself in this matter?”

I took a sip of lemonade before I answered, “Maybe you already know this, Mr. Simms, but I have another sister who is in Angel captivity. I hope to rescue her someday, if I can. But I’m guessing that to do so will take a fair amount of fighting, and I want to be ready for it. So far, if you don’t count the towboat incident, I’ve only tagged along on one mission with the Knights. And on that mission...” The Angels had set us up on that mission. They had ambushed and decimated our team.

Mr. Simms nodded. “Yes, several good friends of mine were killed that day. Some of the best Lancers we had. Mr. Baker assigned you to me because I lead the Raven Knights. We specialize in non-psionic engagements, which means that your skill in blocking psionic control is not a major issue. We hunt God-slayers and Wolves, and occasionally bring in wild-borns who are not controllers. We do not do battle with the Angels or other psionic factions.”

“Even so, I should become more familiar with Knight missions,” I said.

“I suppose that’s true,” said Mr. Simms. “Then you are in it for the experience?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, Adrian. It’ll be my first time having a child on the team, but if you’re fourteen, I suppose you’re not much of a child anymore. Mr. Baker has requested, and I accept.” Mr. Simms rose from his chair. “Welcome to the Ravens, Adrian,” he said, extending his hand.

I stood and shook it. “Thank you, Mr. Simms,” I said, and we sat again.

“For future reference,” said Mr. Simms, “I am known on missions under the call sign Swoop.”

“I’m Hansel,” I said. I nodded towards Alia, who was lazily playing with some of her leftover salad. “That’s Gretel.”

Mr. Simms chuckled. “Hansel and Gretel, huh?”

“Cindy’s stupid idea of a joke,” I said dryly.

“Well, Hansel, how would you feel about going on a small mission this very night?”

“Excuse me?” I said.

Alia snapped her head toward Mr. Simms, and then slowly looked over at me.

Mr. Simms took no notice of my sister as he explained, “One of my long-range finders thinks he’s located a wild-born not too far from here. The Angels stay well clear of New Haven these days, so I’m guessing they’re not onto him yet, though we’re not as sure about the Wolves. If my finder is right, this wild-born could be a valuable asset to us.”

Having been a wild-born myself, I knew that these new psionics, with no psionic relatives or ties to existing factions, posed a threat to our secrecy in human society, but were also highly sought after by the competing factions because they presented the opportunity to bring new psionic blood into a group.

Mr. Simms paused to sip his drink before continuing, “The only problem is, you see, my primary team is tied up on another project right now – a big project – and I’d prefer not to pull anyone for a mere fishing trip at the moment.”

“Fishing trip?” I repeated.

“That’s what we call a wild-born hunt,” explained Mr. Simms. “I was going to ask another Knight unit for some backup, but if you and Terry are willing, we could definitely use your help.”

“I’m sure Terry is willing,” I said, feeling Alia’s uncomfortable gaze burning into the side of my face, “and I am too, of course.”

I heard Alia’s voice in my head say warningly,
“Addy...”

“That is,” I said, smiling at Alia, “if my sister doesn’t mind.”

Mr. Simms turned to her. “Would it be alright if we borrowed your brother tonight? He’ll be back by tomorrow evening at the latest.”

Alia stared back at Mr. Simms for a few seconds, and then looked down and said quietly into her plate, “Okay.”

“Great,” Mr. Simms said happily. “I’ll make the arrangements. Find Terry and meet up with a Mr. Michael Watson. He’s your finder and team leader for this assignment. Terry will know where he is. You’ll probably leave before 8pm tonight, so you’d best be going now.”

Once Mr. Simms saw us out and we were on the elevator down to the lobby, Alia let out a loud and very deliberate sigh.

“It’s not like I’m leaving tomorrow,”
she said, giving me a reproachful look.

“I did say that yesterday,” I admitted. “But you just said it was alright for me to go.”

“I know. But you would go no matter what I said.”

I had no reply to that. “What did you think of Mr. Simms, Alia?”

“I don’t know,”
Alia said uncomfortably.
“He’s okay, I guess. But kind of scary.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “He’s a big guy, but he seemed nice enough to me. What was scary about him?”

“I don’t know,”
Alia said again.
“Just... something about him.”

I shrugged. “Well, he’s my commander now, Ali, but that doesn’t mean I’ll be working with him every day. This, uh, fishing trip... he’s not coming on it either.”

We exited NH-4 and half-jogged back across the park to NH-1.

Back in the penthouse, Cindy informed me that Terry was training in the dojo. I was about to go fetch her when Cindy said quietly, “Don’t you have something to say to me, Adrian? Or were you planning to get Terry up here so you wouldn’t have to?”

I looked back at her, and she explained, “Mr. Simms just called me. You and Terry are to meet Mr. Watson in the parking lot in thirty minutes.”

“Then I guess there’s nothing to say, Cindy,” I said emotionlessly. “Except that I’m going.”

Cindy came up and gave me a hug. “Just be safe, okay?”

“Always,” I replied, hugging her back. “I’m not doing this for fun, you know.”

“I know, Adrian,” said Cindy, releasing me. “But you’re still doing it.”

“I’m sure it won’t be that dangerous, Cindy,” I said, unsure exactly who I was trying to convince. “Mr. Simms called it a ‘mere fishing trip.’”

“You remember yours?” Cindy asked evenly.

After an Angel berserker had murdered my parents, Ralph Henderson had shot the man with a crossbow in my living room and then used his peacemaking power on me to force me into his car.

“Vividly,” I said. “But this time, I’m not the fish.”

Cindy pursed her lips for a moment, and then said, “You’d better go find Terry.”

I did, and after telling Terry what, to her mind, was very good news, we returned to the penthouse together to pack for the mission.

Actually, I had nothing to take. I didn’t own a gun or any other weapons, and since it was just an overnight trip, I figured I didn’t really need a change of clothes either.

In contrast, Terry was taking both of her pistols and extra clips even though she could only handle one gun at a time. She had even brought out her jo stick.

“I probably won’t need any of this, though,” she said as she slung the sheathed four-and-a-half-foot red oak stick over her left shoulder and adjusted the leather strap using just her right hand. “But you never know.”

Terry had also strapped one of her prosthetic attachments to her left stump. This one wasn’t for decoration, but for battle. It was basically a thick metal bar that had enough weight to crack open a man’s skull. Terry had two other attachments designed for combat, one with a short black blade on it, the other with a sharp metal hook straight out of a pirate movie. The bar attachment she had on now was the least menacing of Terry’s combat arms, but Cindy still frowned when her eyes caught sight of it.

Cindy knew that Mr. Watson was a psionic hider and that he could keep my telekinetic power from being detected as long as I stayed close to him, but she nevertheless insisted on giving me individual hiding protection for the road. I knew better than to protest.

Placing her hands on my chest and back, Cindy spent several minutes working her power into my body. As she did, I was uncomfortably reminded of the last time she had done this for me. I had been an angry, stubborn child who refused to listen to reason and would, before the end of the day, be shot and captured by the Wolves. I briefly wondered if history was about to repeat itself.

“Okay,” said Cindy, releasing me. “That’ll keep you hidden for about two weeks, so if you get separated, you’ll still be able to get back home undetected.”

“Two weeks?!” I asked in surprise.

“It’s the best I can do,” said Cindy.

That wasn’t what surprised me. “Cindy, when you did this for me back at Mark’s place, you said that my bubble would only last eight hours.”

“I lied,” admitted Cindy. “I gave you a solid two weeks’ worth then too, but I didn’t want you to go too far away.”

I shook my head resignedly, but I couldn’t help smiling.

“Don’t worry, Cindy,” said Terry. “Nothing’s going to happen.”

Cindy wasn’t buying that. “Make sure you take some emergency cash, too.”

“Of course I’m taking money,” said Terry, rolling her eyes.

Cindy looked at me. “Adrian?”

“I’ll, um... go get mine,” I said awkwardly, and rushed back to my room to pull out the roll of bills I had stashed in my desk drawer.

Alia sat reading at her desk, deliberately ignoring me. After I stuffed a few bills down my pockets, I said to her hesitantly, “I’m going now, Ali.”

My sister stubbornly kept her eyes on her book as she said into my head,
“So go.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow, okay?”

Silence.

“Goodnight, Alia,” I said quietly, and left.

Back in the living room, Terry looked impatient. “We better go quickly or we’ll be late.”

“Can’t be late on a mission,” I said, grinning. Terry was a stickler for punctuality, having said more than once to me, “In a combat situation, if you’re going to be five seconds late, you might as well not show up at all.”

Cindy followed us out of the penthouse and to the elevator, giving us one more hug each as we waited for the elevator car to come up.

Terry and I got into the elevator, and I exhaled deeply when the doors finally closed.

“Cindy’s not making it easy, is she?” laughed Terry as we rode the elevator down.

“Neither is Alia,” I deadpanned.

“They’ll get over it.”

I gave her a wry smile. “You keep saying that.”

“Well, it’s true, Adrian. Now let’s keep our minds on the mission, okay?”

In the basement parking lot, we found a pudgy man in dark blue workmen’s coveralls. He was leaning his back against a large black van and frowning at us. He didn’t exactly fit my image of a Guardian Knight, but Terry strode up to him, saying, “Good evening, Mr. Watson. It’s been a while.”

“Hello, Terry,” Mr. Watson replied gruffly. “Is that Adrian?”

“Hi,” I said, walking up to him and extending my hand, but he didn’t shake it.

Instead, he cocked his head toward the van, saying, “The gear is already stowed. Get in. Let’s go.”

“Where’s the team?” asked Terry, glancing around the basement.

Mr. Watson’s frown deepened. “You’re it,” he growled. “Now get in! Both of you in the back.”

We opened the side door and sat in the middle seat, Terry by the window. I noticed a wooden crate set on the back seat and assumed that it contained whatever gear we were going to use.