Lesser Gods (18 page)

I heard the loud tick of a clock’s minute hand. I stopped trying to move and listened for other noises. I could hear muffled voices. They seemed to be coming from another room.

My legs hadn’t been tied, but I didn’t dare try to stand up. The greatest pain in my body was focused on my left calf. At the moment, it was just a dull, throbbing pain, but it was the kind of pain that threatened to get a whole lot worse with the slightest movement. I lay perfectly still.

What had happened to me?

My memory of the night with Raven Three was slowly returning. I had blasted a hole through a man’s body, and then shot a woman dead. What had happened next?

I couldn’t be entirely sure, but my best guess was that someone had shot me in my left calf from behind, possibly from under the motorhome. Having had my leg knocked out from under me, I had fallen backward and hit my head against something hard enough to render me unconscious.

Now wasn’t the time for detailed recollection. I needed to get out of this place quickly. Somehow, I would have to master the pain in my leg and get to my feet.

I heard footsteps approaching. Change of plan. I lay the left side of my head back on the floor and let my body go limp. I heard a door open, and several pairs of footsteps entered the room.

A low growling voice said, “I still can’t believe we wasted bandages on this thing.”

“He was bleeding out,” said a calmer voice that sounded a bit like Mark’s.

“Let it bleed,” spat the growling voice. “Filthy demon.”

Then a third man’s voice said, “I thought I’d seen it all, but I never expected a child psionic. What are we going to do with him?”

“What we should’ve done yesterday,” said Growler. “Kill it and be done with.”

“Not so fast,” said the calm one, who I guessed was their leader. “It’s rare we ever get one alive, and this one may be too young to send to the Lord quite yet. We will need to consult Father Lestor before we take further action.”

Too scared to be embarrassed by my nudity, I lay motionless as the men continued to talk about me as if I were a lump of meat.

“How old do you reckon he is?” asked voice number three.

Leader Man answered, “Can’t be older than twelve.”

Fourteen,
I thought angrily, but I kept my mouth shut as a hand roughly grabbed my hair and turned my head slightly.

“He’s seen some action, though,” said Number Three. “Missing ear, scars here and there... I’ll bet that’s even a bullet wound there, see?” I felt a finger poke my stomach. “Yep, definitely a bullet. This kid’s been put through the paces.”

A pair of hands pushed me into a facedown position, and the forced movement caused my left calf to scream in agony. My body involuntarily tensed up, but somehow I managed to remain silent.

“Look,” continued Number Three. “There’s a scar on his back, too. The bullet must have gone clean through him.”

Growler laughed, saying, “So it wasn’t the demon’s first time to get shot.”

“It’s not funny!” said Leader Man. “If the Guardians are so desperate for warriors that they’d use a child like this... Perhaps they are the greater evil still.”

By now I was so thirsty that I considered letting them know I was awake so I could beg them for water.

“Hey, what do you make of this mark on his arm?” asked Number Three. “P-47? What is that?”

Since I was lying facedown now, they could see the tattoo on my left arm.

“I don’t rightly know,” replied Leader Man. “I was wondering the same thing when I saw it earlier. I suppose it doesn’t matter much, but if you like, you can ask him when he wakes.”

“You think he’ll wake?” asked Number Three.

“It’s hard to tell,” replied Leader Man. “He’s lost a lot of blood.”

“
It
has lost a lot of blood,” Growler corrected in a harsh voice. “And it’s about to lose a lot more.”

I heard the sound of a pistol being cocked.

“Holster that weapon, soldier!” commanded Leader Man.

I waited, motionless, wondering if I was about to be executed.

I heard Growler let out a frustrated sigh. “Why are we keeping this
thing
alive?”

“Because he’s too young,” Leader Man replied simply.

“Well, we can’t let this boy go just because of his age,” said Number Three. “I’m with you on this. Let’s finish him.”

“No!” Leader Man said more severely. “We are the servants of God. We do not kill the innocent.”

“This boy is hardly innocent!” argued Number Three.

“He is a child still,” said Leader Man.

“Nevertheless! He killed Tate and Katie!”

“He was defending himself,” Leader Man said calmly. “We are not going to kill him. Not yet, anyway. His fate is for Father Lestor to decide. We will keep him alive until Father Lestor returns.”

“It’s awake,” said Growler. “It’s listening to us!”

“He’s not.”

“Oh yeah? Watch this!”

A firm hand grabbed my left calf just around the wound and shook it violently. I cried out in pain.

Growler laughed. “See, it’s awake! The filthy demon almost had us there. What’s your name, demon?”

“Hansel,” I said weakly.

I knew I had nothing to gain by acting tough or refusing to answer. Considering how much trouble I was already in, it might seem silly that I’d still want to hide my real name, but it was the only bit of resistance I could manage.

“You don’t look German,” said Number Three. “How old are you?”

“Twelve,” I lied automatically. If I thought they’d believe me, I would have told them that I was three years old.

Now that they knew I was awake, I decided not to wait any longer for the thing I needed most. “Water,” I begged. “Please... Water...”

They ignored my plea, and Number Three asked, “Do you know why you’re here, Hansel?”

I remained silent, and the man said, “You’re here because God has sent you to us. Soon he will judge you.”

“Not soon enough,” said Growler. “You’ll pay us our due in blood first, demon.”

Leader Man said sternly, “Father Lestor will decide whether he lives or dies! Not you!”

“Perhaps,” said Growler. “But Father Lestor won’t be back for another two weeks. Don’t worry, I won’t kill it that easily.”

A moment later, I heard Growler whisper into my left ear, “This is for Katie and Tate.”

I tensed up my body, expecting to receive a thrashing at any moment, but instead I heard footsteps running toward us.

“What is it, Sister?” asked Leader Man.

“I believe it is official now,” a woman’s voice said breathlessly. “The Guardians have taken the Holy Land.”

Growler snarled like a tiger. “Oh, that’s it!”

I won’t bother describing what happened to me next. Fortunately, I was only conscious for a few more minutes anyway.

When I woke again, I was still naked, this time lying on a cold stone floor. The moment I opened my eyes, they stung so horribly that I quickly shut them tight, which eased the pain only a little. My wrists were not cuffed, and when I pressed my palms over my eyelids, I noticed that I wasn’t wearing the blindfold either.

Coughing once, I felt a sharp pain in my chest. I knew from experience that it was a cracked rib. Possibly two. Growler had kicked me pretty hard. Still, ribs were among my secondary worries at the moment.

My thirst had reached its boiling point. I needed water so badly that I was ready to drink my own blood if I had to.

Slowly, I forced myself to open my stinging eyes, but still I couldn’t see anything at all. It was pitch-black in here. I couldn’t even see my hands in front of my face.

“Hello?” I whispered into the darkness. My voice was cracked, my mouth so parched it was painful to speak.

“Hello?” I called again, this time more loudly, and the effort made my damaged chest throb agonizingly.

I noticed that my call had echoed slightly, and from the musty, cool air I was breathing, I gathered that I was in a windowless basement. That explained the utter absence of light. Giving up, I closed my eyes again.

My whole body hurt from the beating I had received, and my bandaged left calf felt like it had swollen up like a balloon. I still felt very drained. Gingerly running my fingers over my body to see if anything else was damaged or broken, my hands eventually came to a heavy steel shackle on my right ankle. The thick chain attached to it clinked noisily as I pulled on it. I couldn’t tell how long the chain was, but I guessed that the other end was fixed to a wall.

I was almost afraid to touch the bandages over the bullet wound on my left calf, and when I did, I instantly regretted it. Ignoring the pain in my eyes, I opened them again, hoping to see how bad my leg really was, but all I could see was murky darkness. I kept my eyes open, hoping they would adjust. Everything remained a blurry shade of very dark gray.

A door creaked open. I froze as I heard footsteps enter the room, and suddenly the place became much brighter. Someone had turned on the lights.

I blinked several times, but all I could see was thick creamy white mixed with indistinct patches of pink, and a small spot of shadow to my left. Even in the light, that was all I could see. And I finally understood.

I was blind.

“What the hell have you done to me?!” I shouted wildly into the light, ignoring the pain in my chest and reaching out with my arms to grab onto something. Anything.

I tried to stand, but fell forward as the pain shot through my injured leg.

“What have done to me?!” I yelled again in panic.

“Silence, child!” a female voice answered harshly.

“I can’t see! I can’t see!” I whimpered to myself in rising panic. “I can’t see anything!”

“You will see soon enough,” said the woman. “You will see when the Lord takes you.”

“What have you done?” I cried out feebly.

“We have done nothing,” replied the callous voice. “This is God’s work, child. You will meet him soon, and he will release your soul from the evil that has taken you. Now eat.”

I heard the sound of something being placed on the floor near me. The lights went out a moment later, the door banged shut, and I was alone.

My thirst quickly overtaking my panic, I desperately reached forward, groping around for whatever it was that the woman had left me.

My fingers finally found the edge of a tray. On it, a wooden bowl. A tall glass. Water!

Holding the glass in both hands, I drained its contents in one long swig. I was still thirsty, but no longer desperately so. I felt for the bowl again and carefully picked it up. Thanks to Growler, I was still recovering from a pretty bad nosebleed so I couldn’t smell the contents of the bowl very well, but it was some kind of thin soup. I brought the edge of the bowl to my mouth and discovered that the soup was only lukewarm, for which I was grateful. I gulped it down and wished there was more.

I felt the surface of the tray again, hoping for something else. My fingers found a spoon, which was useless to me, and then something soft and dry. Bread.

I picked it up and savagely threw it across the room. A second later I heard it hit a wall and fall to the floor.

I cupped my hands over my closed eyelids, desperately trying not to scream.

Blind... I still couldn’t quite grasp the idea. The Slayers had somehow blinded me. It was worse than the bullet hole in my leg. Even if I could somehow get the shackle off of my right ankle so that I wasn’t drained, I wouldn’t be able to use my telekinesis in any useful way. Not without sight. I couldn’t move things if I couldn’t see them. My blasts couldn’t be aimed. Even if I could levitate myself, I wouldn’t know which direction to fly.

With my right index finger, I gently touched my closed left eyelid. The skin felt undamaged. Bracing myself for the pain, I pressed a little harder. I could tell by the feel of it that my eyeball beneath was neither smooth nor entirely round. I checked my right eye next, and found it was the same. While I had been unconscious, someone had lifted my eyelids and deliberately stuck something into my eyes. I realized with mounting horror that Alia probably wouldn’t be able to heal this. My sister’s healing ability merely accelerated natural healing. That’s how she stopped bleeding and mended bones. She couldn’t re-grow Terry’s left hand or my right ear, so chances were, she couldn’t fix my eyes either.

I was mildly hyperventilating despite the pain in my chest, but the sound of the door opening again put an end to that. The lights came on. I opened my eyes again, but nothing had changed. It was the same murky, creamy white and pink. I couldn’t recognize any shapes whatsoever.

“Here’s your toilet,” said the woman.

I felt a heavy metallic object fall on my head. Feeling it in my hands, I discovered that it was a bucket.

“Use it or you’ll lick the floor clean,” she said.

The lights went out again and the door slammed shut.

I have no idea how long I sat there and cried.

I wasn’t sure which I felt more severely, the pain throughout my body or the fear in my heart. This wasn’t my first time in captivity, but while I had been through a lot at the Psionic Research Center, a God-slayers’ basement was something else entirely. The doctors at the research center needed me. Even a lab rat had some value to its owner. The Slayers had no reason to keep me alive except for some stupid notion that I was too young to kill, and it seemed that the majority of them disagreed. What would this Father Lestor say when he returned? Would I even be permitted to live long enough to find out?

Growler hadn’t asked me one question about the Guardians when he was pounding me. Were they even interested? And what if they were? The Wolf interrogator who had questioned Alia and me before we were shipped to the research center knew his job well. The Wolf knew how to induce fear and pain, but he also knew that he was under strict orders not to kill us. I suspected that the Slayers would not be as restrained if they decided to torture me for information about the “demons” that had destroyed their Holy Land.

My tears eventually ran dry as my thoughts moved from self-pity to wondering where everyone was and what had happened to them. Since the Guardians had apparently taken the Holy Land successfully, I was pretty confident that Terry was alive and well. I wasn’t as hopeful for Mr. Watson, but perhaps Mr. Barnum and the other Knight had made it to safety.