Lesser Gods (26 page)

“I learned how to run again,” I said, and explained to Cindy what we had been doing.

“Well, I’m glad to see that you’re in good spirits,” said Cindy.

“I may be blind, but I’m going to learn the other things too.”

Cindy chuckled. “You can start by learning to eat with a fork, Adrian. Lunch is on the table.”

After another not-very-productive silverware lesson, Terry offered to let me retire to my cave, but I refused, asking her to take me outside again. Cindy and Alia joined us, bringing the Frisbee and Alia’s kite to the park. I obviously couldn’t catch the Frisbee, but I was told that I was getting better at throwing it in the right direction. There were a few times when I felt the chilling nothingness surround me again, putting me on the verge of another panic attack, but I forced myself to remain calm, and most likely no one noticed.

Just before 4pm, Terry took me to Mr. Simms’s place in New Haven Four for my post-mission debriefing.

“Let your feet learn the way, Adrian,” said Terry as we entered the NH-4 lobby. “I’m not always going to be around to guide you.”

I bit my tongue before I let slip my suspicion that I wouldn’t be seeing Mr. Simms on a regular basis.

Terry led me up the elevator and down a corridor. A door was opened and we were ushered into the slightly stale air of Mr. Simms’s living room. Aside from Mr. Simms himself, there was Ms. Jodie Decker and two other Raven Knights that I didn’t remember the names of, but Mr. Simms did most of the talking.

Once we were seated, he started with, “First off, allow me to say how sorry I am that this happened to you. I hope you are feeling better.”

I would’ve liked to cut him off mid-sentence, telling him to skip the unnecessary apology and get on with the debriefing, but politeness demanded that I let him finish, thank him and smile appreciatively.

Once the unpleasantries were over and done with, Ms. Decker said, “Mr. Barnum only lived long enough to inform us that you were still alive when the Slayers took you. We have some basic idea of what happened to Raven Three based on the location of the bodies, blood on the grass, bullet holes in the vehicles and such. What we want to hear today is your account of it.”

I gave it to them in as much detail as I could remember. I might have left out that killing the Slayer woman with the assault rifle was just blind luck, but for the most part, I told it as it happened.

During and after my story, Mr. Simms and occasionally one of his Knights asked a question to which I had already given the clearest answer possible, but I obliged them and repeated myself as many times as they needed to hear it.

Then I asked Mr. Simms why the God-slayers who were stalking Raven Three hadn’t warned the Holy Land of an impending invasion.

Mr. Simms answered, “All we know for certain is that the Holy Land was still asleep when we made entry. Raven Two reported that the men at the radio station were taken by surprise. We’re still uncertain what delayed the warning, but it’s even possible that it was deliberate. The Slayers have been known to harm each other over differing ideologies.”

Kind of like psionics
, I thought to myself. Suddenly I remembered Charles’s little sister, who had been burned to death by the Sky Guardians. Dare I ask Mr. Simms if he knew about them, and what ideologies they had? No, this wasn’t the time or place for off-topic stuff like that. I might ask Terry later.

“Now let’s move on to your time in captivity,” said Mr. Simms.

I told this story too, though it was harder, especially because I had no concept of time and couldn’t be sure when certain things happened. Mr. Simms was mostly interested in how many different people had come to feed me, and whether I had heard anything about the location of other Slayer safe houses and facilities. Had I learned anything at all that might lead to finding more Slayers to kill? I wished I had, but there was nothing I could offer.

Mr. Simms persisted, and Terry cut in angrily, “Come on, Swoop, don’t you think he’s been through enough already?!”

“It’s alright, Terry,” I said, nevertheless grateful for her support.

I told the story again from the start. I hadn’t mentioned any details about Charles except that he had been one of my feeders, and I didn’t add anything on my second telling either. I didn’t think Mr. Simms would understand, and I was hoping that he wouldn’t bring it up, but sure enough...

“Adrian, why did you ask that Charles be given a painless execution?”

I replied uncomfortably, “He was the only one who didn’t beat me.”

“I suppose that’s something to be grateful for, under the circumstances,” agreed Mr. Simms. “But if it were entirely up to your discretion, would you have had his life spared?”

I silently thought about that for a moment, realizing that my hesitation was already part of my answer.

“No,” I finally decided. “He deserved what he got.”

After a short pause, Mr. Simms asked, “Do you have any questions for us before we finish?”

“Just one. Am I still a Raven Knight?”

Mr. Simms seemed to smile as he replied, “Yes, Adrian. But you will remain an inactive one for the time being.”

I nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Simms.”

“Take care of yourself.”

We stood and Terry guided me out.

As we walked back down the corridor to the elevator, Terry said, “Why did you ask him that?”

“About being a Knight?” I shrugged. “I just wondered.”

“If you got your sight back, do you think you’d want to go on another mission?”

“I might,” I said uncertainly. “I don’t know yet, but I might.”

Then Terry said with a hint of accusation in her voice, “You didn’t tell me you killed two Slayers, Adrian.”

“You never asked,” I replied. “I suppose they deserved what they got too, but I’m not proud of it.”

“But it was easier this time, wasn’t it?”

“Difficult to say. I didn’t have time to think about what I was doing.”

Terry was still leading me with her fingers around my left elbow, so she easily noticed my hesitation as we left the lobby of NH-4.

“Are you alright walking outside?” she asked.

“It’s still a little scary,” I admitted, forcing myself to keep pace with her. “I don’t know if I could do this alone.”

“You’ll learn. You’re much better than this morning, anyway.”

“I don’t know what happened to me this morning, Terry,” I said embarrassedly. “It was like the whole world just disappeared around me. I’m sorry I was such a baby.”

“No, Adrian. You remember how I was after we got Cindy back. You’re going to have your ups and downs for a while, too. That’s just part of getting back on your feet.”

“You sound like Cindy,” I said.

Terry laughed. “Even Cindy can’t always be wrong. Just give yourself time, Adrian.”

I smiled, remembering how uncharacteristically supportive Terry had been this morning. Now too, the girl who usually did everything she could to show she was a rock was acting almost motherly. I wondered if this was Terry’s way of going through her ups and downs.

Home. Dinner. A bath. I had sternly told my sister to stop waiting for me outside the bathroom door, and was pleased to not hear her breathing or footsteps when I got out. I guided myself along the corridor wall back toward the living room. My slow pace naturally made my footsteps quieter, which was probably why Terry and Cindy didn’t notice me approaching. At the door to the living room, I heard the two talking.

Cindy was saying, “Begging, huh? It almost sounds like he had a bout of agoraphobia.”

“A what-phobia?” asked Terry.

“A fear of going outside,” explained Cindy.

“You’re kidding!”

“Oh, you better believe it, Terry,” Cindy said seriously. “Alia was there for
years
. I don’t know how you managed to break Adrian free of his fear, but it’s a good thing you got him outside before it got worse.”

“Well, I can’t take much credit,” replied Terry. “I think Alia might have said something to put the fight back into him.”

“We’ll need to give him some time outside tomorrow, and the next day too, just to be sure he’s over it.”

I didn’t like the way they were talking about me. Like I was their patient or something.

Terry said, “I just wish there was something we could do about his eyes.”

Cindy replied, “For now, we’ll just have to wait for the final word from the ophthalmologist.”

“Waiting isn’t one of my strong points.”

Cindy laughed. “That’s probably why you get along so well with Adrian.”

“You should have seen him run, Cindy,” said Terry. “It was amazing. But he’s not going to be able to continue his combat training, or even use his telekinesis if he can’t see. If the eye doctors can’t cure him, I’m going to the historian for help.”

“Patience, Terry,” said Cindy. “One thing at a time. The historian is a dangerous last resort.”

Terry let out a loud huff.

I grinned. I wasn’t the only one to be frustrated with Cindy’s bottomless calm. I was also curious about the historian Terry had mentioned. Who was he, and how could he help me?

“Addy?”
Alia’s voice in my head nearly stopped my heart.
“The door is right in front of you.”

“Thank you, Alia,” I said through clenched teeth as I opened the door and walked into the living room. Alia’s footsteps told me she was returning to our bedroom.

“I’m done,” I announced. “Bathroom’s open.”

“I’m next,” said Terry, brushing past me.

I wanted to ask her about the historian, but I refused to admit that I had been eavesdropping.

The doorbell rang, and a man announced, “Express delivery for Adrian Howell, care of Cynthia Gifford.”

“That’s us,” replied Cindy, opening the door. Once Cindy signed for whatever it was and shut the door again, she said to me, “It’s from a Dr. Lauder, Adrian. Is that your optometrist?”

I nodded.

“Well, she can’t be all bad,” said Cindy. “She sent you a present.”

“Is it a pair of replacement eyeballs?” I asked in mock-hope.

“I hope not!” said Cindy, laughing. “By the shape of the package, I’m guessing it’s a kiddie cane.”

I narrowed my mutilated eyes in her general direction. “A what?”

“A walking cane for the blind,” explained Cindy over the sound of her tearing open the package. “A child-size one is called a kiddie cane.”

I hadn’t known they came in different lengths, but I knew what a blind man’s cane looked like. Long, thin, abnormally white poles that just screamed out,
Danger! Danger! Blind man coming through! Get out of the way before you get whacked by this stick!

Cindy apparently finished opening the package. “Sure enough, a cane it is. Good thing it isn’t an aluminum one.”

“I think I’d prefer to keep using Terry’s jo stick,” I said. “At least when I’m not using it to feel my way forward, I could lean on it and people would just think I was a hiker.”

Cindy said, “The whole point of the white cane is that people know you’re blind, Adrian.”

“My whole point exactly,” I insisted. “I don’t want people feeling sorry for me.”

“It’s for your own safety as well as others’, tough guy. If you’re going outside, I want you to use this.”

“Alright,” I said, reluctantly taking the cane from Cindy.

I ran my fingers along the smooth stick. Made of some kind of hard plastic, the cane was thinner and lighter than the jo stick, and it came with a rubber grip on the top.

I muttered, “Next thing, you’ll want me to start learning Braille.”

Ignoring the sarcasm in my tone, Cindy replied cheerfully, “Glad you feel that way, Adrian, because as soon as I can get the books, you will.”

I shook my head. “You don’t know Braille, Cindy! How can you teach me?”

“We’ll learn together. You don’t plan on being illiterate, do you?”

“I guess not,” I said.

“Adrian, I have a present for you, too,” said Cindy. “I got it while you were at Mr. Simms’s.”

After stepping out of the living room for a moment, she placed a small rectangular item in my hands, about the size of Alia’s shoe. It was made of plastic, and I got it right on my first guess. “A clock?”

“For your bedside,” said Cindy. “Try pushing the big button on the top.”

I did, and suddenly a high-pitch mechanical voice said, “The time now is 8:37pm. Have you brushed your teeth?” I pushed the button again, and the clock said, “The time is still 8:37pm. Did you really need to push the button again?”

I laughed. “This is really stupid. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” said Cindy, and then asked, “By the way, have you?”

“Have I what?”

“Brushed your teeth.”

I shook my head and mumbled, “I couldn’t tell which brush was mine.”

Cindy took my hand. “Come on, I’ll find it for you.”

“But Terry’s taking her bath now.”

“So what?” said Cindy, tugging on my hand. “It’s not like you can see her.”

I refused to move. “That’s really not the point, Cindy.”

Cindy retrieved my toothbrush from the bathroom for me and let me brush in the kitchen. Afraid that I might miss or not get the amount right, Cindy put the toothpaste on my brush for me, and she had to show me where the sink was and fill my water cup, too. Already irked at Dr. Lauder’s present, I couldn’t hide my frustration over having to rely upon Cindy for something as trivial as brushing my teeth.

“We’ll just have to get used to this together, okay?” said Cindy, gently patting my shoulders.

“Cindy, what happens if the eye surgeon says it’s hopeless?” I asked, wondering if Cindy might mention the historian.

No such luck. Cindy merely replied, “Then we’ll look for other options, Adrian. Try to be patient.”

“There’s nothing quite like being handicapped to learn patience,” I said sourly, fingering my kiddie cane.

“I know how you feel about being handled, Adrian,” said Cindy, “but Alia wants to do something for you tonight, and I hope you’ll let her.”

“What is it?” I asked apprehensively, recognizing the voice Cindy assumed whenever she was about to embarrass me.

“Your sister told me how you used to read to her every night back at the research center.”