Authors: Adrian Howell
Alia smiled up at me.
“You were always my brother too.”
Patting her shoulder once, I got up from her bed.
As I started walking over to my own bed, I heard Alia ask,
“Is her name really Cat?”
“Catherine,” I replied, “but we used to call her Cat.”
“Did she call you Addy too?”
I looked back at her and smiled. “Sometimes.”
“Is she the reason you were fighting with Cindy at Mark’s house?”
“Yes.”
“Cindy said you’re trying to find her because she’s lost. She told me that the pendant you always have is hers, and that’s why you were so mad when I got mine.”
“Your mother has a big mouth.”
Alia sat up on her bed and looked at me crossly.
“That’s because my brother’s mouth is too small! You could’ve told me.”
“I’m sorry, Alia,” I said. “I didn’t think you’d understand.”
The only time I had spoken about Cat in front of Alia was in Cindy’s car just after our fight with Ralph, but I guessed Alia was too shaken that night to have been paying much attention. Alia’s early childhood experiences had stunted her physical and emotional growth, and as such I had always assumed that she was too immature to understand how I felt. I realized again how much I had underestimated her.
Alia touched her bloodstone pendant, asking timidly,
“Is it really okay if I keep this?”
“I was never angry about your pendant, Alia,” I said. “I was just angry.”
Alia whispered into my head,
“I really hope you find her, Addy.”
I nodded. “Then I’ll have two sisters.”
I gave her a quick hug and tucked her back into her bed.
My sister followed me with her eyes as I lay down on my bed and telekinetically pulled my blanket up over my chest. It still felt a little strange to actually call Alia my sister, but I knew it was true and I was glad that I said it. I could see in her eyes the same peace I finally felt.
Chapter 4: Combat Training
“Sure you won’t have thirds?” asked Cindy, offering me more sausages.
I patted my bulging stomach. “Cindy, I’m really full. I’ve had enough breakfast to power me for the rest of the week.”
Cindy smiled. “You’re going to need it.”
Today, I would start combat training. Fighting wasn’t my thing. Learning how from a girl would be even more awkward still. But I suspected that getting Cat back from the Angels would involve some fighting whether I liked it or not, so I was determined to learn. I couldn’t just leave everything to the Guardians.
Remembering how Terry had told me to cut my nails short, I reluctantly called to Alia after breakfast. This was one of the most humiliating parts of being unable to balance my power: I couldn’t even cut my own nails because whenever the nail cutter touched my fingers or toes, the steel would drain me, making me too weak and dizzy to complete the job. It made me feel like a big baby, but I had little choice but to ask Cindy to help me last year, and Alia took over ever since we were trapped at the research center. My sister always found it hilarious that she could treat me like one of her baby dolls, but I was in no position to complain.
Once I was dressed and as ready as I could hope to be, I sat in the living room wondering what my combat training with Terry was going to be like. Terry certainly wasn’t the most girly girl I had ever met, but still...
The doorbell rang at precisely ten o’clock.
“She’s punctual,” remarked Cindy, walking to the door. “See? She can’t be all bad.”
Terry was dressed in a black short-sleeve shirt and matching loose jeans, and was carrying a dark green shoulder bag. I had expected her to laugh at my flower-patterned shirt and pastel blue sweatpants, but she merely looked at me with an air of being too polite to comment. It would have been nicer to laugh. Then at least I could have laughed with her.
Cindy tried to invite Terry in for tea, but Terry declined, saying she had a busy day planned for me. Alia asked to tag along with us, but I refused. The last thing I needed today was an audience.
Leaving the penthouse, Terry and I stepped into the elevator, and Terry pushed the button for the basement parking lot.
As the doors closed, Terry suddenly reached over and lifted up my left shirtsleeve.
“Ms. Gifford was right,” she said happily, examining my P-47 tattoo. “You do look like a cyborg.”
I grinned at her.
Suddenly Terry grabbed my left wrist and yanked my arm toward her, asking, “How did you get this?”
“I was born with it!” I answered through clenched teeth, futilely trying to pull my arm back.
“Don’t be an idiot, Adrian. I’m talking about this line. It’s a knife wound, isn’t it?” Terry was looking at the long scar along my left forearm. “How did you get it?”
I didn’t want to discuss the Psionic Research Center with Terry at the moment, but I thought it impolite to lie. “Medical experiment,” I answered uneasily.
“Oh,” said Terry, looking disappointed.
Terry finally let go of my arm, and I asked, “So I’m not as tall as you expected?”
“You’re not a total midget, Adrian,” said Terry. “I was just getting back at you for the ‘I can’t believe my combat instructor is a girl’ bit.”
“I never said I was surprised that you were a girl.”
Terry snorted loudly. “But you thought it loud and clear.”
“What are you, a delver or something?” I asked.
“Actually, I’m not psionic at all.”
“Are your parents psionic?”
“They were,” Terry said stiffly.
“What do you mean?” I asked, wondering if people could lose their psionic powers as they got older.
Terry gave me a withering look. “They’re dead, Adrian.”
“I’m sorry,” I said hastily.
The elevator reached the basement and the doors opened, but when I tried to get off, Terry grabbed me by the back of my shirt and pulled me back into the elevator car.
“Hey, what are you doing?” I asked, but Terry didn’t bother answering as she took a small silver key from her pocket and inserted it into a keyhole under the button panel. Turning the key, she pressed the basement button again. The elevator doors closed and the car started descending even farther.
A few seconds later, the doors opened to reveal a wide concrete hallway extending about thirty yards down. The hallway was lit by bright florescent tubes like in the basement parking lot above, and there were several heavy iron doors set along the walls.
“Wow,” I said, following Terry into the hall.
Terry explained, “Years ago, during the beginning of the New Haven Project, we were still buying up the condos above, and we often had our gatherings down here.”
“How long have you been a Guardian?” I asked.
“All my life.”
Terry led me down the hall, pointing to the doors as we passed them. “This door leads to the meeting rooms. This one to the holding block. That one goes to the shooting range. This here is storage, I think. That door over there leads to the living area.”
“Big place,” I commented, though since Terry didn’t open any of the doors, I couldn’t be sure how large it actually was.
“This is nothing,” said Terry. “It’s just a big concrete tomb. Try being stuck down here for a few days. It’s really horrible.”
“I could think of worse places to be stuck,” I muttered as Terry opened an iron door at the end of the hall, revealing concrete stairs leading even farther down.
“And down here is the dojo,” she said.
“So, who do you live with?” I asked, trying to keep up a friendly conversation as we descended the steps.
Terry looked down at me, clearly annoyed. “I was raised in the forest by a family of wolves. I live with them,” she said dryly. “Look, Adrian, let’s just focus on you today, okay?”
I put up my hands in surrender, saying quietly, “Okay.”
The bottom of the stairs opened into a wide rectangular room almost as large as a gymnasium. It had a high ceiling and concrete walls, and I was instantly reminded of the Lab-C Testing Room back at the Psionic Research Center. The only major difference was that the floor wasn’t cluttered with junk, but instead covered with thick blue gym mats. Along the walls were a few battered punching bags, a row of exercise machines and dumbbells of various sizes. A large rusty air fan built into a vent rattled noisily above our heads. Terry had a point: this wasn’t somewhere I wanted to be shut up in for any length of time.
Dumping her shoulder bag onto the floor, Terry said brusquely, “Take your shoes off and get on the mat.”
Removing my shoes, I hesitantly followed Terry onto the gym mats. Terry did some quick stretching exercises, and I mimicked her. Then we walked to the center of the room and faced off.
“Okay, let’s go,” said Terry.
“Excuse me?” I asked.
Terry took one step forward and grabbed my right forearm. Suddenly the world turned upside down. I found my nose pressed painfully onto the mat, and it took several seconds before I even realized what had happened.
“You’ve got to be ready, Adrian,” said Terry, stepping back and letting me stand up.
I stared at her, shaken by how quickly it had all happened.
“Don’t we, like, bow or something before a match?” I asked.
Terry narrowed her eyes. “Have you ever been in a fight, Adrian?”
“Well, sure.”
“When’s the last time someone bowed to you?”
An instant later, I was kissing the mat again as Terry held my arms behind my back.
“Ow!” I cried out loudly. “Hey, that hurts!”
“You haven’t begun to hurt yet, Adrian,” said Terry, getting up.
I got back onto my feet, asking, “Aren’t you supposed to be teaching me how to do this?”
“You’ll learn by doing,” snapped Terry. “Come on. Again.”
This time I knew she was coming, but that didn’t make the third match last any longer than the first two. Terry flipped me as deftly as she might have tossed a coin. Pinning me facedown against the mat, she twisted my right arm behind my back in a direction I was sure it wasn’t meant to bend. I howled in pain.
“Another inch,” hissed Terry, “and it will break.”
“Please, Terry, stop it!”
“So, are you ready to learn from a girl now?” Terry asked in a diabolically sweet voice, twisting my arm a bit more.
“Ow! Okay! Okay!” I shouted, and Terry released me.
Massaging my arm and steadying my breathing, I looked at Terry, who was clearly enjoying this far too much.
Terry said, “I’m not a delver, but I do know what you’re thinking, Adrian.”
“Yeah? What?” I demanded crossly.
“That you wouldn’t have lost if you could use your power on me.”
That was exactly what I had been thinking, but I wasn’t about to admit it. I frowned at her.
“It’s okay,” said Terry. “You can use your power.”
“But you’re a Guardian, right?” I said. “I’m not supposed to.”
“Not without consent,” said Terry, smiling. “You have my permission.”
“But I can’t just blast you, Terry,” I said, horrified at the thought. “I mean, you could really get hurt.”
“If you can hit me even once, I promise I’ll be the kindest, sweetest, most patient instructor in the world,” said Terry, backing away from me until there were about ten yards between us. “Now, take your best shot.”
I stared at her disbelievingly, thinking that for someone who had spent her whole life with psionics, Terry obviously didn’t know how dangerous this was. Terry was wearing only a thin cloth shirt. At this distance, my telekinetic blasts could easily crack her ribs or worse.