The Quest (Psionic Pentalogy Book 4)

by Adrian Howell

  Alia tried to heal Steven’s nose but he roughly pushed her aside and scampered down the corridor, out of sight. After allowing Steven enough time to recover some of his dignity, I found him and gave him free pick of the rooms. Showing some basic intelligence, he chose the smallest one on the second floor, which wasn’t all that tiny anyway, and we dragged the extra bedding to the other two rooms.

  The only other person severely dissatisfied with the sleeping arrangements was, also predictably, Alia.

  “You can sleep in Terry’s room upstairs, Ali,” I said when she begged me to let her stay with me. “You like Terry.”

  “But we’ve always shared a room, Addy,” moaned Alia, giving me her most injured look.

  “But my room here is going to have four other boys in it,” I pointed out.

  Alia stamped her feet. “I don’t care!”

  I shook my head and said firmly, “You’re ten years old, Alia. You can’t be afraid of the dark forever.”

  “Not forever, Addy,” insisted Alia. “Just until I’m not. Please?”

  I looked at her wearily. “I take it you don’t just want to sleep in the same room as me, yes?”

  I hadn’t meant it as an invitation but my sister jumped at the idea. “Is it okay?” she asked, her pleading eyes becoming even wider. “Can I really sleep in your bed again?”

  We stared at each other for nearly a minute. Then I gave Alia a resigned smile. Throwing her arms around my waist, Alia gave me a spine-bending hug.

  I remembered how Cat had wanted her own room by the time she was seven years old, and I was only too happy to see her go. I guess most normal kids are like that. Cindy had once told me that Alia would eventually want her own space, but that didn’t seem to be in danger of happening anytime soon. I honestly couldn’t understand how a ten-year-old girl would want to share a room, let alone a mattress, with her brother, but that’s just how Alia was. She had her own pace. I suspected that this was simply how she dealt with her past and present, by taking her life slowly whenever she needed to. I had known Alia since she was seven and a half, and I had long since learned not to argue too much with her stubbornness. After all, she was never really selfish. She just had some special needs. Besides, in many ways, I knew that I was much more fortunate than her, so I had less right to complain. I hadn’t turned psionic or lost my family until I was twelve. At least I had my memories to fall back on. Alia had been in the fight of her life since she was an infant.

  Sharing a bed with Alia again wasn’t all that bad for me either. In addition to the cots and mats that the Guardian families had provided us with, our bedroom had a comfortable-looking queen-size bed set against the far wall. Theoretically, I could have simply pulled rank and taken that bed for myself, but with Alia there, I had the perfect excuse. The thin mats on the floor wouldn’t be nearly as nice.

  The other boys I shared the bedroom with, particularly James, looked surprised as Alia snuggled up against my shoulder, but nobody laughed. I seriously doubted that this was in respect for our status as Guardian Knights, considering how little we must have looked the part. We were all just too tired.

  Once everyone was settled, I telekinetically flipped off the light switch. Just enough starlight streamed in from the window for me to see my sister’s cheerless eyes staring back into mine.

  Gently patting Alia’s side, I asked her, “So how are you holding up?”

  “I’m okay,” Alia said bravely. “But I don’t like this house, Addy. I miss our old room.”

  That made two of us. You might think that after days of sleeping outside in a dark and scary forest, just being in a proper bedroom would be enough. And it was, in a way, but that didn’t change the fact that this room was nothing like the one we had left behind. The air was different. The blanket felt unfamiliar. It wasn’t the first time we had been torn from everything we knew, but that didn’t make it any easier.

  “We’ll just have to make the best of it,” I said to her. “I’m sure we won’t be here for more than a couple of days, anyway. A week or two at the longest.”

  “I miss my unicorns.”

  I gave her arm a squeeze. “I’m sorry you lost your unicorns, Alia.”

  Alia’s side of our NH-1 penthouse bedroom was overflowing with unicorns-themed toys, storybooks, and trinkets of all sizes, including an extra-large stuffed unicorn doll that Alia used to sleep with whenever she was feeling insecure. My sister had recently started to outgrow her unicorn obsession, but I still wished that we could have at least brought along one of her smaller dolls. It would have added a little familiarity to this place.

  Alia drew herself even closer and asked quietly in my head, “Addy, do you really think we’ll ever see Cindy again?”

  “Don’t talk like that,” I whispered back. “I’m sure of it. It’s not the first time we’ve been separated. I promise it’ll be okay.”

  Another promise I had no confidence I could keep. I turned away so my sister couldn’t see my face. Staring at the shadows on the walls of this unfamiliar room, I wondered what would happen to Alia if Cindy really was dead.

  Or what if we found Cindy alive… and converted?

  Would Alia join the Angels to be with her? Would I?

  No, I couldn’t let myself start thinking like that. We were only three days out of New Haven. There was still hope and I had to keep it.

  While Cindy weighed most heavily on my mind, she wasn’t the only person I was afraid for.

  Father Mark Parnell would probably have been at his church or about to head home when the attack started. Mr. Malcolm Koontz, my nocturnal dreamweaver friend from the Psionic Research Center, might have just been getting up from bed. What about Terry’s Uncle Charles, or the new leader of the Raven Knights, Jack Pearson? Had they died fighting? Mark, Mr. Koontz, Uncle Charles and Jack P. That made four people. If what Mrs. Harding had said about the number of survivors was true, then statistically speaking, only one of them would have made it out alive.

  In a way, I was glad that I hadn’t made more friends in New Haven.

  Chapter 5: One Big Awkward Family

  Alia and I had to endure a fair amount of teasing from the older girls the next morning, but at least my sister was in better spirits and smiled toothily when I reassured her again that we would find Cindy alive and safe.

  “And you can still sleep in my bed as long as you stay on your own side and stop trying to strangle me in your sleep,” I said, massaging the back of my neck. I would have preferred just to move Alia to one of the cots, but then I would lose my justification to keep the only real bed in the room.

  Three Guardian volunteers came to help cook breakfast for the “Refugee House,” as we had been dubbed, and Alia and I assisted them in the kitchen along with Heather and Candace. We didn’t really need so many people to make breakfast, but the two girls had insisted.

  “What are you looking at?” I asked when I caught Candace peering at my face from across the counter where we were cutting vegetables.

  “The color of your eyes,” Candace replied matter-of-factly. “Or colors to be exact.”

  “Well, stop it, please,” I said, trying not to sound too offensive. “I’m losing my concentration here and I might slice off a finger.”

  Candace smiled. “They’re really pretty, Adrian… in a weird sort of way.”

  “Let me see!” cried Heather, and I sighed as Alia laughed.

  After the God-slayers destroyed my eyes by sticking a sharp object into them, Terry had journeyed far to find a psionic who could fix them. (Alia couldn’t help me because her power merely accelerated natural healing, and my eyes were too damaged.) Terry eventually managed to return with a “reconstructive healer” who could bring my eyes back to almost their original shape, but after the operation, I discovered that my restored irises no longer matched in color. My right eye was part brown, part reddish purple, and my left eye was a light shade of yellow-green. It didn’t matter to me so long as I could see through them, but with two gigg
ling girls staring at my face, it was impossible to focus on the task at hand.

  “Come on, girls,” said one of the volunteer cooks. “This isn’t a playroom. If you’re going to help, then help. Otherwise, go set the table or something.”

  “Sorry,” Heather and Candace said in unison, and went back to their tasks.

  Mrs. Harding arrived just in time for breakfast, and she had brought Patrick with her as well. Baby Laila was left with Patrick’s host family.

  “Here’s our current list of known survivors,” said Mrs. Harding, passing a packet of papers to Terry.

  Terry studied the list for a few minutes and then looked at me, shaking her head sadly. I had to see for myself, though. I went over every name twice, but I knew no one there.

  “Given a few more days for the reports to come in, I’m sure there will be many more people on that list,” Mrs. Harding said encouragingly.

  “Yeah,” I said, forcing a smile in front of Alia. “No doubt.”

  Mrs. Harding had also brought another round of donations: an old television set, two radios, several boxes of books and magazines, toys and games. It reminded me of my first few days at Cindy’s old house when I was trapped indoors with Alia. We were much more numerous here, but the essence of our lives was the same: stay indoors and out of sight.

  Mrs. Harding and the volunteer helpers left right after breakfast, but Patrick stayed behind. Alia played with him and a few others in the living room while the older kids joined Terry and me in the dining room to discuss our future here.

  Terry began on a hopeful note, saying, “Probably in a couple more days, the Walnut Lane Guardians will find some of your parents and you can get back to them. In the meantime, we’ll just have to get along.”

  I knew that Terry was itching to dump these kids and return to the main Guardian group, but the fact of the matter was that there wasn’t a main Guardian group to return to anymore. The two largest Guardian factions remaining were led by some unknown Lancer Knights and numbered fewer than a thousand members each. Both groups claimed to be the “true Guardians,” as if we didn’t have enough enemies without fighting amongst ourselves. Terry had decided that we would stay in Walnut Lane at least until we learned the fate of the Council’s plane.

  “We’re not going to fall apart and I’ll tolerate no fighting in this house,” continued Terry. “No matter how you’re feeling, you will maintain a bare minimum amount of civility here. We’ll do the household chores in shifts, and if we end up staying here long term, the older ones should start thinking of getting some part-time work to help pay our way. The little ones can keep house. We’re going to be just like one big family, okay?”

  Most of the kids nodded, and Terry assigned us our household duties based on age and capabilities as if she was commanding a unit of Guardian Knights.

  Steven hadn’t joined our family meeting, retreating to his room immediately after breakfast. When seven-year-old Teddy admitted that he was terrified of the big angry boy, Terry smiled reassuringly, saying, “Don’t you be afraid of him, Teddy. Inside, Steven is just as scared as anyone. Just ignore him, and if he causes you any trouble, you come straight to me.”

  Teddy needn’t have worried. He was taken into another home before noon that very day, along with two of the other youngest.

  “Oh, wonderful!” Alia said loudly in a sarcastic tone that she had picked up from me over the years. “Now I’m the littlest in the house again.”

  We laughed, and Rachael kindly offered to be Alia’s personal hider so that she could leave the house and visit Patrick whenever she wanted.

  After Alia, the next youngest left was eleven-year-old Max, the kid who I had snapped at on the airplane. His perkiness had slowly dissipated during our forest hike, and it didn’t look like it was about to return anytime soon. Max had slept in my room, and we had been woken twice during the night by his cries.

  There were now only fourteen left in the house so our sleeping arrangements changed a bit, but I kept Max with us and asked James to keep an extra-close eye on him. Scott, a good natured nineteen-year-old, agreed to look after Daniel Livingston and the last boy, another thirteen-year-old named Walter. The three girls’ rooms weren’t as crowded. Terry shared a room with Rachael while Heather and Candace bunked together in another, and two sisters named Felicity and Susan took the third.

  With James, Max, Alia and myself, my bedroom was the most crowded. Heather and Candace offered to take Alia into their room, but Alia refused, much to the amusement of the two girls.

  “Is she your sister or your girlfriend, Adrian?” Candace asked teasingly while helping me with dinner preparations later that afternoon. With some concentrated effort, I ignored her.

  Not to brag too much, but over the years, Cindy had made me into an above-average cook, so Terry had assigned me to the position of head chef. During our morning meeting, we originally considered putting everyone on kitchen duty in turns, but I figured that it would be easier to work with the same people, provided they were willing to help on a regular basis in return for being let off from other household chores such as cleaning and laundry. Heather and Candace volunteered, and so did Scott, who also knew his way around a kitchen pretty well.

  This was our first meal to prepare without assistance from the Walnut Lane volunteers, and we had in turn invited them to dine with us tonight as our guests. The good people of Walnut Lane had even stocked our pantry for us, so it was the least we could do to repay their hospitality. I was going for a sure win with something as simple as spaghetti and fried chicken, but even so, I had never been in charge of preparing such a large and important meal. When Candace refused to stop teasing me about Alia, I snapped at her pretty harshly. She recovered quickly, though, and dinner was a success.

  Over the meal, we learned from Mrs. Harding that New Haven was now officially under Angel occupation and that the Angels were planning to establish their own capital city there.

  “They’re calling it Lumina,” Mrs. Harding said with a wry smile. “Rumor has it the Angels have already made arrangements with the city government to seize all Guardian assets in former New Haven.”

  So much for the Guardian Knight money in my bank account.

  “Is King Divine going to be living there?” I asked, wondering if Randal and Cat might soon be sharing our old penthouse at the top of NH-1.

  Mrs. Harding shook her head. “I’m afraid King Divine probably won’t live there permanently, if at all. It’s too obvious a target. The Angels will keep their king carefully hidden somewhere else.”

  “A capital without a king, huh?”

  Terry said to me, “If and when the Angels declare themselves the rulers of the world, if any remaining world powers knew where Randal was, they’d lob an atomic bomb or two just to make sure he died. He won’t be somewhere as obvious as a giant psionic city.”

  Mrs. Harding nodded in agreement, saying, “Unfortunately, the chances of finding King Divine anywhere are pretty slim.”

  That gloomy news, combined with the comfort of a full stomach and the relief of having spent an entire day in semi-normal conditions, compelled me to pull Terry aside after dinner for a quick but important chat.

  “I’ve been thinking of what you said to me on the first night in the forest, Terry,” I began.

  “You mean about priorities?” asked Terry.

  “Yeah.”

  Terry raised her eyebrows. “And?”

  “And I still don’t care about the Guardians,” I informed her. “But I don’t plan to live the rest of my life in hiding, and I won’t live in a world ruled by a psionic king. Being converted can’t be any better than being locked up, and I’d rather die than accept either.”

  Terry smiled. “Does this mean I can count on you to help me hunt down Randal Divine and save the world from Angel rule?”

  “Yeah,” I breathed. “I’m in.”

  I had only spared Randal Divine for Cat’s sake, and then only because I didn’t know at the time what Ran
dal’s true power was. I wasn’t going to make the same mistake again. Cat had already lost one father. She’d just have to get over this one too.

  “But Cindy comes first, Terry,” I insisted. “Once we get Alia back to her, I’ll help you all you want, but until then, my only mission is finding Cindy and taking care of Alia. The rest of the damn world can wait.”

  “I knew you’d come around,” said Terry. Then she nudged me on the arm with her left stump and asked in mock-surprise, “But could this possibly be Adrian Howell believing in choices?”

  “Call it what you will,” I replied, unamused. “Personally, I don’t see it as a choice. There’s not much point in trying to be neutral if no one else is.”

  “That’s why it’s called a war, Adrian.”

  Laila Brown had died in that war. So had Ralph Henderson, and Terry’s brother, Gabriel. Maybe Terry and I would too. But the Angels’ monopoly on master controllers couldn’t be allowed to continue. There would be no peace as long as Randal Divine lived.

  “So what’s the plan?” I asked.

  Terry shook her head and smiled wryly. “For now, we do what we’re both worst at. We wait.”

  Over the next few days, most of us found our place in what we hoped would only be a temporary home. But not everyone.

  Steven refused to help with any of the chores, so the laundry crew refused to wash his clothes. Terry didn’t force Steven to help around the house, knowing that none of the others wanted to share his disagreeable company anyway. We all liked the councilman’s son best when he was sulking in his room. Scott even suggested that we deliver Steven’s meals there so he wouldn’t have to eat with us, but I drew the line there. “Steven shouldn’t feel like we’re pushing him away,” I argued. I agreed with Terry in that Steven was not evil at heart. We all just dealt with our pain in different ways.

  Max was as hollow as ever, but James took good care of him, staying close by his side and making sure he ate enough at mealtimes. The sisters, Felicity and Susan, who were sixteen and twelve respectively, often sat with James and Max at the dining table, and I could believe that, given enough time, they were all going to be alright.