The Quest (Psionic Pentalogy Book 4)

by Adrian Howell

  “Yes, Mrs. Harding,” Terry said wearily. “We know better than to throw stones at a hornet’s nest.”

  Lately, we sometimes heard rumors about Angel groups passing near or even through our town. I knew Terry was itching to take a few of her Knight trainees out on a patrol and see if they could take one back for New Haven, but Mrs. Harding had repeatedly warned everyone not to do anything that could jeopardize the secrecy of our settlement.

  Ignoring Terry’s frown, Mrs. Harding turned to Rachael, who was also sitting at our table, and said kindly, “I hear that you have become quite a hider, Ms. Adams.”

  Rachael smiled back, saying, “Don’t worry, Mrs. Harding. The house will stay properly hidden.”

  “Arthur has every confidence in you,” said Mrs. Harding. “But please don’t hesitate to ask if you need any help, darling.”

  “Of course.”

  Rachael’s power as a psionic hider had grown fairly steadily over the last few months, and recently Merlin had stopped coming over except to teach us blocking. It was a big house, and Rachael still had to create her hiding bubble in parts, spending a few minutes on each floor repowering her protection twice a day. Technically, all the detectable psionics here lived on the second floor and below, but Alia sometimes visited Candace and Heather in their room up on the third floor, so Rachael was careful to keep the whole house hidden at all times. Rachael’s power was even strong enough now for her to create movable hiding fields around other people. However, not only did this require a lot more effort, but Rachael’s individual hiding protection wouldn’t last more than a few minutes at a time – a far cry from the two-weeks’ worth that Cindy could give. Thus Rachael continued to escort Alia in person to and from Patrick’s.

  The dinner conversation moved on to our daily lives. I assured Mrs. Harding that everyone was getting healthy, well-balanced meals. Before going home, Mrs. Harding strongly suggested that our younger kids be given a little more time to study academics.

  Terry shook her head. “I know you’re concerned about their school grades, but in this day and age, we do have to find a healthy balance.”

  Terry’s idea of a healthy balance was that the kids go to school but not waste any time doing homework when they could be training to fight. This was the majority opinion in our house, and Mrs. Harding had no choice but to accept it.

  With most of our Knight trainees either working day jobs or going to school, there wasn’t enough time to teach them everything they needed to know about surviving a heavy-duty firefight. We were instead giving them a crash course in CQC, teaching the most basic and essential moves such as how to roll and how to wrestle pistols out of people’s hands.

  Down in the basement, Terry and I taught everyone how to shoot moderately straight and rapidly reload. “Everyone” not only included Susan, Max and Patrick, but also my very reluctant sister, who hated the noise of gunfire even more than I did. Terry had found a tiny pistol for Alia that, when fired, sounded more like a party popper than a gun. But Terry had left me the task of coaxing Alia into using it. Taking Alia down into the basement reminded me a little of the time back when I was desperately trying to teach her how to speak with her mouth, but Alia was older now, and I got her to shoot without making her cry.

  But when we started running low on bullets and Terry tried to dip into the money that Alia made teaching kiddie combat, my sister decided that things had gone too far.

  “I will not let you do it!” she shouted furiously at Terry over dinner, drawing stares from the other kids who probably never thought she was capable of anger until now. “The money I make here is for food and water and medicine! Not for stupid bullets!”

  “Those stupid bullets are going to keep us alive, Alia,” Terry countered sternly.

  “I’m the one teaching those kids. I’ll decide how we use that money!”

  Terry stood and glared menacingly at Alia. “Don’t you dare forget who taught you those skills in the first place!”

  But Alia refused to back down. “I don’t care, Teresa! If you want my money, you’ll have to fight me for it!”

  Terry stared openmouthed at Alia for a brief moment, and then sat down, saying resignedly, “Alia, you are the one and only person on this planet that I’m afraid to fight. I’ll get our bullets somewhere else.”

  The dinner crowd erupted into laughter and cheers for Alia.

  Giving my sister a slap on her back, I called out to Terry, “I guess we finally know who the real boss around here is!”

  Terry negotiated funding from Mrs. Harding the next day.

  Mid-December. Merlin told us to prepare the house for possible visitors. The story was that a family of psionics belonging to the Meridian faction had escaped an Angel takeover of their settlement and was wandering this way. If they came close enough to Walnut Lane, Mrs. Harding might give the word to bring them in.

  “We’ll have to give them Steven’s room,” Terry said to me in private. “If you have a problem with that, I’ll do it myself.”

  “Let’s at least wait till the visitors arrive before bloodying Steven’s face again,” I replied. “There’s no guarantee that these drifters will ever make it this far anyway.”

  Steven still refused to acknowledge Terry’s presence even during our blocking sessions. I couldn’t claim that Steven and I got along even moderately well, but at least he talked to me. If at all possible, I wanted to keep the peace.

  A few days later, though it gave me no pleasure at all, I turned out to be right. If Merlin’s report was to be believed, the psionic family was simultaneously waylaid by a pack of Wolves planning to take them in for scientific experimentation and by a team of Angels intending to convert them. What happened to the family was unknown, but between the Angels and the Wolves, while there were casualties on both sides, the Wolves came off much worse in the engagement.

  Terry said darkly, “If there are any Wolf survivors, they’re probably all locked up in some Angel stronghold by now.”

  I shrugged. “Good riddance.”

  I felt sorry for the poor Meridian family caught in between, but it gave me some grim satisfaction to know that our two enemy factions were doing each other in.

  “You don’t get it, Adrian,” said Terry. “If the Wolves won, that would have been a good thing. Or at least acceptable to us. Sure, the Angels will torture their captives for information, but they won’t kill them. They’ll all eventually be converted by Randal Divine. Professional soldiers are a very valuable resource, you know.”

  “Maybe we should hire us some Wolves,” I said dryly.

  “Don’t be stupid!” snapped Terry, and then mused, “Actually, a team of decent mercenaries wouldn’t be such a bad idea, if we only had the money.”

  “I doubt Alia is about to help you in the finance department.”

  “Maybe I’ll go rob another bank.”

  I stared at her. “Another bank?!”

  “I’m kidding, Half-head!” Terry laughed loudly. “I’ve done some pretty horrible things, but I promise I’ve never robbed a bank. Not yet anyway.”

  I laughed with her, shaking my head. “The things we do!”

  Then Terry said seriously, “Honestly, I’d prefer a couple of decently trained and dedicated Knights over hired help. Money is a poor substitute for true loyalty.”

  “Good Knights seem hard to come by these days.”

  “How are your trainees doing, Adrian?”

  “They’re coming along,” I said. “Slowly, but they are. Still, they’re not as good as yours, I’m sure. You didn’t exactly give me the pick of the crop.”

  “Who’s your best? Not counting Alia, of course.”

  I thought about that for a moment. “Steven is probably my best,” I said slowly, “and not just because he’s the biggest. He’s got some solid moves, and his pistol aim is almost as good as his fire-throwing.”

  Terry snorted. “He should be good by now, considering he doesn’t work and hardly helps with the chores. Maybe he’s n
ot a total loss after all.”

  “Maybe,” I agreed quietly. “He’s good in training, but I don’t know if he has the stomach for a real fight.”

  Terry shrugged. “No one knows that until they’ve been put there.”

  That was for certain.

  Chapter 8: The Betrayal

  There was little to party about, but I directed a multi-course dinner for New Year’s Eve. Terry handled the midnight toast, saying, “To our great and loyal family. To the hope of better times ahead. And also to peace, may the Angels soon rest in it.”

  But peace was in short supply everywhere. Terry used everyone’s winter vacation time to greatly intensify the training program. We had back-to-back combat training, exercise, weight training and pistol practice. It got so busy, in fact, that almost everyone was looking forward to the end of the holidays and returning to school.

  Nobody was counting the days like Alia, though.

  “I hate vacations!” was my sister’s verdict. She had gotten used to the peace and quiet she had during school hours, and winter vacation meant that the chaos of our poorly disciplined family lasted from dawn to dusk every single day. As our dedicated live-in healer, Alia couldn’t often seek refuge at Patrick’s, so she took to hiding in our bedroom whenever she wasn’t absolutely needed.

  Terry once said to her, “It really wouldn’t kill you to at least try to be a little more normal, you know.”

  “Nothing in this house is normal,” countered Alia. “Why should I be any different?”

  As much as I agreed with Terry, my sister had the right of it on that count.

  Aside from the daily roughhousing and petty arguments, there were certain other inevitabilities to having so many teenagers under one roof. A week or so into January, we discovered that Scott and Rachael were dating. I have no idea when or how it started, but considering how difficult it was to get any privacy in our house, they probably hadn’t been a couple for very long.

  “As long as it doesn’t distract them from their training, I don’t mind it in the least,” commented Terry. “And if they fight, that’ll be fun too.”

  Scott’s only real crime was that he was keeping a portion of his salary – money that was supposed to be brought home for everyone’s needs – as spending cash for his outings with Rachael. It was no great amount, though, so Terry decided to give him a pass. Scott was still our top earner, after all.

  Meanwhile, Susan seemed to be getting a little too popular with Daniel and Walter, but big-sister Felicity made sure nothing serious happened.

  I agreed with Terry that this kind of thing was none of our business. As long as we were all getting along, or at least getting by, I’d cook and clean and teach CQC and learn blocking, and I wouldn’t stick my nose into anything that didn’t directly concern me.

  “I’m so glad for Rachael and Scott,” said Candace one evening as she helped me prepare dinner. “Those two are the perfect couple.”

  I shrugged. “I suppose it’s a good thing.”

  Candace was my only assistant in the kitchen that day because Scott and Heather were training with Terry. Fortunately, we had all gotten quite used to the cooking routine and I no longer needed everyone in the kitchen for every meal.

  “They look so happy together, don’t you think?” insisted Candace.

  I gave a non-committal nod, my focus more on the carrots I was rapidly slicing.

  “Adrian?” Candace asked hesitantly at my side. “How would you like to go out with me sometime? You know, just the two of us?”

  I nearly sliced off my hand.

  “Excuse me?” I said, hastily putting the knife down and turning to her. “You – you mean like, going out?” I stammered. “Like a – a couple?”

  Candace giggled embarrassedly. “Well, maybe not a serious couple, but yeah. I thought we could just go out and have a coffee or something. I’m sorry. I didn’t know exactly how to say it. I’ve been meaning to ask for a while, actually, but…”

  I shook my head and smiled, saying, “I’m deeply flattered, Candace. But I don’t think it’s such a good idea.”

  “You don’t like me?” asked Candace, visibly deflating.

  “It’s not like that,” I insisted. “I think you’re really nice.”

  Candace blushed. “Then what’s the matter?”

  “Well, for starters, I’m already psionic, so I’d need hiding protection just to leave the house.”

  Candace wasn’t buying that in the least. “What kind of excuse is that?”

  Thinking of another excuse as quickly as I could, I suggested meekly, “I don’t date students?”

  “Adrian!”

  I sighed. “Look, it’s just not a good idea, okay?”

  “Why not?” pressed Candace, gently fingering my hair. “Is it because I’m older? I heard from your sister that you used to date someone older than you.”

  I pulled away and snapped angrily at her, “Well, maybe you didn’t hear that she was killed at the blood trial last year!”

  Candace flinched. As often was the case when I lost my calm, my words had come out in a much harsher tone than I had intended. I stared down at the floor, feeling ashamed and embarrassed.

  “I’m sorry,” Candace said in a subdued tone. “I didn’t know. Alia wouldn’t give me any details. I just thought you had broken up or something.”

  “I’m sorry I shouted, Candace,” I said quietly. “I really do like you. It’s just that I promised myself that I would never… you know… It hurts too much.”

  “It’s just coffee, Adrian,” Candace said soothingly. “It’d be my treat, and we can just be friends if you like.”

  I picked up the knife and went back to slicing up the carrots, refusing to meet Candace’s eyes.

  It’s not that I didn’t see Candace’s point of view. There was no telling when Walnut Lane might be attacked, or who might be dead or converted a week from now. Might as well have all the fun we could while we were free and breathing.

  And I had meant what I said to Candace. I did like her. I liked her cheerful voice and I liked her gentle, dark blue eyes. Candace had the most angelic smile which she dispensed at every opportunity. She always seemed to find the lighter side of things. While I couldn’t deny that something about her personality reminded me just a little of Laila Brown, Candace was more relaxed, more carefree, more the way I wished I was sometimes. In a better world, I would have been the one asking her out, months ago. But in this world, it really scared me. I wasn’t sure if I could survive another loss like Laila.

  “What was her name?” Candace asked softly. I didn’t reply, but she figured it out. “Your sister named the baby after her, didn’t she?”

  I closed my eyes and nodded.

  “Alia says you sometimes cry yourself to sleep,” whispered Candace. “Is it for her?”

  I wasn’t about to answer that for anybody, but I put my knife down and faced her again. “I’m sorry, Candace. I really am. At least I want to wait until this awful war is over.”

  “I understand,” Candace said sadly. Then, before I could react, she leaned forward and lightly kissed my forehead. “But I think you’re in for a very long wait.”

  February.

  Merlin praised our progress in mental blocking. Terry and Steven were still lagging behind the class, but even they could break free of Merlin’s control given enough time. Of course, there was no way to accurately gauge how much psionic focus Merlin was giving us when he took control of our bodies, so I suspected that our instructor was adjusting the intensity of his control to our individual levels. Merlin talked more freely when he was controlling Terry and Steven.

  Terry had to reprimand Scott and Rachael twice for breaking curfew and once for staying out all night. Meanwhile, Felicity’s overprotective attitude regarding Susan’s relationship with the two boys frequently led to shouting arguments between the sisters. Personally, I agreed with Felicity’s view that Susan was being a bit of a flirt, but I kept my mouth shut.

 
On Valentine’s Day, Candace gave me a large heart-shaped card in front of everyone at the dinner table, drawing cheers and catcalls from the crowd. Despite how embarrassing that was, I felt guilty about not giving Candace anything in return. Still, I had to keep this nipped in the bud, and it was better to seem uncaring than to risk Candace thinking that she had a chance with me. It would have been a lot easier if she wasn’t so sweet and pretty and… Oh, never mind.

  The very next day was Cat’s birthday, but this year I forgot it as easily as I had forgotten my own.

  I only remembered three days later when Terry asked in passing over breakfast, “Isn’t your sister’s birthday sometime this month?”

  “No, it’s next month,” I replied, thinking of Alia.

  Then it hit me.

  “Oh, right,” I said awkwardly. “Cat’s fourteenth. I forgot.”

  Terry laughed, but I shrugged it off, saying, “What do I care, anyway? She’s Catherine Divine now.”

  “Then why do you still wear that stone around your neck?” asked Terry.

  Touching my amethyst pendant, I replied simply, “Force of habit.”

  That wasn’t entirely true, but I didn’t want to continue this discussion. Right now, I was much more concerned about Alia than Cat.

  My second sister had returned ashen-faced from Patrick’s house yesterday evening. She had overheard Patrick’s foster parents talking about an airplane that had been hijacked by the Angels last year as it tried to escape New Haven. It was believed that all aboard had been taken captive, and that they were already converted.

  I had checked and double-checked the story with Alia, and also with Patrick’s parents over the phone. There was no hard evidence that the plane in question had actually carried the New Haven Council. There had been quite a few Guardian planes leaving New Haven that night, and even now, many of them were unaccounted for. Of course, they hadn’t all crashed or been hijacked. Most of the Guardians fleeing New Haven by air had probably hidden their tracks just as Terry had done with our plane, and then simply disappeared so as to avoid pursuit by the Angels.