The Quest (Psionic Pentalogy Book 4)

by Adrian Howell

  Terry wasn’t convinced. “Well, it’s amazing no one died, but I still say you were just lucky.”

  “You’re not giving up on them, are you?” I asked. “After all that they did for us?”

  Terry shook her head. “Maybe they’ll be ready in a couple more years, but I can’t ask them to come to the Historian with us. We need to go soon. It’s already been almost a year since we left New Haven.”

  I smiled. “Well, I don’t want to risk them any further either.”

  Then I turned to Alia and said, “Call the major up.”

  Terry raised her eyebrows. “Major? What major?”

  Ed Regis stepped into the room a few seconds later.

  “May I introduce Major Edward Regis of the Wolves,” I said to Terry, and laughed as her jaw dropped.

  Ed Regis stepped forward and reached out to shake Terry’s hand, but Terry was still too shocked to move.

  “I found us an army,” I said quietly. “Ed Regis here and five more men.”

  Technically, six Wolves was hardly an army, but it was a good start and I could personally vouch for their skills.

  “We’re yours to command,” said Ed Regis, who already knew from Scott that Terry was our leader.

  Terry finally shook Ed Regis’s hand, saying, “I don’t like Wolves very much, but I suppose beggars can’t be choosers.”

  Ed Regis turned to me. “Well, I guess it’s official.”

  After an uncomfortable few seconds, Ed Regis extended his hand out to me. I glared up at him for a moment, and then nodded and slowly shook his hand.

  Alia was next, and she smiled bravely as she shook Ed Regis’s hand too.

  “Thank you again for healing me and my team, Alia,” said Ed Regis.

  “I’m a healer, Mr. Regis,” Alia said quietly. “It’s my job.”

  “Call me Ed.”

  Alia shook her head. “I don’t think so, Mr. Regis.”

  I cringed when Alia called the Wolf “Mr. Regis,” but I agreed that it was hard to know how to refer to this man. I had settled for “Ed Regis,” so my sister was the politer of us.

  Before leaving the Angels’ house, Terry insisted that we clean the place up so as to leave as little trace of our visit as possible. I was for simply burning the house down, destroying the evidence like the Angels had done with the towboat, but Terry didn’t want to cause any more police-related trouble for Mrs. Harding.

  We first moved all the corpses from the upstairs bedroom down into the basement. For a variety of reasons that I won’t go into here, dead bodies really stink, and I was quite relieved when we got it done. There wasn’t much that could be done about the Angels’ blood on the carpets, but we vacuumed the floor twice and wiped the house clean of our fingerprints as best as we could.

  That left the problem of the single surviving Angel.

  Since Walnut Lane was in the middle of an evacuation, we couldn’t exactly take the Angel hider with us. Ed Regis offered to take him down to the basement and shoot him, but I stopped the Wolf, saying, “Hey, we spared your worthless hide.”

  In the end, we decided to let the hider go free. He wasn’t even an official member of the Seraphim, and was hardly a danger to us. Besides, this Angel could look after the house and make sure that no one stumbled upon the dead too quickly.

  As we exited the house, Terry insisted that she didn’t need to be carried on the stretcher, but Alia wasn’t having that. Fixing Terry with a stern look, she said, “When people are shooting at us, I listen to you. When you’re injured, Teresa Henderson, you listen to me. Understand?”

  Terry didn’t complain too much. I suspected she probably could walk, but not very well or far just yet.

  There were nineteen of us returning to Walnut, and we couldn’t all fit in Merlin’s van and Dr. Land’s SUV, so we took both cars that we had found parked next to the Angels’ house.

  I sat with Candace and Alia in the back seat of the SUV. It was only when we were halfway back to Walnut Lane that I noticed something missing from my sister.

  “Where’s your pendant, Alia?” I asked.

  Alia occasionally wore her bloodstone under her shirt, and I had assumed that was where it was, but now I saw that there was no leather cord around her neck.

  “Oh,” Alia said sadly, touching her chest where the pendant usually rested. “Steven took it. He didn’t even want it. He just wanted to take it away. And then Lazlo’s witch blasted it into a million pieces. She said that’s what she’d do to my fingers if I tried to escape.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “But better the stone than your fingers.”

  Alia sighed. “I know.”

  Like myself, Alia had worn her pendant day and night for years, ever since Cindy had given it to her as a reward for giving up her P-46 tattoo. I knew that she felt it was a part of her body because that was how Cat’s amethyst felt to me. Once you get used to something like that, it feels awkward not to have it on you. Maybe not as bad as losing an arm like Terry did, but sort of the same.

  “Tell you what,” I said brightly, “I’ll get you a new one for your birthday, okay?”

  “Really?”

  I nodded. “And in the meantime,” I added, removing my amethyst and putting it around her neck, “you hang on to this one for me again.”

  Alia fingered the stone and smiled. “Thanks, Addy.”

  We arrived back in Walnut Lane in the early afternoon.

  Her joy in seeing Terry alive notwithstanding, Mrs. Harding blew her top when she discovered who we had brought to town.

  “You honestly cannot expect me to allow these men into our ranks, Teresa!” said Mrs. Harding at our doorstep.

  The Wolves were already inside the Refugee House, and Mrs. Harding refused to enter.

  “Adrian and I will answer for them,” said Terry, who was still on her stretcher but sitting up.

  Mrs. Harding argued, “We can’t take them to the mountain camp. I will not allow it.”

  “That is no problem,” replied Terry. “We’re not going to the camp either. We’re going to the Historian, and the Wolves will leave with me, Adrian and Alia as soon as we’re ready, probably within a few days.”

  Mrs. Harding gave Terry an incredulous look. “You’re taking Wolves to the Historian?”

  “That is correct,” Terry said evenly.

  Merlin said, “I will be going with them too.”

  Terry and I turned to Merlin, who smiled at us, saying, “You’ll need a hider.”

  “Very well,” Mrs. Harding said with a huff. “Make sure your guests do not leave the house until they are ready to go.”

  “Not a problem, Mrs. Harding,” said Terry. “I apologize again for all the trouble.”

  Merlin held the door open for us and I wheeled Terry’s stretcher into our house.

  Alia was already upstairs tending to Walter, Heather and Rachael, so Terry took this opportunity to try standing on her own legs. She seemed a little off balance at first, but didn’t fall over.

  The six Wolves were standing in one corner of our dojo, looking uncomfortably unsure where to be.

  “You’ll all be sharing a single room tonight,” Terry informed them, and then turned to me. “Adrian, show them to Steven’s old room.”

  “Why me?” I asked.

  “Why not you?!” snapped Terry, which proved she had recovered.

  “Alright, come on,” I said wearily to the crowd.

  The Wolves followed me upstairs to the smallest bedroom. I helped gather the few spare blankets we had left in the house, but informed the men that they were going to be sleeping on the floor without mats.

  “That’s no problem,” said Ed Regis. “We’re quite used to it by now.”

  Technically, Felicity and Susan’s room on the third floor was also open now, but I wasn’t feeling generous enough to offer a second room to a bunch of Wolves. Besides, having them stay together would make it easier for us to keep an eye on them.

  “What’s that in your hand?” I asked
. Since returning to Walnut Lane, Ed Regis had been carrying around a small black laptop-like device.

  “This?” asked Ed Regis, holding it up. “It’s a little toy I reclaimed from Lazlo’s house this morning. I thought it might come in handy.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s our portable psionic database,” said Ed Regis. “It contains information on known and suspected psionics and faction members. The Angels took it from our APC when they captured us.”

  I didn’t bother asking what an APC was. I was more interested in the database. “Can I see it?” I asked.

  “Of course,” Ed Regis replied unhesitatingly. “It is password protected, though. One wrong entry and all the data is lost, so you have to type carefully.”

  Ed Regis opened the laptop and pressed the power button. The nine-inch screen immediately displayed a little window asking for a password.

  “Is that what they were torturing you for?” I asked.

  “It was one of the things they wanted,” said Ed Regis. “They didn’t even have a delver, so it took a while before they were convinced that I was telling them the true password.”

  “You gave them the password?”

  Ed Regis shrugged. “I figured I had nothing to lose. In fact, I pretty much answered all of their questions truthfully.”

  “Then why did they keep hurting you?”

  “They were enjoying themselves too much,” said Ed Regis, typing in the password.

  The screen flashed once and changed to a search engine. There were a number of text boxes for looking people up by name, age, faction, psionic powers, eye color, hair color, facial scars and various other criteria.

  “Who are you looking for?” asked Ed Regis.

  I shrugged. “I was just curious. Can I try a search?”

  “Sure,” said Ed Regis, handing the device over to me. “Go nuts.”

  I knew that Ed Regis had nothing to lose now by giving me his top-secret toy, but I had to (very grudgingly) admit that he was making a first-rate effort to stay on my good side. I found his friendliness thoroughly irritating because I still wanted to hate this man, and he wasn’t making it at all easy.

  “It’s a touch screen,” explained Ed Regis. “Just touch the field you want to search in and type in your query.”

  I tapped my finger on the section for names and typed in “Cindy Gifford.” A list of names popped up. There were Cindys and Cynthias of different family names, but no Giffords. I found a Cynthia Anderson, though.

  “Anderson?” I asked Ed Regis. “I distinctly remember telling you her real name.”

  He shrugged. “It hasn’t been updated yet.”

  “In three years?” I said, touching the name on the screen.

  Four images of Cindy appeared on the screen, followed by a long section of text. The first of the photos was a mug shot, probably Cindy’s old driver’s license, and the other three were taken at odd angles through telephoto lenses. None of the photos did any justice to the Cindy I knew. I scrolled down the text and discovered that the Wolves had updated the file in bits and pieces.

  FILE ID: Cynthia Anderson. ALIASES: Cynthia or Cindy Gifford; Silver (Guardian call sign). AFFILIATIONS: Guardian 1-A, under Baker, Travis. KNOWN POWERS: Hider, Finder. SUSPECTED POWERS: None. SUSPECTED EMERGENTS: None or Unknown. CURRENT STATUS: Unknown.

  A detailed physical description followed, including everything from eye color to shoe size, but there was no mention of how comforting her smile was. Then there was a list of relatives, many of whom had either been killed or had mysteriously disappeared. Apparently the families of wild-borns were all alike in that way.

  Following the bloodline information were a bunch of addresses and telephone numbers, including Cindy’s old home address, Mark Parnell’s old house, and Cindy’s last known place of residence, the fortieth-floor penthouse of Hew Haven’s NH-1, though of course the database had the actual city name and address. Cindy’s file also contained a short history of her time as a Guardian under the last queen, Diana Granados, as well as her disappearance and subsequent reappearance in New Haven. The file noted Cindy’s unique position with New Haven’s government and touched on her near-abduction by the Angels. At the very end, there was a list of links to closely related people, including Mr. Baker, Mark Parnell, Alia, Terry and myself. But regarding Cindy’s current location, the Wolves knew no more than anyone else. There was no information regarding where she might have gone following the fall of New Haven.

  Looking down at the list of links to related files, I lightly tapped on my own name, and the screen changed again.

  There were two photos attached to my database entry. One was a mug shot, probably from my elementary school file when I was about ten years old. The other was an unflattering photo of me lying half-naked and unconscious on a hospital bed, and I suspected that it had been taken en route to the Psionic Research Center.

  FILE ID: Adrian Howell. ALIASES: Adrian Gifford; Addie(?); P-47 (at PRC Site-A). AFFILIATIONS: Guardian 1-A, under Baker, Travis. KNOWN POWERS: Telekinetic. SUSPECTED POWERS: None. SUSPECTED EMERGENTS: None or Unknown. CURRENT STATUS: Deceased.

  “Deceased,” I read aloud. “You mean I’m dead?”

  Ed Regis chuckled. “That entry is probably false. There’s been a lot of confusion recently.”

  I skimmed through the rest of the text, and I was pleased to find that my physical description didn’t include my missing right ear or disparately colored eyes. Nor did the Wolves know my call sign, Hansel. In fact, there was no mention at all of me being a Guardian Knight. I was a bit surprised to find “Addie” there, though. How many people knew what Alia called me when she so rarely spoke with her mouth? Dr. Kellogg had known, of course, so perhaps it had been included in his monthly reports to the surface.

  “What does ‘suspected emergents’ mean?” I asked.

  Ed Regis explained, “Based on family histories, we tag people who might develop psionic powers in the future.”

  “I see,” I said, nodding. Most psionic powers were hereditary. The children of telekinetics were often telekinetic too.

  “And what is ‘unknown’?” I asked. Cindy’s suspected emergents had included that too.

  “That’s a common tag for wild-borns. It simply means we can’t predict what powers will develop because we can’t trace the family history.”

  My annoyance with Ed Regis’s helpfulness was reaching its boiling point.

  I decided to test him, asking, “If I was at PRC Site-A, would it stand to reason that there is a Site-B out there somewhere?”

  “It would, and there is,” said Ed Regis. “But I can’t tell you where it’s located.”

  “Why not?” I asked harshly.

  “We’re just hunters, Adrian. We don’t deliver the psionics ourselves.”

  “Some help you are.”

  “I am sorry.”

  I slapped the device closed and thrust it back into Ed Regis’s hands. “Write the password onto the back with a marker and leave it where I’ll find it later.”

  “As you wish,” he replied calmly, but I was already walking briskly back toward the stairs.

  How I wished I had at least punched him once when I could!

  Chapter 12: Leaving Walnut Lane

  That evening, Scott and Candace helped me cook up an extra-special multi-course feast to celebrate our new alliance with Ed Regis and his Wolf pack. And no, I didn’t spit in their soup, though I admit that I was sorely tempted.

  It was also a thank-you meal for the parents of Alia’s students. Alia was heartbroken to learn that she wouldn’t even be able to say goodbye to her kiddie-combat class, but she wrote a long message for the parents to read to them at the mountain camp.

  It wasn’t easy, but we managed to squeeze everyone into the dining room. Alia had finished healing Walter’s broken arm, the hole in Heather’s foot, and Rachael’s burns. Rachael was left with permanent scars on her neck, but at least her hair would grow back.

  We hadn’t forgott
en our two casualties, for which there would be no proper funeral or burial. Max and Felicity’s bodies would eventually be taken to the mountain camp and placed in unmarked graves. For the time being, they were quietly moved to a local morgue to be kept in cold storage.

  Terry led the toast, saying, “To absent, brave friends.”

  Earlier that morning, Merlin had discovered a large stash of cash at the Angel outpost, so in addition to soldiers, we now had more than enough money to make the journey to the Historian’s mountain. Terry broke that news over dinner too, and predictably, Scott and the others insisted upon accompanying us on our journey.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” said Terry. “You guys have a more important mission. You’re going to help repay our debt to Mrs. Harding and the Walnut Guardians. You’re all trained Knights now, and I expect you to act like it. I will, however, choose one of you to join us at your own peril.”

  “Who gets to go?” asked Scott, who probably thought it was himself.

  Terry smiled. “I will speak privately with this person so that there is no pressure to accept. But it’s not you, Scott. I need you to lead this rabble, and make sure Susan is okay.”

  Poor Susan had parted with Felicity in anger. Now she would be reunited in grief. I didn’t envy the messenger, and I was almost glad that I wasn’t going up to the mountain camp.

  After dinner cleanup, I went up to my room where I found Ed Regis’s database leaning against the door with a little note stuck to it that read, “I disabled the security completely and recharged the battery. Hope you find something useful. – Ed”

  Entering the room, I noticed that someone had attached a blue plastic sheet over our broken window. The glass probably wouldn’t get replaced since the house was soon going to be abandoned anyway, but at least the plastic sheet would keep the wind and insects out.

  It was still not much past 8pm, and the light was on, but Alia was already curled up on her side of our bed, fast asleep. That was hardly surprising considering how she had spent the previous night and this afternoon healing one person after another. Unlike her telepathy, which was second nature to her, healing was always taxing on her physical strength.