Hence the nightmares.
As for the Historian’s precious “equilibrium,” I cared for it only in-so-much as it brought Cindy (who we learned had been converted into an Angel) back to Alia and allowed my part in the faction war to be over once and for all. To that end, I didn’t care how many people we hurt or killed. Over my years as a psionic destroyer, I had crossed many lines, and I was used to it by now.
All summer long, we had been moving from hidden Guardian settlement to god-forsaken hidden Guardian settlement, some places just a tiny collection of psionics living in fear of capture and conversion. Though the Historian had given us the true identity of the Angels’ last master controller, he knew nothing of her location. At the Historian’s suggestion, we were asking the leaders and elders of the scattered Guardian groups for any and all information that might lead us to the Divines.
But it wasn’t easy gathering information. No one yet knew that Catherine was the new master of the Angels. Daddy Divine was still parading himself as a psionic king, and would do so for as long as he could. The Guardians believed him too, and we couldn’t tell anyone the truth without revealing that I had master controller in my blood. At the present, the only people alive who knew my family secret were Randal, Catherine, the Historian and my team. Eight people. We wanted to keep it that way, as there was no telling what would happen if this got out. Thus it was with carefully guised hints and roundabout questions that we dealt with the remnants of our own faction. Everywhere we went, we were given much sympathy, but little help.
Still, in all this time, we had been extremely fortunate in that we hadn’t been waylaid by Angels. We were constantly on guard, but so far no contact. At least, not unless you counted the pair that we accidentally ran into several weeks ago. But they weren’t even Seraphim, and Ed Regis shot them both before they could get away and report our location to their master. All I remember of that encounter is how impressed I was, once again, with Ed Regis’s skills. And also how entirely emotionless I had been when we disposed of the bodies. I sort of wished that I could feel bad about what we did, but I didn’t. I knew that the pair of Angels could have been victims themselves, their minds converted against their wills, unable to keep themselves from serving Randal and Catherine’s twisted cause. But that didn’t change the fact that if we hadn’t killed them, our lives, and more importantly, our mission, would have been compromised. We did what we had to. There was no shame in it.
The only thing that really bothered me about our run-in with those Angels was that they recognized me. Not that I was a particularly inconspicuous person, but apparently my name and face were now known to more than just the Seraphim. When he discovered that I had returned from the Historian’s mountain still breathing, Randal Divine had put a price on my head. And it wasn’t for me “dead or alive.” It was specifically for my capture. Alive. That’s what really scared me.
Though only females could become master controllers, the potential for this power was passed exclusively down the male side of the family. That meant that Catherine’s future daughters would never become master controllers, but mine could. In fact, according to the Historian, I was the world’s last male psionic capable of passing the power of master controllers on to the next generation. Thus Randal Divine wanted me alive, turned Angel… for breeding purposes.
But in order to keep his own secret safe, Randal couldn’t allow anyone, not even his own people, to learn what I was, so his bounty on me didn’t detail the true reason he wanted me brought to him in one piece. Nor was I the only one on Randal’s most wanted list since there were still plenty of other important Guardians at large. But as my infamy grew, I feared that it would only be a matter of time before someone figured it out.
“Addy,” said Alia, breaking into my thoughts, “is there any more chocolate milk?”
“I could go make some,” I replied, and then asked with a grin, “Do you want it in your mouth or down your shirt?”
“Could you hold the wheel so I can go change?”
“Sure.”
“And shower.”
“Make it quick.”
Alia disappeared into the back. Too lazy to switch seats, I telekinetically held on to the steering wheel, keeping us steady.
I could hear Ed Regis and Terry talking in the lounge space behind me. James had woken up and joined the conversation too. They were discussing our next destination: yet another breakaway Guardian settlement. But this one was very special to us. Though recently renamed the Wood-claw Guardians, they were none other than the former residents of Walnut Lane, led by Mrs. Harding.
We had visited thirteen Guardian settlements already, staying with them for anywhere from a few hours to several weeks, trading what little information we had for whatever they were willing to offer. So far, however, we had no real leads on Randal Divine. These scattered Guardians were, for the most part, simply trying to survive, and weren’t actively fighting the Angels anymore.
However, we did hear several rumors from them about an underground resistance network hidden within the former Guardian city of New Haven – now occupied by the Angels and renamed Lumina. If such a resistance movement really existed, then we wanted to be a part of it. The Historian’s only advice to me regarding how to find Randal Divine was to get that information from people who were “closer to this war,” as he put it. Guardians in Lumina would certainly be a step in the right direction. But no one we had talked to so far could confirm these rumors or help us make contact.
Not that we were expecting someone to simply give us Randal Divine’s home address, but our utter lack of progress over the past months was frustrating, especially for Terry. With each fruitless visit, Terry pressed us harder toward her alternate plan, which was to attack an Angel outpost and gather information directly from the Angels. Ed Regis and I were skeptical about the merits of this approach. For starters, it was downright dangerous. Most psionic settlements would be much too large to take down with only five people, even with people like Terry and Ed Regis. Furthermore, the Angels themselves had just about as much chance as the Guardians did of knowing where King Randal Divine lived. Only the very top Seraphim, members of Randal Divine’s personal guard, would have that information. We would have to identify one, capture, and finally extract Randal’s whereabouts from him. Not an easy task even with Guardian support, and impossible without it. But Terry insisted that we might get lucky, and anything was better than just driving around. The pair of Angels that we had bumped into last month would have gotten away had Ed Regis not shot them, but Terry was furious that we didn’t get them alive.
Then, on our thirteenth stop – just a single house shared by three psionic families – we finally got a lucky break. Their leader knew the location of Mrs. Harding’s Wood-claw settlement. Back when we parted with Harding’s faction in Walnut Lane, we all knew that there was a fair chance we would be caught by the Angels before reaching the Historian. Thus Mrs. Harding hadn’t told us where she was planning to relocate to, and we knew better than to ask. Mrs. Harding was a master at keeping her people hidden, and we had spent much of the summer wondering if we would ever see our refugee kids again. Now, finally, we had found them.
Our visit to Mrs. Harding’s had multiple purposes. Even if we were going to go with Terry’s plan, we would still have to pick our fights carefully. Old Mrs. Harding, with her years of experience leading her breakaway faction, could probably supply us with some useful information. She might even know something about the Guardian Resistance in Lumina. We also needed reinforcements. We desperately needed a hider and finder if we were going to do anything covert against a psionic settlement. If Mrs. Harding was unwilling to part with her own Knights, we hoped to at least take back some of the kids that we had rescued from New Haven, especially the hider, Rachael Adams. Lastly, we needed to retrieve the Wolves’ psionic database that I had left in Scott’s care before heading to the Historian. As incomplete and outdated as it was, this database would still come in handy when dealing
with our target Angels.
But my personal best reason for visiting the Wood-claw Guardians was that I could see Candace again. I’m sure my sister felt the same way about Patrick and baby Laila.
We were now only half a day’s drive away from the city where Wood-claw was hidden, and Ed Regis was planning out a safe approach. Aside from the name of the city, nobody knew the exact location of the settlement. It was protected by hiding fields which kept potential aggressors from sensing Wood-claw’s psionic population from afar. Once inside the city, we would have to wait for the Wood-claw finders to locate us by homing in on Alia’s and my psionic powers. There was no guarantee, however, that other psionic factions, namely Angels, wouldn’t find us first. That was what Ed Regis wanted to go over with Terry. Those two were the real soldiers among us, so they were our leaders. Unlike James, I didn’t concern myself with the details. Whatever they decided would be fine.
Terry called up to me, “Hey, Half-head, how about some breakfast?”
I was getting hungry too. “Alia,” I called back, “get back up here and drive so I can whip something up for the alligators.”
“In a minute!” Alia replied aloud.
I rested my elbow on the open window, gazing out at the passing farm fields along the road. Leaving a corner of my mind to telekinetically manage the steering, I thought about what I might make for breakfast. I wasn’t in the mood for fried eggs, and we were too low on milk for cereal. Did we still have some bagels left?
“Hey, Alia, what’s keeping you?” I called again, but my attention was on the side mirror, where a car seemed to have suddenly materialized out of thin air.
Then I did a double take. It wasn’t just any car. It was a black and white police car! It was already less than a hundred yards behind us, and in my surprise, I lost my telekinetic focus for a split second.
This was the first of two major mistakes I made that morning.
Before I could re-establish contact with the wheel, the motorhome had crossed over the centerline, and then rocked wildly as I overcompensated, this time taking us dangerously close to going off-road.
“Adrian!” shouted Terry.
“I got it, I got it!” I yelled back, physically grabbing hold of the steering from the side and steadying our swerving vehicle.
I had been expecting it, but I swore under my breath when I heard the blaring police siren behind us. Ed Regis appeared in a flash to take the driver’s seat. Looking in the mirror again, I saw the cop car closing the gap, red and blues flashing.
“What are you doing?” I asked as Ed Regis disengaged the cruise control and carefully pulled us to the side of the road.
“We can’t outrun them,” replied Ed Regis, cutting the engine. “Not in this tub. Get out of sight.”
I ducked back into the lounge space where I saw Terry strapping on her hook attachment. She glared at me and mouthed, “Idiot.”
James and Alia were there too.
“Good morning, James,” I deadpanned.
“Good morning,” said James, grinning. “I guess we’re off to an early start today.”
Thinking quickly, James had drawn the curtains over all the windows in the cabin. Now he was checking his pistol. Alia, hair still dripping from her morning shower, was looking at him anxiously.
“You don’t need the gun, James,” said Alia.
“It’s just a precaution,” replied James, refusing to put it down.
Alia shook her head.
I shared my sister’s dislike of firearms – mainly because I had an innate talent for getting myself shot. Ed Regis had shot me in the back once, the Slayers had put a bullet in my leg, and the Angels were responsible for my missing ear and the messy scar on my upper right arm. No, I didn’t like guns, but I was more tolerant of them than my sister. And James was right to be armed. He hadn’t come into his power yet, and even if he did end up a psionic destroyer like his Knight parents, modern weapons were usually more effective than psionics anyway.
“Everybody stay calm and quiet,” said Ed Regis from up front. “They would have radioed us in already. Let me see if I can’t talk our way through this.”
The police siren had gone quiet. We heard footsteps approach the driver-side window. We all held our breaths.
“Good morning, Officer,” Ed Regis said pleasantly.
We couldn’t see the policeman from here. I wondered if he was alone or if he had a partner.
“Good morning to you, sir,” the officer replied in an equally friendly tone. “May I see your driver’s license, registration and insurance, please?”
“Yes, of course,” said Ed Regis, pulling his fake documents from the glove compartment and passing them out the window. They were expensive, professional forgeries, but I wondered if they could really fool a policeman.
The officer’s voice carried no suspicion as he said, “Well, Mr. Reese, do you know why I pulled you over?”
“I can pretty much guess.”
“You seemed a little tipsy there.”
“I haven’t been drinking, Officer.”
“What happened back there?”
“It’s been a long night and an endless road,” Ed Regis said submissively. “I’m afraid I dozed off a bit.”
“You must be in an awful hurry if you’re driving an RV like this through our beautiful countryside and couldn’t stop for the night.”
“I’m sorry, Officer. It won’t happen again.”
Ed Regis obviously understood the importance of being polite to the police. And it worked. After a moment’s silence, the officer said, “Well, you weren’t speeding, I’ll give you that. So if you can prove to me that you’re not my first DUI today, then I just might be persuaded to let you off with a warning. How does that sound?”
“That sounds real good, Officer. Thank you.”
“Alright, I need you to step outside for a moment.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ed Regis got up from the driver’s seat and gestured to us to move to the back of the cabin so we wouldn’t be visible when he opened the side door. We moved quietly, and Ed Regis gave us a confident smile before stepping outside and closing the door behind him. I breathed easier. We were going to be just fine.
Outside, the cop asked Ed Regis, “Where are you headed?”
Ed Regis gave him the name of the next town, which wasn’t all that far from our real destination anyway.
“You look a little familiar,” said the cop. “Have I seen you around here before?”
“I don’t think so, sir,” said Ed Regis. “I’m just passing through.”
“Is anyone else in there?”
Ed Regis hesitated for a moment before answering, “Yes. Two boys, one girl.”
“Your children?”
“My nephews and niece.”
“How old are they?”
“Uh, fourteen and seventeen, and about nine, I think.”
“Eleven,” Alia said crossly into my head. I smirked at her.
Actually, Ed Regis had missed my age by two years, too. I was sixteen going on seventeen next month but, like Alia, I was small for my age. I envied James and Terry, who had turned seventeen and eighteen over the summer and actually looked like it.
We heard the cop say to Ed Regis, “Could you have them all come out, please?”
“Certainly.” Ed Regis opened the door and stuck his head into the cabin. “Jason, Adam, come on out. Alice, you too.”
Ed Regis had left Terry out on purpose. A teenage girl amputee would be conspicuous enough to raise unwanted questions. Besides, if things went sour, it would be better to have someone with a gun hidden in the shadows. I just hoped that the policeman wouldn’t try to look around inside.
James silently passed his pistol to Terry, and then exited the motorhome. Alia took hold of my hand as we followed, carefully stepping out onto the side of the road.
Squinting a little in the morning sun, I saw that the police officer was a middle-aged man with a white, bushy mustache. And he had
a partner standing nearby: a slender man who looked young enough to still be on his first year of duty. Their squad car was parked about ten yards behind our motorhome, its red and blue lights still flashing. I realized that we were probably being filmed by its onboard video camera, and though it was already too late, I turned my face away from it.
Not that being videoed by the police was a major problem. I looked very different from the kid who went missing from his house four years ago, and the only government organization that could identify me as a psionic was the Wolves. Still, it was always better to be safe than sorry.
Keeping a tight grip on my hand, Alia looked nervously up at the senior officer. He gave her a reassuring smile and said, “It’s okay, kid. Just stretch your legs a bit. I just didn’t want anyone inside at the moment. Is your name Alice?”
Alia nodded silently.
“Had a bit of a scare this morning, huh?”
She nodded again.
“This won’t take too long, honey,” said the senior officer, and returned to his conversation with Ed Regis.
The younger cop approached us. “Good morning, kids,” he said, his tone just as cordial as his senior. Then he looked down at Alia and asked, “Are these your brothers?”
Though not blood-related, Alia and I both had brown hair, and though Alia’s hair was a touch lighter than mine, we could probably pass for siblings. James, on the other hand, was blond and had a much stockier build than me, much like Ed Regis, and no doubt the officer had noticed.
Alia still didn’t speak, so I explained to the young cop, “I’m her brother. Jason is our cousin.”
James gave the man a little wave. “Hi.”
“Hey there, Jason,” he said to James. Then he looked back at me, asking, “So, your name is Adam?”
I nodded.
The young cop looked curiously at my eyes for a moment, having noticed that they weren’t the same color. My right eye was brown and reddish purple, my left was yellow-green, and I was used to people staring at them by now. I just smiled up at the man, who didn’t comment.
Guardian Angel (Psionic Pentalogy Book 5) Page 2