Lesser Gods

by Adrian Howell

  Lindsey reached into her pocket again, and out came a tiny radio transceiver. Holding it to her mouth, she spoke in a businesslike tone, saying, “Spider to Lancer Control, I think we’re done here. In case you haven’t noticed, Hansel used his tracer. Please cancel the order. Over.”

  The transceiver crackled once, and a male voice answered, “Roger that, Spider. We’ve noticed and it’s done. Cookie would like to meet with Hansel at 4pm. Please have him come up to Cookie’s residence. Over.”

  “Roger, Lancer Control. Thank you for your time. Over and out.” Lindsey switched off the transceiver and smiled at me. “Did you hear that? Mr. Baker wants to see you in an hour.”

  Completely speechless from the moment Lindsey had pulled out her transceiver, I finally managed a weak, “What?”

  I heard someone clapping slowly and deliberately behind me, and I turned around to face...

  “Terry?!” I exclaimed.

  “Hey, Adrian,” said Terry, who had been clapping by smacking her right palm against her upper left arm so as not to damage her prosthetic attachment. “I can’t believe I got out of school early for this, but no doubt Mr. Baker is going to chew me up too for not teaching you to act properly when faced with security breaches.”

  Then Terry turned to Lindsey and said, “Still, it’s not a total loss, Mr. Williams. I told you he wouldn’t leave the job half-finished.”

  “Apparently so,” agreed Lindsey.

  “Terry?” I said again, blinking blankly at her.

  Terry smiled. “Calm down, Adrian. Take a deep breath, think, then speak.”

  I tried and, after a moment, I asked the woman that Terry had called Mr. Williams, “You’re a shape-shifter?”

  “That’s right,” she, or rather he, answered.

  I asked, “Then this was all some kind of test?”

  “That’s wrong,” said Terry. “Lindsey Taylor does exist, but she was taken into custody right after your talk with her yesterday. Her memory has been modified, her photos have been retrieved, and she is happily looking for corrupt government officials now.” Terry gave me a second to digest that, and then continued, “You know Mr. Ted Williams, Adrian. He’s a member of Mr. Baker’s personal security.”

  “Oh, yeah,” I said, finally fully recovered from my shock. “I didn’t recognize him in the skirt.”

  Mr. Williams laughed. “Well, I can’t exactly change back until I change clothes.”

  “Let’s get back now,” said Terry. “Adrian’s going to want some healing before seeing Mr. Baker.”

  Terry touched my shoulder with her fingertips and gave me a little shove that easily knocked me down onto the ground.

  “You need to work more on your power balance, Adrian,” said Terry. “Draining still weakens you too much.”

  I scowled up at her.

  Limping back into the NH-1 lobby with Terry and Mr. Williams, I found Mr. Baker standing near the elevator doors and chatting with several Council members.

  The Guardian leader was a lean, muscular man who was a few years younger than Cindy. Shortly after the Guardians fell apart following the assassination of Queen Diana Granados, Mr. Baker had taken command of what remained of the original Guardian faction. He was the one who had organized the unprecedented gathering of so many psionics in New Haven, effectively reuniting the Guardians last year. Consequently, he was currently the head of the New Haven Council, which was comprised of the leaders of former breakaway Guardian factions. Known on Guardian missions under the call sign Cookie, Mr. Baker wasn’t a psionic destroyer, but a healer like Alia, one of only a handful in New Haven. As Mr. Baker was a personal friend of Cindy’s, I saw him fairly frequently, and I sometimes forgot that he was the leader of our community.

  Mr. Baker saw us enter but didn’t approach. Instead, he just gave us a curt nod and mouthed “four o’clock” before returning to his conversation.

  “A man of many responsibilities,” remarked Mr. Williams. “Well, I had best get changed and back to my real job. Good luck, Adrian, Terry.”

  Returning to the penthouse with Terry, I felt even more stupid when I found that Cindy was not at all surprised at the manner of our arrival.

  “You knew too?” I asked in dismay.

  “Sure I did, Adrian,” Cindy replied matter-of-factly. “Why do you think my meeting with Mr. Baker went overtime yesterday?”

  “Oh,” I said, staring down at my feet. “I’m sorry, Cindy.”

  “It’s okay,” said Cindy. “It’s not such a big deal. Mr. Baker just wanted to know how you would try to deal with the situation. You are, after all, an Honorary Guardian Knight now.”

  “Dishonorary Guardian Knight,” quipped Terry, and I felt too much of a fool to offer a rejoinder.

  Alia, having heard us talking, came running into the living room.

  “What happened to you?” she said aloud in her deliberate and awkward voice.

  “It’s a long story, Ali,” I replied. “Could you... uh...”

  “Heal your knee?” Alia asked innocently.

  “Yeah,” I said uncomfortably. “I’m sorry I was mean to you today, Alia.”

  “It’s okay, Addy,” Alia said lightly as she knelt in front of me.

  My sister placed her hands, palms open, close to my left knee. Someone less kindhearted, such as Terry for example, might have made the treatment conditional on me being nicer to her, but Alia wasn’t like that. Of course, that just made me feel even more guilty.

  I said, “I’ll tell you where I was and what happened, Alia. I promise. Just not now, because I have to go see Mr. Baker in a moment and get scolded.”

  Alia smiled up at me. “Okay.”

  After I washed the dried blood off of my knee and changed sweatpants, Terry and I left the penthouse together to see Mr. Baker.

  “Is he going to be very angry with me?” I asked as we walked down the corridor toward the door to 3901.

  Terry sighed. “He’s more likely to be angry with me. After all, you’re my charge when it comes to security.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Terry rounded on me. “Well, you should be, Half-head! You should’ve called the Knights yourself the moment that woman started talking to you. You were lucky one of the city guards overheard your conversation with her. And you shouldn’t have been flying in broad daylight to get a stupid old kite out of a tree in the first place.”

  “Alia liked that kite,” I said defensively, and then reminded her, “It was a present from you.”

  “I know that,” said Terry. “But it was still stupid of you. And then walking into that setup with a bleeding knee?! As far as I’m concerned, that was the worst thing. Stepping into a potential trap drained and injured. Now that is a really good way to get yourself killed.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s me,” I muttered darkly. “Always looking for a good way to get myself killed.”

  Terry laughed. “Next time, just ask for help when you’re in trouble, okay? That’s why the Guardians live together. So that we can get help when we need it.”

  “Okay,” I replied meekly.

  We reached Mr. Baker’s door and Terry pushed the doorbell.

  As we waited, Terry said, “Knowing Mr. Baker, Adrian, once he’s finished scolding you, he’ll probably compliment you for doing the second best thing. After all, you did follow through and try to retrieve the photos, and when you failed, you called the Knights with your tracer. Cindy’s right. It’s not so bad, so don’t sweat it. I’m really not that angry with you, and neither is Mr. Baker. This kind of thing can happen to the best of us.”

  I gave Terry a weak smile.

  Terry chuckled, adding, “And you, Adrian, are hardly among the best of us.”

  Chapter 2: A Birthday Request

  The heavy steel fan mounted on the ceiling vent rattled noisily overhead in the gym-sized concrete dojo, and Terry’s voice echoed slightly as she said, “Ready for more pain?”

  “Always,” I replied with a grin. Terry frequently said things li
ke that so it didn’t bother me. Besides, pain was a part of training. You got used to it after a while.

  The dojo was the single largest room in the Guardian’s secret gathering place under New Haven One, but it still felt mildly claustrophobic to me because it reminded me of another underground room that I had spent a lot of time hoping to get out of. NH-1’s subbasement, which could only be entered by using a special key in the elevator, also had meeting rooms, storage rooms, a shooting range and a prison block. It must have taken the Guardians a long time to dig all this out, but the inside nevertheless felt like “a big concrete tomb” as Terry had once described it.

  It had been two weeks since Mr. Baker had admonished my lack of good judgment regarding the journalist, but Terry had been right in that Mr. Baker let me off with a mild warning, and I had pretty much put the incident behind me. Yesterday had been Terry’s last day of school, and her birthday, June 20th, was tomorrow, but that made no difference in our CQC training schedule. This afternoon was no different: a warm up jog, pistol practice in the shooting range, and hand-to-hand combat training in the dojo.

  Though it wasn’t uncommon to find other Guardian Knights training here, the dojo was empty today except for Terry and me. Alia, who frequently accompanied us down here to heal my training-related injuries, had developed a mild fever since yesterday. Cindy had overreacted and kept her in bed.

  “Okay, let’s go,” said Terry, and I lasted about four seconds before I was looking up at her from the flat of my back.

  Such was Terry’s style of teaching: Learn by doing, or rather by having done to. Whatever combat moves she was teaching, first she used them on me, and then, if she was in an agreeable mood, she’d show them slowly. I would do my best to imitate her, but usually I’d just end up losing my balance and fouling it up. Learning to fight wasn’t all that different from learning to spell words: repetition upon meticulous, painful repetition.

  Pulling me to my feet for the tenth time, Terry suddenly said, “Alia told me you’re having trouble deciding what to get me for my birthday.”

  “Yeah, well, Alia has a big mouth,” I replied. It was true that I hadn’t bought Terry anything yet, but my sister didn’t have to go blabbing to her about it.

  Terry and I squared off on the gym mats again, but Terry didn’t attack. Instead, she gave me a curious look and said, “How about you skip the present and do me a favor instead?”

  Terry had never asked for a favor from me before. When she wanted me to do something, she ordered it.

  “Sure,” I said quickly, “you know I’d do pretty much anything.”

  “Would you go to war with me?” asked Terry.

  “War?” I repeated, raising my eyebrows.

  “Well, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration,” Terry said lightly. “More like a mission or two with the Knights.”

  Terry and I were still facing each other in combat stance. You never knew when Terry, who loved to surprise her opponents, would decide to lunge.

  I said to her, “I already promised that I would join the Knights with you, remember? As soon as we come of age.”

  Terry shook her head. “I was thinking more along the lines of this summer.”

  This summer?! I had let my guard down, and Terry, perhaps acting on instinct, stepped forward and flipped me.

  “What kind of mission?” I asked, looking up at Terry, who had me pinned on my back.

  “I don’t know yet,” said Terry, getting off of me and letting me stand up. “We’re both Honorary Guardian Knights. We have the right to request and join missions for the Guardians. Whatever they give us, it’d be a better experience for us both than to spend all our time training down here.”

  “Are you sure you want me to come with you?” I asked hesitantly. “I always felt you thought of me as a hindrance.”

  “Well, you were, for a while. But you also saved my life, Adrian.” Terry raised her left stump and smiled. “Most of it, anyway. You’re green, of course, but when it comes to actual combat, so am I. Besides, you’re already a more powerful psionic destroyer than many of the seasoned Knights. I’d be happy to have you come on a mission with me. Come on, it’ll be fun. It’ll be an adventure.”

  Adventures... I’d had enough of those. Over the last month, I had felt that Terry was itching for some action, but I never thought she would want me along. Terry didn’t compliment me often. That she would regard me as, if not an equal, nevertheless someone who could be relied upon in battle, meant a great deal to me.

  “I’m not really keen on adventures, Terry,” I said, “but I’ll do it for you.”

  “Great!” Terry said cheerfully. “I’m planning to talk to Mr. Baker later tonight. I’m pretty sure he’ll agree.”

  I let out a slight sigh. How was I ever going to explain this to Cindy?

  Though not at all psionic, Terry was nevertheless very good at reading my thoughts. “The real problem is Cindy, you know,” she said darkly. “The Heart of New Haven holds a lot of sway over Mr. Baker and the Council. If she doesn’t want Mr. Baker to give us mission status, we won’t get it.”

  “Cindy would never agree to this,” I said, shaking my head.

  “I’m not so sure,” Terry said slowly. “I think it’s a matter of how we ask her.”

  We celebrated Terry’s birthday in the evening of the next day. It wasn’t so much a party as a large dinner with ice cream. Father Mark Parnell, a family friend who was a priest at the local church, found time to join us even though it was a Saturday.

  Mark arrived quite early and helped Cindy cook our turkey dinner. We had shooed Terry out of the penthouse to prepare, and I helped Alia put up a few decorations including a large poster she had made that read, “Happy Sweet 16th Birthday, Teresa Henderson!” I had told my sister to write that as a joke, and it was good that the crayoned message was clearly in her writing. Terry absolutely forbade anyone from calling her by her real name, and I suspected that had the poster been written by me, a great deal of “more pain” would follow in the dojo tomorrow.

  When Terry came home, she had brought another girl about her age, who was slightly shorter (though still taller than me) and had semi-long auburn hair. The girl was wearing a plain, light brown dress, and I suspected that she didn’t know she was coming to a party until after she met Terry today. Or perhaps she knew that Terry didn’t want anyone to make a fuss over her.

  “Hope we have room for one more,” said Terry as she showed her friend into the penthouse living room.

  “Of course we do,” said Cindy, coming out from the dining room. “Hello, Laila.”

  “Good evening, Ms. Gifford,” the girl replied politely.

  Then Terry introduced her to Alia and me, saying, “This is my friend Laila Brown from school. My best friend from school.” Terry paused for a second before adding, “My only friend from school.”

  Laila turned to her. “Oh, don’t say that, Terry. They’ll come around. They’re just scared.”

  “I don’t care,” Terry said stiffly. “They’re perfectly welcome to be cowards.”

  Laila didn’t reply, and Terry continued the introductions, saying, “Laila, this is–”

  “Adrian and Alia!” Laila exclaimed happily. “I know. It’s great to finally meet you both in person.”

  “Hello, Laila, nice to meet you,” Alia carefully said aloud, and I was pleased to see that Laila made no visible reaction to my sister’s speech impediment.

  Laila and I shook hands, and I asked her, “How do you know us?”

  “I saw you on stage last year at the party, and I’ve heard a lot about you too,” she replied brightly. “My mother is on the Council and she’s friends with Ms. Gifford.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Well, whatever you heard, I’ll deny.”

  Laila laughed.

  Terry said to me with an evil grin, “Laila’s been dying to meet the, uh, ‘hero’ who saved New Haven. Apparently, she’s just fascinated with you.”

  “Terry!” cried Laila, ho
rrified.

  Terry’s grin widened as she continued, “I tried to explain to her that you were just a village idiot, Adrian, but she insisted on discovering that for herself.”

  “Thanks a lot, Terry!” I said sarcastically.

  As we made our way to the dining room, Laila Brown, who apparently thought she was whispering quietly enough not to be overheard, nudged Terry and said, “You’re right, Terry. He is too cute for you.” I wished I could get a mind-writer to remove that one from my head.

  We entered the dining room where Mark was putting the final touches on our table.

  “Laila!” exclaimed Mark, turning to her. “Welcome, welcome! I’m sorry I didn’t greet you at the door, but I wanted to hurry up and finish setting the table.”

  “Father Parnell?” Laila said with a surprised look. “I knew you were friends with Ms. Gifford, but I didn’t expect to see you at Terry’s party.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” said Mark, smiling at her.

  Then Terry and Laila caught sight of Alia’s message pinned up on the far wall. I could tell that Laila was desperately trying not to laugh.

  Terry smacked me over the head with her right palm.

  “What was that for?!” I demanded.

  “Alia’s poster, you idiot!” she snapped.

  I laughed. “Then hit Alia!”

  Terry fixed me with an accusing stare. “You told her what to write.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you live with the village idiot, Sweet Sixteen,” I retorted with a grin, and Terry had little choice but to laugh it off along with the rest of us.

  We took our seats at the dining table. Perhaps fearing retribution from Terry, Alia sat next to me, with Mark on her other side. Laila chose the chair between me and Terry, and Cindy sat between Terry and Mark. It was usually a pretty large dining table, but six made it feel just right.

  Since Laila had a chair next to mine, I got to talk a bit with her over dinner. Laila did seem to know a good deal about Alia and me, but as to Terry’s claim that she was “fascinated,” I sincerely doubted that. I was more interested in her. New Haven’s blanket-ban on associating with Cindy’s family meant I didn’t often get to learn about the lives of other Guardians here.