Lesser Gods

by Adrian Howell

  “I don’t know,” laughed Terry. “I just felt like it.” Such was Terry’s way of saying, “You’re welcome.”

  Mark, who had given me a wristwatch for my birthday last year, gave me another, but this time it was an analog watch with a glass cover that could be lifted up to reveal the minute and hour hands.

  “A Braille watch,” I said, feeling the hands on the watch face. “I’ve read about these in my Grade One Braille text.”

  “This one is a bit old-fashioned so it doesn’t talk,” said Mark.

  “That’s probably for the best,” I said, thinking of my bedside clock’s attitude problem.

  The watch’s band probably had originally been metal, but Mark had replaced it with a cheaper Velcro watchband. He had put some tape over the back of the watch as well so that the metal wouldn’t directly touch my skin, and I thanked Mark for the extra consideration.

  Laila’s present was a thick wool scarf for the coming winter. It was dark blue with three wide green stripes diagonally across it.

  “I like the color,” I said, smiling as I felt the warmth of the scarf in my hands. “Thank you, Laila.”

  “You can see it?” Laila asked in a surprised tone.

  “Alia’s whispering in my head,” I explained.

  I knew that my sister had deliberately waited to the end to give me her present.

  She started with a birthday card which had been written in Braille. A few days ago, someone had moved my Braille writer from its designated corner on my desk, and I suspected it was Alia, so this was no great surprise. Writing in Braille required you to punch the dots from the other side of the paper. It was difficult because you had to make the dotted patterns in a mirror image. Alia had made her fair share of mistakes but, running my fingers along the card, I slowly read, “Happy 15th Birthday, Addy. You are the...”

  I stopped reading aloud, but apparently Alia had written regular letters on the card too, because Cindy finished reading for me, “...the best big brother in the whole world.”

  Terry laughed, saying, “Somehow I doubt that.”

  I doubted it too, but it was excruciatingly touching all the same.

  “Here, Addy,” said Alia, placing a wrinkly paper package in my hands.

  I carefully undid the wrapping and pulled out a soft, long-sleeve garment. “A sweater?”

  “She made that herself,” said Cindy. “It’s deep purple.”

  As a paid Guardian Knight, Alia could have easily bought something for me like the others had, but she had chosen to stick with hand-made this year too. I tried it on over my shirt.

  “It’s perfect,” I said. The sweater was actually a touch big for me but it would probably shrink in the wash. “You did this all by yourself?”

  “Cindy helped me,” said Alia.

  “I showed her how to use the knitting needles,” said Cindy, “and I helped a bit with the sleeves, too, but Alia did most of the work herself.”

  “When did you find the time to...” I began, but then I realized I already knew the answer. I gave Alia a big hug and said, “I promise we’ll go outside more starting tomorrow.”

  Then I laughed, saying, “Between a sweater, a scarf, watch, compass and proximity sensor, it would be a tragedy if I stayed indoors this winter.”

  That is not to say that I had completely overcome my frustration, anger, resentment, and all the other nasty feelings that had anchored me to the greenhouse chair for much of the previous month. I still sat alone brooding from time to time, but as the days passed, such occasions became fewer and shorter. I found more time to play with Alia in and outside the penthouse, and while I was still a far cry from the best, I hoped that I was no longer the worst big brother in the world.

  Equipped with my ear-mounted proximity sensor, I could actually run at a fair speed on the park’s jogging path. My feet had memorized every turn in the course, so all I had to do was keep from crashing into other people. Alia and Terry made sure I didn’t miss anything low on the ground such as an overturned bicycle. When the weather kept us trapped indoors, there were board games and an occasional round of blind tag to keep us occupied in our free time.

  Though Terry was no longer busy hunting for a solution to my blindness, she outright refused Cindy’s offer to home-school her. Alia and I vouched for Cindy’s skills as a tutor, but Terry insisted that she was done with school, and nothing Cindy said could change that.

  Actually, I had also put my foot down and refused to be taught a regular ninth-grade curriculum this school year. I had instead promised Cindy that I would do my studies and cover as much as I could, but in my own good time. I wanted to master Grade Two Braille first and follow a program designed for the blind so that I wouldn’t have to have my schoolbooks read to me. Thus Cindy worked mainly with Alia, who had become a fourth grader as of this September.

  In the dojo, Terry made good on her threat to teach me blind wrestling. Perhaps taking the idea from Laila’s game, Terry wore a blindfold herself whenever she grappled with me, and of course she always won. I also continued to exercise regularly down in the dojo while my instructor sparred with other Guardian Knights. I could only listen to the ferocity of these matches, but it sounded like Terry remained undefeated on the mat.

  Outwardly, it seemed that Terry had returned to her normal, menacing self, but I still felt from time to time that she was looking for some breakthrough that would lead to recovering my eyesight. It was only after the start of November that I seriously began to worry about her.

  Terry had been gone on a mission for the Ravens. She left early one Monday morning and was gone all week on a Slayer hunt. Except that I had a chance meeting with Mr. Simms in the park on Wednesday afternoon, and he didn’t know anything about it. Mr. Simms further informed me that Terry had resigned from the Ravens the day after she returned from her trip to the Historian’s mountain.

  “You didn’t know?” Mr. Simms asked incredulously.

  “No,” I replied, feeling silly. “Terry’s been acting strange for a while now. I guess she just wanted some time to herself.”

  “I hope she’s not plotting something again,” Mr. Simms said in a very serious tone.

  My temper flared at the notion. “Terry’s brother is dead, Mr. Simms! If she’s plotting anything, it won’t hurt New Haven!”

  I felt his hand on my shoulder as he said reassuringly, “I was joking, Adrian.”

  “Sorry,” I mumbled embarrassedly. That was the problem with not being able to see people’s faces.

  I found it impossible to believe that Terry could resign from the Ravens and then leave on a fake mission without Cindy knowing about it from her perch at the top of the information chain. When I confronted Cindy that evening, she said, “Terry asked for some time to check something out. I’m guessing she didn’t want to get your hopes up again.”

  “Figures,” I said. “Well, I’m not going to get my hopes up this time, that’s for sure. But I clearly remember you had Terry promise to give up any more wild-goose chases.”

  “Terry claimed it had nothing to do with your eyes,” said Cindy, and before I could respond, added, “Of course it probably has everything to do with your eyes, but I couldn’t prove it and she promised to be back by Friday. Give her some time, Adrian. I think Terry was even more disappointed with the Historian than you.”

  I pursed my lips, and Cindy said, “Would it be too much to ask for you to pretend that you don’t know about this?”

  Terry did return on Friday, but only just. She arrived near midnight and, refusing to tell me anything about her “mission” except that she had helped the Ravens kill some Slayers, she went straight to bed.

  More than once the next week, I heard Cindy and Terry arguing late at night, and while I didn’t spy on them anymore, I guessed that Terry was still unwilling to give up the quest. As per Cindy’s request, I continued to feign ignorance.

  Blindness had fine-tuned my ears, so when I woke to Alia’s soft breathing one night in mid-November, I kn
ew it was still far from morning and that someone had just walked down the corridor past our room door.

  I tapped on my bedside clock, which yawned loudly and said, “It is 1:14 in the morning. Please get a life!”

  I heard Alia say groggily into my head, “Addy?”

  “Sorry, Alia,” I whispered as I got out of bed. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To get a glass of water,” I replied. “Now go back to sleep.”

  I actually was a bit thirsty, but I was more curious about the footsteps I had heard. I let my feet guide me toward the kitchen, but while I was crossing the dining room, I sensed a presence to my left.

  “You can’t hide that easily, Terry,” I said, grinning.

  “What are you doing up?” asked Terry. Though clearly in the same room, her voice nevertheless sounded strangely distant.

  “Just getting some water,” I told her.

  “Let me help you.”

  “I don’t need your help, Terry.”

  “I know you don’t,” Terry said gently. “Let me help you anyway.”

  I heard the kitchen faucet run for a moment, and then Terry put a glass in my hands.

  “Thanks,” I said, and took a sip.

  Terry whispered, “You know, Adrian, I never meant for any of this. I was just trying to protect you.”

  “I know that,” I said, shocked at how fragile Terry’s voice sounded. And I knew something else. “You’re going away again, aren’t you?”

  Terry’s voice seemed to quaver a bit as she answered, “Yes.”

  “You sound like you’re not coming back.”

  “I’m not,” said Terry. “Not for a while. Maybe not ever.”

  “I know you left the Ravens, Terry, and I know you weren’t on a Slayer hunt the other week. If you’re still looking for a cure to my blindness, just say so.”

  “I wish I was, Adrian, but I guess I knew deep down that it was hopeless even before I went to see the Historian.”

  I put my glass down on the dining table. “Then what is this, Terry? Another adventure?”

  “No more adventures for me,” said Terry. “But I can’t stay here.”

  “Why not?”

  Terry let out a long sigh. “I was hired as your trainer.”

  “And now you’re our bodyguard,” I reminded her. “You’re the only one Cindy trusts enough to have in this house.”

  “Even so, I just can’t.”

  “Terry, why don’t you go on a real mission?” I suggested semi-seriously. “Kill some Slayers for me. It’ll make us both feel good.”

  Terry replied in a monotone, “Like I said, Adrian, no more adventures.”

  I faced her and said firmly, “No one in this house blames you for what happened to me, Terry.”

  “You’re wrong, Adrian.” I heard Terry let out a quiet sob. “Because I do.”

  “But this is your home, Terry.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Coward,” I whispered.

  “What?”

  “I said you’re a coward, Terry!” I shouted in fury. “You can’t stand to look at me!”

  Terry’s voice cracked. “Maybe I am a coward.”

  I had been hoping for a hard smack in the face. This was much worse. Terry, who never backed away from a fight in her entire life, was suddenly as hollow as the coldest winter night.

  When I finally found my voice, I asked quietly, “Where will you go?”

  “New Haven isn’t the only Guardian settlement, Adrian,” said Terry. “Besides, I’m not even psionic yet, so no one can track me down. I’ll find a place.”

  I considered shouting for Cindy, but I knew that Terry’s mind was made up. If I stopped her today, she’d just leave tomorrow.

  “You haven’t even said goodbye to Alia,” I said.

  “Well, I wasn’t planning on saying goodbye to you either,” replied Terry. “I’m not good at goodbyes.”

  That feeling I understood, and I gave her a faint smile.

  Terry’s hand touched my left shoulder. “Take care of yourself, Half-head.”

  I gave her arm a squeeze. “You too, Five-fingers.”

  I followed Terry’s footsteps into the living room. The front door opened, and then shut quietly. I stood motionless, breathing slowly and wishing that this was all just a bad dream.

  “Addy?” said Alia inside my head. “What’s going on?”

  “Where are you?” I asked into the darkness.

  “Here,” said Alia, tapping lightly on the wall near the corridor. “I heard the front door. What’s going on?”

  I couldn’t bring myself to say it aloud, but Alia didn’t ask again. Instead, she gently took my hand and walked me back to our room. I sat silently with her at our window-side seat, staring out into the nothingness to which I had become so accustomed. I tried not to think of how weak Terry had sounded. I didn’t want to remember her that way, but I knew that something had broken inside her. Perhaps Cindy was right in that Terry wished for my recovery even more than I did. It seemed strange, but that was Terry, and now she was gone.

  When I woke the next morning, I was still sitting in the chair with Alia, and over breakfast, I told both her and Cindy what had happened. Cindy showed no surprise at the news of Terry’s departure.

  While Cindy understood why I hadn’t woken her or tried to force Terry to stay, my sister did not. Fortunately, Cindy dealt with Alia for me so I could concentrate on trying to swallow a breakfast that I wasn’t hungry for.

  “Because Terry is older, Alia,” Cindy replied patiently in response to a telepathic question. “She’s sixteen, and she’s not my child. Her Uncle Charles gives her free reign to come, go and do as she pleases.”

  Alia continued to talk to Cindy telepathically. I knew she wasn’t trying to hide anything from me. Even though my sister’s spoken voice was beginning to sound almost natural these days, she still relied on her telepathy whenever she was upset and didn’t want to concentrate on mouth movements. Alia wasn’t crying, at least not audibly, but I could tell by her irregular breathing that she was on the verge.

  “I know how much you love her,” said Cindy, probably hugging Alia tightly enough to interrupt her circulation. “Terry cares just as much about you too. She couldn’t say goodbye because it hurt her too much, and she’ll come back someday.”

  Alia seemed to relax a bit.

  “I’m sure of it, sweetie,” said Cindy. “Terry just needs some time to herself. She’ll be missing you and Addy before the end of the day, and when she misses you enough, she’ll be back.”

  Alia said something else, and Cindy replied, “No, Ali, probably not today or tomorrow. You just be patient like your brother.”

  I realized that I had, indeed, finally learned my patience. Why else would I have let Terry leave like that?

  Cindy gave Alia a break from her studies that day, and the three of us spent much of the day outdoors, shopping, walking, and half-heartedly playing in the park. The November wind was beginning to bite at our cheeks, but worse was the constant, unpleasantly cold reminder of an absent voice.

  Though I had neither the intention nor the means of looking for Terry or dragging her back to New Haven, I was curious as to where she had gone and whether she was alright. I asked Cindy to call up Laila Brown for me and arrange a meeting.

  The next day after school hours, Laila met me in the lobby of NH-1. As the evenings were getting a bit too cold for strolls through the park, we went across the street to a small cafe that had opened there last year.

  “Where’s your sister today?” asked Laila as she opened the door for me.

  “Cindy’s helping her with her homework,” I replied. “Actually, in our case, it’s all homework, but you get the idea. Why?”

  “It’s just so strange not seeing her next to you.”

  I chuckled. “Alia wanted to come but Cindy wouldn’t let her.”

  We sat at what Laila told me was a cor
ner table where we could talk openly without being overheard. The shop was run by the Guardians and outsiders rarely came in, but there was always the possibility of being overheard by an Angel spy.

  In order to protect Terry on the road to wherever she was heading, the official Guardian line was that Terry had suffered a horrible training accident, leaving her paralyzed and bedridden in the penthouse. There was no telling how long such a cover story would hold up, but hopefully the Angels wouldn’t be too interested in Terry now that they no longer had any leverage on her.

  Laila ordered coffees for the both of us.

  “You do drink coffee, don’t you, Adrian?” she asked.

  “Sure,” I lied. “All the time.”

  The service was quick.

  “Sugar? Milk?” asked Laila as the cups were placed on our table.

  “Black is fine,” I said, taking a sip and instantly regretting it. “Maybe a cube of sugar.”

  Laila added sugar to my coffee for me, and we spent a minute or two drinking silently. I sipped my still-bitter coffee very slowly.

  “So,” sighed Laila, “Terry...”

  “Yeah,” I said, sighing too. “Terry... You wouldn’t happen to know where she’s going, would you?”

  “Only guesses, none of them intelligent,” Laila answered apologetically.

  “I just wish I could write her a letter. See if I can’t get it through her thick skull that she didn’t have to leave New Haven on my account.”

  “You really like her, don’t you, Adrian?”

  “She was a good friend,” I said quietly. “One of my very few friends since I turned psionic.”

  “I’m going to miss her too,” Laila said sadly. “I know this is the last thing you need right now. Terry is usually so strong.”

  “She was so disappointed that I wouldn’t be able to fight for the Guardians anymore.”

  “It must be difficult for the both of you,” Laila said sympathetically. “You might have made a great Knight someday.”

  “I doubt it, Laila,” I said, giving her a wry smile. “After all, I’m only in this stupid war to get my sister back from the Angels.”

  “You don’t care if the Guardians win or lose?” Laila asked in a startled tone.