Lesser Gods

by Adrian Howell

  I let out a frustrated sigh. “So what I did might have put us all in danger?”

  “It’s hard to say, Adrian,” replied Cindy. “We’re not completely sure one way or the other. It’s quite possible that Mr. Simms died in the tunnel.”

  I already regretted what I had done to Mr. Simms. I should have put my blast through his skull.

  I shook my head in resignation, saying, “I don’t even know how many times I’ve said this anymore, Cindy, but this time I’m really done fighting. I’m resigning my position as Honorary Guardian Knight. I’m done with them.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Cindy. “I thought you just said you wanted to fight. To kill the people who–”

  “No, Cindy!” I cut across her. “I said I hated them. And I do. If I ever faced them again, I wouldn’t hesitate to kill them. I might even enjoy it. But that doesn’t mean I want to go looking for them. And even if I did, I certainly wouldn’t do it as a Guardian Knight.”

  My honorary status made my involvement in Guardian missions entirely voluntary, so technically there were no drawbacks to remaining a Knight, and the pay was good too. But I no longer wanted that title on my name.

  I continued, “It might be different if only I could believe that the Guardians were good. But as far as I’m concerned, we’re no different from the Angels. It’s not just about Mr. Simms, Cindy. What I’ve seen of the Guardians these last two years, and what I’ve seen of this conflict in general... I just can’t be a part of it anymore. This isn’t my war. It never was. I may have become a monster, but if I can live in peace, then that’s all I want.”

  Cindy smiled. “I’m glad to hear this, Adrian. I hope you find peace. I have a morning meeting with Mr. Baker tomorrow. I’ll tell him if you like.”

  “That’ll be fine,” I said.

  “You’re sure you want to do this?”

  I nodded. I’d have to apologize to Terry about breaking my promise to someday hunt Angels with her, but keeping promises was never one of my strong points anyway.

  I forced a smile and said, “Besides, between the Slayers and Mr. Simms, I think I’ve caused enough trouble for the Knights already, don’t you?”

  Cindy laughed.

  I asked uneasily, “Are you going to tell Mr. Baker what I did?”

  Cindy shook her head. “Not unless you want me to.”

  I looked at her for a moment. Then I wondered if I really had lost my mind as I replied, “Yes. He should know.”

  Cindy looked surprised, but then smiled warmly. “Don’t worry, Adrian. You’re not a monster yet.”

  I smiled back at her.

  The next day, Cindy had her meeting with Mr. Baker right after breakfast. Before going, she asked me again if it really was okay to let Mr. Baker know what I had done in the tunnel. It was, but I couldn’t help feeling apprehensive about it.

  I repeatedly told myself that Mr. Baker had a secret too, and that I shouldn’t be afraid of him. What was the worst he could do to me, anyway? The truth was I didn’t quite know.

  I passed the time playing board games with my sister, who had recovered from her cold. Terry was taking the morning off too so she joined us. I wasn’t going to discuss Mr. Simms in front of Alia, but I did tell Terry my decision to permanently leave the Knights. Terry was vocally disappointed, but she seemed to understand.

  Cindy returned to the penthouse for lunch and told me that Mr. Baker wanted to see me in person.

  “I set up a 2pm appointment for you at his home,” said Cindy. “He’ll probably be rushing between meetings, so please don’t be late.”

  “What does he want to see me for, Cindy?” I asked nervously. Was I going to be banished? Jailed?

  “He just wants to talk, Adrian,” Cindy replied reassuringly.

  Cindy refused to give me details, and I left the penthouse alone to meet my doom.

  Ringing Mr. Baker’s doorbell at precisely 2pm, I remembered how Terry had once escorted me here to receive a reprimand from Mr. Baker over my botched handling of a pesky reporter. I had a feeling that this was going to be much worse.

  Opening the door, Mr. Baker smiled down at me and said, “Terry has obviously taught you the importance of punctuality. I could set my watch to your arrival.”

  Ushering me into his home, he asked me to sit at his coffee table.

  “I prefer to stand,” I said.

  “Very well,” Mr. Baker said crisply, remaining standing himself. “I called you here to discuss two things today. The first, of course, is what happened between you and Mr. Simms.”

  Mr. Baker paused as if to give me a chance to speak first, but I remained silent. I wasn’t here to apologize or make excuses.

  Mr. Baker assumed a grandfatherly tone as he said, “Adrian, I knew what kind of man Jason Simms was when I placed him in charge of the Ravens. It might not have been right, but it was necessary for our security to have competent, if even ruthless, warriors on our side.”

  I still kept my mouth shut.

  Mr. Baker gave me a wry smile and continued, “Mr. Simms perhaps did enjoy his job a little too much. The truth is that I never liked him very much either, and to a point, I understand what you did. You owed the Slayer who helped you. Nevertheless, under normal circumstances, I would not only have to strip you of your honorary title, but possibly even banish you from the Guardians.”

  “Will you?” I asked. I didn’t care about the title, which Mr. Baker should know I was giving up anyway, but if I was banished...

  “No,” said Mr. Baker. “Just as I need men like Mr. Simms, I also need you.”

  I bristled at the comparison, probably because it rang true. But then I realized what he meant. “Because of Cindy.”

  Mr. Baker nodded. “I need Cindy, and therefore I need you as well. Cindy wants you in her home, and I believe that you are happy there, yes?”

  “As happy as I could hope for.”

  “I want you to think about that, Adrian,” Mr. Baker said warningly. “I want you to think about that very carefully, because if word ever gets out about what you did, I may have no choice but to remove you from New Haven permanently.”

  “I understand,” I replied. “And I’m sorry for putting our security in danger again.”

  Mr. Baker stroked his chin. “Ah, well, we still don’t know if Mr. Simms was taken alive. For now, we’ll just keep this our little secret.”

  I nodded, and Mr. Baker said, “On to the second point, then. You have asked to have your name stricken from the Honorary Guardian Knight list.”

  “That’s right,” I said matter-of-factly.

  “Why, might I ask?”

  I hesitated. I wasn’t confident I could explain my rationale to Mr. Baker without insulting him.

  Mr. Baker said, “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you the other day at the party. Your recklessness had once again paid off, but I couldn’t be seen as approving of it.”

  “It’s not about that,” I said.

  “Then what is it?”

  I said slowly, “I’m sorry, Mr. Baker, but I just don’t believe in your cause anymore. I don’t believe in the Guardians’ cause. I had hoped that being a Knight would lead me to my sister. But I’m done chasing her. I just want a normal life back.”

  Mr. Baker frowned. “I suppose you’ve always had your own agenda, Adrian. But you know that your title doesn’t require your participation in Knight operations. It would be helpful for me if you were to keep it, at least for the time being.”

  I looked curiously at him, and Mr. Baker said, “You don’t have a lot of contact with the other residents of New Haven, so you may not know it, but you’re a bit of a celebrity these days.”

  “A celebrity?!” I repeated incredulously. I remembered how Mr. Simms had once called me the “famous Adrian Howell.” Or was it “infamous”?

  “Think about it, Adrian,” said Mr. Baker. “You’re a wild-born child psionic, and already a very powerful one at that. You’re the reason Cindy returned to the Guardians. You and Terry
saved her from abduction last year. You survived a ruthless band of Slayers against all odds, and just recently, you played an important role in our slaying of the Angel queen.”

  When he put it that way, I had to admit that it did sound pretty cool.

  Mr. Baker gave me a concerned look and continued, “If you discard your honorary title now, people will wonder why. They will ask why the boy who did so much for us would suddenly refuse to hold a title that symbolizes everything the Guardians strive for. They will ask what manner of dissent is occurring in the residence of the Heart of New Haven, and they will fear for the future of our settlement.”

  It was political.

  I said uneasily, “I’m just not comfortable with the title, Mr. Baker.”

  Mr. Baker dropped the cordial tone. “Then let me be perfectly frank with you, Adrian Howell,” he said severely. “These are volatile times. The Angels are in a frenzy. Their leaders are already beginning to argue, and they know that their time as a unified faction is limited. At any moment, they might attack us in full force. I cannot allow doubt to enter my people. You will play your part if you want to remain in New Haven.”

  I stared defiantly back at him. “Let me be equally frank, Mr. Baker,” I hissed. “You knowingly helped me cross into the Angel camp. Cindy doesn’t know it yet, but if she learns that you deliberately risked my life again, a couple of people wondering why I gave up a title would be the least of your troubles. You will let me leave the Knights.”

  Cindy knew, of course, that Terry and Alia had helped me make the crossing into the Angel camp, but she still didn’t know of Mr. Baker’s deliberate involvement in my plan.

  Mr. Baker shook his head. “You can’t prove that I had any knowledge about what you were up to with Mr. Jenson.”

  “I don’t need proof,” I replied evenly. “Cindy would believe me if I told her.”

  We glared at each other in furious silence. I wondered why I was so hell-bent on losing my title.

  Was it pride? Or hate? Fear of rubbing shoulders with the likes of Mr. Simms? Was it perhaps to keep myself from being tempted to join another Guardian mission? But then again, if I was serious about living in peace, what difference did it make whether or not I was an Honorary Guardian Knight?

  I shrugged and gave Mr. Baker a half-smile. “Alright, Mr. Baker,” I said calmly. “We’ll do this your way. I’ll play my part. But know this: I’m through with your damn war. You’re right in that I have my own agenda. If it weren’t for Cindy and Alia, I’d leave New Haven today.”

  “Don’t worry, Adrian,” said Mr. Baker, his frown slowly fading. “You’re Cindy’s boy. Nobody is going to risk your life again.”

  “Will that be all, Mr. Baker?” I asked.

  “Yes. Have a good day.”

  “Thank you,” I said curtly, and strode out the door.

  Returning home, I joined Cindy in the greenhouse. Alia was there too, and she told me that Terry had gone down to the subbasement to practice her shooting.

  “So how’d it go with Mr. Baker?” asked Cindy.

  I chuckled. “Apparently being an Honorary Guardian Knight isn’t quite as voluntary as I had hoped. But it’s okay. What’s in a name, anyway?”

  “I’m glad you agreed to his request,” said Cindy, and then added in a worried tone, “That is, if you really are planning not to take on any more dangerous missions.”

  “I’m not,” I confirmed. “Except for one.”

  “Adrian?!”

  I grinned. “I’m still your live-in bodyguard, right?”

  “Oh!” Cindy laughed. “Right. Between you and Terry, I’m sure this house is the safest place in New Haven.”

  “Hey, what about me?” Alia cried indignantly.

  “I’m sorry, sweetie,” said Cindy, giving her a hug. “I almost forgot that you’re a Knight too.”

  “And a tough one at that,” I agreed. “You should see her with a jo stick.”

  “Addy!” Alia hissed angrily into my head. What she had done to Terry was supposed to be a secret.

  In the evening, I went back to Mark’s church, taking Alia with me. We each lit a candle. I still didn’t believe in all this church stuff, but I felt that Laila’s faith was enough for the both of us. As I watched the candles burn, I didn’t pray, but I hoped. I hoped that Laila was in a better place. And I hoped that my memories of her would give me the strength to let my anger go. I hoped that someday I really would find peace.

  Terry’s seventeenth birthday arrived sooner than I expected. Once again, I couldn’t think of a gift, so I settled for a card and baking the double-layered chocolate cake with Alia. There were no decorations or fancy planning this time, but we had a quiet, enjoyable dinner.

  The doorbell rang just as we had finished dividing up the cake.

  “Uncle Charles!” said Terry, opening the door.

  Terry’s Uncle Charles wasn’t really her blood relation, but the last living member of Ralph’s former Wolf unit that had defected to the Guardians so many years ago.

  “Hello, Terry,” the old man said gruffly, stepping into the living room without waiting for an invitation. He was carrying a small shoulder bag, which he tossed onto the low table.

  Cindy seemed entirely unperturbed by the man’s manner. “Good evening, Mr. Holloway,” she said pleasantly. “It’s nice to see you’re still alive.”

  Closing the door, Terry said, “I didn’t know you were in town.”

  “I just got back from a scouting mission,” replied Charles. “I’ve been in debrief all day.”

  “So what brings you up here now?”

  Charles shrugged, saying, “I came here to wish you a happy birthday.”

  Terry narrowed her eyes. “You haven’t wished me a happy birthday since I was ten. You probably don’t even know how old I am.”

  Charles laughed. “Alright, you got me. I’m actually here on semi-official business. It’s about your grandfather’s will.”

  Terry looked surprised. “My grandfather didn’t have a will. He never cared what happened after he died.”

  “Well, the building maintenance crew was finally cleaning out his home the other day and they found one. It seems he wrote it just before leaving for the blood trial. It’s hardly a will, being scribbled on a scrap of paper, but we’ve decided to honor it nevertheless.”

  Ralph was famous for surviving one suicide mission after another, but perhaps he knew that he would die this time. I remembered Terry telling me how Ralph had been forced to kill his own son and daughter-in-law when they were taken control of by an Angel puppeteer. That had been during a previous, failed attempt on Larissa Divine’s life, back when Terry was still a baby. It had taken nearly two decades, but Ralph had finally completed his mission.

  “So, what of it?” Terry asked in an annoyed tone. “I don’t care for anything that man has touched.”

  “He probably figured you’d say that, Terry,” said Charles. “So he left you all that he didn’t actually touch. His money, that is. It’s no great amount, but it’ll be transferred to your bank account.”

  “Fine,” said Terry. “Is that all?”

  “For you, yes,” said Charles. “But I have something for the others here, too.”

  Cindy, Alia and I looked at each other. Ralph had left us something?

  “For Ms. Gifford, I have a sealed message,” said Charles, reaching into his bag and pulling out a white paper envelope.

  “Thank you, Mr. Holloway,” said Cindy, taking the envelope. “I’ll read it later.”

  “And for Adrian,” continued Terry’s uncle, putting his hand into his bag again and pulling out a short steel crossbow bolt with a razor-sharp tip. “I presume you recognize it?”

  I did.

  “The very one you deflected at Ms. Gifford’s old residence,” said Charles, handing it to me. “Or so I’m told.”

  I quietly held the crossbow bolt in my hands, turning it around and looking at the little scratches in the metal, hardly noticing the draining effe
ct it was giving me. What was Ralph thinking?

  “For Alia, I have only a short message,” said Charles, looking down at my sister. “It was written into his will, which I don’t have with me at the moment.”

  Alia seemed to tremble a little, but she stood her ground, and Charles smiled, saying, “Ralph Henderson is sorry if he scared you.”

  Alia gazed back at Charles for a few seconds, her face expressionless. Then she nodded solemnly.

  That message was already a shock, coming from Ralph of all people. But I still couldn’t figure out what the deal was with the crossbow bolt. After Ralph escaped from the chair we had tied him to, had he actually kept this thing as a souvenir?

  “I don’t understand,” I said.

  Charles nodded. “Ralph was a difficult man to understand, especially after what happened to his son. But I knew him well, and I can guarantee that he thought very highly of you.” Charles glanced down at the bolt in my hands. “He told me how you had managed to deflect that with just a single telekinetic blast. He suspected that it had been somewhat accidental on your part, but he was nevertheless quite impressed with your reflexes.”

  It had been an accident. I had been aiming my blast at Ralph’s crossbow, and technically, I hadn’t even deflected the bolt. My blast hit it in midair so that it slowed down just enough to prevent injury. I hadn’t thought much of what I did back then, but now that I knew more about my telekinetic power, I doubted I could ever repeat that impossible shot.

  Charles continued smilingly, “Ralph believed that you were something special, Adrian. He showed no surprise when you were made an Honorary Knight last year. He even once told me that you were destined for greatness, which is more praise than I’ve ever heard him give anyone else.”

  “Me?!” I asked incredulously. “Destined for greatness?”

  “I swear those are the words he used,” said Charles. “I was a bit surprised myself when I heard it. Ralph didn’t usually talk like that. But there’s something else I can’t quite get over, and that’s just how much you resemble Ralph’s son. Back when your hair was shorter and your eyes were a bit more human, you looked just like him in his youth.” Charles turned to Terry, who was scowling. “Wouldn’t you agree?”