The Quest (28 page)

But when I typed “Nightmare” into the names field of the search screen, all I found was a deceased Guardian Knight who had once used Nightmare as a call sign.

I brought up a new search. Looking at each text field, I found one labeled “Groups and Categories” and typed in “PRC Site-A.”

What followed was a list of forty-seven names, each marked with a number before it. Scrolling down to the bottom, I quickly spotted Alia and myself at the end.

I scrolled back up through the list and discovered that Nightmare wasn’t the only mystery man at the PRC. In fact, there were several entries simply listed as “Unknown Male” and “Unknown Female.” What had been Nightmare’s psionic ID number? Hadn’t Nightmare been brought to the PRC a little after Mr. Koontz? If I could find Mr. Koontz, I might know which of the unknowns was Nightmare.

Before I spotted Mr. Koontz on the list, however, my eyes stopped dead on another name.

P-26: Denman, David Percy

My finger was shaking a little as I touched his name on the screen.

FILE ID:
David Percy Denman, MD.
ALIASES:
P-26 (at PRC Site-A).
AFFILIATIONS:
PRC Site-A, under Otis, Reuben, MD.
KNOWN POWERS:
Graviton, Hider.
SUSPECTED POWERS:
None.
SUSPECTED EMERGENTS:
None or Unknown.
CURRENT STATUS:
Deceased.

I stared at the old, wrinkled face of Dr. Denman in the photo, at his hawk-like eyes and fierce scowl. They had known what he was from the beginning, and Dr. Denman had been a prisoner there himself.

After my escape from the PRC, I had thought very little about Dr. Denman aside from a few sighs of relief that he was dead and gone. But now I realized that in his last moments, Dr. Denman had said two things which seemed almost self-contradictory. On the one hand, he claimed that he was “trying to find a cure to this insanity.” That pretty much summed up Dr. Denman for me. He hated psionics because he himself was one, and the scientist in him was repulsed by it. But then he also claimed that Alia was worth more than the rest of us put together. I wondered if perhaps Dr. Denman, who, after all, had a medical background, was secretly fascinated by Alia’s ability to heal. Was Alia the exception to his rule? Could he tolerate psionic powers so long as they were limited to peaceful uses? I didn’t like entertaining this thought because it was identical to my own feelings about psionics, and I hated to think that I shared ideals with Dr. Denman. But there was no denying what he said, or that he had risked (and consequently lost) everything to keep my sister from being rescued by the Guardians. Why was Alia so important to him?

I could understand the Angels giving Alia preferential treatment at their house because of who she was, but Dr. Denman?!

“Addy?”
said Alia, breaking into my thoughts.

I turned to my sister. She had opened her eyes and was yawning quietly.

“Sorry,” I said, “did I wake you?”

Alia sat up on the bed.
“It’s okay.”

I closed the database and carefully levitated it over to the desk. Alia watched me silently for a moment and then asked,
“Did you tell James?”
My sister had been there when Terry asked me to invite James on our quest, so she knew of Terry’s decision.

“I told him,” I replied. “And yes, he’s coming.”

“That’s good,”
said Alia.
“When are we leaving?”

“I don’t know yet. We’ll go as soon as we’re ready.”

Alia peered carefully into my eyes.
“All of us?”

I couldn’t help smiling a little as I said, “You’re thinking that I want you to stay with the rest of the kids up in the mountain camp while Terry and I go to meet the Historian.”

Alia stared at me, unblinking.

I raised my eyebrows. “Whatever put that idea into your head?”

Alia scowled.
“Stay here or I’ll shoot you myself.”

I ruffled her hair a bit, saying, “You deactivated the security system at the Angels’ house, didn’t you?”

She nodded.
“And unlocked the balcony door, too.”

“So what makes you think I wouldn’t want you on this mission, soldier?”

Alia smiled broadly.
“Thanks, Addy.”

My sister had proven herself time and again to be more than anyone ever expected of her. To Dr. Denman, Alia had been but a prize, perhaps the key to some great mystery. To me, she was family, and that was the key to everything. Even now, as I wondered how insane I was to allow my ten-year-old sister to join a mission that would take us into who-knew-what dangers and quite possibly death, I also knew that there were preciously few people in this crazy world to whom I could unhesitatingly entrust my life, and this unlikely girl was one of them.

Putting my hands on her shoulders, I said seriously, “Alia, I really do want you to come with us. But I also want you to promise me that you’ll do as you’re told.”

“I promise,”
Alia said lightly.

“I mean it! No arguments in the middle of a battle! Understand?”

“Okay. I promise.”

“Alright,” I said, shaking my head. “Go on back to sleep if you can. I have a feeling we’re going to be pretty busy from tomorrow.”

James wasn’t back yet, but that was okay. No doubt he had a lot on his mind, too.

Over the following week, we got our joint Wolf-Guardian team ready for the long-anticipated push to the Historian’s mountain. Terry, with the assistance of several members of Ed Regis’s team, acquired the gifts that we would present to the Historian to beg his assistance. What could a 3000-year-old all-powerful psionic want that he couldn’t provide for himself? The answer to that question was surprisingly simple.

“Nothing,” Terry had said to me with a confusing smile. “There is nothing the Historian can’t get for himself if he really wanted to. But the Historian hates leaving his mountain, and he hates using his psionic power when he could do without. In a way, he’s a little like you, Adrian. He finds his own power burdensome. He prefers to deal in information. So people bring him food, money and entertainment.”

“Entertainment?” I asked, chuckling at the thought of the great and wise Historian playing computer games in his mountain retreat.

But Terry was serious. “The Historian loves stories, Adrian. He collects them. And he speaks every language on the planet so there’s never a shortage of things we can take to gain his favor.”

Even so, we weren’t about to carry stacks of books and magazines on a mad rush to the Historian’s mountain through hoards of deadly Angel patrols. Heavy boxes of expensive wines were equally out of the question. With the assistance of the Wolves, Terry made contact with some under-the-table gemstone dealers and converted a large portion of our newly acquired funds into rubies and emeralds.

“A symbolic gift,” explained Terry, “but it’ll be enough.”

Meanwhile, Ed Regis was kept busy arranging our covert transportation. Over land and sea, we would have to cross multiple international borders without proper passports or paperwork. “Trust me,” he said confidently, and we had little choice but to.

Merlin had an easier but equally important assignment: the acquisition of our mountain trekking gear, including clothing, boots, tents, tools, and consumables such as food, water and medicine. Once on site, the narrow footpath through the mountains – several days’ hike – would be as unforgiving as the Angels who guarded it. We had to be ready for setbacks and detours.

While we waited, the rest of us continued to keep house, train, and assist the Walnut Knights in patrolling the neighborhood. James “the Chosen One” acquired a new status in the house, but to his credit, he didn’t abuse it. Alia also got much more attention than she probably wanted from Candace and Heather, who both felt that my sister should accompany them to the mountain camp. As for myself, I quickly settled back into the role of designated househusband and Terry’s semi-loyal second-in-command.

Ed Regis had originally requested a month to prepare our trip to the Historian’s mountain. Terry had given him seven days, and though I have no idea what corners Ed Regis had cut to manage it, it looked like he would actually meet Terry’s deadline. This meant we would probably be leaving Walnut Lane in a day or two, so Terry had ordered me to field-strip all of our guns one last time and make sure that they were in top condition.

Terry usually cleaned her own guns, refusing to trust her weaponry in anyone else’s hands. Thus I took her command as praise, and despite my continuing dislike of firearms, I accepted the task without argument. I knew how important this was, too. One of the reasons I was alive today was because an Angel’s pistol had jammed before it could put a bullet through my head.

Therefore, a little after lunchtime, I went around the house gathering up all the pistols we had, but not the ones that we had supplied to Ed Regis and his men. The Wolves could clean their own damn guns.

Retreating to the kitchen, I draped a white bedspread over the counter so I wouldn’t lose sight of any small parts when I started disassembling the pistols. Then, sitting on a stool, I slowly, methodically started working on the first one, which was James’s.

I heard the door open and looked up from my work.

“Addy?”
said Alia, looking at me from across the room.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Have you seen Terry?”

“I think she’s still out. Why?”

“Mr. Regis was looking for her.”

“It’s not that big a house,” I said, annoyed at the mention of Ed Regis. “They’ll bump into each other eventually.”

Closing the door behind her, Alia came up to the counter and gingerly fingered the bedspread.
“What are you doing?”

I gave her a nasty smile. “I’m playing golf, Alia. What does it look like I’m doing?!”

Ignoring my sarcasm, Alia hopped up onto a stool and silently watched me work. Though she knew how to handle a pistol if the need arose, my sister still hated guns even more than I, so she didn’t offer to help, and I didn’t ask her to. Personally, I felt that cleaning a gun was still far preferable to actually killing someone with it.

I was almost through reassembling James’s pistol when there was a knock on the door. I telekinetically pulled it open, and Ed Regis stepped into the kitchen.

Alia asked him, “Did you find Terry, Mr. Regis?”

Ed Regis shook his head. “Scott told me that she’ll be back in an hour or so.” Then he gave me a smile and said, “I have good news, Adrian. We’ll be leaving first light the day after tomorrow.”

“Terry will be happy,” I said indifferently, returning to my work.

“Do you need any help with those?” asked Ed Regis.

“No,” I said flatly.

“I’ve got nothing better to do at the moment.”

“Suit yourself.”

There were only two stools, occupied by Alia and me, so Ed Regis stood at the counter next to Alia and took Terry’s spare pistol, removing the clip and checking the chamber before starting to work on it.

I kept silent and focused on my own work.

Over the last few days, I had forced myself to get to know Ed Regis and his team a little better, but I prudently remained wary of what I said in front of any of them. After all, we all knew that this was a very temporary and shaky alliance. When Terry first learned that it was Ed Regis himself who had tortured Alia and me, she was just as disbelieving of my decision to spare the Wolf as I had been. (“Never knew you could be such a
politician,
Adrian!”) Although pragmatism always trumps ideology in times of crisis, that didn’t mean any of us were particularly thrilled with the setup. Furthermore, word of who we were harboring in our home had quickly spread through Walnut Lane, and tensions between us and the neighborhood remained uncomfortably high.

Thus I found it annoying that my sister seemed to have forgotten that she was living in the company of people who ordinarily hunted our kind from helicopters. Ed Regis had made a second apology to Alia three days ago, and Alia, unbelievably, seemed to accept it as sincere.

Even now, sitting between Ed Regis and me, my sister looked far more at ease in the presence of the Wolf than I felt.

“Your brother still doesn’t like talking to me,” Ed Regis stated the obvious.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alia shake her head and smile. “He doesn’t like you, Mr. Regis.”

“Someday soon, Alia, I hope at least you will call me Ed,” replied Ed Regis, his hands busily cleaning Terry’s pistol.

Having finished with James’s pistol, I next began to work on my own, but I was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on the task.

Alia asked the Wolf, “Why do your men call you ‘Major’?”

“It’s because I’m a major pain in the neck,” joked Ed Regis.

Alia giggled. “Addy says that about me sometimes.”

“Well, that makes you a major too,” said Ed Regis. “Major Gifford. Major Pain-in-Addy’s-Neck.”

I rolled my eyes as the two laughed loudly.

Then Ed Regis explained to Alia, “Actually, ‘major’ is just a rank title. It shows that I’m a soldier, kind of like your Guardian Knights.”

Alia smiled, saying, “Addy is a Guardian Knight, but he’s not a major.”

“I didn’t know that your brother was a Knight,” said Ed Regis, sounding genuinely impressed.

“I am too, sort of.”

“You’re a Knight too?”

Alia nodded happily.

“Now that’s something!” said Ed Regis. “How did you become a Knight at your age?”

Halting my work, I turned to the two and said dryly, “Low recruiting standards. Alia, would you please go find something better to do?”

Alia jumped down from her stool, stuck her tongue out at me and made for the door. “See you, Ed,” she said lightly, and disappeared.

I telekinetically slammed the door behind her and then glared up at Ed Regis. “If I didn’t know you better, Major Pain, I’d say you’re enjoying your stay here.”

“I’m just trying to be nice,” said Ed Regis.

“Well, stop it.”

“Are you telling me to stay away from your sister?”