The Quest (44 page)

“The berserker…” I breathed.

“This particular Seraph, a highly trusted member of Larissa’s personal guard, had a unique combination of long-range finding, telepathy and berserking which allowed him to attack psionic minds from great distances,” explained the Historian. “His power wouldn’t work on Ralph, however, as Ralph was far too skilled at blocking mind control. Thus the hunt for you and your sister began, and as you remember, it turned into a very close race.”

“But that doesn’t make sense, Mr. Historian,” I said, shaking my head. “If the Angels were trying to get my sister alive, why did their berserker try to force me to kill her?”

The Historian rolled his eyes, saying, “Because, young Adrian, Larissa Divine’s primary objective was to stop the Guardians from getting a new master, no matter the cost. When the berserker learned that Ralph Henderson was after him, he decided that it would be better to kill your family from afar than risk letting Ralph take you and Catherine into the Guardians. He first used his long-range berserking on you, hoping you would kill your sister. Later, when he was close enough to use his power on your father, he tried to kill your whole family.”

I still vividly remembered how the berserker had grinned at me just before Ralph shot him through the throat with his crossbow. But the race hadn’t ended there. Ralph had to get me out of my house quickly. He had known that there were more Seraphim fast approaching.

“Eight Seraphim, to be exact,” said the Historian, still reading my mind. “You see, Larissa Divine had originally sent only the one Seraph berserker to intercept your family, wishing to keep your bloodline a secret even from the top members of her own faction. But then, when she learned that Ralph was on her berserker’s trail, she reluctantly sent in a whole team. Impossibly outnumbered, Ralph had little choice but to give up your sister and escape with only you.”

“Ralph saved me only because he failed to get Cat,” I muttered, feeling the full weight of the irony. I had spent years thinking that Cat had just been a sideshow for the Angels. I had thought that they kidnapped her simply because she was the sister of a wild-born telekinetic and that someday she might become telekinetic too. But, in reality, my sister had always been the true target.

The Historian shook his head. “You were both important targets, Adrian. As I told you earlier, the power of master controllers can only be passed from father to child. Your sister’s future daughters will never become masters. Only yours can. Thus, in a way, you are far more important.”

“But Ralph wanted my sister,” I insisted. “He asked about her when he came for me.”

The Historian chuckled. “Of course, for Ralph Henderson, Catherine was indeed the greater prize. He wanted a master for the Guardians as soon as possible, after all. But having lost your sister to the Angels, Ralph hoped that one day you might grow up to have a daughter who could become the next Guardian queen. Thus, when you were captured by the Wolves and Cindy asked Mr. Baker for help in retrieving you from that research center, Ralph volunteered to lead the assault because he valued your blood too much to trust to anyone else.”

And yet old Ralph didn’t force me into the PRC’s elevator when he had the chance, allowing me instead to go after Alia. I would never really understand Ralph Henderson.

The Historian said lightly, “Ralph was eccentric, like me.”

“How do you know all this?” I asked.

“It is just my business to know.”

“Mr. Baker said he never wanted a master controller in the Guardians again,” I said. “Did he know what I was?”

The Historian shook his head. “Ralph never told him, fearing that if he did, Mr. Baker might have you killed.”

“Would he have?”

“Who is to say?” the Historian said with a shrug. “But had he known, he certainly would never have let you cross into the Angel camp at the gathering of lesser gods last year. Fearing for your safety, Ralph never told anyone your identity, aside from Larissa Divine of course. He never even told you, and now he is dead. Very few people alive today know what is in your blood, Adrian, or what your children might someday become.”

“That secret won’t last forever,” I said darkly.

“It will last awhile yet,” replied the Historian. “Perhaps fortunately for you, Larissa Divine also carefully hid your surname from the rest of the Angels. The team of Seraphim that captured your sister mysteriously disappeared shortly thereafter, never to be seen again. Meanwhile, young Catherine was placed in the care of Larissa’s trusted nephew, Randal. Now, with Larissa gone, it is very likely that Randal and Catherine Divine are the only Angels who know that the family of Howell has master controller in its blood.”

Listening to the Historian’s story about Ralph and the berserker, I had actually managed to temporarily subdue my unhinged emotions, but the Historian’s mention of Randal and Catherine Divine threw me back into the icy water.

Back at the blood trial, Randal had said that he was going to execute me because he couldn’t allow the Guardians to use me against Cat. Now I understood what he had really meant. But that brought me to another unanswered question. “Why didn’t Larissa Divine try to catch or kill me when I was living in New Haven?” I asked. “Wasn’t she worried that I would provide the Guardians with a new queen?”

The Historian replied, “When Larissa Divine discovered that you were living among the New Haven Guardians, she certainly feared that someday you would give them a new master. But since you were no longer a solitary wild-born, she couldn’t directly order a hit on you without the risk of arousing new suspicions about your bloodline. In order to protect your sister’s identity, she decided to wait, hoping that perhaps you would die in this war before you had any children.”

Considering how many times I had nearly died already, it was hard to disagree with that line of thought.

The Historian looked into my eyes, saying, “You have another question about Larissa Divine.”

I did. “Mr. Baker told me that the only reason Larissa called for a blood trial last year was because she was without a successor after the Guardians killed the Angels’ second master, Angelina Harrow. If that’s the case…”

The Historian nodded. “I’m only guessing, but Larissa Divine probably didn’t think that your sister would become a viable successor for many years to come. And it’s quite possible that Catherine only came into her power shortly after the old queen’s death.”

“Talk about timing…” I muttered.

The Historian leaned back in his chair and said slowly, “Once Catherine is old enough, she will officially take over the faction, and if she continues to believe in her father’s cause, the Angels will soon rule the entire world. You are already a very powerful telekinetic, Adrian. It stands to reason that Catherine is an equally talented master.”

“Is she really the last of the master bloodlines?” I asked.

“You and she are the last,” corrected the Historian. “The two of you are the last living descendants of Kenton Howell, son of Eldridge Gelson and Holly Havel. There still are, of course, Divines and Harrows within the Angels, but none of them carry the potential to spawn master controllers. The Guardians saw to that when they killed Angelina Harrow shortly after your rescue from the God-slayers. During the raid on the second master’s settlement, the Guardian Knights, acting under Mr. Baker’s orders, made sure to kill every other Harrow that could potentially give rise to a new master.”

I had to be absolutely sure, so I pressed the Historian, asking, “So if I die without children, there will be no more master controllers left anywhere? Forever?”

The Historian gave a little shrug. “I cannot guarantee that there isn’t another lost, dormant bloodline somewhere, but I have studied these matters extensively and I am fairly confident in my findings.”

I nodded and shakily got to my feet, mumbling, “Thank you for your time, Mr. Historian.”

“It was my pleasure, Adrian Howell,” said the Historian, hopping down from his armchair and gently shaking my hand. “I’m sorry it had to be such difficult news for you. If you don’t mind, I may wish to speak with you again before your departure.”

“Fine,” I said.

Terry and Alia had stood up too.

The Historian shook Terry’s hand, saying, “You and your companions are welcome to remain in the guest house for a few more days if you like.”

“Thank you,” said Terry. “We will.”

Then the Historian turned to Alia. He reached out to shake her hand, but Alia refused to take it, staring blankly back at him.

The Historian smiled and nodded understandingly. “Take good care of your brother, young Alia.”

Chapter 19: The Balance of Power

Ed Regis and James were not in the waiting room outside the Historian’s office. As Terry closed the doors behind us, I looked at her and asked quietly, “So, what now?”

Terry just sighed and shook her head.

“Master Howell,” called Havel from the waiting room entrance, “Mistress Henderson and Mistress Gifford, I have already escorted Master Regis and Master Turner back to your common room. Please allow me to take you to them.” Catching the look in my eyes, the old servant bowed deeply and said, “My apologies, Master Howell. It was not my place to speak of it.”

Now more than ever, I hated how he called me “Master Howell,” but that was just how he talked. I wondered how long he had been a servant here.

We knew the way by now, but Havel insisted on guiding us. As we walked, I looked down at Alia. She was loosely holding my hand as she stared off into space. With her free hand, Alia was fingering her unicorn pendant, gently stroking the polished bloodstone.

So overwhelmed by what the Historian had told me, I hadn’t given any thought to how Alia had taken the Historian’s information. I wondered now how she had felt about the Historian’s claim that I had used her as a security blanket when I lost my psionic master. Was that really the only reason I had refused to escape the PRC without her? Was conversion the basis of our so-called family relationship?

“Alia,” I whispered, squeezing her hand.

Alia looked up at me, her eyes a little damp as she asked into my head,
“Are you alright?”

I didn’t know how to answer that.

“I’m really sorry, Addy,”
she said, holding my hand tightly.

“So am I,” I said quietly. “Thanks for always being with me.”

Alia gave me a watery smile.

I stopped walking and turned to her. “You are my sister, Alia,” I said, suddenly entirely sure that it was true. “I don’t care how this started or what that boy thinks he knows about us. You are my family. Don’t you ever doubt that.”

“I don’t, Addy. I was just afraid that you did.”

I shook my head. I refused to believe that my actions were dictated by the fading remnants of untrained psionic control. Even the Historian had confirmed that I was no longer under the influence of Cat’s conversion, and if I was faced today with another situation like the one at the PRC, I knew exactly what I would do.

Ed Regis and James stood up from their chairs as we arrived back in the common room.

“Are you alright, Adrian?” asked Ed Regis. James chimed in with the same question too.

I wished everyone would stop asking me that because I still didn’t know. I replied instead, “You two didn’t have to leave, you know. But thank you.”

Ed Regis nodded. “We heard enough.”

After telling us that he would return when lunch was served, Havel bowed himself out of the room, and I said to Terry, “Could I please have a little time alone?”

Terry gave me an uncharacteristically sympathetic look. “As much time as you need, Adrian.”

Alia was the only one who understood that I wasn’t asking for “time alone” in the physical sense. I was grateful for her presence as she quietly followed me into my bedroom and sat beside me on the edge of my bed.

As we sat there listening to each other’s breathing, I don’t know what was going through Alia’s head, but mine was still struggling to come to grips with the new world that I found myself in. I had already accepted the Historian’s information as true. Everything was utterly, painfully clear now. Catherine was Randal Divine’s secret weapon: a young queen who could psionically rule the planet for years to come, consolidating world governments and setting up a new world order that would keep the Angels in power forever. That much I understood. The only question that remained was what, if anything, we were going to do about it. That question felt like a jackhammer on my skull.

Staring down at my empty hands, I sat there thinking in circles, trying to grasp a solution that simply didn’t exist. But I had known from the moment I learned what Cat had become that there was no way around this. Even Terry couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud, but she knew it as well as I did.

Catherine Divine would have to die.

And it wasn’t because of who she was. It wasn’t because of her choices or her allegiances or even who she called her father, but purely because of
what
she was. It was for the same reason that we had originally wanted to kill Randal Divine. It was the same reason I had been blinded by the Slayers, the same reason Cindy was so valued by the Guardians and the Angels alike. It was the same reason Alia bore the crisscrossing scars on her back. Cat’s only true crime was that of being born.

Yet my first sister’s very existence was the difference between a world with a master controller and one without.

That was the difference Terry had wanted to make. It was the only Guardian cause I believed in anymore. That the world’s last psionic master turned out to be my own flesh and blood made no real difference in what we were fighting for.

Though Cindy and all the other Angels had been tricked into believing that they were bound to the service of Randal Divine, the only way to break their conversions quickly was to kill the true source, which was Catherine. Unlike a mythical king’s, Queen Divine’s conversions would someday wear off, but not for many years to come. Meanwhile, Alia would either grow up without her mother or she would be turned into an Angel herself when we were finally hunted down.