The Tower (8 page)

“For giving up the tattoo,” explained Cindy. “At first, she wanted an amethyst like yours, but then we decided on a bloodstone. It’s her birthstone.”

“Isn’t it pretty?”
Alia said happily, holding her pendant up to my eyes.

“It’s very pretty,” I said, trying my utmost best to keep a straight face.

The damn thing was even cut in the exact same size and shape as Cat’s amethyst. The moment Alia wasn’t looking, I shot Cindy the meanest glare I could manage, but I didn’t say anything until after Cindy had tucked Alia into bed that night. I confronted Cindy in the living room as she sat down to re-power her hiding bubble over New Haven.

“Do you enjoy torturing me?” I asked in a low voice.

“I’m sorry about the stone, Adrian,” said Cindy. “I had a feeling you’d be upset.”

“Upset?” I repeated disgustedly, feeling my temper rising uncontrollably. “How could you, Cindy?!”

A magazine that had been resting on the low table suddenly flew into the air and shredded itself. I realized I had once again lost control of my telekinetic power.

Cindy ignored the raining confetti. “Alia just wants to be like you, Adrian. She wanted a pretty stone too.”

“I don’t wear this because it’s pretty!” I shouted, and was a bit surprised that nothing else broke.

“I know!” Cindy said with a pained expression. “But Alia doesn’t understand that. She just looks up to you.”

I closed my eyes and steadied my breathing. I had almost gotten Alia killed, and in return she had saved my life twice. If anything, it should have been the other way around. I looked up to her, in-so-much as you can look up to an eight-year-old.

“A bloodstone?” I asked, my fury slowly ebbing away. I had heard the name before somewhere, but I didn’t know what it was until I saw Alia’s pendant.

Cindy smiled and said, “Kind of fitting for a healer, don’t you think?”

“I’m sorry I shouted,” I said as I crouched down to help Cindy pick up the scraps of magazine pages from the floor. I could have done it faster with my telekinesis, but right now I wanted to use my real hands if only to feel a little more normal. “I’m really sorry, Cindy.”

“I know you are, Adrian.”

“I’m sorry every time.”

“I know,” she said again, smiling serenely. Then she asked seriously, “Adrian, what’s really bothering you?”

“Nothing,” I muttered.

“I’m not entirely blind, you know. Something has been eating at you ever since you arrived here. I first thought it was just PTSD, but it’s not, is it? What’s going on with you?”

I stared down at the floor and said quietly, “Mr. Baker didn’t say anything about finding Cat when I had that meeting with him.”

“He was waiting for you to ask,” Cindy said gently.

“I didn’t,” I said, looking up at her.

“I know, Adrian. He told me. But why didn’t you?”

“During the meeting, he drained me once, and then said he was testing my character. I thought maybe he was testing me again when he asked if I had any questions.”

Cindy nodded. “He was. So why didn’t you ask him about finding your sister?”

“He didn’t even mention Cat over dinner yesterday, Cindy!”

“Well, technically, Adrian, neither did you,” Cindy said in an exasperated tone. “For the last time, why didn’t you ask him?!”

“Well...” I began, no longer at all sure, “Mr. Baker is the leader of the Guardians. I mean, Cat is just one person.”

“One person who means a lot to you, right?”

“Well, yeah.”

“And you’re one person who means a lot to me,” continued Cindy. “And I’m one person who means a lot to the future of the Guardians here.”

“I don’t want to abuse that,” I said quietly.

“And Mr. Baker was impressed with your decision not to. But one person is no small issue, Adrian. Mr. Baker is the leader of the Guardians today because he knows and respects that.” Cindy smiled. “I have a message from him, unless you’d like to hear it in person, in which case you can go knock on his door.”

“It’s a little late, don’t you think?” I said.

“You could wait till tomorrow,” suggested Cindy.

“You know I’m not a patient person,” I said, grinning. “What’s his message?”

“Once New Haven is truly up and running, we will be sending our own spies deep into Angel territory. If we find your sister, we will do everything we can to help you rescue her.”

“That’s good news, Cindy, though I’m sure you disagree with our sending spies.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you don’t like it when anybody fights. They’re spies, which means they could be caught and killed, or at least converted.”

“They could be,” Cindy replied gravely.

I sighed and looked at her, saying, “I know I lose my temper from time to time, but I don’t like fighting either, Cindy. I just want my sister back.”

“I know, Adrian.”

I bid Cindy goodnight, and as I turned to leave the room, Cindy said, “Mr. Koontz has been helping Alia with her dreams for the last few nights. Are you absolutely sure you don’t want him to take care of yours? I could make a quick call.”

“I’m alright, Cindy,” I said, smiling. “You may have dressed me in pink pajamas, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have any dignity left.”

I retreated to my bedroom, closing the door on Cindy’s laughter.

Alia looked like she was already asleep, though I couldn’t be sure because she wasn’t murmuring in my head yet. I noticed that she had left her giant unicorn doll at the side of her bed. Alia had been unicorn-free for two nights now, and I wondered what kind of dreams Mr. Koontz was feeding her on. I wished my own psionic power could be used for more peaceful purposes.

As I quietly slipped under my blanket, I suddenly heard Alia’s telepathic voice say,
“Did you have a nice fight with Cindy?”

I looked over at her bed, saying, “Alia, you’re becoming as sarcastic as I am.”

“I wish you wouldn’t shout at her, Addy.”

“I said sorry later. She was laughing just now, didn’t you hear?”

Alia sat up in her bed and looked at me.
“You’re mad at me too, aren’t you?”

“I am not.”

“You are.”

“Go to sleep, Alia.”

Alia looked down at her bloodstone.
“I won’t wear it if you don’t want me to.”

“It’s not about your pendant. And I’m not mad at you.”

Alia gave me a hesitant smile and asked,
“Are you sure, Dr. Howell?”

I turned away from her, saying, “Just go to sleep, P-46.”

Chapter 3: A Question of Identity

Just minutes before we were caught by the Wolves, I had promised Alia that I would stop fighting with Cindy, and less than a week after our escape, I had already broken that promise. Waking up with a guilty conscience, I promised myself that I would be extra nice to Alia from now on. As we changed into our day clothes, I reassured her that I really did think the bloodstone looked good on her, which it did.

“When did you learn how to braid hair, Adrian?” Cindy asked after breakfast when she caught me setting Alia’s long hair into a pair of pigtails. I had already finished the left side and was quickly working through the right.

I grinned up at Cindy. “You’ve never been trapped underground for four months, have you?”

“That’s really good,” said Cindy, examining my work. “Who taught you?”

“No one,” I said. “Just trial and error.”

I tied the end off with a ribbon, patted Alia’s shoulders once, and stood up.

“It didn’t take that much time to learn how,” I said as Alia got up and skipped out of the room, probably to go check herself in a mirror.

“Speaking of learning things...” Cindy began slowly, and I braced myself. “We really need to get you set up with your tutor, Adrian. I hope you’re not too far behind in your academics.”

There was no telling on that account. Cindy had started me on a seventh-grade home-study curriculum last year, but I had all but given up on it by the end of December. If I remembered correctly, I was nearly halfway through most of my books, but in all honesty, I couldn’t recall a single thing I had read.

“Just out of curiosity, why can’t a mind-writer simply implant knowledge in my head?” I asked semi-seriously. “Then I wouldn’t have to study at all.”

“Because mind-writers deal with memories, Adrian, not knowledge,” replied Cindy. “There’s a difference. You’ll remember studying, but not what you studied.”

“Well, I remember studying last year, but not what I studied.”

Cindy laughed and said, “There you go! You don’t need a mind-writer. Besides, mind-writing is even more dangerous than delving for someone your age. What you need is a tutor so that you can get all your schooling properly.”

I frowned. “School is more tolerable when you have friends.”

“As soon as you learn to balance your power, you can go back to a real school.”

“Fat chance of that!”

“Don’t give up, Adrian. You’ll get there someday,” Cindy said encouragingly.

“What makes you so sure?”

“I’m an optimist, remember?”

I laughed. “Yeah, I remember.”

Then Cindy said, “Oh, and Adrian, I know you let Alia’s mouth-speaking slide while you two were trapped in that place, but I really want you to start working on that again too, okay?”

I asked, “Well, now that Alia is living among other psionics, does she really need to learn how to mouth-speak?”

Cindy looked appalled. “Adrian! How can you say that?!”

Teaching Alia to mouth-speak was high on the list of impossible things to do. Though Alia could laugh and cry as loudly as anyone, her mouth just didn’t move in a way that produced coherent speech. Aloud, Alia spoke only in vowels.

“Listen,” said Cindy, “I don’t care if she has an accent, but she has to be able to talk to more than one person at a time and actually be understood.”

“Alright,” I said resignedly, “I’ll work with her.”

“So,” said Cindy, mercifully changing the topic, “Alia was telling me yesterday that she really wanted to learn how to swim this year. Unless you have other plans, I thought today might be a good day to start.”

“You mean we can go swimming?” I asked happily.

“Sure. It’s warm enough. Just barely, but warm enough. There’s an outdoor pool just four blocks down the street.”

“Sounds great!”

“There’s one catch, though,” said Cindy.

“What’s that?”

“Don’t let Alia out of your sight.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Alia?”

Cindy laughed. “Yeah, you know, the dark-haired giggly girl who sleeps in your room?”

“I know who she is!”

“Good!” Cindy said crisply. “Then don’t forget that she’s one of only eight healers in New Haven at the moment, and a powerful one at that.”

I had learned from Cindy last year that Alia’s power as a healer, despite her age, was already that of an experienced psionic. No doubt Alia’s time at the Psionic Research Center had further refined her talents.

Cindy continued warningly, “Alia is also the only psionic here, aside from yourself, under the age of eighteen. New Haven’s littlest healer would make a prime target for anyone wanting to hurt the Guardians.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. “But aren’t you coming too, Cindy?”

Cindy shook her head. “I have a meeting to go to.”

“Then who’s going to teach Alia how to swim?”

“You are, of course!”

In the spirit of being extra nice to Alia, I managed to keep myself from frowning.