The Quest (43 page)

“Your history was quite an interesting read, young Adrian,” said the Historian, his tone calmer but cold and businesslike. “Your power came slowly. Unnaturally slowly for a psionic. Even the doctors who studied you at the research center found it strange, but you never cared to know why. Gradual psionic development is a little-known trait of a very unique power. One that, for better or for worse, we are both incapable of attaining.”

I was barely listening to him. I couldn’t breathe well and I felt horribly lightheaded as I continued to push vainly against the Historian’s telekinetic grasp.

“Stop struggling, Adrian!” commanded the Historian. “I do not wish to hurt you or alter your state of mind. Do not make me force you into submission! You asked for truth. I am but the messenger.”

“I’ll keep him in his seat, Mr. Historian,” said Terry. “Please let him go.”

I felt Terry take hold of my left hand while Alia put both of her hands firmly around my right arm. The Historian released my body. I tried to pull my arms free but Terry and Alia refused to let go.

“Addy, please don’t!”
Alia cried into my head.

I stopped struggling and rested my back against the sofa, trying to regain my breath.

“You have always been a good brother for little Cat, haven’t you, Adrian?” said the Historian. “Your father often complimented you for that. Did it never occur to you to question why your sister always seemed to get the better of you when the two of you were growing up together?”

I shook my head, still unable to accept what the Historian was telling me.

The Historian continued mercilessly, “And you never once wondered why, when you were separated from Catherine, you became so attached to young Alia here that you could lay down your life for her without so much as a second of thought? Just as you had grown up accidentally knocking things off of shelves and not knowing why, Catherine had been unknowingly using her power on you. When you lost your master, to preserve your sanity, you turned to Alia in her stead.”

“You lie,” I whimpered, no longer able to see the Historian through my tears.

“Search your heart, Adrian,” the Historian said quietly. “Catherine Howell was your one true master. Not Alia Gifford.”

I finally stopped struggling. I let my head fall back onto the cushion as I sobbed, “I tried to save her. I had to save her from the monster. But they took her. They took her away.” Terry had let go of my left hand, and I brought it up to my chest, feeling the amethyst under my palm as I thought wretchedly,
I’m so sorry, Cat. I’m so sorry I let you go.

“It hurts to lose a master, Adrian,” said the Historian. “Just as it hurts to lose family. But you were twelve years old. You need not blame yourself for your failure.”

I slowly wiped my eyes with my left palm. I noticed that the sofa where Ed Regis and James had been sitting was now empty. Exactly when I couldn’t tell, but they had quietly let themselves out of the office. I felt just a bit grateful, and a little calmer.

“Your conversion was never very deep or complete,” explained the Historian. “If it had been stronger, you would have jumped out of the window with your master when your home was attacked. As is usually the case with weak or untrained psionic conversion, your commitment to your master faded in and out. That is why you remained so undecided about searching for her. During your first few months living in Cindy Gifford’s house, Alia helped you overcome much of your separation anxiety. You still pined for Catherine over the years, but by the time you met her at the gathering of lesser gods, your conversion had weakened enough for you to walk away. While you may never be completely free of her, I doubt very much that she has any serious hold on you anymore.”

My mind flashed back to the moment Cat had pulled a gun on me inside Randal’s motorhome. I wondered if she already knew what she was.

The Historian was following my thoughts, and he said, “I do not know exactly when Catherine came into her full power, or if she had been forewarned that she would become a master. Randal Divine has gone to great lengths to shelter her from the outside world.”

“Cat called him ‘Father,’” I said disgustedly.

“They are quite a team, Adrian. After Larissa Divine was killed, Randal stepped up to the Angel throne, claiming to be a psionic king. In reality, young Catherine is the one doing the converting, binding new arrivals and rebinding those whose conversions have been broken with the death of Larissa Divine. Once Catherine binds her subjects to the Angel faction, Randal alters their memories, making them think that he is the master controller.”

Terry asked disbelievingly, “How could something like that be kept a secret?”

“Deep down, many of the converts probably know that Randal isn’t their true master, making for some very confused Angels,” the Historian said with a chuckle. “It is nevertheless a viable short-term solution. In order to perpetuate the belief that he is a psionic king, Randal Divine employs hiders such as Cindy Gifford to keep his power and Catherine’s well hidden. To be extra safe, however, when she isn’t converting people, Catherine keeps herself constantly drained by wearing a thin silver chain around her neck.”

I touched my amethyst again. This stone had once been on that chain.

The Historian continued, “That, combined with her youth, is why no one has yet felt her power from afar. Catherine is probably much better than you at power balance, Adrian, but it must still take a fair amount of dedication to willingly live in a drained condition.”

“Randal is just using her,” I said, trying desperately to believe that it was true.

“That is possible,” said the Historian. “But it is more likely that Randal does indeed love Catherine as a daughter. He doesn’t want people to know what your sister is until she is ready to take on the risks and responsibilities of a psionic queen. And Catherine in turn supports Randal Divine and the Angel cause. Her allegiance to the Angels is not based on psionic control. After all, she could hardly convert herself. Whatever you may think of her, Catherine is doing this of her own free will.”

As much as it hurt, I nevertheless knew that the Historian was right. Even after Cat had told me that she had joined the Angels willingly, I often toyed with the idea that either Larissa or Randal must have psionically converted her. But now that excuse no longer worked. Cat was the queen. She was the one behind the Angels’ new order. It no longer mattered whether I accepted that or not. It was simply the truth, and now I knew.

“So now you have your answers, Adrian and Teresa,” said the Historian. “Everything except the current location of Catherine Divine, which I do not have. But I nevertheless feel compelled to ask you both: if I could tell you where Randal and Catherine are, would you really want to know?”

“I don’t know,” I replied honestly. It was still too early to know for sure what I wanted. I still couldn’t deal with where this discovery was trying to take me. Terry remained silent.

“Then perhaps you will listen to the story now,” suggested the Historian. “It may help you to make up your minds.”

I nodded dully.

The Historian smiled. “As you well know, I am a collector of histories, of facts and events and stories. But my personal favorite is family histories, and most specifically, psionic family histories. It was for my collection that I asked to read your history, Adrian, and my suspicions turned out to be well founded.”

I wasn’t sure I cared for a history lesson right now, but at least it allowed my mind to think of something aside from what I had just heard about my first sister.

“In relatively modern history,” began the Historian, “that is, these last three hundred years or so, there were only five known bloodlines that could spawn a master controller, including the family of Divine for the Angels and the family of Granados for the Guardians. Master-controller bloodlines are actually much easier to trace than those of other psionics, because while it is true that only females can become master controllers, the potential for this power can only be passed down the male side of the family.”

I hadn’t known that, but it made sense: that was why certain family names such as Divine, Harrow and Granados were tied to master controllers.

“I had been following all five bloodlines with considerable interest,” continued the Historian. “But then, by a combination of chance and foolish error on my part, I lost track of one: the Gelsons.” The Historian gave me a curious smile. “I suppose you have never heard of the Gelsons, young Adrian.”

I shrugged. The name meant nothing to me.

The Historian slowly leaned forward in his armchair, saying quietly, “Nearly two hundred and fifty years ago, Eldridge Gelson was the last surviving member of his bloodline that had any chance of having children, and he did have many with his wife, Holly. Nineteen children to be exact. But then Eldridge was accused of devil worship, not an uncommon thing for psionics of that time. He was hunted down and killed along with his wife and several of their children. Those that escaped hid their identity by adopting Holly’s maiden name, Havel.”

Havel? As in the servant Benjamin Havel?

“That is correct, Adrian. But despite changing their names, all but two of the remaining Havel children were eventually found and killed. Of the two, one evaded capture through skill and cunning. Benjamin Havel is the last of his bloodline, and so that one will end when Benjamin dies. The other Gelson child, Kenton Havel, changed his name a second time, and by now you must have guessed what he changed it to.”

I gazed back at him for a moment, and then nodded slowly.

The Historian gave me an approving smile and continued, “When you were a baby, your grandfather took it upon himself to compile an extensive history of the Howell family name. At ten months old, you watched through the bars of your crib as your grandfather, your father and your uncle worked on this project. They came across the name Kenton Havel and wondered if he really was the very first Howell, but they were never quite as certain as I was when I saw them through your eyes.”

The first memories I could recall for myself were from kindergarten, but I didn’t particularly care to know how the Historian managed to read an event that happened when I was crawling around in a crib. In light of what he had told me earlier, all of this information now seemed entirely trivial, and I was never one to care much for history anyway.

But I did have one question. “Why did no one ever find us before?”

The Historian explained, “Eldridge Gelson’s psionic blood was already fairly thin due to intermarriage with non-psionics. His marriage to the commoner Holly Havel resulted in only six children with any psionic ability. The Gelson-Havel bloodline soon fell into darkness. Dormant bloodlines are difficult to track. There are many people with the surname Howell in this world, and they are not all descendants of Kenton Howell. Only when your power grew strong enough to be sensed by finders did anyone take any notice of your family name.”

I stared at him. “The Angels knew all along exactly what was in my blood, didn’t they, Mr. Historian?” I said accusingly. “They knew because you told them!”

I couldn’t help the resentment I felt toward the Historian. There was nothing neutral about the Historian’s lifestyle. He was undoubtedly the one who had provided the Angels with the information that led their berserker to my home that night.

The Historian’s power flow remained at peace as he said calmly, “You are very perceptive, but nevertheless not entirely correct. You see, the Gelsons were not the only family hunted to extinction. By the time Diana Granados was killed, only two families capable of producing master controllers remained: the Divines and the Harrows. And the Harrows now belonged to the Angels too, so the Angels had little need for another master bloodline. Thus it was not an Angel, but rather the second-in-command of the largest remaining Guardian group, none other than Teresa’s grandfather, who approached me years ago seeking my knowledge of lost master bloodlines.”

“You mean Ralph Henderson was looking for a new master controller to reunite the Guardians?” I asked.

“That is correct. I didn’t know where your family was, of course, but I gave Ralph all that I knew at the time, including your surname. When your power grew strong enough to be sensed from afar, it wasn’t hard for him to put two and two together. The once-dormant Gelson-Havel bloodline had finally been reactivated by the union of your mother and father, and any female offspring could very well turn out to be a wild-born master controller.”

“Adrian Havel,” I said, suddenly remembering. “That’s what Ralph called me when we first met.”

“Your memory serves you well, Adrian,” said the Historian, smiling. “Ralph of course knew your real surname, but it must have slipped his mind in his excitement at finally finding the bloodline that, to his mind, might still save the Guardian cause.”

I asked, “But if you had told this only to Ralph, then how did the Angels find out about us?”

“Due to difficulties on the road, Ralph Henderson arrived here alone with nothing but the clothes on his back, much like yourselves. He had nothing to offer me in exchange for the information he sought, but in the spirit of giving the Guardians a little extra help in their time of need, I made a deal with him. Ralph would get your family name, but in return, he would have to pass it along to the Angel queen. Ralph agreed to my terms, knowing that the Guardians had more to gain than the Angels who already had a master. I gave Ralph your family name and he later mailed it to Larissa Divine. Such was the price he paid for my information. It was the only fair way.”

Fair way? What about the price I paid?! My mother, my father, my uncle… how many others had died for the Historian’s neutrality? How many lives had been destroyed by this 3000-year-old child’s sick little games? I sensed Terry bristling at my side, but she remained silent. With extraordinary effort, I kept my outward calm too, and if the Historian was reading my furious thoughts, he didn’t comment.

Instead, the Historian said, “The Angels didn’t need another master bloodline, but nor were they about to stand back and allow the Guardians to take it. When your bloodline was rediscovered, in order to keep her monopoly on master controllers, Larissa Divine immediately sent one of her very best Seraphim to bring you and your sister in.”