The Protector and the Peacemaker

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

(Porter)

The woman took a hesitant step forward, her hand over her mouth.

"Porter?" she asked in a soft whisper. "Is it... I had heard Rayalga talking about you, but... it can't really be..."

"How do you know me?" Porter asked. His hands were shaking, but he didn't know why.

That face... He knew that face. He had seen it before. But where?

The woman took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart. She was old. Her hair was iron gray, and a pair of wiry spectacles framed her eyes.

"I'm not surprised you don't remember me," she said at last, still speaking like she was trying to catch her breath. "You were so young the last time we saw each other."

"What are you talking about?" Porter asked, his eyes growing wider. "Who are you?"

"My name is Glenda Moore, but you..." Her voice cracked, and she put her hand to her chest again. "You always called me Nana."

Porter froze. He couldn't breathe.

"It's been twelve years," Glenda said, taking a step towards him. "You've grown up into such a handsome young man!"

Porter stepped backwards out of her reach. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the irony of the situation occurred to him. He had fought Slayers, Mythics, and his own dark side made flesh, but this woman terrified him more than any of them.

Glenda stopped and stared at him.

"Porter," she finally said, "when the Slayers killed your parents, you were put in a foster family."

"I know," Porter said. Flicker was still in his hand, but it was shaking now. "I read my file back at their base."

"They loved you like you were their own son," she went on, tentatively taking another step closer to him. "And they were heartbroken when the Slayers came back and took you away again."

"How do you know all this?" Porter asked, his voice little more than a frightened whisper now.

"Because, Porter," she answered, "I was your foster mother."

CLANG!

Flicker hit the floor as Porter's hand went limp from shock. He stared at the old woman as if he were looking at a ghost.

I practically am, he thought. For a moment, he felt like he was going to fall over and faint.

"My foster mother?" he asked, speaking the words as if they were another language.

"My husband and I raised you from an infant to a feisty little four year old," Glenda went on, her eyes turning red with happy memories. "We'd always wanted a son, but could never have one. You were the greatest blessing we'd ever received!"

"My... foster mother?" Porter repeated, still unable to wrap his mind around the idea.

"You must remember something, don't you?" she pressed him. "You lived with us for four years!"

Porter shook his head, his mouth hanging open.

"A lot has happened," Sarah spoke up when he didn't say anything. "Things that he never should have had to deal with."

"Who are you?" Glenda asked, as if seeing the sphinx for the first time.

"I'm his friend," Sarah answered quickly.