The Sententia: Second Thoughts Part 22

As soon as the three of us were around the corner Amy burst into tears, and Caleb, still wide-eyed and dazed, said, "What just happened? What in the f.u.c.k just happened?"

I, on the other hand, breathed a huge sigh of relief. At least one crisis was averted. It was a little messy, but totally salvageable. I counted it as a win. Now, just a few weeks and one more crisis to go. I only hoped my next one turned out as well.

I put my arms around both of them and led them away. "C'mon, guys. We've got a lot to talk about."

Chapter Twenty-Four.

The day I was meant to die turned out to be beautiful. A perfect spring day of bright blue skies decorated with a handful of clouds, warm enough for short sleeves but not hot. It was the kind of day people lived for, that didn't feel like anything bad could happen. It was just too nice. After a long, gray New England winter, summer felt like a possibility again-not long now. For most of us, a lengthy summer of freedom was just a day away. Graduation. Tomorrow.

More than half the students were already gone, packed up and moved out as soon as their last final was over. Campus had been ringing with goodbyes and the crunch of car tires on gravel paths for days. Those of us left had plenty to occupy our time, with award nights and pictures, field trips and guests, and, of course, packing of our own. It was amazing how much stuff even I'd acc.u.mulated in just two years here.

This afternoon was the Northbrook Family Picnic, and tonight, the Senior Bonfire. From my window, I could already see them setting up for both. I was supposed to die before either of them. Though I'd been fairly certain my death was scheduled for around graduation, I hadn't been sure of the exact day until two days ago. That's when Carter had said, "Hey, let's go to the range on my morning off. One last time," and I'd agreed.

I knew we had to go there eventually, because that's where he was going to kill me.

At this point, I'd done everything I could. My family was already here, not wanting to miss the picnic today and other events. Not just Aunt Tessa and Uncle Martin, either. My grandparents-Aunt Tessa's parents-and her brother, my uncle, too, had come for something as big as my graduation, giving me a chance to hug them all and tell them I loved them at least one more time.

I'd added a few more great times with Amy and Caleb and our other friends to my memories. Amy knew what might be coming, but she hid it well, determined as I was to enjoy the end of our high school careers and believing without question my promise that I'd be okay. Every night before bed she'd ask me if she'd see me tomorrow and I always said yes. I'd had goodbyes with everyone who'd left, and had signed yearbooks with everyone else. My things were almost all packed and my life was, as much as it had ever been, in order.

I wasn't ready, but I was prepared.

WE TOOK MY car-my new car, since the old one had been totaled-because I just wanted to drive once more while I had the chance. I insisted on stopping at Dad's for breakfast, driving by the lake where we'd spent so many afternoons over the summer, and basically taking as much time as I thought we could afford. What would happen would happen whenever we got there. I hoped I kept the senator waiting.

Technically he wasn't scheduled to arrive until this evening, and officially I was sure he wouldn't. No one but me knew he was already here, somewhere. I even knew what he'd be wearing. In fact, I'd known what Carter would wear today, too, before I'd seen him, which was strange and disconcerting. I kept glancing at him with a weird sense of dej vu.

For my own part, I'd intentionally picked out something different from what I'd predicted myself to be in. It was both a measure of control and a test. The first thing I'd done when I saw Carter this morning was re-check the vision. It reflected my change in attire.

My murder was still right on schedule.

Carter. He was the hardest part of the plan. As I pulled into the gun club's parking lot, I watched him out of the corner of my eye. His beautiful face was open, completely unaware, and totally relaxed. He tapped his fingers on the dash in time with the radio and then flexed his wrists back and forth, in antic.i.p.ation of shooting. He caught me looking and smiled.

Not for the first time I considered simply turning around. Not going in. Saving us both from what was inside. I'd thought about it countless times before but the vision had never changed. And I knew why too. I'd thought about not showing up, but never actually believed I wouldn't come. If I didn't go through with this, it didn't mean I wouldn't die; it meant I might not be able to change it.

This was my best chance.

I was so sorry for what might happen, for Carter's part in it, but I had to believe he'd understand. He'd want me to take the chance, to do whatever I could to save myself. He'd said as much once before and I hoped it was true.

The slamming of our car doors was loud to me, a very final kind of sound not unlike a gunshot. I ran my fingers across the car's hood as my private goodbye while Carter picked up our gear bags, throwing them both over one shoulder. We fell in step next to each other as we headed toward the building. But before we went inside, before I never had the chance again, there was something I needed to say.

"Carter?"

I grabbed his hand so he'd stop and then tugged on it to make him come closer. I stepped right up to him, until we were touching, and he set down our bags to slip his arms around my waist. Perfect.

"What's up?"

"I have something to tell you."

He frowned and I forced myself to laugh, to lighten the seriousness I hadn't been able to keep from my voice. To make him think I was playing.

I leaned in close and whispered, "I love you."

With a grin, he bent to kiss me, just a light touch of his lips to mine. "Oh, yeah?"

"I'll always love you. You'll never forget that, right?"

He still thought I was playing. "Hm. I don't know. You'd better kiss me again to be sure."

So I did. There, in a parking lot in New Hamps.h.i.+re, I kissed him for all I was worth. I didn't care who saw. In fact, I hoped everyone saw this girl who loved this boy more than anyone had a right to, beyond reason and maybe even sanity, and they'd remember too.

When we finally pulled apart, Carter laughed. It was deep and filled with joy, and if it was the last sound I ever heard, I knew I'd be content. "That was pretty convincing." Grabbing our bags in one hand, he threw his other arm around my shoulder and led me toward the building, still smiling. "But you know," he added casually, "if you really want me to remember, all you have to do is write it down."

MY FIRST ROUND was terrible and the second wasn't much better. For pretty valid reasons, I couldn't concentrate. The private range was too quiet and too loud at the same time. The whir of the motorized target track wound into my skull and vibrated in time with my nerves. The muted thumps of each shot seemed like explosions, reverberating through my arms and causing stars to bloom behind my eyes. My pulse pounded just as loudly and my fingers shook, on the trigger and even worse when I stopped to reload.

I tried and failed not to look at the two-way mirror, hoping to see a shadow or hear a noise, any indication that the moment was near. Was Senator Astor there already? Had he been watching the entire time? There was a door into the observation room from our room, but there was a separate entrance into it from the club. He could come and go without our even knowing.

I became convinced the antic.i.p.ation would kill me before anyone else had the chance.

Every time Carter spoke or moved even slightly in my direction, I flinched. And he noticed, both my c.r.a.ppy shooting and my tension. His rounds took about a third of the time of mine. He'd shoot, watch me finish, and then we'd reload together.

At the end of my third round, Carter joked, "Need help?" His voice was flirty and cute, and extra loud because he was still wearing sound gear, but I couldn't even smile. He reached up to pull back his ear protection. "Hey," he said. "Babe, relax."

Instead, I held my breath. He stepped away from his part.i.tion.

But it wasn't right. I realized his ear guards were still half on his head, only one ear exposed so he could hear me. In the vision, they weren't there. Were they? I began to forget the details or worry that they'd changed.

"Lainey," he coaxed, "just relax." He took another step, as if to come over to me, but instead turned to pick up his water bottle and take a drink. "It's hard right now, but you'll get the strength back. You're just out of practice."

I nodded, not trusting my voice. Of course he had no idea why I was so on edge.

"Relax," he repeated, adding a smile-one more beautiful, genuine smile-that punched its way into my heart. No matter what happened, I'd have that. I savored the image, letting it burn itself into my memory.

And that was when I made my mistake.

For a few seconds, my thoughts slipped from what I was doing, turned from what was going to happen to the last beautiful curve of Carter's lips. In the middle of my reloading, I fumbled. A bullet slipped from my grip and tumbled to the floor with a soft, pretty plink. Automatically, I bent to retrieve it.

Before I even stood, the sound of a round chambering echoed through the small s.p.a.ce. I straightened to find Carter facing me and my vision complete.

The gun fired and I fell to the ground.

Chapter Twenty-Five.

Dove to the ground was probably a more accurate description of what I did.

I couldn't tell you which happened first, Carter pulling the trigger or me diving toward his feet, but I swear I'd never heard a sound louder than that gunshot. Even the air reverberated with it, shaking around me as my body slammed into the cool rubber floor and skidded toward my attacker.

The whistle of the bullet was the very noise of death, softly screaming just past my head, straight through the s.p.a.ce where my heart had beat a second before, and into the wall of the shooting lane with a sickening thunk. A lock of hair, sheared from my pony tail, floated to the ground in front of me.

Propelling myself toward the gun was dangerous. Crazy. But backwards or sideways wouldn't have put me any closer to this: Carter, staring at the scene in front of him with mute horror. From my p.r.o.ne position, he was just a stretch away.

And if I didn't die trying, I had to get to him before his memories of what happened took any deeper a hold.

Or Daniel Astor tried again.

Carter was already in shock, eyes wide and glazed, and arms hanging at his sides. Just like in my vision, his ear guards were around his neck, and his cheeks were flushed. The gun dangled next to him, pointed at the floor, at me. I desperately reached my arm toward him before he could take another shot.

Finally, my fingers brushed skin, found purchase at his ankle, and I didn't hesitate. I Thought.

Even I was surprised by what happened next.

Carter looked down in confusion, as startled by my gentle touch as everything else. And then he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

A GRIM DIVINER'S visions are interesting things. They're not movies. They're moments. Just moments, the series of which show you a death's story but not the entire picture. So I hadn't known exactly how I'd react to the moment of my death, how it would play out at all, until it happened. I'd reacted, not predicted, which is probably the only reason I was still alive. If I'd known any more, my own thoughts would surely have changed the future-and my vision-entirely. In which case, I'd probably be lying on the floor, bleeding to death in Carter's arms.

Instead, I was sitting on the floor, Carter's unconscious body cradled in my arms, when Daniel Astor stepped out of the observation room and quietly closed the door behind him.

He bent to retrieve Carter's gun from where it had landed, after skidding across the room to the base of the mirrored wall. I cursed my stupid self for not retrieving it. At the same time, I noticed the senator was wearing gloves, deep black expensive leather ones that fit and moved like second skin. My own gun was useless, half-loaded and unprepared, on the shelf in the booth above my head.

"I'd like to say that was incredibly lucky, but I'm sure there was no luck involved," he mused. "I must have underestimated your abilities." While he spoke, he checked the gun with practiced hands, and finding it satisfactory, trained it on me.

I stared at him for a while, working through my emotions-anger, terror, disgust-and getting my breathing under control. My heart still pounded, painful beats cras.h.i.+ng somewhere close to my throat, and I was afraid I might throw up. Here he was, my own personal villain, but it was difficult to see him that way. He looked like he did any other day, handsome and business casual, in a blue b.u.t.ton-down and slacks.

He looked, I thought, like my father.

And he was my uncle. Maybe, if things had been different, this weekend I'd have told him. You really are my Uncle Dan.

He also, aside from the gun, wasn't behaving in typical villain fas.h.i.+on, whatever that was. Movies were my only villain education, but the senator wasn't sneering or ranting or recklessly brandis.h.i.+ng his weapon while I devised a clever escape. In fact, he was calm and collected, as if we were just having a friendly chat, and I had no idea how I was going to get out of this. Finally I felt like I could speak without my voice shaking.

"You did underestimate me," I replied. "But I was still lucky."

He smiled his charming smile. "Perhaps. The more interesting question though is what have you done to my nephew? He's still breathing, so obviously you didn't kill him."

"I..." I started and then stopped. What the h.e.l.l was I doing? I was about to tell the villain my secrets, which is the opposite of what I was supposed to do.

But what was I supposed to do? I was still pretty sure he was going to kill me, and besides, if he wanted to, he could use his own abilities to get me to tell him anyway. I was surprised he hadn't yet. Or maybe he had and I just didn't recognize it. Either way, I went on.

"I didn't kill him. I'd never," I breathed. "I killed his memory of what just happened. It knocked him unconscious."

The unconscious part was unexpected. That hadn't happened before. Not with Ms. Kim and not with Amy. We'd practiced a dozen different times, Amy and I, and she admitted to a wicked headache after the fact, but the Thought had never knocked her out. My guess was that, in the same way I used to pa.s.s out all the time from resisting my gift, before I knew about the Sententia, Carter's brain had shut down in defense of the trauma.

Or, as I watched Senator Astor's eyes widen in disbelief, along with what I thought might have been a hint of delight, I realized maybe it was something else. Carter's memory had already been tampered with, and I had doubled the effect.

Softly Dan said, "Is that possibly true?"

I nodded. "You really underestimated me." I couldn't help but taunt him a little, even if it was stupid.

"It won't happen again. To be sure, it won't happen again." I was afraid that was the final threat, that he was going to kill me now, but instead he went on. "How?"

"I'm a Thought Mover, remember? You and Carter have been telling me that all along. I can kill thoughts too. Memories, after they happen but before they take hold. It's the opposite of what you do, when you plant a seed of forgetting."

"Why didn't Carter tell me you could do that?"

"He doesn't know."

"Interesting." He tapped the fingers of one hand on his leg absently, while the other kept the gun pointed steadily in our direction. "It appears you're keeping many secrets in that lovely head of yours."

"A few." As hard as it had been to keep things from Carter, anything he knew, his uncle eventually would too. Knowing what I did now, I suspected Carter developed his habit of telling Dan everything through Dan's unspoken encouragement. What I didn't understand was: why hadn't he just compelled the information from me?

"Share another with me then," he said. "Why aren't you surprised to see me?"

"I knew you'd be here somewhere."

"You foresaw that? Incredible."

I shrugged. "Why don't you share a secret with me too. Why do you want to kill me?"

He studied me for a long moment, and I s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably under his gaze and Carter's weight. I had no idea when Carter would wake up, but I hoped it wasn't soon. More than anything, I didn't want him to witness what was about to happen. I also hoped he didn't need immediate medical care. His breathing and heartbeat seemed regular, but I was unsure about the combined effects of two Thought Movers.

"I don't," Senator Astor finally replied. "Not really. You'd be a valuable a.s.set, even more than I realized. The offer still stands for you to join us...though somehow, I don't think you will." I shook my head. "See, I knew that. And you're not the only a.s.set I'd like to acquire. You're holding another one in front of you like a s.h.i.+eld right now."

My fear for Carter increased tenfold. "What do you want with him?! How can you think of him as...as an object like that?"

"You're so young, Lainey," the senator said, leaning casually onto the wall next to him, though his gun hand remained poised. Not that I was going anywhere. "When you're older, and you understand ambition, you'll understand how people, even people you love, can be tools you can use to further your purposes." He paused and tilted his head. "Yes, I love Cartwright. Of course I do. He's my only nephew. You look as if you don't believe me, but it's true."

Even with his a.s.surances, I still didn't believe him. I didn't think he was capable of love. No one who knew how to love could do the horrible things I knew he'd done. This, I thought. This is what happens when you want things and take them, no matter what.

I stared back at him before saying softly, "I guess you didn't love him enough to spare his father."

If I was hoping to take Senator Astor by surprise with that comment, I failed. He didn't even blink. In fact, he gave a small smile, which made my already nervous stomach clench even further in revulsion. "Your abilities must be truly astounding. But you don't understand much about living people. You're wrong. I did spare his father. From an already miserable existence, and from himself. And it's because I love Carter as if he were my own son that I did what had to be done. I spared Carter from the burden of a father who'd never get over the death of his wife nor amount to anything more than a simple bookseller-"

"That's it?!" I shouted at him. "You killed him because he was depressed? Because he wasn't special enough?" It made me sick to say it out loud. Tears began a slow path down my cheeks and I took one hand from where it had been gripping Carter's to swipe them away.

To my astonishment, Dan looked sad. "Of course not. You didn't let me finish. He insisted we had to tell the Council about his son's newly developed ability. He wasn't just afraid for him; he was afraid of him. I spared Carter from the father who'd turn him in." The curious look returned to his face. "You really think I'd harm someone just because I could?"