The Sententia: Second Thoughts Part 23

"I think you'd do anything just because you could."

He laughed. "There is so much you don't understand yet. I only wish I could convince you to work with me, but I've known since Carter told me you've chosen Boston that it's not what you want."

"So that's why you want to kill me? Because you know I'll never work for the Perceptum? Or for you? But I'll never be able to do anything to...to...I don't know, interfere with you either." As my hysteria mounted, my breathing grew ragged and harsh, but Senator Astor remained as collected as ever. I understood why he was such an accomplished politician.

"But you are interfering. You'd be an incredible addition to the Perceptum, one we've been missing for far too long, but now you're a liability. A danger. If necessary, the Perceptum could be brought to a vote to eliminate you. I'm certain it would pa.s.s. But my nephew..." His eyes pa.s.sed over Carter's slack body, and I tightened my arms around him in response. "Carter would never recover if the Council did that. He'd never work with the Council again. And with his devotion to you as it is, I don't believe he'll come work for me either, not now, when I need him most. He'd follow you to the ends of the Earth first. Your tragic accident will eliminate that problem, and give him a reason to need an escape from his comfortable life here at the Academy. For what it's worth, I'm sorry Lainey. But this is how it will have to be." He stood straight once again and gestured with the gun. "Stand please. Move away from Carter. Over to where you were."

I was crying in earnest now, but I did what I was told. If he was going to shoot me, I couldn't bear the idea that Carter might be in the way. I also wasn't opposed to begging. "Please don't do this," I pleaded. I stopped short of promising to help him. That I couldn't do, but I had one more desperate card I was willing to play. "Carter's going to figure out that you always seem to be there when he loses someone he loves. Or Melinda will see the pattern. It will change you, too, you know, if you shoot me. Any other Grim Diviner will be able to see what you are-a murderer."

"I don't think anyone's gift will save you," he said, shaking his head. "And I don't plan to be here for long, nor officially arrive until long after your accident is discovered. But you know that. Now, tell me one more thing. I promise this will be quick and painless."

"Okay." Honestly, I was going to die. What was the point in being stubborn?

"How are you resisting me?"

That confused me. "I'm not." And I wasn't. I looked around. I was standing where he'd gestured, defenseless and waiting for him to take aim at me. I wasn't doing anything besides praying to G.o.d or whoever was out there that I still might live, somehow.

"You are," he insisted. "I've tried countless times to Move your thoughts with no effect. Can you use your gift to stop thoughts of your own, like you did on Carter?"

"No." I knew without a doubt I couldn't use my own gifts on myself. How many times had I tried to bring up a vision to clarify my impending death? It never worked.

He looked at me hard, an angry twist to his mouth. I flinched, ready to duck, or leap over the counter behind me-anything to keep from being shot. But instead of shooting me, he said, "I think you're telling the truth."

"I am. I don't know how I'm resisting you. That's the truth. Whatever it is, I'm not doing it intentionally."

"You truly are exceptional, Lainey. I'm sorry to lose you." The scholar in him came out. "It happens sometimes," he mused, "that some Sententia are naturally resistant to others' gifts. My father is the only other person I've known who could..." A shocked expression came over his face, and I knew he'd figured out my other secret. And I finally understood why he hadn't used his gift on me. He really couldn't. Because we were family. He actually faltered, his gun arm drooping an inch as he stared at me.

"Who are you?" he said, slowly and carefully enunciating each word.

I couldn't look at him, I hated what I had to say so much now. "I'm your niece," I whispered, staring down at the floor. I looked back up at him. "Now will you please not kill me?"

"How." That was all he said. It came out like a command, not a question.

"My father was your brother. Half-brother. Your father must have been his father."

"My father..." he started, then trailed off. "How do you know this?" he demanded.

"You look just like him. My dad, I mean. No one knows, officially, who his father was-he was adopted-but it's pretty obvious now."

Dan was looking in my direction but his eyes were blank, as if he wasn't really seeing what was around him anymore. I contemplated running for the door-it was only a few steps-but before I could move, his focus snapped back to me and the gun returned to position. "Your eyes," he said, and I knew what he meant. Though our likeness wasn't striking, I'd inherited most notably the shape of my father's eyes. Same as Daniel Astor's. "The last Marwood is my niece," he went on. "My niece. G.o.d, it makes so much sense now, Tessa's comments about resemblance. My nephew is in love with my niece, and I am about to..." he trailed off again. "Of all your considerable secrets, that is the one you were going to take to your grave? Why wouldn't you have told me?"

"I hate everything about you. I didn't want you to know. And I thought you'd just get me to tell you anyway, but I guess you can't."

"No, I can't," he mused, and I swear to you, tears s.h.i.+mmered in his eyes. "You have no idea how much I regret that. I was wrong before. You are beyond exceptional, Lainey. You're my heir. And now..."

And that was when Carter moved.

It was just a small movement, along with a sound, like a tiny grunt, but it was enough to save me. I froze. Dan froze.

I think he could still have done it, if he really wanted to. Carter's breathing had changed, become stronger the way a person's sometimes does when they're about to wake up from a bad dream, but for the moment he was still unconscious.

And of course, the bad dream was standing in front of me. I braced myself, but my uncle didn't shoot. Instead, he stared at me, considering. With matching eyes, I stared back.

"Perhaps," Dan said, "a third option has presented itself." He told me what he wanted me to do, knowing I would do it. When the other choice was death, what choice did I really have?

Though something inside me broke, I nodded, whispering, "Okay."

Dan inclined his head. "Thank you," he said and that was that. He turned to go.

"Wait!"

He stopped, and I could see the hopefulness in the way he stood, in the way his eyes s.h.i.+ned when he looked back at me.

"Tell me. What he was meant to remember."

With a rueful smile, he did. It was a good story. Perfect, in fact. No one would have questioned it.

When he finished, Senator Astor placed the gun back where it had fallen and left out the same door by which he'd entered. It closed just as quietly as when he'd arrived.

I crumpled to my knees and sobbed until Carter woke up.

Chapter Twenty-Six.

A fog.

That's what the rest of that day, and the next day, and possibly the rest of my life felt like. I was present. I smiled and spoke when spoken to. I took pictures and gave hugs and even, occasionally, laughed. But it was through a wall of gray that I did it all, behind which the real me watched my world fall apart and keep going all at the same time.

I honestly wasn't sure how I survived those days. Maybe all of me didn't. I'd cheated death once only to die slowly in a different way. Little pieces of the girl in the fog disintegrated, until I thought all I would ever be again was an appearance. A pretty outward sh.e.l.l filled with cold, gray nothing. What happened at the shooting range began to seem easy.

On the floor of the private gallery, I told Carter a story. A simple, perfect story that was almost true. I'm so clumsy, I told him. I dropped a bullet. It rolled away. You stepped backwards on it and fell. You hit your head. I was so scared.

I didn't tell him I'd nearly died. I didn't have to. He'd never know. He had no memory of what really happened. In my pocket, I'd hastily stuffed the piece of my hair he'd never know was gone. There was a new bullet hole in the range wall, but it was far from the first. No one would think anything of it, including Carter. He had no recollection of the single round he'd saved and fired at me.

It wasn't until much later I realized the gun Senator Astor had threatened me with was empty.

GRADUATION WAS BITTERSWEET. Unlike the sheer perfection of the day before, it was cloudy. Overcast, but not raining, and not hot as I sat near the end of the last row of the sea of polyester gowns on the soccer field. Even Northbrook couldn't improve graduation-wear, though I supposed the slick, s.h.i.+ny robes were a rite of pa.s.sage and one I was distantly thrilled to pa.s.s. They were white, all of them white, like a hundred excited ghosts fidgeting in folding chairs.

Outward me cheered when they announced the Valedictorian and Amy took the stage. For the first time since almost the beginning of the year, she looked like herself. The real Amy. From his spot in front of me, I could see Caleb looking up at the girl he knew he loved without any unnatural influence. A few life-altering secrets went a long way toward smoothing things out between them. Inward me suppressed a pang of envy.

Amy's speech was everything I knew her to be: funny, intelligent, impa.s.sioned.

"Learning," she said. "We did a lot of that here. A lot. Right?" We all cheered, or booed, or whistled. "And it was good for us! We're wicked smart kids and we're going to do great things." She p.r.o.nounced wicked smaht with her best Boston accent and everyone laughed. "I know we are, because Northbrook prepared us to. From up here, I'm looking at future doctors, and business owners, scientists and teachers. There's at least one future international rock star, and probably a few congresswomen and senators. I might even be looking at a future President of the United States"-cheers for the surprise guest, Senator Astor-"or maybe even two. How many people are lucky enough to say they sat next to a senator in detention? Well, at least one hundred and thirty two of you. Not that I've ever been in detention, of course.

"Do that thing," she instructed us, "that we're all going to do again in a few weeks, at orientation or basic training or any of the opportunities you're about to start. Look at the person to your left and right. In college, they're going to tell you one of those people won't be there in four years. It's supposed to scare you into working hard. But you know what? Both of those people you just looked at are graduating right now, and if we made it through here, we've got nothing to worry about next! We'll be out kicking a.s.s in our new lives!

"I know you're all as eager as I am to get to that, but before we go, let's take a few minutes to be sentimental. All the studying we've done? That's no secret. But between all the learning, there's more. No one talks about it, and you may not realize, but you've been immersed in it the entire time you were here. Sure, up front, Northbrook's taught us what it takes to work hard and learn. We've got that. We could go pro at learning tomorrow. Straight from high school to the big leagues. But it took me six years to realize Northbrook was also doing one other thing."

Her dramatic pause, her whole last section, raised eyebrows, brought murmurs, would probably still get me in trouble somehow, and all around made me want to strangle her...but I couldn't deny, it was all Amy.

"Teaching us how to live," she concluded.

"How to find our own way to dinner on time or not eat at all. How to do our own laundry, or, you know, at least how to schedule a laundry service. How to live with another person who doesn't have to like you because you're not related, or because you're different.

"How service to school and community is as important as grades.

"How to make decisions and live with the consequences.

"Northbrook has taught us how to use not only the powers of our minds but, also, the powers of our hearts and our wills. How to be leaders and collaborators, to be strong and independent and smart. Northbrook gave us friends, and loves, and occasional rivals, plus the strength of character to deal with them all. And finally, Northbrook gave us futures.

"Starting tomorrow, it's the future and it's going to be awesome. I'll see you all there."

Amy waved to us as she stepped from the podium, a goodbye to high school or h.e.l.lo to the future it was hard to say which, while the entire crowd erupted in ovation.

I wouldn't have wanted to follow that speech, and probably anyone else would have seemed boring in comparison. Except for Daniel Astor. He hadn't told me, but I knew what he was going to say in his speech. Pretty much everyone in the audience knew, even if Amy hadn't hinted at it. The media and television crews lined up along the back of the crowd knew too.

I tried not to watch or care, not even to listen. This speech hadn't been intended for my ears anyway. I tried to imagine it with the heartfelt memorial to me that would have led it off, if I hadn't been unexpectedly sitting in the audience. But even I, who had knowledge and reason more than anyone to hate the man striding up to the podium through a chorus of cheers and shouts, couldn't help myself. Inevitably, I was drawn in by his charisma and the visage of my father.

"From one sentimental to another," he began, and the whole crowd laughed, half because they were in on the joke and half because they weren't, "that was a h.e.l.l of a speech..."

He had everyone rapt from the first words, and not for the first time, I wondered why he needed to resort to manipulations. And murder. People would follow him anywhere just to see him smile and hear his smooth voice tell them what to do. Was it simply in the blood? Had my father inherited the same temptations? Had I? The ease and lack of guilt with which I'd changed Ms. Kim's memory suggested I had. Maybe I was more the man at the podium's heir than I wanted to admit.

Eventually, as the words clicked into place in my head, I realized his speech was for me. It was a reminder of what, in his eyes, I was failing to do, and also, what I'd promised to do. "As Miss Moretti so aptly described, for the last years here you've been practicing living. The next step, the one Northbrook has prepared you for, is living up to your potential. There's an enormous, possibly unfair amount of potential sitting before me, and the hope of everyone here is to see it fully realized. Recognize your potential, friends, and embrace it. You are here, so you are ready.

"You are also, as difficult as it may be, ready to leave Northbrook. Having been a student myself, I know how special your time at the Academy has been, how important are the relations.h.i.+ps you've cultivated and the growth you've shown toward the men and women you find yourselves becoming. Some of those relations.h.i.+ps will stay with you for a lifetime, others, though no less important, will likely end today. The important thing to remember is you're not leaving behind; you're moving on. It's time to fulfill your potential, or better yet, your promise. Your promising futures are just steps away. Take those steps. Don't be afraid.

"In fact, we'll take them together. Today is the day both you and I have looked forward to and from which there's no looking back."

It was then that he paused, and as if ch.o.r.eographed, planned down to the second and paid for, the sun broke through the clouds for the first time all day. It lit his hair to glowing gold and you'd have thought the universe was in tune with him, blessing his announcement. He glanced up at the new light and smiled unrestrainedly, delighted by the unexpected witness to his final words.

"So, friends, the answer is yes, the rumors are true-I am proud today to officially announce my candidacy for President of the United States, and even more proud to do it here, at my alma mater, in front of my family, and surrounded by our country's best and brightest future leaders. Thank you Northbrook, for your support, for the brilliant array of potential you've readied for the world, including the young men and women before me now, and for making me the man ready to lead our country into its brilliant future.

"The path is not promised to be easy, but join me, graduates, in finding the way."

If I thought Amy's ovation was loud, Senator Astor's was deafening, fueled by the shouts and questions from the media, all of which were met with a curt explanation that a full press conference would follow the ceremony. Then and only then would he speak to anyone but the graduates and their families. With that, one by one, we were called to the stage to shake hands with the future President.

It took a long time for my turn. Long enough for me to practice my yoga breathing and blank my mind. Outward me was ready to climb the steps, smile, and receive my diploma. I watched all my friends go first, and my not-friends too. Alexis crossed the stage like it was a catwalk, or her own personal red carpet, rolled out for her future. Her poise never faltered, and the crowd even cheered when Senator Astor kissed her on the cheek.

When my time finally came, the cheers from my family and Carter were as loud as those for students with far larger contingents of supporters. They were almost loud enough to drown out my thoughts and the comments from the senator and the headmaster.

"Congratulations, Miss Young," Dr. Stewart said, handing me my little black folder and holding it for a moment before sending me on. "That was an interesting speech by Miss Moretti, didn't you think?" Sure I was blus.h.i.+ng, I agreed. Clearly the headmaster knew I'd told at least some of our secret when I shouldn't have. "I've always wished she was one of us, you know. I was," she continued, "sorry to hear your decision as well. I'd hoped you'd join us."

I looked her in the eye when I replied. "It's the best choice for me. But I am sorry to disappoint you, headmaster. You know I mean it."

"Yes I do, Elaine." Her fingers released the diploma and I was free. "And I still think you'll be great."

Everyone had exchanged a few words with Dr. Stewart. Our conversation wasn't unusual, since there weren't that many of us and it was a close community. I was the only person who hugged her though.

"Thank you. For everything." She was so slim, my arms might have fit around her twice, but she was less stiff than I expected and she didn't rebuff me immediately.

She even patted my back, once, with a firm hand, "All right. Move along, Elaine. And you're welcome."

Past her, waiting with a smile, was Daniel Astor. I'd purposefully not been looking at him, but I had no choice except to stop. To take his extended hand and turn to the camera, baring my own teeth in an approximation of the expression on the senator's face. For one second, just one, I thought about how my bare fingers were touching his skin.

The flash dazzled after the mostly gray afternoon and I was still clearing my vision when Dan said, "No hug for your uncle?"

"No," I said through my teeth. I had to keep up the image of the smile. He put his arm around my shoulder anyway, and I couldn't stop him, not with everyone watching. I was surprised my skin didn't burn through my gown where the hand of the devil touched me.

He turned us slightly so we were facing the crowd. "You can still change your mind, you know. Come work for me. It'll be so simple, Lainey." In the stands, he picked out Carter, my family next to him, and waved. They cheered again, along with more people around them. "You can have everything you want."

"It would all be a lie."

Dan glanced down at me. "You think how my nephew feels about you is a lie?"

I shook my head and though tears threatened, I didn't let them fall. "No," I repeated. "But the rest of my life would be."

"Then I'm sorry again." The next graduate was actually waiting now, forced to confer with Dr. Stewart while Dan and I spoke for what I hoped was the last time. "For both of you."

"I hate you," I hissed, still fake-smiling. "Stay away from my family." I finally looked him in the eye.

His smile never faltered. "Congratulations, Miss Young," he said, louder, a cue to the next in line that we were finis.h.i.+ng up. "We'll miss you."

"CONGRATULATIONS!" CARTER ENVELOPED me as soon as the graduates and their families all met on the field, swinging me in a circle so my white robe billowed out behind us. As he set me down, he kissed me, for what he didn't know would be the last time. I lingered there, just for a moment, before turning away.

"My grandparents are watching," I murmured and he grinned a little wickedly.

"Then you shouldn't have kissed me back."

My aunt's turn was next. She couldn't pick me up, so she threw her arms around me and dragged us in a circle, imitating what Carter had just done. "I'm so proud of you, Lainey! So proud." She'd say it about a thousand times more throughout the night.

I hugged everyone, and I mean everyone. My family first, of course, but then the field became an impromptu festival of love, covered with shouting, laughing, and some crying. I found myself dragged from group to group, taking pictures, meeting people's families, and just generally being together, as seniors, for one last time. For a few minutes, I even had fun. I would miss Northbrook, for so many reasons. More than maybe anyone, I was sorry to say goodbye.

Later, after dinner while we finished coffees and they cleared away the remains of the graduation cake Melinda had arranged, Carter said, "I wish my uncle was here." It was a private comment, not meant for the whole table, since his Uncle Jeff was there, down at the end, talking to my Uncle Tommy. We were at the same restaurant we'd dined with Senator Astor, forever ago at the beginning of the year, when I'd thought everything was different.

Next to me, Aunt Tessa chuckled. "I think he's a little busy tonight. Even for this."

"What'd he say to you, on stage? You looked..." Carter trailed off, and I wondered what I had looked like.

"He said he wished I'd chosen Baltimore." Which is when, surrounded by my family and the boy whose heart I was about to break, I burst into tears. Conversation ceased and the sound of easy chatter was replaced by my weeping. We weren't alone in the restaurant, either. Other families and friends looked on as I, finally, broke down.

"Oh, honey." My aunt put her arm around my waist and led me from the table. "I think it's probably time to go." Carter, standing and looking bewildered, clearly wanted to follow, and Amy too-from the Morettis' and Sullivans' large table near ours, I caught a glimpse of her watching with concern-but Aunt Tessa waved them away. Thank G.o.d for her mother's intuition or whatever it was.