I started at her words, nearly jumping out of my seat and spilling my cappuccino across the table. “What?! No!” I said. “I can’t even believe you’d think that!” But there it was again. An echo in my head reverberated with, She’ll break your heart, Carter. And this time it was my aunt. When Alexis had said it last year, I knew she had a vested interest in it coming true. My aunt, on the other hand, loved my being with Carter possibly as much as I did.
“I’m sorry, sweetie. I just wondered, that’s all. You’ve seemed…” She frowned and flipped one hand over and back. “And you’re my daughter in your heart, if not your blood. I know a little about fearing comfort more than change. For you, change is comfort. It’s almost a year you’ve been with him…”
Before I’d known what being comfortable in one place really meant, I’d have agreed with her. But it turned out, maybe since I’d already had so much change in my seventeen years, I liked permanence. My psychologists had been right about that anyway. Or so I’d thought, until my aunt had just given new life to an old seed of doubt.
“I know,” I said. “And I’m not planning to—never. I love Carter. He just couldn’t make it. The store wasn’t an excuse. They’ve got one new employee since, well, you know. Jill couldn’t come back this year. But the new woman is off this week. And school is stressful for me…”
I realized I sounded like I was making excuses, and maybe I was. There was so much distance between us the last week, and Carter was right—so much I wasn’t telling him. I just wasn’t sure I was ready yet, for so many things.
Aunt Tessa cocked her head at me again, in the other direction this time. From somewhere she’d produced a pencil and had been idly sketching on the tablecloth. Me, I realized. I recognized my long hair and the contours of my face. “So,” she said, “you haven’t had sex with him yet, have you?”
Flames leapt instantly to my face, especially because I’d just been thinking about it. “Auntie! Jesus!” My aunt was liberal enough when it came to sex, and had never been afraid to talk to me about it. She and Amy had that in common.
“You haven’t. I can tell. I’m surprised, honestly. Aren’t you ready?”
“Auntie!!” I repeated. If you could pass out from blushing too hard, I was about to do it. I eyed her wine glass, but it was still half full. No, this was just my aunt being herself.
She laughed at me. “It’s okay, Lainey. I just thought…” She shrugged. “Anyway, there’s no prize for hurrying the first time, so don’t. Just don’t forget to be careful when you finally do.”
My mortification complete, I nodded. “You’ve reminded me enough times since I was ten. I’ve learned that lesson well, I promise.” But inside, I laughed a little. The first part of her totally non-traditional sex talk was proof Aunt Tessa didn’t know about Sententia, since having sex could jumpstart, or spark, a developing ability, like it had for Carter. Sometimes there was a prize.
WE SPENT THE next day like a normal mother and daughter, going on the campus tours, eating at the student union, and meeting other prospective students and their families. My aunt pretended she wasn’t an alumna with her sculptures featured in the school museum, and I pretended I wasn’t maybe going to die before I had the chance to become an alumna myself. It was actually a fun day.
Dinner that evening was possibly more fun, despite Carter’s absence. The university president was friendly, down to earth, and seemed genuinely interested in me, even if it was only because of my aunt and Senator Astor, but I didn’t think so. I got the impression he cared about and would have been the same with any of the over seven thousand students.
We, naturally, talked about art, politics, and the business school, none of which was boring, and we laughed often and genuinely. My aunt flirted almost shamelessly with Dan, who seemed equally interested in charming her. I felt worried about that but entirely unsure how to stop it. Otherwise, it was a great evening, and the best part of the whole thing was the absolutely zero mention of Sententia. Up until the very end.
“Have you given any more thought to my offer?” Dan asked, almost casually, while my aunt had gone to the ladies’ room and the president had taken his leave.
Of course I had. I thought about it pretty much all the time I wasn’t contemplating my own impending death. Unable to tell him that, I decided to be straightforward with him.
“I don’t honestly think I have it in me.”
He nodded, as if he’d expected my answer. “I understand,” he said firmly. “It’s a hard thing to have to do. Tell me this—do you not believe in our mission?”
“No, it’s not that. I do, sort of.” And I did. The Perceptum did a lot of good. “But…just the part that really bothers me would be my part.”
“Of course. You’ve heard the stories though; you know the caliber of person who receives such a vote, and the rarity.”
I sighed, wishing my aunt would just hurry up and free me from having to talk about this. My stomach churned, in part because he was right. I nodded. “Of course. Dr. Stewart said almost the same thing, but…it’s not just that. It’s, well honestly, it’s Carter. I know what would happen to him, just because of what he can do, not because of what he does or who he is.”
Dan’s eyes lit on me like I’d made some connection without knowing it. “Objectivity is the greatest challenge, is it not? And doing things you don’t necessarily want to do for the good of others. Don’t you see the most important advantage to working with the Council, Lainey? Why do you think I’ve become its leader? That is where you have the most power to protect Carter.”
I inhaled so sharply the breath stabbed my throat. It had never occurred to me Dan didn’t want to be leader of the Perceptum. It had never occurred to me there’d be any advantage to being a part of it. But there was. I’d been too caught up in my own fears to see it. Now, I was more confused than ever.
I opened my mouth to say…something, anything, when Dan patted me on the shoulder and smiled at my aunt coming up behind us.
“Tess, Lainey and I were just talking about the future, and I think she’s got some important things to think about. Shall we go for a nightcap?”
ALL THE FLIGHT home, I replayed the conversation in my head. Was it that simple? Well, it wasn’t simple, but…it was a good question. What would I do to protect Carter? I liked to say anything, but I’d never thought anything would include killing people, even the kind of people I’d be asked to eliminate. And I always thought my morals would stand up and say never! But never was a tricky word when you loved someone and that someone was in danger.
It was with these thoughts that I stepped outside the terminal, on hold with the dispatcher for the car service as they tried to locate my strangely missing reservation, when I saw Carter. He was standing next to his car and holding a sign with my name on it, just like the driver should have been. I hung up the phone and threw myself at him. He caught me and held tight. Kisses became our mutual apology.
Until another driver honked his horn, I forgot where we were. Which was at the airport, in public, in a taxi zone where we shouldn’t be stopped. Sheepishly, I broke away and, in what had become a habit of mine just about every time I touched him, gave a quick check with my Diviner sense to see if my death had become any clearer.
At the same time I was saying, “What are you—” Carter practically leaped backwards.
“What the hell, Lainey?!”
“—doing here?” I finished. He was running his fingers through his hair and staring at me from his new distance. “What?”
“Are you trying to kill me or figure out when I’m going to die?” His low voice was harsh, angry.
Shit. He must have seen my eyes flash. Caught up in the moment, I’d been careless. And now, I was stuck. It took me so long to reply, Carter cleared his throat. He fidgeted, shuffling his feet like he wanted, and not wanted, to move closer.
“Wow. Are you trying to kill me or am I going to die? Is that what you didn’t want to tell me?”
I
shook my head and stepped toward him, lowering my voice to match his. “Neither.” And then, without any further thought or gentleness, I plowed straight into a confession. “I’m going to die—and you’re going to kill me. At least, that’s what I saw a couple months ago.”
“What?!” He actually tried to back up further, bumping into the car and nearly slipping off the edge of the sidewalk. The impatient taxi driver behind us honked again. Carter looked at him, looked back at me, and opened the passenger door. “Get in. Apparently we need to talk, and we can’t do it here.”
WE WERE HALFWAY out of the airport when I started to talk but Carter cut me off completely.
“We are not having this conversation while I’m driving.” He wouldn’t look at me, his eyes strictly focused on the road while his white-knuckled fingers gripped the steering wheel at ten and two. Minutes, then miles, ticked by in silence. Slowly.
I was beginning to wonder if he planned to drive us all the way home first. In the right lane. Going five miles below the speed limit. “It’s not tonight, so you don’t have to drive like my nanny,” I joked.
He glanced in my direction but didn’t smile or otherwise relax his stiff posture. “You may be wrong. Right now, I’m trying to keep myself from killing you just for not telling me, so don’t push it,” he said. Sometimes I forgot how passionate Carter could get when he was angry, but this was something more, something he so rarely showed I didn’t recognize it at first: fear.
I reached out to touch him but thought better of it and dropped my hand back into my lap, where I recommenced wringing it with my other one. For the first time ever, I didn’t think my touch would be a comfort. Instead, I apologized with all the sincerity I could infuse into two insufficient words.
“I’m sorry.”
Carter said nothing but he glanced at me again. His wet eyes shimmered in the dark. After we were about halfway home, he rather abruptly pulled off the highway into the kind of rest area with picnic tables and no bathrooms, where truckers stopped to sleep, not the bright, busy kind with gas stations. The kind where, over the summer, we’d had our almost-night. It was cold out, so he left the car running. I listened to the hum of the engine and blow of the heaters, a familiar sound not unlike the ocean, and thought how this night couldn’t feel further from that other one.
Next to me, emotions warred on Carter’s face in the glow from the dashboard, processing the thought of my death and his possible role in it. I’d had so long to accept it, I’d practically forgotten how freaked out I used to be. Seeing Carter fight through denial, anguish, anger—all the things I felt at first—was heartbreaking. Maybe my aunt had been right.
Finally, he turned to me. “It must be an accident.”
“I don’t honestly know. But the vision was real. Just…brief.”
“Tell me everything. Please. We’ve done it before—We’ll figure out how to change this.” Desperation had crept into his voice, giving it a rough quality I’d never heard in it before. He sounded like an adult, a man, rather than a teenager. I reminded myself that he’d be twenty in only weeks.
“That’s what I’m trying to do!” All of my pent-up frustration rushed out with my words. “I’ve been trying since that day, but I can’t see any more. I can’t see anything! I saw my face, and, the way I know things, I knew you were responsible, but that’s it. I’ve seen flashes of it since, just the same little glimpse, but I can’t get any closer to what happens! And—” I broke off.
Carter ducked down to look into my face and leaned toward me from his seat. “‘And?’ How could there possibly be something worse you don’t want to say?”
“It won’t be the first time,” I whispered. “For you. I won’t be the first.” It was stupid, I knew it was stupid, but I’d still been unable to make myself read Carter for that detail. Whatever happened before had never forced itself on me like some visions did. I’d gotten good enough with my Diviner sense that I could concentrate only on the future or the past, and this was a past I just didn’t want to know. I should have, I knew that too, but I couldn’t bring myself to find out.
He slumped back into his seat and, if anything, seemed relieved, which made no sense to me. “Well, that’s no secret.”
“Wh…what do you mean?”
“I’ve been a murderer since the day I was born, Lainey. You know that, and besides, even if it wasn’t common knowledge, how could you of all people not know? I mean, didn’t you try to see it?” He was shaking his head and grimacing in the way that was almost a smile, like if this were any other topic, it would have been amusing.
I dropped my head into my hands, feeling like a fool. In my quest for bliss-in-ignorance, I’d overlooked the obvious. “Your mother,” I murmured. “Of course.” She’d died in childbirth.
He tipped my chin up with gentle fingers and, for the first time since we got in the car, gave me a very small smile. “Did you really not check?” Heat crept up my neck and flushed my cheeks as I shook my head. Carter leaned over again, practically scooping me up in his arms. “God, I love you,” he said into my ear.
With a little maneuvering, I repositioned myself onto his lap, my back to his door and my long legs extending all the way into the passenger seat. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it was comforting to be close to him. I rested my head on his shoulder while he ran his fingers through my hair. I always loved it when he did that, which was often, but tonight it felt especially good. Like home.
Eventually he asked the question I’d been waiting for. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because saying it out loud to you makes it real.”
He kissed my cheek. “That’s illogical.”
“I know.”
“I knew something’s been wrong,” he said. “You’ve seemed so lost in your own head lately, and took that trip to the cemetery…That wasn’t really about Jill, was it?”
“No,” I admitted, though I still didn’t tell him what it was really about. “I’m sorry.”
We were quiet again for a while, the sounds of our breathing mingling with the hum of the heaters. It was already late, and only getting later every minute we sat there, but I knew Carter wasn’t ready so I didn’t push to leave. He needed time to come to terms with the future, but more than that, he needed to formulate a plan. Carter was incomplete without some kind of action he could take. “It has to be an accident,” he repeated.
“Most likely.” Before he could get angry, I added, “but it’s more like it…wasn’t definite. Like God or whoever hasn’t figured out the details yet. I’ve never had a vision so vague before.”
He thought for a moment. “Are you sure it wasn’t just a…a possibility, something that might happen?”
Sometimes I liked to let myself believe that same thing, but, “It felt pretty certain.”
“Then it must be an accident. I’d never hurt you intentionally.”
“I know.” I wondered if this would still be true if he knew all of the other things I’d been keeping from him lately, but I couldn’t dwell on that. One problem at a time. I kissed his neck and hugged him a little tighter. “It’s late, Carter.”
“I don’t know what to do yet,” he replied. “How do I fight a future you can’t even see?”
This time I kissed his lips before pushing myself over to my own seat. “You don’t,” I told him. “You let me do it.”
“You’re telling me everything, right? And you’ll tell me if anything changes?”
It was strangely easy to say “I promise,” knowing the promise was already broken. To myself, I promised no more lies—if I managed to live through this one.
Chapter Eleven
The next note arrived the following week while I was at my library hours. Wednesday nights were busy times—Northbrook had a world-class library and the students were expected to use it. Last year, I had to dodge my classmates while I snuck up to the Special Collections floor for Sententia practice with Carter. This year, I had to dodge my classmates to get anything done.
I spent most of my two hours with my head down and earbuds on to keep myself from being distracted.
I’d just pushed my empty cart into the elevator and was about to push the top floor button when small, slender fingers did it for me. I snapped my head up to see Mandi Worthington smirking at me. I hadn’t even realized she’d followed me in. The doors shooshed behind her and we started up.
“Hey, Mandi,” I said, turning off my music and giving her a smile. “You here studying?”
“Mrs. Hastings wanted me to give this to you,” was her answer. She held up a familiar cream envelope with my name in the center. I easily recognized the strong script as Daniel Astor’s.
“Uh, thanks.” I reached across my stacks of books but Mandi made no motion to hand over my note. “Mandi?”
Anger turned down the corners of her smirk. “I know who it’s from,” she said, still holding it just far enough that I’d have to lean over to snatch it from her. Not that I’d do that. If I’d learned anything in the last year, it was to be patient long enough to figure out what game girls like Mandi were playing.
I tried very hard not to sigh before I said, “And?”
Mandi leaned toward me, putting all her considerable bitchiness into her next question. “And why is he sending you notes too, like he is to Alexis?”
“I don’t know,” I blurted out, because I was too surprised to stop my mouth from saying it. I reminded myself that I should never play poker before I added, “Why don’t you ask Alexis?”
Frost formed on her words as she replied, “I will,” finally handing over the note. “She’s going to help him become President, you know. Don’t get in the way.”
As if she’d timed it, the elevator dinged and the door opened behind her. She disappeared between the stacks on the fourth floor before I even had the chance to close my mouth that had dropped open in surprise. The door slid shut before I remembered to get out.
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