Second Thoughts

by Cara Bertrand

  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 anticipation 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 crappy 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 partition.

  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 space. 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 space 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 prone 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 crashing 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 button-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 fashion, whatever that was. Movies were my only villain education, but the senator wasn’t sneering or ranting or recklessly brandishing 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 hell 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 befo
re. 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 pass 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 shifted 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 asset, 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 asset I’d like to acquire. You’re holding another one in front of you like a shield 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 assurances, 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?”

  “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 pass. But my nephew…” His eyes passed 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 God 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. God, 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?”