“Let’s hope so.” She eyed me then with a familiar look, the one that meant whatever she was going to say was certain to embarrass me. “You’re still using birth control, right?”
“Auntie!” I hissed, ducking my eyes as one of the eager-to-please caterers deposited a glass of club soda and lime at my aunt’s elbow.
“What? You are, aren’t you?! Thank you,” she added, taking a tiny sip and setting the glass back down.
I stood, knocking the chair back a little further than I meant to, and went to the bar set up on the side of the room. I poured myself a glass of wine because I could. “There’s nothing to worry about,” I muttered. “Trust me.” Before she could embarrass me anymore, I said, “There are too many chairs, you realize, right? Shouldn’t we put some away?”
“What?!” She appraised the table, lips moving as she counted. “No, that’s right.”
“Then who are the extra for? Did you invite friends?”
“No, it’s not that. Actually, it’s a surprise for you.”
“Oh,” I said, dubious. I hadn’t done a very good job with the last surprise she’d sprung on me. I took a big gulp of the wine, something white the caterers had opened that was fruity and sweet. I liked it. “Wait!” An idea came to me. “Is Uncle Tommy bringing a date?”
She shook her head. “Though don’t you and I and my mother wish it. But I think you’ll love it. I—” Right on cue, the doorbell rang, and she smiled. “And maybe they’re here.”
They were not. My grandparents and dateless Uncle Tommy spilled in, Abuela ready to fuss and still a little peeved Aunt Tessa hadn’t let her cook. Uncle Tommy immediately started teasing his sister, and Abuelo put his arm around me and kissed my head. They filled all the lonely spaces in the house with love and an occasional smattering of Spanish, and everything seemed warmer and brighter just by their being there. For a few minutes anyway, Thanksgiving was perfect.
When the doorbell rang again, Aunt Tessa’s already glowing face brightened more. She didn’t even notice how the conversation fell to a hush. “Why don’t you get it, Lainey?” she said, excitement wrapped around every word.
Behind the door, once again, was a set of shoulders barely contained by a dark suit. Manny was holding three white boxes tied with string in one hand and when he saw me, he smiled. He still was not wearing sunglasses.
“Miss Young, Happy Thanksgiving. These are for you.” He handed me the boxes and I took them automatically. They were heavier than they looked when he’d been holding them.
“Thank you. Happy Thanksgiving to you, too, Manuel.” Strangely, I wanted to hug him, but I didn’t think that was appropriate. He flowed into the apartment not like the bull you’d expect, but with grace counterintuitive to his size. Also, like someone who’d been here before, and with a start I realized of course he had.
Behind him towered Daniel Astor, looking casual and relaxed and just like my father, as always. “Lainey,” he said, nodding. He, too, carried tied up boxes in both hands, and when he bent to kiss my cheek, I was too stunned to stop him. Also I had eyes only for the woman behind him, still tall and elegant despite her age, and also, undoubtedly the source of the boxes.
“Evelyn!” I rushed forward to hug her. Now I understood why the caterers had brought no dessert. Evelyn Revell was the kind of woman one was lucky to know, even luckier to call family, and not just because she made the best pies in the entire world. I’d been sure I’d never get to see her again. “I didn’t know you were coming!”
“Surprise,” she said in her Long Island lilt, and it was a great surprise, my aunt had actually been right. “It’s so good to see you, dear. And I brought a pecan just for you,” she added in a hushed tone, like it was a secret. I laughed and hugged her fiercely, before leading her toward the crowd.
My aunt said, “Lainey,” at the same time an unfamiliar voice delicately cleared her throat. I turned back to the door, confused. I hadn’t even realized there were more people here, and I definitely didn’t recognize the woman.
“Hello, I’m Angela,” she said, and held out her hand. I took it automatically, trying to figure out if she was the senator’s secretary or something, and trying to remember where I’d heard that name before. She was pretty and petite like my aunt, but with fair skin that made me think of peaches and strawberry blond hair. She had a smile like a beauty queen, or, possibly, a Southern Belle, but with enough character lines around her wide, blue eyes that—
I dropped Angela’s hand and mine involuntarily flew to my throat.
There was a tiny blond girl with matching blue eyes standing solemnly behind her.
It was Jill.
“Oh my God,” I said, the words choked and barely audible. I couldn’t breathe.
I stumbled backwards and caught my hip on a table, hard enough to leave a bruise. My knees were wobbly beneath me and if not for one hand desperately gripping the table, I would have slid to the ground right then. The other hand still scraped at my throat while black and white spots floated in front of my eyes. I. Could not. Breathe.
“Hello, Lainey,” Jillian Christensen said, stepping through the door into the full light of the apartment. “It’s good to see you.” She smiled then, the one so like her father’s, like the unsheathing of a knife. And that was it for me. The blackness filled my vision and I fell.
I AWOKE IN my room, my head throbbing in a way it hadn’t almost since the day Jill had tried to kill me. My hand went to my throat again, but though it felt raw inside, it wasn’t bruised. I could breathe. I closed my eyes and repeated that to myself like a mantra, taking Auntie’s yoga breaths while I did it. I. Could. Breathe. I could breathe I could-breathe I could breathe I could breathe.
My aunt’s voice snapped me out of nearly hyperventilating. Outside the slightly opened door, I could hear her babbling softly about shock and migraines and saying things like overcome and saved her life, and oh, God, I didn’t want to open my eyes. It dawned on me that I’d had a panic attack. I’d never done that before. Amy would be proud of me for trying something new.
If I never thought I’d see Evelyn again, I really never thought I’d see Jill. She haunted my nightmares, but I never believed I’d have to confront them in real life. A delicate cough, one I recognized, came from the corner of my room and my eyes flew open. There was Jill, watching me. My hands flew up again, one to my mouth, one to my throat, and I barely stifled a scream.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” I wanted to scramble farther away, to fly from not just the room but the whole apartment, but how in the world would I explain that? Instead I stayed frozen, observing her.
It had been nearly two years since I’d seen Jill. She still looked like the girl I knew, if a few years older and maybe prettier, but she was different. Not just older, but more sophisticated. I didn’t think she was any taller, but she seemed to sit up straighter now. Maybe she was more herself than ever. Was she more sane? I couldn’t tell.
When I didn’t say anything, she continued talking as if we were the friends I once thought she wanted to be. “Manny carried you in here. It was really heroic. That’s always your luck, isn’t it? Handsome guys sweeping in to save you. Your aunt asked me to stay with you. Just so you know, it wasn’t my idea. None of this was. Not Father’s either. He told her it wasn’t a good idea.” When I still said nothing, Jill glanced toward the door and then back at me. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’m just here to talk.”
I snorted. Jill might have wanted to talk to me, and but I didn’t have to endure it. She didn’t hold all the power in this situation. Yet even as I tried, my legs and voice refused to march me out of the room and tell her to buzz off. Maybe a small, strange part of me wanted to talk to her too. After a long few seconds, I told her honestly, “I don’t know what to say.”
“I do,” she said. “‘How have you been, Jillian?’ is a start.”
“How have you been?” I repeated automatically.
“Bette
r,” she spat, and I flinched. Stupid. Stupid stupid to play along. “I’m sorry,” she said immediately. “I didn’t mean it to come out that way. I didn’t.” She closed her eyes and took a breath, opening them again slowly. “It’s harder to pretend when, for a few minutes, you don’t have to.” She took a breath again. “I have been better. But I’ve also been worse. So. I am okay.” She didn’t ask how I’d been, and I suspected she knew quite a bit more about me than I did about her. She always had.
“I thought you were in Europe,” I said, finding my voice again. It occurred to me she might be on drugs—the psychiatric kind. I hoped so.
“I was.” She shrugged, her stiff shoulders relaxing a fraction when they came back down. “Father needed me to come home. I live in Alexandria, with Mother, for now. She hates it and just wants to go back to Wyoming.”
“But you don’t,” I said slowly, remembering there was always more in what Jill didn’t say than what she did.
“No. I like it here. I liked France, but I’m someone here. I’m going to live in the White House.” After a pause she said, “You could, too, you know. We could be sisters. Isn’t that funny?”
“Funny?” I coughed out. Ironic, maybe, but I saw no humor in the prospect of living with Daniel Astor, or any of the rest of it. “Why is it funny?” Jill’s smile slashed again.
“Because we’re already related. Aren’t we, cousin?”
I sucked in a breath hard enough to make myself cough. “What did you say?”
She smiled, blindingly, achingly pretty, almost like the way she’d smiled when she was choking the life out of me. “You know,” she breathed. “You figured it out first, didn’t you?”
She was right. I didn’t even know why I was surprised, but I was. I thought the secret of me, of our connection, was the one thing Dan would honor. But that was stupid—he had no honor at all.
“I can’t believe—” he told you, I started to say, but I heard light steps and whispers on the other side of the door. My aunt appeared with a glass of water and a prescription bottle, as if summoned by my coughing. Daniel Astor hovered behind her.
“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry. How’s your head?” She sat on the bed, handing me the water and shaking out one of the migraine pills I rarely took anymore. “I’m terrible at surprises. It must have been so emotional to see Jillian again. Are you catching up?”
I opened my mouth to say something, but couldn’t before Jill piped up, “We are, Ms. Espinosa. It’s nice to be able to talk about things with someone who knows me. Feels like we’re sisters already.” Jill beamed and I sipped the water to keep from grimacing.
My aunt beamed right back. “I’m so glad. And Jillian, please, you know it’s just Tessa.”
“Why don’t we give them a little longer together, Tess?” Dan suggested. “Lainey could probably use a few more minutes of rest.” Over my aunt’s shoulder he smiled at me, falsely benevolent. I didn’t know if Jill was playing his game or her own. Maybe they were one in the same.
I opened my mouth then, finally ready to scream in frustration that they were all liars, that this whole thing was a lie. Not for the first time I wondered why I was still keeping the secrets. But the simple answer came to me immediately: Carter. Always Carter. My fingers ached from how hard I was clutching his necklace. I hadn’t been brave enough to fight for him, but I loved him too much to hurt him further. Hadn’t I sacrificed him to the wolves, to ignorant bliss, to save my own skin? And would I do it again?
I slapped on a smile, or the approximation of one. “I’d like that,” I said and my aunt nodded.
“Of course, girls. Join us whenever you’re ready.” Aunt Tessa patted my hair and backed out of the room, shutting the door behind her.
Ever-shrewd Jill locked eyes with me. If one’s expression could be smug sadness, that was hers. “It’s pretty,” she said, tilting her head at my chest, where Carter’s necklace rested. “Looks expensive. Did he give it to you?”
I nodded, fingering the diamond again. After a second, I said, “Does he know?” For some foolish reason, I couldn’t say his name.
She shrugged. “I doubt it. Father didn’t tell me, you know. I guessed. If your aunt keeps blabbing about how much Father looks like your father, everyone else will too. You should tell her to quit it. But I don’t think he wants Carter to know. He doesn’t want him to think about you at all.”
Ouch. I closed my eyes for a long blink. “If that’s true,” I said, opening them again, “then why start an affair with my aunt?”
Jill shrugged again, a delicate lift of her tiny shoulders. “I think he might kind of love her? It’s hard to say. Or maybe”—she leaned forward—“he just wanted to give you one more reason to join us.”
“You mean the Perceptum?”
“Obviously.”
“I’ll never do it,” I told her. “He knows that. It was our deal.”
Jill laughed. “Well then maybe I’m not the crazy one.”
Automatically, I wanted to say you’re not crazy, but she was. At least she recognized that now. “That’s not funny,” I said.
She watched me for a few seconds. “You know, I don’t hate you anymore.” I must have looked skeptical because she repeated, “I don’t. And I’m sorry. I need to say that. I am sorry for what I did. It was wrong and I am sorry.” She said the words like a recitation she’d been forced to memorize. I had a feeling she wasn’t entirely sorry, but she did know it was wrong.
“Okay,” I told her, because there didn’t seem to be any other answer.
Jill nodded, as if she’d checked an assignment off her list. “I’m almost glad we’re going to be sisters,” she went on. “I meant what I said earlier, about it being nice not having to pretend. I’m good at pretending, but it’s nice to have a break, you know?” She looked at me with these big, open eyes, like she was really asking that question and hoping I’d say yes.
Because she was right, I realized. I did know. And this was why I couldn’t make myself leave the room.
“I do,” I murmured. I really, really did.
“Isn’t that funny too?” She stood, pacing the small end of the room. It reminded me of Carter, and I wanted to look away. “You took everything from me,” she said, stopping for a brief second to fix her gaze on me. “But I don’t hate you anymore, because you understand. You’ve lost everything now too, haven’t you? You gave it up.”
I closed my eyes, Jill’s words piercing me again. If we’d been in a fight, I’d have said she was winning, but we’d both already lost. So much. This wasn’t something either of us could win. And as weird as it was, it felt good to hear her say painful things and acknowledge them. How could you move on if you kept everything locked inside?
Finally, I said, “I had no choice.”
“Ha!” she laughed, once, hard, and it made me jump. I met her eyes again. “You had a choice. You made one. If there’s one thing crazy class has taught me, it’s that.”
“Do you really know what my options were?” I couldn’t tell if she was guessing again. Or maybe Dan liked having someone he didn’t have to pretend with either.
Jill sat again, hesitating. “I know enough,” she said, “and I know my father. And I also know, for you, it would be so easy to get it all back.” Then she added, “So maybe I do still hate you a little.”
“How would I get anything back?”
“Duh! What have we been talking about this whole time? All you have to do is what you were born for.”
“You mean killing people.”
“Bad people.” She leered at me. “First time’s the hardest, and you’ve already gotten it out of the way.”
I cringed. “That was different! You tried to kill me. It was self-defense!”
Jill came to sit on the end of the bed, leaning toward me. “Self-defense? What about all the poor, defenseless people being hurt by malicious Thought users? You’re their defense.”
I pulled my knees up in front of me and shook my head. “But I’d stil
l have to kill them, and I—I can’t do that. It’s not right.”
“But they all know what they’re doing is wrong. They all get warned; they all get a choice. Besides, do you really think most of them would fear death if they saw it was you?” She shook her head. “Yeah, I do still kind of hate you. I’m sorry, cousin. I’ll work on that.”
“It doesn’t matter what I look like,” I told her. “I’d still be a monster.”
“No,” she said. “You’d be an avenging angel. It’s quick, and it doesn’t hurt.” She wiggled her fingers in my direction. “I know. Life in prison has to be worse. I kind of know that, too.”
“Then maybe,” I added carefully, “that’s what they deserve.”
Jill smiled. “So. What’s more monstrous then?” I opened my mouth and closed it while I could feel whatever color was there drain from my face. Was she right, or more right than I was? Why was this so complex? Shouldn’t murder automatically equal the wrong choice? “And anyway,” she went on, “these people don’t go to prison, or don’t stay there. Don’t you listen to anything?”
“I—I just can’t.” Jill started to say something and I amended, “I won’t. Your father knows this. And I’m keeping my end of our bargain.”
Jill sighed. “This is what you were born for,” she repeated. “You’re the last one. Did you really think Father was just going to let you walk away? For good?”
A puff of air escaped me. I had thought that. That had been our bargain, hadn’t it? That I’d give him Carter and keep his secrets and he’d let me go. But no, I realized now, too late. He’d let me live, not let me go. That wasn’t the same thing at all. Brain seething, I slid off the bed and moved to the door. “It’s time for dinner,” I said. “Let’s go.”
“You know, Lainey,” Jill said softly before I stepped into the hall. I paused with my hand on the doorknob. “Killing isn’t the only way. If you really wanted to torture someone, you could just do to them what you did to me.”
BY THE TIME I returned to my dorm on the Monday after Thanksgiving, the news had broken.
“Lainey!” all of my roommates practically screamed before I’d even closed the door. The strangest part was they were all home. Nat ran over and dragged me toward the futon where they were huddled around Ginny’s laptop, because hers was the biggest. Three sets of wide eyes alternately stared at me or the screen.
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