Chapter Five.

Carter was in an especially good mood throughout the weekend, between the store filled with customers and Senator Astor's presence. He, more than anyone, looked forward to his uncle's visits. Dan had been the one to teach Carter how to control his Thought Mover abilities and Carter looked up to him as almost another father-figure, different from his own father, or from Jeff Revell. Maybe more like another Jesus, if I was honest with myself. Carter didn't just look up to him; he practically worshiped him.

Sat.u.r.day night found us at a very private table in a historic, upscale restaurant in Vermont that I didn't even know existed. Usually students weren't allowed to go so far off-campus, not without a parent or guardian, but I was with Senator Astor, so my permission from Headmaster Stewart had been instantaneous. I think she wished she'd been invited too.

"I'm sorry your aunt couldn't join us, Lainey," Dan said shortly after we'd been seated.

"Me too," I told him, though I only half meant it. I did want to spend as much time with her as I could, but I didn't really want her in the vicinity of the senator-my real uncle-any more than necessary or she was bound to say something. "She wanted to come, but the critics have created such a great buzz about the installation, she felt like she had to go to the event in Boston tonight." Future Flight was already being hailed as creating an "undoubtedly instant trend of 'collaborative installations.'"

"It's nearly as amazing as the artist herself," he replied with a smile. Carter squeezed my hand under the table and I smiled back. Yes, this was exactly where he'd learned to be so charming. He was seated between me and his Uncle Dan and Melinda was on my right. We were at an intimate round table for just the five of us, but somehow it was clear that Senator Astor was at the head.

Dinner itself was delicious. I nibbled appetizers of pate and escargot, stuffed myself with roasted duck, and managed a few bites of maple creme brlee. In fact, by the time we were done eating, I had a stomach ache. Except it had nothing to do with my meal. Though everyone was companionable, and Carter was practically exuberant, an undercurrent of tension ran throughout the evening.

Family relations between Dan, Jeff, and Melinda were...a little forced. The brothers-half-brothers, really-saw each other infrequently and spoke even less. And they were actually on pretty good terms right now. I was sure they'd never be a loving and laughing family. Add me, and my disastrous confrontation with the senator's daughter, into the mix and you had possibly the most awkward family gathering ever.

Dan and Carter naturally dominated the conversation, with Melinda filling in most of the rest. Jeff was as quiet as usual, and I was nearly as reserved. Unfortunately, it didn't go unnoticed.

"You've been quiet this evening," Senator Astor said casually, stirring his coffee and taking a sip.

"You have," Carter echoed. A small frown creased his brow as if he'd just realized this, which he probably had. It wasn't that he'd been ignoring me, but that he'd been happily wrapped up in talking with his Uncle Dan about the most recent events in politics, both United States and Sententia.

"I didn't mean to be," I lied. "I was enjoying listening, learning a little more about this stuff." I sipped my own coffee to try to appear relaxed. Which was pointless, because Daniel Astor was nothing if not shrewd.

"I'm glad we could teach you more about our society," he said. "I'd like to do more of it, in fact. But that's not really what's got you so quiet this evening, is it?"

Time to be honest. Or honest-ish. No chance I was telling him-anyone-all the concerns occupying my mind. "No, I guess it's not," I admitted.

"I suppose it's my daughter," he said gently. Everyone but Dan shifted uncomfortably in their chairs, and Carter reached over to grasp my hand. I hated thinking about what happened, so of course I thought about it all the time. I suspected that Carter and the Revells did too.

"I'm sorry," I said. What else could I say? I'd killed his daughter, however briefly. It was a difficult fact to overcome.

But the senator actually surprised me with his response. In fact, shocked might have been a better word. "Certainly not more than I, Lainey. I owe you an apology. It's my fault what happened." He sighed and looked around the table making eye contact with every one of us. "I am so very sorry, for what she did and especially for my dishonesty about her."

Carter and his aunt and uncle glanced at me and then at each other in confusion. "What do you mean?" Carter finally asked.

"I know she attacked Lainey, in part, because of me," Dan explained, shaking his head. As always seemed to be the case, he directed his comments mostly to Carter. "I should have kept my promise to her mother not to have any contact with Jillian, but I didn't. I'm so sorry for that, and sorry for not admitting it sooner. I should have told you."

Probably I should have told them too, but I'd never mentioned any of Jill's ravings, letting them believe her attack was entirely about her unrequited love for Carter. I couldn't believe Senator Astor had just admitted his deception; I'd never thought he would. In fact, the longer I spent in his company, the harder it was to maintain the fear and distaste I'd been cultivating for months. Maybe I was wrong about him.

Carter turned to me. I could hear the confusion, plus a little bit of anger, in his voice. "Lainey, what's he talking about?" He dropped my hand to run his hastily through his hair, his number one bad habit and clearest indicator of distress.

"I..." started to explain, but didn't have to.

"Don't blame her, Carter," Dan interjected. "She was just being discreet, I know, and I thank her for it." There was no higher praise for Sententia than being called discreet, and I'd just gotten it from our leader. He seemed genuine about it too-about everything. "As I said, I had, perhaps foolishly and undoubtedly selfishly, been in contact with Jillian. Phone calls and emails only, but I enjoyed them." He raised his hands as if saying, what's a father to do? "I wanted to know my daughter. I should have waited the few more years I promised, but that was my mistake. I made the added mistake of asking about Lainey. If I'd only been more cautious, or known my daughter better, perhaps I'd have seen what would happen..."

He trailed off before looking at me directly, the intensity in his eyes making it impossible to look away or doubt him. "I am so sorry, Lainey. Truly. The words can't convey the depth of my sorrow about what happened and my part in it. You have nothing to apologize for. My grat.i.tude for saving my daughter, and for your discretion after the fact, is limitless. There's no way for me to repay you, but if there is anything I can do for you, ever, all you need is ask."

We sat there in stunned silence at the senator's confession, me over the fact that he'd made it, the others over what it contained. Finally, Jeff said nothing more than, "Dan," but it held all the condemnation, as well as understanding, a single word could. Somehow I suspected these awkward moments would do more to repair the brothers' strained relationship than anything else. Among other things, Jeff was angry with his brother for his failures as a father; knowing that Dan had tried to correct them would earn him a lot as far as Jeff and Melinda's esteem went.

Carter said nothing, but finally regrasped my hand. He was looking between me and the senator with a number of emotions, but the dominant one was relief. He'd been eaten up over the belief that Jill had harmed me because of him. And she had, in part, but not entirely. At the time, I hadn't even questioned my choice not to tell him. Between taking that burden from him or forcing him to question his beloved uncle's integrity, I'd been certain the latter was worse. Except now I looked like the one keeping secrets. And I supposed I was, but not for anything but love for Carter. I didn't look forward to talking about it with him later.

"I miss her," Melinda admitted into the quiet. It was half sad, half apologetic, but all honest.

"As do I, Meri," Dan replied. I was unused to his nickname for Melinda, but no one but me seemed to find it strange.

Melinda sighed. "Sometimes I feel bad that I do-I'm sorry, Lainey-but I do."

"I'm sure Lainey doesn't fault you for it, Mel," Jeff said, and he was right. Maybe it wasn't logical, or the most typical reaction, but whenever I thought of Jill, I felt not anger but crushing sadness.

"I don't," I agreed. "Honest." Carter turned his head, but still said nothing.

I knew he did fault his aunt, but loved her too much to say anything. He'd found no forgiveness for Jill in the months since she left. Sometimes I thought he could still see my bruises when he looked at me, still touched me tentatively as if they were there, even though they'd long since faded. Naturally then, we did not talk about Jill. But I was curious.

"How...how is she?" I said to whoever might answer. "Did she go to Webber?" Webber was Northbrook's sister school, on the West Coast. After learning she wouldn't return here, I a.s.sumed that was the best place for her, where she could get the help she needed but also still be with other Sententia.

My question was met with momentarily strained silence. Dan murmured, "You don't know?" He looked at Carter with a combination of surprise and reprobation, and a look of guilt flitted across Carter's features. Perhaps I wasn't the only one keeping secrets where Jill was concerned.

I looked at Carter too. "I guess not," I said. "Is she okay? What don't I know?"

He ruffled his hair some more, which basically gave me my answer, before he finally said in low tones, "No, she didn't go to Webber. And...I don't think she'll ever be okay again."

"What do you mean?!" Looking around the table, I saw nothing but sad expressions and I suddenly felt like I was back a year ago, when I'd first learned about Sententia and my strange gift. Here I was again, on the outside of knowledge, surrounded by the pitying insiders. My temper started to rise. "Carter?"

But it was Dan, again, who responded. "It seems I have much intervention to do this evening," he said, and I almost thought he sounded amused, which seemed a strange reaction to me. The sad look in his eyes and his tired voice had me dismissing the thought. "Don't be angry with him. My nephew, too, is nothing if not discreet, and I'm certain he didn't want to upset you. But no, she won't be going to Webber, or any of our schools."

"Is she...being punished?" I asked tentatively. In truth, she probably should have gone to jail, or the juvenile equivalent, if not a mental hospital, but that wasn't something local authorities knew. The Perceptum did, of course. I a.s.sumed they handled the situation, arranging things as best for her as possible. But you know what they say about a.s.suming, and I was about to prove it true.

Dan shook his head and I swore Melinda's eyes started to tear up. "That turned out not to be necessary, Lainey," Jeff said.

"Oh my G.o.d, she's dead, isn't she!" I blurted out. Despite that our table was quite private, I still saw one or two heads turn in our direction. Had Dr. Stewart been hinting at that and I just couldn't understand? I just couldn't think of what else they meant except that she'd killed herself. After all that happened, I couldn't believe she'd died anyway.

But she didn't, not exactly.

Everyone gave some sort of denial before Dan said, "No, no. Jillian is...physically fine. But you see, Lainey, her gift, it's..."

"What?" I pleaded. "What about her gift?"

"It's gone."

Chapter Six.

Gone?" I echoed. "That's..." impossible, I started to say, but I knew better by now. "Crazy," I finally decided on, then cringed. I knew better than to use that word so wantonly too. Jill had taught me that. "Does that always happen?"

Carter shook his head. "To our knowledge, it's never happened before."

"But then, what did happen?" I said. "Jill can't be the only Sententia ever resuscitated."

With a sad chuckle, Carter said, "You happened, Lainey."

I didn't have time for more than my eyes to go wide and my mouth to drop open before Dan interjected. "What he means is though, yes, other Sententia have been resuscitated, it's never been after an encounter with a Hangman."

I shuddered. G.o.d, I hated that term. "But...I thought my ability stops a person's heart."

"It does," Melinda said.

"But perhaps that's not all it does," Dan finished for her.

"The truth is, Lainey, none of us knows exactly what your gift can or cannot do," Jeff said.

My brain went numb at this news-I swore every time I started to feel comfortable, a new surprise was thrown at me-so all I thought to say was, "Poor Jill." If she hated me before, and she surely had, then she must really hate me now. I sipped my coffee, which was cold and bitter, kind of how my heart felt at the moment. My cup clattered on the saucer and sounded very loud to my ears. "Sorry," I said, though I wasn't sure just what I was apologizing for.

Dan folded his napkin neatly on the table and gave a gentle smile to all of us. "I suppose we've lingered here long enough," he said, effectively ending our dinner-and the conversation-much to my relief.

AFTER ABOUT FIVE minutes of silence in the car, Carter and I said at almost exactly the same time, "Why didn't you tell me..." though we were split on what we wanted to know.

"About Jill?!"

"About my uncle?!"

"You answer first," I said.

He glanced at me from the driver's seat. "Whatever happened to 'ladies first'?" he joked, and if he weren't driving, I'd have smacked him. I considered it anyway. Leave it to Carter always to make light of a serious situation. It was probably one of his better traits, actually, if it didn't irritate me so much.

"Shut up and answer."

"I can't really do both..."

"Argh! Carter, seriously. Please." Before I throttle you.

The headlights swept over the dark curves of the road, illuminating the trees on both sides. It was "quaint" up in our little intersection of three states, meaning pretty much the middle of nowhere, with miles and miles of nothing and no one around. I waited impatiently for my boyfriend's response.

Finally, in soft, more serious tones, he said, "It should be obvious why I didn't tell you. It upset you. I didn't want to."

"Ditto," I said.

"I hate upsetting you."

"Same." Then I sighed. "But...maybe we need to share the things that'll upset us before the not sharing them really p.i.s.ses us off."

"Agreed," he said, and reached over to hold my hand. "I'm sorry," he added.

"Me too," I murmured. I closed my eyes and powered up my Diviner senses for a quick check of our future-still nothing new-and then, despite that we'd just agreed to be honest with each other, still didn't tell him. If only I would learn to listen to myself. Sometimes the hardest advice in the world to take is your own.

When the new silence in the car felt comfortable, not tense, I said, "There's another thing I'm curious about." Carter's thumb traced slowly, back and forth, across my hand. I wondered if he was even aware he was doing it, or of the way it gave me little shivers, both inside and out.

"What's that?" He gave my hand a squeeze before letting go to downshift.

"Why does Dan call your aunt Meri?"

"Well, it is her name." And it was. Her full Penrose name was Meriwether Avalinda.

"Yeah, but no one else calls her that."

"He does." Carter glanced at me and looked back out the windshield. "My father did."

"Oh." I stared out the windshield too, thinking about that.

"It's a brotherly thing. She pretends to hate it." He paused. "Uncle Jeff does hate it."

"Interesting." And it was. I was going to say then why does he do it? but I suspected that was why. I'd never had siblings, so it was hard to really know what it was like. Aunt Tessa and her brother, my Uncle Tommy, loved and annoyed each other with equal pa.s.sion, though. Maybe it was as simple as that.

The comforting weight of Carter's hand returned to mine, his thumb finding the same path as before. It was odd how such a light touch, a whisper of a touch, really, could have such an effect. I shivered again.

"Cold?" he asked.

"No."

His grin lit up the car.

It wasn't long before we pulled into the parking area behind the bookstore. It was late, and dark, but clear-a perfect early autumn night. Almost exactly a year since I first arrived at Northbrook. It was crisp out, too, and an extra-chilly gust blew into the car as we came to a stop.

"Hey-it's cold! Why are you rolling down-?" I asked, but too late. Carter had already started our little game, where he would race to open my door for me before I did it myself. He'd employed all sorts of techniques to beat me, including liberal use of Thought and, once, duct tape, but I was almost always out of the car by the time he got there.

As soon as the ignition was off, he Thought down my door lock, a typical diversion, and then-hoisted himself out his open window! Wearing dress pants and shoes no less! Like a gymnast, his strong arms pulled his torso up in one quick, fluid motion. And just like that, he was gone, planting his foot on the door rim to propel him smoothly across the roof of the car, all while I watched like an idiot. I was still disentangling myself from my seatbelt when he thumped down outside my door and opened it with a flourish.

"My lady."

"Wow. Congratulations, Dukes of Hazzard," I said, stepping out of the car and into the blinding glare of Carter's grin. He Thought the door closed behind me. "Have you been practicing that?"

"Maybe." The grin never wavered as he moved forward, putting one arm on each side to trap me against the car. It was cool out, but it didn't feel that way when he was so close to me. When he kissed me, it got even warmer. Blazing. After a few moments, he paused just long enough to repeat softly, "I'm sorry."

"Me too," I breathed, though at that moment, as his lips traveled down my neck, I was honestly having trouble remembering what we were apologizing for. Above me, in the slice of sky between the trees and the towering bookstore, I counted a thousand glittering stars. Wisps of smoke drifted high overhead, the smell of wood fire mingling with the constant scent of pine trees. Against the car, my back felt icy compared to the heat of Carter's body pressed to mine.