Tangled Thoughts (32 page)

I shook my head. “No,” I said softly. “It's nothing like that.”

Jack flopped back on the mat. “Oh, thank God. I mean, if you were, we'd figure it out, together. I'm not the kind of guy who—and you—and I'd probably be a hero—and—” He shook his head and dragged a hand through his hair. My heart thumped, once, hard. It was a gesture so reminiscent of Carter I had to look away. “I'm just glad that's not—wait.” He sat up again. “Are you okay? You're not, are you sick?”

I looked back at him. His hand drifted toward his hair again and I trapped his fingers with my own. “No, I'm fine. Really. But there are some things I need to tell you.”

Jack squeezed my fingers. “Tell them. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere.”

“It's just that you don't know who I really am.”

“I doubt that.” He gazed at me with those deep brown eyes and I was so afraid that when I told him, they wouldn't look at me the same anymore.

“No, really. I…I haven't been totally honest with you.” I pulled my hands out of his and crossed them over my stomach. “Well, I haven't been
dis
honest. But here's the thing: I'm not just a Thought Mover.”

His dimple flashed along with my favorite half-smile. “
Just
a Thought Mover? I've never heard anyone treat it so lightly.”

“I mean that I'm more. Oh, let me just tell the story from the beginning.” So I did, explaining how I got to Northbrook and the terrible vision of Ashley Thayer that started it all.

Jack's eyebrows drew together. “So you're a Grim Diviner, not a Thought Mover?”

“No. I'm both. I'm dual-gifted. But it's more than that. I say I'm a Thought Mover, but really, I'm the
last
of my kind. Or so they tell me.”

Jack's eyes stayed with me, thoughtful. “What kind would that be?”

“I'm the last Marwood, Jack. That's who I am.” I took a breath, ready to tell the rest of the story. “If you don't know the name—”

“I know the name.” He reached for my hands, stilling their wringing. “We've all heard the great Sententia mystery.” He looked away, toward our reflections in the mirrors. “It's not common knowledge it's been
solved
though.”

I shook my head. “I don't know who knows now, but I don't tell people.”

“I'll take that as a compliment.”

It was. Oh, how it was. And I'd told him and he didn't run. Words fell from my lips without my planning. “You're still touching me.”

“What?” He leaned closer, turning his head to hear me.

“You're still touching me,” I repeated, louder. Part of me couldn't believe it. He knew what I could do, and he'd reached
for
me. Willingly.

His head snapped back around, eyes meeting mine. “You thought I wouldn't?” I opened my mouth, closed it, and shrugged instead. Gently, he turned my hands over, setting them in his lap. “You thought I'd be afraid of you? Of these?” He placed his palms flat to mine. His fingers grazed the skin at the inside of my wrist and warmth flashed through me.

“I'd understand if you were. If you wanted to…” I looked toward the door and shrugged again.

Jack tapped that spot on my wrist lightly and my eyes came back to his. “All I want to do right now is kiss the last Hangman. If she'll let me.”

I wanted to pinch myself, to make sure I wasn't dreaming. That had been almost too easy.
Carter hadn't pulled away either
, my traitor brain snuck into my head. But that was different. He'd known I was a mystery even before I did. He'd held my hand through death visions and caught me when I'd blacked out from them. He'd shielded me
from Dr. Stewart and hugged me when I cried. When we finally discovered my heritage, Carter had already loved me.

But this wasn't his moment. It was Jack's. This, between us, it was too new for the L-word. I didn't know what all he felt for me, or might someday, but he'd proved it
wasn't
fear. He didn't deserve to share this moment with a memory. And speaking of memories…I shook my head.

“There's more.”

Jack chuckled. “More than
that
?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He paused. “Are you supposed to kill me?”

“
What
? No!” I could feel the color drain from my face. I shoved him and he toppled back onto his elbows. “Be serious for five minutes.”

“I was. And I'm still listening.”

I took a deep breath, and then another, calming myself. “You know what I can do?”

“Sure.” He shrugged. “Every Sententia kid knows. Hang—excuse me,
Carnifex
have the death touch.”

I nodded, watching him as I explained. “I do. But it's not just, well, living things. I can kill memories too, kind of like Thought Moving in reverse.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It's pretty scary.”

“That's what makes this such a rush.”

“What?”

He cleared his throat and sat up. “You, I mean. You
are
dangerous. So do it. Show me.” He held out his wrist, almost the same way Amy had nearly a year ago, and I laughed.

“You won't remember anyway.”

“But I'll
know
I don't remember, right? How much can you erase?”

“Just immediate. It's a…delicate balance.”

“I should think so. So do it. Make me forget. Then I can wonder what I'm missing.”

At this point, what the hell? Maybe nothing I said or did was as shocking as I thought it was. “Okay.” I pushed up onto my knees, so I was looking down at him, and grabbed his hand. His palm was warm and smooth where my fingers rested against it. I leaned over, eyes locked with his, and whispered in his ear. He was smiling when I kissed him.

And then I made him forget.

I was still looking at him as his eyebrows drew together and his free hand came up to touch his forehead. Then his grin returned and he pulled me down on top of him.

“That was
amazing
! I saw your eyes. I remember
that
, I know you did it, but…so what did I miss?”

“You'll never know.”

“Was it this?” And then he was kissing me, nothing like the one I'd given him and erased, but deep and long and something I did
not
want to forget.

Something about that kiss, the realness of it, the honesty, made me feel boneless and free. As free as I'd felt when I thought I'd left Sententia behind. Jack
knew me
, the
whole me
, even the part I thought I'd have to keep secret forever. He knew everything I could do, and I didn't have to hide it from him. I was free to be myself. I was free.
This
was freedom.

Carter

T
he phone was ringing when I stepped out of the shower. Only four people called me with regularity, and it was way too early to be Alexis. That meant family. Towel in hand, I snatched the phone off the counter before it could stop. “Hello?” I swiped at my face, blinking in surprise at the caller. Uncle Dan. I hadn't expected to hear from him until later. The gala was tonight.

“Ah, Son. Good, you're there. You've already run?” He sounded in good spirits.

“I just got back.”

“Perfect. Manny and I will be outside in twenty minutes.”

I blinked at the phone again. “Why? Is everything all right?”

“Quite. I know it's your day off but I…need your help with something.”

The magic words. Uncle Dan knew I'd never say no to him, but even his dullest tasks seemed more interesting when he said he needed help. “What is it?”

He chuckled. “Let's just say it's a field in which you have far more expertise than I. And I'm afraid I'm dreadfully out of practice.”

F
ROM
THE OUTSIDE
, the Secret Service's Rowley Training Center looked like a National Park. In a way, it was—acres of trees and trails disguised an enormous, deadly amusement park of law enforcement. Manny took us on a tour before our appointment at the most exclusive shooting range of them all.

As I watched agents and trainees run, climb, shoot and other things I was sworn not to talk about, I thought this was a job I would probably be very good at. I'd never really considered any other job but the one I was born with.

In the mirror, Manny caught my eye. He was so quiet, and such a common fixture, I often forgot he was there, even when he was piloting the car. “Want to sign up?”

I felt my cheeks warm and felt even more embarrassed because of it. Next to me, Uncle chuckled. “And you haven't even seen him shoot yet.”

Manny's eyebrows went up. “Oh?” I grinned at him and his interest piqued. “All right. Loser buys the drinks, Mr. Penrose.”

“I like the Lagavulin,” I said, and he laughed.

“Yes, you do. All right,” he repeated. “You're on.”

I flipped my sunglasses down and looked back out the window, trying to hide my smile. Uncle didn't try at all. “Well, gentlemen. I'm looking forward to this.”

They'd arranged some dozen firearms for this unexpected field trip, most I'd never handled before. It was strange, seeing a row of weapons laid out like presents on a table. Stranger still, it was broad daylight. Despite being still technically winter, it was a nice day, almost sixty degrees. We were able to shoot outside.

I walked up and down the row, awed at the selection. Our choices included semi- and automatic handguns and rifles in a range of sizes, and—

“Is that an Uzi?!” I never expected to see them anywhere other than TV, let alone
shoot
one. I was reluctant to touch it.

Manny laughed as he inspected the submachine gun. “Technically, no. It's an MP5.” He set it back down. “But let's start a little smaller, work our way up.”

Shooting wasn't a skill I ever expected to apply to the real world; it was just something I enjoyed. Like running, it helped that I was good at it. After a few rounds, I found my rhythm. I felt good, relaxed even. That nagging asshole, Doubt, actually shut the fuck up for a while. Until I set the safety and took off my ear guards, I didn't even realize I had an audience.

“Fucking A, kid!” Someone clapped me on the back, and I turned to find Manny's partner, John, had joined us. He wasn't the only other agent on Uncle Dan's detail, but the only one I saw with regularity.

Over his shoulder, Uncle Dan was smiling like a proud father, and Manny looked impressed and kind of pissed. “Beginner's luck,” he muttered, and Uncle Dan laughed out loud.

“Can you do that again?” John asked.

“Sure.” There was a satisfying
click
as I popped in another clip.

“And move the target back,” Uncle Dan suggested.

You know what? It felt good to show off. John was already laughing by the time I finished the next round. “More like tough luck, Manny. Kid's sure as hell not a beginner.”

Manny was too good natured to hold a grudge. Smiling, he said, “You're a better shot than I am. Maybe the whole team.”

And it was true. I scanned his targets. He was excellent, but I was better. Even without my particular talents. Though I
could
use Thought Moving to my advantage, it was basically useless today because I
hadn't loaded the clips myself. I could pull any of the triggers from, well, anywhere, now that I'd seen the guns. To really enhance my aim, I had to have seen the bullets.

“I'll thank you, Manuel,” Uncle Dan said idly, “not to be recruiting my nephew.” He shouldered a rifle, testing the sights. I could tell he was enjoying this. “Ignoring that
I
need him, my mother and sister-in-law would likely attempt to kill me if you succeeded, and wouldn't that make your job difficult?”

“Yes, Senator.” Manny tipped his chin in deference and we all laughed. “If anyone's going to try to kill you, we prefer strangers.”

We secured our ear guards once more and everyone took turns, including John. He wielded the machine gun better than anyone. When my turn came, he showed me how to use it.

“This,” he explained, flipping a switch, “is your selector. Single shot, burst, or auto. Not all SMPs can do single shot. Try it on burst.”

He turned it over to me. The metal was warm. It felt like danger in solid form. “Will you carry one of these tonight?”

He winked. “I'll carry this one. Make it lucky.”

RAT TAT TAT
. The gun leaped in my grip, and I barely hit the target. Adrenaline rushed through my system and my heart pounded. Fright blended with a sort of perverse thrill. How simple it was to spray round after round of death. Just a few pounds of pull.

Behind me, Manny hooted. “Looks like we've found one you're not so good at!”

I took a deep breath and fired again. Better. Again again again. Perfect. I felt like I'd tamed some kind of animal, a fierce and desperate one. My arms shook by the time we were done and I thought they might actually be sore tomorrow. I hoped they would. I was having fun, happy again without effort for the first time since New Year's. I suspected Uncle Dan had done this for me, and I couldn't say I minded.

“Thank you,” I told him in the car on the way back. Manny and John were in front, conferring with the divider up, leaving Uncle and me in relative privacy.

He glanced at me from the papers he was reviewing. “That was enjoyable, wasn't it? Just what we needed.”

“I just hope we never have to see them put their skills to use.”

“If we ever do, you know they're more than capable,” he assured me. “I had Manuel and John begin planning that since…well, your birthday, we'll call it.” The night at the bar, he meant. It felt like years ago, even thought it was only a few weeks.

“About that. I'm sor—”

He held up a hand. “No need, son. I know this has been hard for you. And she hasn't made it easier. I think she'll not bother you any more, though.”