The Tower (36 page)

Terry replied calmly, “Hey, don’t have a freak attack, Adrian. It’s not loaded.”

“Alia, put that down right now!” I shouted.

My sister quickly returned the pistol to Terry, who laid it on her desk.

I glared at Terry, who said defensively, “Hey, Alia saw me with it and wanted me to show her.”

“And you didn’t see anything wrong with teaching an eight-year-old how to use a gun?!” I asked furiously.

I heard Alia say into my head,
“I’m nine today, remember?”

“Shut up!” I growled, rounding on her. “You’re in enough trouble as it is!”

“I was four when I learned!” Terry said heatedly. “Adrian, Alia’s not like you. She’s a healer. She can’t defend herself.”

“She’s a kid! She doesn’t need to defend herself!”

“Oh, like because you’re such a good protector!” Terry said sarcastically.

“That has nothing to do with it!”

At that moment, Cindy rushed into the room, saying, “Hey, what’s all the shouting about?”

I explained as Terry paced the floor in frustration. Alia’s expression was hard to read. Cindy listened to me silently, and then crouched in front of my sister, asking her in a soft tone, “What would you do with a gun, Alia?”

Alia slowly answered aloud, “I don’t know. I was just curious.”

“Would you shoot someone if they tried to hurt you?” asked Cindy.

“I don’t know,” mumbled Alia, looking down at her feet.

“Would you shoot someone if they tried to hurt Addy?”

“I don’t know,” Alia said again, shaking her head.

Cindy smiled warmly. “Then maybe you’re not ready to use a gun yet, sweetie.”

Cindy stood up and turned to Terry saying, “Listen. Personally, I don’t mind Alia knowing how to use a gun
–
”

“Cindy!” I cried, shocked.

Cindy held up her hand to stop me. “But only when she knows why and when to use it.”

Terry answered quietly, “Okay, Ms. Gifford. I’m sorry.”

“And someday, Terry,” Cindy added with a wink, “you are going to call me Cindy.”

Taking Alia with her, Cindy left Terry’s room.

Terry and I glared at each other for a moment. Then Terry said nastily, “Maybe Alia’s not ready, but I certainly hope you are,
Addy
.”

I turned silently and strode out the door.

In bed that night, I found that I could still hear Cindy’s question to Alia in my head: “Would you shoot someone if they tried to hurt Addy?” I pictured the face of the Guardian Knight in the casket. Would I shoot someone if they tried to hurt Alia?

“I don’t know.”

“What?”
Alia asked into my head, and only then did I realize that I had spoken out loud.

“Nothing, Alia. Go to sleep. Happy birthday.”

“Goodnight, Addy. Sweet dreams.”

“Don’t I wish,” I muttered, turning onto my side and closing my eyes.

My nightmares continued. When I woke early one morning several days after Alia’s party, I first thought the shouting I was hearing was just part of my dream. But as my mind cleared, I could tell that it was a very real, heated argument coming from the living room. The voices belonged to Cindy and Mr. Baker. It had woken Alia too, and we stared at each other for a moment before creeping down the corridor to listen in.

I heard Mr. Baker say harshly, “The boy has a weakness, Cindy!”

“We all have weaknesses, Travis,” Cindy replied in a sharp, irritated tone that I knew she was capable of but rarely heard her use.

“Do you really believe that, given the choice, he wouldn’t be tempted? Or that he could resist a dedicated controller? We have to check.”

They were talking about me.

“Out of the question!” snapped Cindy.

“It’s process of elimination, Cindy,” said Mr. Baker. “We have to clear his name.”

“He’s too young!” said Cindy, and I wondered where I had heard that before.

Mr. Baker replied, “He’s fourteen, a borderline adult. We are not talking about Alia here.”

“Travis, may I remind you that Adrian was the only one against us going?”

“I know that,” said Mr. Baker, sounding a little flustered. “But you’re also talking about a boy who has already proven himself an adept spy.”

Cindy’s voice came up an octave as she yelled, “For
us
, Travis! So we could rescue him!”

“Who’s to say what they did to him down there? He may not even remember it himself. He’s hardly better at blocking than you are. Look how easily he was taken by the puppeteer.”

“Adrian is not a spy, Travis! For the Angels or for the Wolves, or for anyone!”

A spy? Was that what they thought?

Mr. Baker said, “I know you believe that, Cindy, but it just doesn’t add up. None of this does.”

“You’re right, Travis. It doesn’t add up. And you’re trying to make it add up by attacking my family!”

“Please don’t be unreasonable.”

“Unreasonable?!” shouted Cindy. “You’re talking about performing a completely unnecessary operation on my son that could give him permanent brain damage! Don’t you dare talk to me about being unreasonable!”

“You’re not his mother, Cindy!”

“I’m the closest he has! I won’t allow it!”

Enough
, I thought, opening the door and striding into the living room. Alia didn’t follow.

“Adrian!” said Cindy, turning to me. “You heard us?”

“It was kind of hard not to,” I said, smiling at her.

Then I leveled my gaze upon Mr. Baker, who I discovered was as serious as his voice made him sound. He had brought an armed escort of two Guardian Knights.

“I guess you haven’t found the spy yet,” I said mildly. “Are you going to arrest me?”

Mr. Baker looked at me uncomfortably. “Well, ‘arrest’ might not be the word I’d choose. We just have to make sure–”

Cindy cut him off, saying, “Mr. Baker wants to probe your mind with a delver. Of course he’s going to arrest you.”

Mr. Baker said, “Cindy, there’s no need to scare him like that. We have no reason to force this upon him.”

“Oh, I see,” Cindy replied sarcastically. “So you expect Adrian to give you his consent to being delved? Perhaps you were going to trick him into it, telling him that the risk is negligible?”

“Well, I – I...” sputtered Mr. Baker, looking at his Knights as if asking for support.

I stepped toward Mr. Baker and said quietly, “You have my consent.”

Cindy nearly exploded. “Adrian!”

I turned to her and said, “Cindy, could I speak with you alone for a moment?”

Slightly mollified, Cindy nodded, and we started to head out of the living room when Mr. Baker finally found his voice, saying, “Now, just wait one minute!”

Cindy said sharply to Mr. Baker, “I will speak with him alone.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Baker,” I said. “We’ll be in the library, and if she shouts for help, you can come in and kill me.”

Leaving Mr. Baker and his escorts there, Cindy and I walked into the library, through it, and to the greenhouse.

We stood there, looking out through the tall glass panels at the city below. The sun was just beginning to creep up over the distant mountains. The light was still cold.

“Adrian, I’m sorry I woke you,” Cindy said quietly.

“Cindy,” I said slowly, “I don’t know if I’m ready to call you Mom yet, but you’re a good mom.”

Cindy smiled, and I looked away, embarrassed at my own words.

I heard Cindy sigh softly and say, “You really don’t have to do this, you know.”

I looked at her again and replied, “Yes, I do.”

“But why?”

“Because something is wrong with me, Cindy. Something has been wrong all year. Ever since we arrived in New Haven. I just can’t put my finger on it.”

“I’ve told you before, Adrian. Emotional ups and downs are a common part of PTSD. No one could go through what you did and not have scars to show for it.”

“It’s not just that, though,” I insisted. “I feel like there’s something inside me. Not like the puppeteer. Something that’s hiding, but is still a part of me. It’s been there forever. I want to know what it is.”

“Even if it means risking your sanity?”

“What sanity?” I scoffed. “I wake up every night, Cindy. It’s worse than ever now! I just want to know what’s going on.”

“What’s going on is that you could end up a vegetable, Adrian.”

I stared silently out the window, and Cindy pleaded softly, “Don’t do this, Adrian. Please don’t do this.”

I sighed, thinking of the last time Cindy had said those words to me. Was I ever going to learn from my mistakes?

Cindy crouched in front of me, looking carefully into my eyes. “Listen, Adrian. Maybe you’re right. Maybe there is something going on. I don’t know. But I know you’re not a spy. I know you would never do anything to hurt me or Alia or anyone. If you think something is hiding in your head, then a delver is not the answer. The one person who has the best chance at finding whatever it is you think is hiding in your head is
you
. A delver can only read your current thoughts, Adrian. You alone can read your own mind, if you give yourself the time. You just have to give yourself time to work through your emotions.”

The door opened, and Mr. Baker stepped into the greenhouse, followed by his Knights.

Mr. Baker looked at us accusingly. “I thought you said you’d be in the library.”

Cindy snapped back at him, “And I thought you were going to stay out of it!”

“Now listen here, Cindy–” began Mr. Baker.

Cindy cut across him, saying furiously, “No,
you
listen, Travis! You may have Adrian’s consent, but you certainly don’t have mine!”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Baker,” I said, “but I take back my consent too. You’re going to have to arrest me after all.”

Cindy said to Mr. Baker, “That Adrian gave permission at all should be proof enough that he is no spy.”

Mr. Baker shook his head. “I am not as convinced, Cindy. You realize that you are not only risking your own life, but you are risking the rest of New Haven as well?”

“A calculated risk, Travis,” Cindy replied icily. “Surely you of all people understand the merits of a calculated risk?”

Mr. Baker sighed deeply, nodded and, giving Cindy a wry smile, turned to go.

Cindy saw them out, but I stayed in the greenhouse, wondering if I had really done the right thing. I knew Cindy was only looking out for me, but what if Mr. Baker was right? What if, unknowingly, I was in fact a threat to New Haven, and to Cindy as well? Cindy would trust me no matter what I said or did, because that was who she was. But I knew better. Deep down, I knew that the bruises I woke up with on the morning after the welcoming party were suspicious, no matter what Terry had said, and no matter how drunk I had been that night. There was a reason why I knew about the secret switch in the holding block. My hazy, incomplete dreams about the peacemaker, and “assembly,” and something about being too young... Somehow, it had to fit.
It just had to.

Or did it? Was I, as Cindy had just accused Mr. Baker of doing, trying to make something add up that didn’t? Could these apparent coincidences be just that? Mere coincidences?

I continued watching the sunrise from the greenhouse windows, not noticing the time passing until I heard Alia’s voice in my head say,
“Cindy says breakfast, Addy. And wake up Terry on your way to the dining room.”

Walking back through the library to the corridor, I rapped my knuckles on Terry’s door, calling her name.

Terry said loudly through her door, “I’m already awake, Adrian. I’ll be out in a minute. Tell Alia to stop shouting into my head.”

I went to the dining room where, sure enough, my sister was sitting with the slightly vacant expression she usually wore when sending her telepathy through walls.