Tangled Thoughts

by Cara Bertrand

Jack produced a slow, knowing smile, one that was strangely seductive. It made me think he had secrets, ones I’d like to find out. I didn’t realize I was distractedly staring at his lips until they moved. “A rival, huh?” he said.

  I was pretty sure my blush got deeper. “No.” Lie. “Well, sort of. But mostly she was just a bitch.”

  “I’ve known a few of those myself,” he said, nodding. “Sometimes it comes with the territory. There’s plenty of conceit to go around when you’re…special, like we all are, but I think Heralds tend to be the most conceited of the bunch. It’s easy to get caught up in the effects of your own abilities.” I understood that fully, since my abilities inevitably gave me moments of morbidity. “And you?” he prompted. “If you’d care to share.”

  “What, it’s not in my file?”

  He gave a little smile and shake of his head. “Unfortunately, they don’t note it on your transcript. Though if your grades are any indication, I’d suspect you were a Lumen.”

  On a whim, I told him, “I’m a Thought Mover.” It was mostly true.

  “Really?” He seemed…surprised, but pleasantly so. He smiled again, appraising me.

  “What? Don’t like us?” At that he outright chuckled, a deep sound that made my toes tingle. I shifted my legs out from under me. “Or maybe you’ve never met one before?”

  “Never one so pretty,” he quipped, and it was the kind of thing he shouldn’t say, that should have had me bolting from his office out of anger or at least a sense of self-preservation. But whether I should or not, I liked it. Which fact also should have sent me running, but instead had me blushing and looking at my knees. “Or so dangerous,” he added, and my euphoria disappeared.

  I jerked my head up so quickly it almost hurt. “What?”

  Jack held up his hands, palms out. “Sorry,” he said, and it sounded sincere. He cleared his throat and straightened his funny tie—unnecessarily, since he seemed to prefer it a little askew—smoothing his fingers over the silk. “I was going to say you move my thoughts without trying, which is the truth, but entirely inappropriate. Like several things I’ve said today. So. Sorry,” he repeated.

  His chair creaked as he shifted, and I blushed harder. I couldn’t understand why I hadn’t passed out yet, because all of my blood had to be in my face. “Apology accepted,” I said finally.

  He wiped a hand over his face. “God, this job is harder than he made it sound!”

  “Who?”

  “What?”

  I giggled. “Harder than who made it sound?”

  “Shit,” Jack muttered before he stood abruptly and strode to his desk, back turned to me. In the small office, I felt his breeze as he passed. “Professor Gupta, of course.” He checked his phone and typed a few letters before shaking his head and returning to the chair across from me. He turned the phone over in his hands as he spoke. “This…wasn’t my plan. But the offer came and I couldn’t turn it down. I hadn’t wanted to, but even if I did, Grandfather would have, uh, convinced me otherwise. And it’s turned out to be not what I expected.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No! God, I’m a complete ass. Complaining while I sit here with you. It’s not what I expected in bad and good ways, don’t worry. Never worry about me.”

  “I’ll…try not to,” I said, because I couldn’t promise I wouldn’t. I was intrigued by this moment, where Jack’s easy charm had slipped to reveal someone who was maybe a little unsure and still trying to figure things out. It made him seem so real, so like me, and I wanted to know that Jack as well as the cool, relaxed one. “Your grandfather sounds pretty tough.”

  He exhaled forcefully through his nose. “That’s a nice way to put it. But you didn’t come here to talk about my family issues.”

  “That is exactly why I came here,” I said and he cracked a smile. “Don’t we all have family issues?”

  “Do we? What are yours?”

  If only. My real family issues weren’t for the telling. I fussed with some strands of my hair that had fallen over my shoulder. “It’s more a lack of family issue for me, honestly.”

  After a beat, he said, “I’m going to guess the real issue is with your extended Sententia family.” Nailed it. “Is that why you only went to Northbrook for two years?”

  “Um, no, not exactly. It’s a long story.”

  “I’ve got nowhere to be.” He checked the time on his phone to confirm. Neither did I. My classes were over for the day.

  What the hell, I thought. Why not? I took one deep breath and plunged. “See, I didn’t even know I was Sententia until I got to Northbrook. It was…well, it was a lot of things, but I’ll just go with overwhelming. I thought I was getting away from it when I left there. So, yeah, when you said you went to Webber, I freaked.”

  “That’s actually true? You really didn’t know what you, what we were until, what, two years ago?” I shook my head. “That’s crazy.”

  “Pretty much.”

  With the toe of his shoe, Jack absently moved his chair back and forth. “So, how did you even…?”

  How to explain without spending the entire night in his cramped, dark office? “It really is a long story. How about I give you the highlights?”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Okay. Listen really closely, because I don’t repeat myself.” He stilled his chair and leaned forward, arms resting on his knees and hands folded. I grinned at him. “Perfect. Ready? Once there was a little girl whose parents died and was raised by her world-traveling Godmother, and when the girl turned thirteen and started to grow up and go crazy in the brain, her doctors decided she couldn’t be a world traveler anymore and an opportunity from her dad’s past came up and landed her at a special school where she found out she wasn’t crazy, fell in love, met her best friend, saved a girl’s life, broke a heart, and doesn’t ever plan to go back. The end.” I leaned my head back and took a deep breath, winded by the time I finished. It felt good, though, to unburden.

  Jack sat up and was quiet for a few seconds, his toe moving his chair again as if he didn’t realize he was doing it. Finally, “Saved a life?”

  “Another long story, but yes.” And really, I should have said ruined. I was hardly the hero of that story.

  After another pause, Jack said, “I’m sorry about your parents.”

  “Thanks. And me too, but it’s been a long time.”

  He stopped rolling his chair and cocked his head to the side. “Fell in love?”

  I sighed. “It’s the ‘broke a heart’ that’s really more important.”

  “So you are dangerous.” His tiny half-smile taunted me and made my stomach twist. It felt strange to talk about Carter while thinking about that smile.

  “Amy doesn’t call me ‘heartbreaker’ for nothing.”

  “Is your friend…?”

  I shook my head. “No, but…she knows. She’s cool though. Promise.” When he didn’t say anything for another second, I took the opportunity. “Okay, your turn.” I assumed the same waiting pose he’d taken before my story.

  Jack laughed and crossed his arm over his chest. “You’ll have to listen carefully, just so you don’t fall asleep. My story is pretty boring, actually.”

  I doubted that. “I’d still like to hear it.”

  “Once,” he said, “there was a boy whose father, no, whose grandfather was a wealthy patriarch in a long line of them and when his son turned out to be a disappointment, all the family expectations landed on the boy and so far he’s living up to them.”

  Interesting. “Does he want to, the boy?”

  Jack rubbed his hands across his thighs. “Do you know, in twenty-three years, no one’s ever asked me that so directly?”

  “Do you know the answer?”

  “Yes.”

  I laughed. “Yes you know, or yes you…?”

  “Yes. I want to. So far. No one’s forcing me, not really. My father went his own way and I could too.”

  “So you chose Webber?”

  “
Well, we have a Legacy longer than the state of California, so really, it chose me. My dad went too. I did choose to live with my grandparents while I was there. Get some quality time drinking the family Kool-Aid, I guess.”

  “Was it…bitter?” The way he said that made it sound like it was.

  He smiled and looked at me, really looked at me, as if this whole conversation was an unexpected surprise. “You’re too perceptive for your own good, you know?” With a few pushes of his foot, he rolled his chair over until he was next to me, in the small space between my chair and the door. When he put his arm down, it touched mine and neither of us moved them for a few seconds. “Honestly,” Jack continued, “it wasn’t except maybe in retrospect, or maybe aftertaste? Yeah. That. Don’t feel bad for me. I don’t.”

  “Really?” I didn’t believe him.

  “Really.” He leaned closer to me, his arm pressing against mine once more and our heads nearly touching. “I’m just telling a sob story to a pretty girl.”

  I breathed out. “It’s working.”

  Jack stayed like that, next to me, for another second before sitting straight and rolling himself away. From the safety of his desk, he said, “Then I think my job is probably done for today.” A glance at my watch told me this was true. We’d been talking for a long time and I stood and stretched. “To make this official,” he added, “good job on your assignment. Keep that up. Come see me again if you need more help.”

  “No, thank you Mr. Kensington. I feel much better…about class now.” Which reminded me of something I’d wanted to ask since the first day. “Is the J. really for John?”

  He laughed. “Not at all. It’s Jarvis. Jarvis Ablemoor Kensington the Third, actually,” he pronounced and I couldn’t keep my eyebrows from shooting up. That was a heavy name for a guy who seemed so carefree. “I know. It’s terribly pretentious, right? Dad’s homage to Grandfather. Mom gave in on the full name but refused the nicknames—Father is Javvy.” It sounded almost Spanish when he pronounced it, Haa-vy, the J like an H. “If I was from around here and went by that, people would think my name was ‘Harvey’. Anyway, J.A.K. makes Jack. That’s what stuck.”

  “It fits you. Much better than Jarvis. Or Ablemoor.” I snickered and was rewarded by the sexy upturn at the corner of his mouth that had fascinated me since the first time I’d seen it.

  Yeah, I was in so much trouble. Except he was Sententia and that was trouble I’d promised myself I wouldn’t get into.

  I resolved all over again to keep my distance.

  Chapter Ten

  Carter

  Fridays I had only one morning class, so I spent the afternoon with money. Hypothetical money. Other people’s hypothetical money. I may have owned a bookstore, but numbers were a second language I spoke fluently. No one remembered how, before the Sententia genes had sparked, I’d been best at math.

  My uncle did though. Of course he did. With Alexis’s help, I modeled donation projections. Together we were not only accurate, we were killer at maximizing. I wondered what the world would think if they knew the reason Senator Astor’s fund raising efforts were so successful was two kids who couldn’t legally drink.

  I was in my cube when I heard Uncle Dan coming down the hall. This happened often because my cube was so close to his office. Which was another reason the interns all secretly hated me. It was strange, going from an environment where everyone liked me to one where inherently they didn’t while being essentially the same person. I supposed that was politics.

  I began to suspect I’d made a mistake, majoring in Political Science. I wanted to be good at it. I was good at the science part. But actual politics, I wasn’t cut out for. I added that to my list of self-disappointments. Then, because I was alone and already wallowing, I pulled out the note and stared at it while listening to my uncle approach.

  “Where’s your protégé, Dan?” His companion was from somewhere south of the Mason-Dixon Line, I could tell that much.

  “My nephew Carter, you mean?” he replied. “He’s just across the hall.”

  “No. I thought—”

  “Let me introduce you.”

  I was standing in front of my desk by the time they appeared in my doorway. Uncle’s companion looked close to his age, in a suit even more expensive than his, with the build and tanned face of someone who didn’t sit behind a desk all day.

  “Ah good, you are here.” Uncle Dan stepped forward to embrace me. “How was your trip, son?”

  “Fine, sir, but I’m glad to be back. Headmaster Stewart sends her regards.”

  “Yes, I’m sure she does,” he said, nodding, before he gestured to expensive suit. “Cartwright, this is Harlan Waites.”

  Ah ha. It’s funny how, after my years of genealogy work for the Perceptum, I could close my eyes and picture a man’s entire family tree yet not know what he looked like until that moment. He shook my hand. It was firm, well-practiced. He was born shaking hands.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you, sir,” I said. “My condolences on the loss of your father.” Winston Waites had passed away just a few months ago, after I’d moved. Harlan had taken his seat on the Perceptum Council. That explained why he was here.

  “Likewise, and I appreciate that,” Harlan replied with a solemn nod of his head. He eyed me with keener interest than I liked before turning to my uncle with his grin as wide as the Texas sky. “Daniel, I was hoping to get that tour you’re always promising.”

  Uncle nodded. “Of course, Harlan. Let me ask Marita who’s available.”

  “How about your nephew here? He looks available. Care to show me the sights, young man?”

  I looked toward my uncle, unsure if I should agree immediately or not. Harlan Waites wasn’t exactly a friend. Uncle Dan inclined his head, briefly considering, before nodding to me, “If you can step away?”

  “Of course, sir,” was the only answer I ever gave. “It would be my pleasure.”

  TOURS WERE NOT my usual duty, but I was good at them. I was charming enough for the constituents and flattering enough to the donors and, unlike most everyone else, I knew all the facts. Harlan listened to my spiel all the way through the tunnels, through the Capitol, and up until we stepped outside. It was a beautiful day. Warm, to me. I couldn’t get used to fall in the near-South.

  “So,” Harlan said. “You’re the boy he’s been hiding away in New Hampshire.”

  “Massachusetts, sir.”

  “Yes, right. New England. You’re not who I was expecting.”

  I didn’t know what that meant. “I’ll try to make up for that.”

  He laughed. “No, no. I thought—well, Daniel always has his surprises, doesn’t he?”

  “I suppose he does.” His voice was silky smooth with a Southern lilt that made it easy to underestimate him. Except for the accent, he and my uncle had much in common. No wonder they didn’t really like each other.

  “How are you finding life in the South?”

  “Hot, sir.”

  He laughed, genuinely. “And you’ve never even been to Texas.”

  “Not yet. Where do you recommend I start?”

  “You look like a boy who’d love ranching. Ever ridden a horse?” I was embarrassed to say no. “We’ll have to change that. You walk like you’d be a natural at it. Tell your uncle you need to come visit me. You’ll be a guest of me and my wife.”

  I nodded, knowing this would never happen. I was surprised my uncle had sent me on this errand, alone with Harlan Waites. Either he wanted my opinion on something, or he hadn’t wanted Harlan to question why he’d keep us apart.

  “Speaking of horses,” I said, “in the original plan, the Mall was intended to be half the length and end not with that”—I gestured toward the tall, white spire in the distance—“but a statue of Washington on horseback.”

  Harlan nodded along while I spoke, appearing interested until I finished. “That’s fascinating. But you know I’ve been on this tour before. Maybe we could just talk about some other things, get to k
now each other and all. I feel we’re a little bit like family, but Daniel’s been keeping you quiet up in the cold weather for so long. Jillian used to talk novels about you.”

  In actuality, Harlan was almost family. We had as much relation as my Uncle Dan and I—by blood, none at all—but it wasn’t always about that. In this case, it was about Jillian. She called him Uncle Harlan, but he was technically her cousin. Her mother Angela’s first cousin, the only male in his generation of the Waites and also the oldest. His and Uncle Dan’s complex rivalry ran deep.

  “I didn’t think Jill talked novels about anything.” It still hurt to think about Jill, and still felt bitter when I said her name. I missed her and hated her in the same breath.

  Harlan’s smile melted butter. “About you, she came close. I suppose you know what I can do?”

  “Of course.” And everyone in your bloodline. Harlan Waites was a Sensor with a talent for reading a person’s skills. It’s the point from which I always assumed Jill’s gift branched.

  “You have quite a few skills, son.”

  “I know.”

  “Politicking isn’t one of them.”

  I cleared my throat. “I think I know that too.”

  “You’re charming enough—had a good teacher—but if it isn’t in you, well, it isn’t. I know.”

  “Thank you for the confirmation. Sir.”

  “That’s not why Daniel’s been hiding you though.”

  “Oh?” I was sure he didn’t know why. Unlike Jill, he couldn’t sense Sententia gifts specifically, but skills in a broad sense, like memory or dexterity. If he could read my most secret ability, Uncle Dan would never have introduced us.

  “Nah. You’re dangerous in plenty of other ways, and your uncle doesn’t like to show his cards until he’s ready to play them.”

  For how many times in one conversation, now? I didn’t know how to take what he’d said. I glanced at Harlan from the corner of my eye, but he wasn’t even looking at me. His expression was placid and comfortable. “My uncle thinks more of his family than a deck of cards.”

  “‘Course he does,” Harlan agreed, nodding like it was the most obvious statement. “But see, Carter, you don’t realize you’re in the game. Our granddaddies, and on up, they started it. Daniel and I, we’ve been playing since we were in our cradles. You don’t realize that family are the best cards. You treat them right and protect them, because you can’t just toss them away.”