Tangled Thoughts

by Cara Bertrand

  I took a deep breath and felt…okay. Good, even.

  “Carter?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Now what are you brooding about?”

  “You,” I said, and for the first time, it was mostly true.

  “WHERE ARE WE going again?” I became concerned when the taxi we finally caught stopped on a street in Arlington where Important People lived. An enormous Tudor mansion loomed in front of us, decked in artfully lit cobwebs and flickering pumpkins that were probably professionally carved. Raven figurines with glowing eyes watched our approach from perches all over the trees. “The Rogues and Ravens are here?”

  Lex glanced sideways at me. “Do you seriously listen to none of the talk at the office? This is Janelle Roberts’s party. Everyone wanted an invite. Remember?”

  Fuck. Janelle’s father was the senior senator from Virginia. Every congressional relative and big money donor’s kid between the ages of sixteen and twenty-five would be here, along with their retinues and hangers-on. I hated these parties. I resigned myself as the door man guarding Halloween Wonderland carefully checked his guest list before waving us inside. Almost as soon as we walked through the door, Lex was dragged off by a squealing gaggle of girls dressed in costumes as small or smaller than hers. She disappeared into the artificial fog with a final glimpse of her dark, swinging hair.

  The image danced behind my eyelids, and I couldn’t help thinking of another girl’s raven black hair. For one fleeting second I allowed myself to wonder what Lainey was doing. She’d never choose a costume as overtly sexy as Lex’s. Would she? And if she did, was someone else there to appreciate it?

  I shook my head, unsure how I wanted that question answered. I slipped my jacket back on and ran my fingers over the interior pocket, ensuring my wallet—and the note—were still there. With a promise that I wouldn’t touch it again tonight, I plunged into the party. Finding Lex was a half macabre, half sexy game of hide-and-seek. Ghouls, fools, and sexy-somethings popped up in surprise singles and packs all over the fog-filled mansion.

  “Misch!” I heard her voice, high and excited. A white flash shot into my line of vision, not toward me, but to hug a pretty boy “mechanic” whose hands had obviously never wielded a wrench but did land far too low on Alexis’s back when he kissed her cheek. I didn’t like that at all.

  Who knew I was the jealous type? I’d felt the same way…months ago, right after I’d gotten here. At the time I’d thought it was because I wasn’t used to Lex flirting with someone else. But now here was the feeling again. I really didn’t like how his hand was still resting on her hip.

  “Hey,” I said, inclining my chin as he met my eyes over her shoulder. I looked at his hand and looked back at him.

  “Babe!” Lex squealed. She turned around to hug me, and I left my arm around her shoulders. She was wobbly like she’d had too much punch already and talking louder than usual. “There you are. This is the best party of the year! Have you met Mischa? Wait, of course you have. He played soccer at Andover.”

  On closer inspection, I realized I had. It had been years, and he was older and taller now. His simpering smile was still the same though. “Yeah. Hey,” I repeated.

  “Boo,” came a small voice behind me. It was comic how such a soft noise had all three of us turning around together. Standing there was a ghost. A little blonde wisp of a thing in an ethereal white dress with white-painted face, black-lined eyes, and red lips.

  It was Jillian.

  I closed my eyes and opened them again, but she was still there, smiling a bloody smile.

  Jillian. Here. In front of me.

  As if Lex mentioning her earlier had conjured her, in real life.

  Lex stared at her for a few seconds with her best bitchy eyes, until finally they widened in recognition. “Holy shit!” She looked her up and down. “Where the hell have you been hiding? I thought maybe you were dead.”

  “France,” Jill said, though I knew where she’d been. Hidden away, first at a psyche ward, then boarding school.

  “Mais oui?” Lex replied, eyebrows raised.

  “Father thought it was best I go somewhere nicer. For my recovery, you know.” Casually, she added, “Aussi, les étudiants sont beaucoup plus sophistiquée que dans les États-Unis.”

  Lex’s bitch eyes reappeared even narrower than before, so I could tell whatever Jill had said, she didn’t like it. “Alors, je suppose que vous n’avez rien appris,” she said, and made a cursory glance around. “Oh, Mischa, look! There’s—” She gestured vaguely toward the crowd. “Let’s go get a drink.” And she marched away, dragging her confused but happy acquaintance along behind her.

  I still had not moved.

  “Carter?” Jill said. “How are you?”

  Paralyzed. That’s how I was. Except for the skyrocketing rate of my heartbeats. Blood thundered in my ears and pushed at my temples. Somehow over the noise of it, I heard myself say, “What are you doing here?”

  “What do you mean? Janelle invited me.” She stared up at me with those big blue eyes, wide and innocent-looking as ever. Like she wasn’t an attempted murderer and I didn’t know it. I gripped my stupid sword tightly with both hands, to keep from doing I didn’t know what. Something I’d regret. I let go only long enough to run my hand over my hair because I just couldn’t stop myself. I did it a couple times and felt better.

  “No.” I shook my head, more times than necessary. “I mean, what are you doing here.” I spread my arms and hoped they encompassed what I meant—here, in this house, in this city, in this country.

  She shifted on her feet, tucking a strand of blond hair behind her whitened ear. It was the first time she looked like the Jillian I remembered. “Father wanted me to come home. To tell me the good news. And for the announcement.” She looked back up at me, meeting my eyes in a way that wasn’t like the old Jillian at all.

  I nodded. Of course. I should have known. Since Jill almost died and her father began running for president, Jill’s mother had made a complete about-face in her dealings with Uncle Dan. Some combination of guilt and Sententia solidarity. Everyone needed to support his candidacy, her most of all. Of course Jill would be here.

  But someone should have warned me.

  “I asked Father not to tell you,” Jill said, reading my mind. “I…I’ve missed you. I wanted to surprise you.”

  A harsh laugh I barely recognized escaped my throat. “Congratulations,” I said. “I’m surprised.”

  I meant to go then, but her small hand on my arm stopped me. “Please,” she said. “Please don’t walk away. L-let me say some things.”

  “Why?” My anger boiled over then. I used to love Jill, legitimately love her. Seeing her still triggered those feelings, conflicting with a nearly all-consuming rage I could barely suppress. I’d loved her, and protected her, and she’d tried to take everything from me. “Tell me why I should do that?”

  Simply she said, “Because you can’t make a scene.”

  Fuck. And this was why she’d wanted to surprise me. Here. Harlan Waites’s words came back to me: You have many skills, but politicking isn’t one of them. Maybe it really was in the blood. Even Jill was a million times better at it than I was.

  I took a deep breath and another, running my hand over my head. “You have five minutes.”

  I FOLLOWED HER down hallways, past the bustling kitchen, to a quiet room, a study not decked out for the party. When she tried to shut the door, I stopped her. “No. Leave it open.”

  “But—”

  “I don’t care if it’s not discreet. Leave it open.”

  She nodded. I followed her again to a set of chairs by the window. It was dark outside, so instead I saw the two of us reflected in the glass. I didn’t like my expression. I knew I had a temper, but I’d never considered myself violent. But I’d never been so betrayed by someone either. Looking at Jill, I was afraid. That I would do something terrible and, worse, not regret it.

  We looked at each other for a while, tic
king away another minute. We’d passed the five I’d given her already, and sitting there was torture, which was why I wouldn’t move. I wanted to hear whatever Jill was going to say, knowing it would hurt. It had been a year and a half since I’d seen her. She’d changed. I could tell, even with the makeup. She was small as ever, but older. She was prettier, actually. She sat up straighter.

  “You look good,” she said finally. When I didn’t respond, she took a breath and kept going. “I think you’re even taller. I-I’ve missed you.”

  I laughed, a coughed out sound that was bitter and touched with menace. I felt blood in my cheeks, angry splotches I couldn’t control. Missed me? As if she had the right. “The feeling is not mutual.”

  She sighed. “Isn’t it? You don’t miss me at all?”

  “No.”

  “But I know you. How many people can say that? Can your new girlfriend?”

  “No!” I blurted out, meaning stop, but giving away the truth anyway. Though I’d come close to exposing them, Lex still didn’t know my secrets. “We’re not talking about her. Don’t talk about her. Say what you wanted to say, or I’m leaving.”

  Softly, she told me, “I’m sorry. I know—what I did, I know it was wrong. I’m sorry.”

  “You tried to kill someone. It takes more than sorry to make up for it.”

  “I know,” she squeaked out. She looked up at me from where her hands gripped each other. Her knuckles were so white, they looked painted, like her face. “I’m trying. My doctors—they’re helping. I swear. I needed help. I’m sorry.”

  I nodded, unsure what to say. She did need help. In most ways she hadn’t been punished enough, but in others…Jill may have been resuscitated after Lainey was forced to use her Hangman gift to save herself, but not all of her came back. Though sometimes I fantasized about it, I couldn’t imagine losing my Sententia gifts, like she had. It would be like ripping away vital pieces of myself, an arm or half my soul. Who was I without them? They were part of what defined me, and all Sententia. Curiosity got the better of me.

  “How are you handling your—loss?”

  Jill shifted in her seat. “It’s—” Tears welled in her eyes and she squeezed them shut, grimacing. “It’s hard. I’m not going to lie about it. I forget. I meet someone, and when nothing happens, I think ‘oh, they’re not one of us’ but it’s me.” Her voice cracked. “It’s me who’s not one of us anymore.”

  I opened my mouth. Closed it. I’m sorry, I started to say, but I wasn’t. Not entirely. Maybe you deserve it, I thought next, but did anyone deserve that? Finally, I said, “It sounds hard.”

  A breathy huff-laugh escaped her. “It’s like there’s a little empty piece of me right here”—she touched the center of her chest—“and I can’t find anything to fill in the hole all the way.”

  Bam. She was leaning forward in her seat, looking at me when she said that. Despite everything, she knew I was the one who could understand. And I did; I had the same hole. My hand was halfway toward the note tucked in my jacket pocket when I realized what it was doing. I ran it over my hair instead.

  Jill nodded and sat back, exhausted or maybe satisfied. “So. You know what it’s like.”

  “I suppose I do.” My voice came out like I had sand paper in my throat. I cleared it.

  After a few beats she said casually, “Father is much happier with your current match anyway.”

  “Because I’m happy.”

  Jill grinned, and for the first time ever, I saw the cool madness lurking under her facade. “No,” she said. “Because she’s easy to control.”

  I shot up, the chair behind me making an ugly squeak as it scraped backwards too fast. “Stay away from her.”

  The crazy look slipped away, replaced with Jill’s usual innocence. I shivered. “Gladly,” she said. “Maybe I should say that to you. She’s just a tool. And she’s a bitch. Always has been.”

  “You don’t know her.”

  Jill shook her head. “No. You don’t know anyone.”

  I rocked on my heels as her words punched into me. Without another word, I backed toward the door. I wouldn’t take my eyes off Jill until I was gone. She was standing now too. “I’m sorry, Carter. I’m sorry!” She held out her hands. “This is what I needed to say! I’m trying to make up for what I did, to help you. It’s never been me you need to be protected from. I love—”

  I slammed the door and was gone.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lainey

  It was weird how life worked. A day, a weekend, a single minute, even a single second could change everything, take something from you or give it, maybe even both. When I looked back on it, I’d see that weekend shoved me over a precipice. I’d gained a brother or sister, but lost the feeling of freedom I’d only just started to grasp.

  So much had happened that was out of my control. But it had never been in my control anyway. I couldn’t keep Daniel Astor or the Sententia out of my life. All I could control was me. Grasping that was a different kind of freedom. The question I still hadn’t answered was: who was I? Maybe we spent our entire lives trying to figure it out.

  Halloween was exactly what I needed, the chance to pretend to be someone else, to be anyone.

  “You have brothers and sisters, right?” I asked Serena as we browsed a vintage shop in Cambridge, looking for the final touches for her flapper costume.

  “Yeah, three. Two sisters and a brother.” She picked up a midnight blue cloche from the bin in front of her and held it up.

  “What’s it like?” The thing about my aunt’s impending baby was that I wanted to talk about it but I couldn’t. I shook my head at the hat. “You need a headband,” I said. “Sparkles.”

  “And feathers!” She moved on to a rack of vintage outerwear, stoles and coats and things. “I don’t know. It just is. I’ve always had them, so I don’t know what it would be like without them. Why?”

  “Just curious. I’m the opposite, so I was just…wondering.” I slid my necklace back and forth on its chain.

  Serena glanced up at me, pausing at a fox fur wrap. She held it up. “This is nice.”

  It was rather nice, actually. Average condition, so wearable but not collectible. It was perfect. That is, until I swiped a finger down the fur and a tell-tale hum rose beneath it. Shit. I wavered, not wanting to loose my Grim Diviner senses I’d been suppressing for months, but I was just so tired. Tired of resisting. Tired of everything. If I couldn’t use my gifts for my friend, what good was I?

  I watched the vision for only a second. She passed peacefully, this fur draped around her shoulders and another one across her lap. I thought she might have been the second generation owner. A young girl sat by her side, waiting.

  I shook my head at Serena. “Not that one.”

  “But—”

  “Trust me. We’ll find a nicer one.” I flipped quickly through a few pieces on the rack. “Tell me more about your siblings?”

  “My little sister is my favorite. She’s only nine. She was a surprise, but she’s the best.”

  “I’m sure she is.” I could only hope to be half as cool a big sister as Serena must be.

  “She dances better than me. But I’m boring. Let’s talk about how you are on a first name basis with the guy who might be president.” Right then, her eyes lit on a sparkling beaded bolero, so I didn’t think she saw me flinch. “I knew you were fancy, but that was a surprise. So how did your aunt meet him? At some big DC charity event?”

  “It’s a long story, but the short version is I introduced them.” Much to my chagrin.

  “You did? You get more interesting by the minute.”

  I inspected Serena’s find. The wrap was black and teal with an art deco rose motif, and in below average condition—which is to say, perfect, because the price was reasonable I tapped some of the pulled edges, but no more beads fell off and, good news, no one had died while wearing it. “That’s the one.”

  “Yes! I love this.” She held it in front of her and did a l
ittle pirouette. When she came to a stop she said, “So then how do you know a senator?”

  Different answers ran through my head: he’s my long-lost uncle. He tried to kill me. He’s the leader of the secret organization that wants me to be their assassin. Ultimately what I said was, “He’s my—ex-boyfriend’s uncle.” I stumbled over the ex- part, even though I should have been used to it by now.

  A thoughtful look crossed Serena’s face, like she wanted to say something more, but she shook her head and chuckled. “You really are fancy.”

  “Fancy enough to wear this?” Desperate for a change of subject, I pulled the last coat off the rack, a fluffy white monstrosity that looked like it was made of Abominable Snowman hide and had probably belonged to a seventies porn star.

  “If anyone is fancy enough to wear that, it’s you.” She slipped it over my shoulders. The lining was expensive—the coat was expensive—and it fit me perfectly. Serena laughed again. “That’s so ridiculous, it’s actually great. It looks good with your hair.”

  With a grin, I said, “I’m buying it.”

  Next to the register was a rack of kitschy, retro cards that I spun idly while we waited to cash out. Serena pointed to one with Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. “You should totally go as Dorothy for Halloween. You’ve already got her whole innocent-sexy thing down perfectly.”

  Laughing, I said, “I already have a costume, but maybe next year.” I was about to spin the carousel again, when I noticed the card just below Dorothy. If not for Serena, I’d have missed it. On the front was a ridiculous snowman, wearing sunglasses and flowered shorts, carrying a surf board. I hesitated before I pulled it from the rack. Inside it read Feliz Navidad! That was it. I closed my eyes and held the card to my chest before I plucked out an envelope.

  Serena watched me curiously. “Early Christmas shopping?”