He doesn’t leave. I sigh and rub my hand across my face to banish the tear. I don’t want to do argue about this right now. I’m about to go inside and lock the door when Braden speaks.
“What happened today … the Guardians purposely turned Saia into a Sihir so she would kill you, didn’t they? You kept mentioning them, you even told me about what you knew, but I didn’t think it would ever happen. I guess I never thought I’d really be confronted with a Sihir. They’re are real, and the Guardians know how to create them and use them for their own purposes. I’ve heard the stories and rumors, of course, but before today I never really believed they were real, or understood what they could actually do. Even if it was true, I never thought the Guardians would do something like that. They killed an innocent woman just so they could use her as a weapon.” His body sinks in on itself. I think he’s just realized how truly corrupt his “brothers” actually are. I walk over to him and sit down on the hood of his car.
“You honestly didn’t know about the Guardians using Sihirs?”
“I knew they claimed they could do it,” Braden says, “but I thought it was just an empty threat to scare people.”
“You’re too good for the Guardians, too moral. I’ve dealt with them my whole life. As soon as Milo’s mom told us about them, I knew they would use Sihirs against me if they could. The only thing that’s held them back so far is that they’re as scared of them as we are. It’s the only reason the Guardians didn’t kill all the Ciphers as soon as they found out who I was,” I say.
I feel bad that I never really tried to prepare Braden for what might happen. I honestly thought he knew more than he pretended, but didn’t want to admit he was a part of those kinds of dark secrets. It isn’t a topic I enjoy discussing, but I need to now.
“I know the only reason they still don’t kill all the Ciphers is because you have to sacrifice another human in order to kill a Sihir, and being able to send them after someone in particular is very unreliable. I think the only reason it worked on me was because Saia and I were already pretty close. She knew my spirit, and even as a Sihir she could have tracked me down right away. Without being able to do that on a regular basis, they have to sacrifice innocent victims. They have no problem doing it, but finding the right one to sacrifice probably isn’t easy.”
Braden sits down next to me. I can feel the hurt he’s experiencing as well. It eats away at me and I know it must be ten times worse for him. Knowing that the group you once dedicated your life to is misguided in their tactics is something completely different from finding out they are willingly murdering not only their prisoners but innocent victims as well.
“That’s not true,” he says. His pain suddenly starts to recede and is replaced by confusion.
“What’s not true?”
He pulls away enough to really look at me. “You didn’t have to sacrifice anyone to kill Saia’s Sihir. You destroyed her spirit. That’s not supposed to be possible, not a spirit like that, not one that isn’t connected to a body. You shouldn’t have been able to do that.”
“I almost didn’t, remember?” I look down at my shoes. Talking about Saia and thinking about how close I came to dying today steals what’s left of my strength and resistance. My head drops against his shoulder and I soak up the peace being this close to him brings me. “Braden, if you hadn’t been there, I probably would have been dead, too.”
Braden slips his arm around my shoulder. “I may have exaggerated a little when I said that. I definitely protected you from getting hurt when I shielded you, but you probably would have survived without it. My shield isn’t that powerful. You’re so much stronger than I realize most of the time. If you could pull your spirit out and hold in it the physical world—something no one else has ever been able to do before—and do what you did to the Sihir, you could have survived the blast.”
“Still,” I say, not all that comfortable with this topic, “it’s not like I want to try it again just to see if you’re right.”
“No, never again,” Braden demands, “but it makes me wonder what else you can do. How many other impossible things can Libby Sparks accomplish?”
His words strike a sensitive nerve in me. I turn to his embrace and bury my face in his jacket as I remember what my dad attempted to do. Performing a Serqet is supposed to be impossible, too. No one has ever been able to steal another person’s talents. Would my dad have been the first if I hadn’t interrupted him? If he had, would it have been because of his power or mine? The memory of the horrible pain I went through the night he died makes me hope I will never find the answer.
“Braden,” I ask, “what do you really know about me?”
“What do you mean?” he asks, even though I think he knows.
I pull away and look him straight in the eye. “You’re a Guardian, Braden. You said you knew about my destiny. The Guardians have to have some kind of idea about what I’m going to do if they plan on stopping me. What have you been told about me?”
Braden’s whole body takes on a nervous posture. He looks away. “This isn’t something I can talk about with you right now.”
“I thought you said I could trust you.”
“You can, Libby,” he says as he looks at me again.
“Then tell me what you know. Why would you want to keep it from me? You get mad at me when I put myself at risk like I did today, but you’re doing the same thing by hiding what you know.” I don’t want to attack him for this, but I’m not willing to wait anymore.
Looking down, he pretends to be interested in the thread count of his jeans. He doesn’t look up when he says, “I can’t tell you, Libby. I want to, but I can’t.”
The emphasis he puts on the last word is a hint, something to remind me of what I already know. “You swore a Guardian promise, didn’t you?”
“The Guardians don’t demand your Oath, but they do demand this. The first day I was recruited, they laid everything out and said I wouldn’t be accepted unless I promised not to reveal anything I had just heard to anyone outside the Guardians,” he says.
“Does anyone ever refuse?” I ask.
“If they do, I doubt they leave that room alive.”
I shudder at the thought of young men and women being slaughtered simply because they don’t want to be responsible for such heavy secrets. “How much do you know, Braden?”
“Not everything, but enough to matter, I think. And some conjecture, for what it’s worth. It’s going to take another impossible feat to get me to tell you any of it, though.”
Impossible feat, huh? My mother said those exact same words to me once. I had completely forgotten about that, it was so long ago. My lips turn up in a smile, making Braden frown even deeper. I’m not sure it will work. The two tactics aren’t exactly the same, but I think they might be similar enough to warrant an attempt. My mom used her Naturalism to trap my foot inside her marble floor a few months ago. That led to my breaking my ankle, but I’ve learned her trick, and many others like it, and will be ready to use it against my enemies when they come after me. Now she has given me another tidbit I can use without her even knowing she’s done so. If Hell freezes over and I actually find myself speaking to her again, I’ll have to thank her. If this actually works, that is.
Braden is starting to get concerned. I brush off his worry and say, “Come inside with me. I want to try something.”
He follows me slowly. “Is this going to be anything like what you did today?”
“No.” I hope not. Nothing bad happened the first time I did this. I open my door and let Braden in. He stands in the middle of the room unsure of what to do.
I really wish I had a couch. I’m stuck directing him to the bed. Kicking off my shoes, I sit on the rumpled comforter and wait for him to join me. Even without looking up, I can feel him step back from the bed. He’d be more than happy to join me here for other reasons. His reluctance right now really annoys me. It’s been too long of a day.
“What? Now you don’t trust me?
” I demand.
“I’m just … concerned.”
“Because of today? Braden, I’m not going to hurt you.” I’ll stop if there’s any hint of harming him. It should work.
Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Braden says, “Not just because of today. I’ve seen you do some amazing things. I know you’re powerful. I also know that you don’t always understand what you’re doing with that power.”
“That’s hardly fair. Just because I struggle with Spiritualism doesn’t mean I’m as flaky with my other talents. I’ve spent years practicing this stuff. Sure, I don’t know everything, but there are things I do know very well.” Granted, I’ve only ever done this once before, but I really need to know what he knows.
It actually hurts a little to see him doubt me. I was desperate today. I had to do what I did. I want to find out his secrets, but not at the price of hurting him. At one time that would have been worth the risk, but not anymore. Finally, Braden sits down on the bed across from me. “What do you want to do?”
“Did you know that Concealers can bind someone to the truth?” I ask. Braden raises one eyebrow in question. “It’s not quite the same as what Guardians do when they promise on their emblem, but it’s similar. The strength of the binding depends on the Concealers’ power. It can fade after a while if it’s not strong enough, or if the Concealer wants it to go away. Reporters use it a lot to get the information they want out of sources, although I don’t think any of them would actually admit it.”
“I know the reporters were on your tail for a while, but …”
I shake my head. “No, it wasn’t the reporters I learned this from. It was my mom. She tried to bind me to tell her the truth once. I can’t even remember what I’d done, but I refused to speak to her after she put the binding on. She sent me to my room, which was a huge mistake. All she did was give me time to figure out how to get rid of the binding.”
“And I’m guessing you did?” Braden asks.
“Of course,” I say. I can’t help laughing at the memory. “After I dissolved her binding, I came back down and said I was ready to tell her what happened. I lied, but she believed every word.”
“How old were you?”
“Nine.”
Braden shakes his head. I’ve never met an adult who’s actually admitted knowing how to wiggle out from under a Concealers’ binding. I don’t know whether I’m the only person capable of doing it or not, but I’d guess I was the only nine-year-old who could.
The feel of Braden’s hands slipping into mine makes me slightly woozy with my defenses as frail as they already are. Or maybe I just don’t want to resist him as badly as I once did. I refuse to figure out which one it is. “Well,” he says, making me refocus, “at least you’ve done something similar to this before. That makes me feel better.”
“Gee, thanks.”
At least he’s willing to let me try. I had to work to convince Milo to let me try performing a second Inquest on him too. Getting rid of my mom’s attempt at controlling me required a heavy dose of my own Concealment talent. I had to locate the binding locked around the memory of what I was being questioned about and systematically tear it down. Concealment is all about finding and revealing. My mom tried to use hers to find out the truth behind what I was telling her, but I used it to find the restriction she had put on me and restore the true balance in my mind. I don’t see why I can’t do something similar with Braden.
Tapping my Perception and Concealment both, I take a deep breath and begin by placing my hands on either side of Braden’s face. Concealment works with Perception’s ability to connect with the mind and helps me search for the barrier keeping Braden from telling me his secrets. The fact that every inch of Braden’s being feels intimately familiar to me makes finding the barrier quite easy. Lodged deep in the memory center of his mind is the information I desperately need.
“How are you doing, Braden?” I ask quietly. My voice sounds distant and willowy. So does his.
“I feel fine. Did you find the promise?”
“Yes.” That was the easy part. The next step isn’t going to be so simple. Already I can sense the differences in this and what my mother did to me. Hers was put there by force, dependent on her maintaining the compulsion. Braden made his promise voluntarily. The strength of the barrier lies within him. Unfortunately, his simply deciding he no longer wants to keep the promise won’t lessen the barrier. The commitment he had when he made the promise is irrevocable.
“Braden, I’m going to try to get around the promise now. If you start to feel any kind of pain, if anything doesn’t feel right, let me know right away, okay? No macho heroics on this. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Macho heroics?” he laughs. “Who do you think you’re talking to, Lance or Milo?”
My smile almost breaks into a laugh. “Whatever. All you Guardians are the same. Fast cars, big egos, hero complexes. I know the type.”
“Fast cars, definitely. I don’t know about the other two.”
“Ha. Be quiet. You’re making me lose my focus.” Really, I just don’t want to admit that he’s right. Yes, he is adamant that we should be together, but I don’t think that has much to do with ego. And even if he does have a hero complex, I’m frequently in need of a hero. And he makes a yummy hero. Memories of Braden without his shirt on send shivers down my spine.
“Are you cold?” Braden asks.
The image of his sculpted body and sinuous movements flies out of my mind. “Nope,” I say quickly.
Back to work.
Concealment helped me find the promise, but I can tell right away it won’t do anything to break this kind of barrier. Now it’s mainly up to Perception. I attack it as I would a lie, searching it for distortions and abnormalities. Knowing truth from lies has become second nature to me. It’s been a while since I’ve had to work this hard, though. The minutes draw on for quite a while before I finally find what I’m looking for. The barrier is wrapped around the memory—not physically, of course, but tangible enough that I can sense it. Furthest from the outer surface there is a dimple, a weakness. With a lie, I would simply start unraveling from that point. I know at once that the same tactic won’t work here. Lies feel more like webs spun over the truth. This feels like a solid encasing, like a glass bubble.
My only chance is to get in through the weak spot. Thinning my Perception as much as possible, I start to probe. Braden shows no reaction at first. Only when I feel my talent finally pierce the surface does he flinch. I barely scratched the promise. There’s still a ways to go before I’ll reach the memory. I push a little harder. Braden squirms, but it’s barely noticeable this time. He doesn’t ask me to stop, so I keep going. Bit by bit, I wriggle my way through the barrier. Every other thought and sensation falls away as I spend all my effort to break through. When I finally push past the promise, my body shudders in relief. Immediately, I am swallowed up by a rush of images and emotions.
Excitement quavers through the vision of a younger Braden walking into a utilitarian room. Not what I was expecting for the most highly paid government service in the world. He sits down at a plain metal desk and a military-looking man marches in and slaps a stack of papers down in front of him. Braden starts reading eagerly. I skim through most of the memory. Policies and procedures aren’t useful to me right now. Those weren’t the secrets Braden was meant to keep. The stack of paper dwindles down to a single sheet.
I look over Braden’s shoulder and find exactly what I’ve been looking for.
Words of Idris, Prime Seeker, 1257 BC
Her birth will be the beginning of our destruction,
An unseen threat to everything we are.
Power and Talent greater than anything seen by this world will blossom in her hands.
Alone, she will unlock the deadly secrets of this age.
Her assault will begin slowly,
One small prick, one gained asset,
But will grow to a raging onslaught.
Her migh
t will slice into our ranks where we think we are safest.
One will try to take everything from her and fail,
But she will learn the secret of his betrayal.
She will learn the value of destruction, of gathering power,
And will turn it against us.
We cannot stop her.
Cassia the Destroyer will be the end of our world.
Chapter 2
4
Nobody Ever Does
I slam the sheet of paper down on his desk and glare at him. He looks up calmly, and says, “Good afternoon, Libby.”
“You knew about this the whole time, didn’t you?” I demand.
Mr. Walters rubs his wrinkled chin thoughtfully. His eyes scan the copied prophecy. He’s too well trained to show any real reaction, but there is a subtle glint in his eyes. “How did you get this?”
“I got it from Braden.”
“Impossible,” Mr. Walters says. “Braden could no more speak or write of this than I could. To answer your question, of course I knew. Every Guardian does. And every Guardian is bound never to reveal what they know. How did you really get your hands on this?”
Leaning in so he can have a clear view of my seriousness, I say again, “I got it from Braden, but I never said he told me about it.”
About to brush off my words, he stops and more carefully considers what I just said. It’s odd that I can sense the tiniest hint of fear clouding his thoughts. “There’s no way, Libby. Not even you can break a Guardian promise. You had to get it from somewhere else.”
“Idris himself said I would have power and talents greater than anyone has ever seen,” I argue.
“No. Guardian promises can’t be broken, Libby. They just can’t.”
Given that he abandoned his brothers, you would think he’d be excited at the prospect of getting out from under the promises he made to them. I’m not entirely sure Mr. Walters is sane, though. He did offer to kill me the first day we met.
Secret of Betrayal: Book Two of The Destroyer Trilogy Page 24
