Sentinel

by Emerald Dodge

  Benjamin tilted my head up with his hand. “Why didn’t you tell me this?” He looked broken.

  “Because you got angry at me before the tribunal for not fighting back against my father and the elders. I thought you’d get angry at me again for not fighting back against Matthew.”

  Benjamin made a choked gasping noise and then blurred to the far side of the room, where he leaned against the wall with one arm, breathing raggedly. He spun around, stricken. “You thought I’d get mad at you for being sexually assaulted?”

  “Well, yeah. You screamed at me about being brainwashed because I wouldn’t leave the cult, right? I didn’t realize I could leave the cult before the tribunal. I didn’t realize I could leave the cult after the tribunal. What’s the difference?”

  Benjamin’s eyes darted back and forth while he processed what I was saying. “You… really thought…” He looked up at me, still horrified. “I messed up. I can’t believe you thought I’d be mad at you. And Ember’s right. What Matthew did was just as bad as what Patrick did.” He sank onto another hospital bed.

  I walked to his side and sat next to him again. “I know now that we were in a cult. I sort of understand that it’s not my fault. It took a while to sink in, but I get it.”

  His eyes were damp. “What finally convinced you?”

  “Dean.”

  Benjamin flinched.

  I shook my head. “Don’t get upset. It’s not like that. Dean explained that we were in a cult, and I was able to accept it because he didn’t make me feel like absolute crap when he was saying it. But… I do need to talk to you about Dean.”

  He averted his eyes. “You’re together now. I gathered that when you kissed.” He hid his face in his hands. “I screwed it up between us. I don’t blame you for going with him. I deserve this. I’m not mad, I swear.”

  “No, we’re not together.” It was my turn to tilt his head up, and I pressed my forehead to his. “I was trying to tell you about Matthew right before you got angry about the rose. I was so upset with you because of that, I kissed him after the raid. But all I could think about was you. He thought it meant something, but I told him today that it didn’t. There’s nothing between us. I don’t want Dean, sweetheart. I just want you, if you’ll take me back. I’m so sorry for kissing him.” My lips brushed his. “I love you.”

  He gave me a desperate kiss. “You’re not going to love me anymore when I tell you the truth about Baltimore. You’re not going to want to take me back.”

  “Please tell me,” I begged. “I can’t stand any more secrets.”

  He hid his face in his hands again. “I’m not the heroic man you think I am. I made you think that, and I’m sorry.” He looked up at me. “I’m so sorry, Jillian. I’m so sorry that you had to find out from Artemis. I never wanted you to know.”

  I stroked his cheek. “Know what?”

  Benjamin jumped up and leaned against the wall, hugging himself tightly and gazing out the window. He was still shaking.

  “There are dozens of supervillain families, but the oldest ones have specialties. The Henseys are assassins and hitmen. The Edges will traffic anything you want. The Sniders are arms dealers, but also dip into cybercrime. The Rowes are thieves and kidnappers. The Peery family produces terrorists. The Trents are…” He took a deep breath. “We’re information dealers. Hacking, spying, corporate espionage. Whatever information you want, we can get. It’s been like this for nearly a century.”

  “Is that what you were doing when Marco and I caught you and Beau?”

  “Yeah. Working for the Howards to find JM-104 is the bread and butter of every supervillain family. Mom and Dad were chasing a lead on the formula at the bank the day we met. The night you caught me and Beau, we were there taking samples of some compound for testing. We do that a lot—always looking to see what Bell is cooking in case it’s more JM-104. I never knew it could take away our powers, though. We don’t ask questions.”

  “That’s not so bad,” I said gently. “I figured that much, actually. That’s not even particularly grotesque. Why did you feel that you had to hide that from me?”

  “Jillian, we’re information dealers.” His voice had grown cold and he looked at me, his eyes veiled. “And my family will use any means possible to get information. That includes ‘enhanced interrogation.’”

  There was an interminable pause.

  “You mean torture.”

  “Yes. If someone is unwilling to part with information, we’re the ones to call. Over the years, my family has interrogated dozens, even hundreds of people, all for a price. There was only one time when the Trents took it upon themselves to question someone without being hired to do so.”

  His words had taken on an odd tone. I tilted my head to the side. “Who, sweetie?”

  He winced. “I’m not sweet. Nothing about this is sweet.”

  “Benjamin, please stop being evasive. Who was it?”

  He hugged himself. “Your grandmother’s team met their ends in my grandfather’s basement.”

  Benjamin and I stared at each other for an eternity while his words sunk into my brain one by one.

  I stood abruptly and strode to the other end of the room, pausing at a windowsill. I stared out at the snow, unable to name the emotion that threatened to overtake me. Disgust? Fear? Wonder at the sheer irony of our relationship? I brushed my fingers through the dust on the sill, picking my words. I loved Benjamin, and he hadn’t killed my grandmother. But his family was responsible for the cult, in a way. That hurt.

  Without looking away from the snow, I said, “Have you ever tortured someone?”

  He laughed without humor. “Oh no, that was Beau’s job. Beau and my parents, and sometimes the Rowe twins, because they’re sociopaths who enjoy it. Eleanor got out early and became a professional student, then disappeared out west. I was only called in at the end, or when things went too far.”

  “To kill them?” Somehow, I could see Benjamin as the angel of mercy, or death, depending on how I chose to view it.

  “No. To heal them.”

  I turned around, not bothering to hide my horror. “Making the torture—”

  “Last forever, or until my family got what they wanted and finally put the poor bastard out of his or her misery. It could go on for weeks. It often did, because of me.”

  I moved to go to his side, but his expression darkened so much I stepped back. For the first time since meeting Benjamin Trent, I felt as if I were in the company of a supervillain. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

  “Yes.” He looked back out the window. “I was the one who healed them, and eventually I asked to be the one to kill them. I comforted myself that in killing them, I was giving them the mercy that I’d denied them by extending the torture. With that reasoning, killing became easy. A snapped neck here, a bullet there, all in the name of mercy.

  “Then I started killing people on jobs, but only if they shot first, attacked first. Then it was because they might be a threat, and the responsible thing was to mitigate the threat. I began to get along with my family better. I began to enjoy the jobs we did, caring less and less about the people who got hurt. I didn’t realize it at the time, but when I began to justify the lives I ended, I began to justify every crime I committed. It was so easy, Jillian.

  “I stopped daydreaming about being a superhero because, hey, that was never going to happen. Now I realize that I subconsciously didn’t see myself as a hero, or even good. I still admired you all, though. I kept reading the books and hanging out on the forums, pretending that I wasn’t covered in blood. I told myself that if I ever faced a superhero, I’d run instead of fight.”

  He heaved a sigh. “And then, one night about two years ago, Beau, Eleanor, and I were on a job in Baltimore. I’d started carrying a sidearm a few months before that. All the Trent kids were trained to shoot from the time we could pull a trigger, but I’d never cared for them. But I was packing heat that night, and then I saw Artemis holding Eleanor.” He finally
looked at me. “I didn’t even think about shooting her. I just did. One second she was holding Eleanor, the next, she was on the ground and I was holding the gun.

  “I never even thought about it. That’s how numb to killing I was. I tried to murder a superhero who wasn’t even trying to hurt me or Eleanor. I knew she was just going to detain my sister, but she was an inconvenience, so she had to go. That was the worst moment of my life—the moment I realized that no matter how much I lied to myself, I was nothing more than a killer who needed to be stopped. I was the reason superheroes exist.” He covered his eyes. “And then you told me that not only did you know about that night, but you’d found out from my victim.”

  I bit my lip. Benjamin technically wasn’t different than any other supervillain, but my brain rejected the idea, unable to connect his name with the word “murderer.”

  Perhaps it was because I, too, was covered in blood.

  “And the Westerners?”

  “It was me or them. And during the attack a few days ago, it was you and Ember or them. Four shots, four kills.”

  “I’m waiting,” I said softly.

  His brow furrowed. “For what?”

  “For the revelation that’s supposed to make me not love you anymore.”

  His jaw dropped. “Jillian, I’m a murderer!”

  “I have a trail of blood behind me, too,” I whispered, the scarlet snow fresh in my mind. “And unlike you, I enjoyed every minute of it. I beat Patrick to death. I was going to torture Matthew to death. I almost killed Peter, but the thought of you stopped me. But then after we started fighting and everything fell apart, Dean told me to focus on the anger and pain and let it fuel me. I killed the Westerners in the sorting station while imagining that they were all the people I hate.

  “I can tell myself all day long that each one of those deaths or near-deaths was justified, and maybe they were. But when I’m in pain, I cause others pain. I was cruel to Patrick and Matthew and Peter, making me no better than they are. When I was angry at you, I kissed Dean and almost asked him to have sex with me, knowing it would destroy you if you ever found out. In that way, I’m just like every other superhero leader who has caused pain to punish their team.”

  “You’re not like them. You’re not.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  Benjamin was in front of me in an instant, his nose touching mine. “Don’t say that. Don’t.”

  “I still love you,” I breathed. “I can’t believe you still love me after all I’ve said and done.”

  “Why do you love me, though? I’ll never understand.”

  I lifted his palm to my mouth and kissed it. “I love these gentle hands. These healing hands.” I entwined my fingers with his. “You can kill and destroy with them, but you’ve chosen to heal and build.” I placed my other hand on his chest. “This heart. Your beautiful heart.” I looked into his eyes. “You saw the girl in the café and sat down next to her. You healed her. You’ve been healing her ever since.” I kissed his eyelids.

  “You’re not disgusted by me?”

  “No, sweetheart. I just wanted you to be honest with me. That’s what I always wanted.”

  Benjamin broke away. “That’s it? You’re just going to look the other way? If I were someone else, you wouldn’t. I’m a murderer. That means something, Jillian.”

  “You’re on my team. You’re my family. That means something more.”

  Benjamin turned his back to me. “No, I’m not your family. I’m always going to be a Trent. They’re my family, and I can’t get away from them. God, I get that now. Talking to you has helped me see it. Did Eleanor tell you that she wanted to recruit me into the Sentinels to be their medic? That’s why she came to Saint Catherine last June. Her whole ex-boyfriend thing was just a dumb story she cooked up. Apparently, she and Dean had a fight about a stupid decision he’d made, and she got mad and decided to go get me. She told me the euthanasia-and-lube-rack stuff because, as you’ve pointed out, I’m an arrogant ass who—”

  “Yes, she told me. She told me everything.”

  He snorted. “I’ll never get away from them. They’re going to come back one day and give me what’s coming to me. We’re all murderers, and we all have violent ends coming. Even Eleanor, though I hope she’s able to escape it.”

  “What are you getting at?” I asked cautiously.

  He turned back to me. “I love you, but I’m not staying on the team, for everyone’s protection. I’ve been thinking about this since I found out that you knew about Artemis. My past will always come back to find me. And you were right, my presence on the team will complicate any federal investigation. It’s better if I just go.”

  It was the first time he’d said he loved me, and it had been followed by a “but.”

  His fear of his family and their revenge overshadowed his love for me. His terror on the roof of the school in August made more sense now, as did his request to the police to fake his death. I’d wondered what could make brave Benjamin Trent run and hide from his family, and now that I knew he was afraid of the torments they had in store, I understood. He loved me, but he feared his family more.

  What could I do to show him that I was never going to allow him to face his family’s wrath alone? What would convince him that I would defend my teammate, and the man I loved, to my last breath?

  I had just one idea.

  “To my last breath,” I murmured to myself.

  “Sorry, what?”

  Instead of answering, I stood up and walked to a glass cabinet. I opened it and pulled out a roll of gauze. Benjamin quickly scanned my body. “Are you bleeding? What’s wrong?”

  I walked up to him and held up my hand.

  He hesitated, then touched his palm to mine. I began to wind the gauze around our hands.

  “Jillian?”

  “From this moment, to my last breath, I swear to stand by your side and defend you,” I said quietly, continuing to wind the gauze.

  Benjamin stared at our hands. His expression melted from confusion to comprehension. “Jillian…”

  “I will be faithful to you,” I continued.

  “I will be faithful to you,” he repeated, barely more than a whisper.

  “And united in spirit and strength.”

  “And united in spirit and strength.”

  I finished winding the gauze. “You’re on my team. You’re my family. That means something more.”

  “Did we just get married?” He was staring at our hands, awestruck.

  “Superhero married. I know it doesn’t mean anything to you, but it does to me. You’re a Trent, right? Well, the way I see it, I’m a Trent now, too. I love you, and I’m not going to let you face your family alone. I am your family now, and I think you’ll find that the others are ready and willing to fight for you.”

  Benjamin slowly unwound the gauze, leaving our hands together long after he was done. “I won’t leave,” he said finally, entwining our fingers again. “I’m not going anywhere. And it does mean something to me. I love you, Jillian Trent.”

  There was no “but.”

  A candle flame of happiness burst into being in my heart, illuminating the dark cavity to which I’d become accustomed. I threw my arms around him and kissed him with renewed passion. He embraced me with equal fervor, kissing me as he’d never kissed me before.

  I pulled away from him and tugged off my shirt, blushing a little. “I know I can say no. So can you. But now I’m saying yes.”

  Instead of pushing me away, he smiled shyly and reached out to me.

  35

  I lay next to Benjamin as he slept, his arm draped across my waist under the blanket. Listening to his slow, even breathing, I wondered if he was dreaming.

  I’d dreamed of Matthew. Twice in the night I’d woken up from a nightmare, the aching emptiness in my chest painful and numbing at the same time, the candle’s flame extinguished by the force of the nightmares.

  Now, as the milky light of the midwinter sunrise streamed in through
the white curtains, I curled up under the covers of the narrow bed and berated myself for my lack of gratitude. I’d ended my weird dalliance with Dean. I’d reconciled with Benjamin and even married him—sort of—and then we’d consummated our marriage. We would assault the Westerner compound, then my team would return to Saint Catherine. Things were falling into place.

  So why was I still sad?

  Benjamin began to stir. He groaned, and his fingers brushed my back. “Good morning, Mrs. Trent.”

  “Morning,” I whispered.

  He propped himself up on his elbow. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I just don’t feel good.”

  Benjamin tenderly pulled me onto my back, so we could face each other. “You never told me what sickness Ember thought you had. You don’t look like you have the flu. What are your symptoms?”

  “Ember says I have depression.”

  Benjamin paused, then sat up, the sheet falling away from his bare chest. “Why does she think you’re depressed?” He sounded concerned.

  I couldn’t meet his eyes. “Two nights ago, I walked out into the snowstorm. I wanted to die out there. Marco and Ember saved me. We talked about how I was feeling, and I didn’t want to die anymore. But Ember says I’m depressed.”

  Benjamin looked at me without speaking for a long time. Finally, he brushed a lock of hair out of my face. “That was right after I said that I didn’t want you to come to me for healing unless you were dying.”

  “That’s not why I walked out into the snow. I don’t really know why. I think I felt stuck and seeing Reid’s wall was the last straw. I was tired, and I wanted to sleep. I couldn’t talk to you. Ember and Reid broke up.”

  Benjamin blinked several times and looked down. “When we go back to Saint Catherine, would you consider seeing a therapist? There are therapists who are trained to help people get out of cults and… and how to cope with being a sexual assault survivor.” He stroked my hair again. “I will never forgive myself for not listening to you when you needed me. I’ll make sure you get the help you need.”