The Truth Never Told A Lie

Chapter 9.

Long chapter coming up!!! <3 

I suppose I must apologize for not introducing him sooner. You see, Roy is my brother. My older brother, to be precise. Six foot two. Seventeen. Blond hair. Hyper-masculine. Plays football. That's my brother. But he's not exactly my friend. More like a secret bodyguard. And because he's supposed to be at school, he can protect me in school. I could hardly wait to watch him nail these twerps.

Matt's face went almost completely white at the sound of Roy's voice. And I had never seen Clay with such a light complexion. I faced them boldly, their faces inches from mine. Roy stood right behind them. They shot me look of hatred and malice, then turned and fled through the open door. I smiled momentarily. The cowards! Roy's face was stern.

"You can't cause that kind of trouble, Emily."

"Carson was starting a fight! I was trying to stop major damage to the face of another human being." I countered. Wow, that sounded so stupid.

"Carson can play by his own rules. You can't. You know who you're working for, and you can't waste your resources protecting those people." He motioned to my purse. I relaxed my grip on the Taser. "Fine."

Roy stared at the floor for a while. Then he looked up. Nothing prepared me for the tears I saw on his face. He looked into my eyes and I could see in his a glimmer of doubt. I wanted to ask what he was so upset about, but he turned and exited the room before I had the chance to ask. I stood there, in the art room, back against the wall for quite some time, thinking about Roy. A memory resurfaced. I closed my eyes, picturing it in my mind.

It was Show & Tell day when I was six. I was carrying my project to school. I had stayed up half the night working on it; a clay modal of a log with two otters carefully balanced on it. I remember being super excited because otters were my favourite animals. I had stayed up really late the night before, making an adjustment to them. Roy was laughing and chatting with his friend, walking ahead of me. He was eight then. Then a couple of really mean kids from my class came up and started teasing me about the modals. I tried to ignore them, but then one of them reached out and knocked the otters out of my hands.

"What's going on?" My brother yelled at them. He ran toward us and the mean kids took off running. I started to cry. Roy bent down and picked up the otters; the log was still safe in my hands. They had fallen into some mud and one of the tails was broken off. I cried even harder. Roy grabbed a water bottle out of his backpack and knelt down to rinse off the mud. "No!" I called. "It's made of clay! You'll ruin it!" He listened to me and screwed the lid back on the bottle, and then picked up the otters again and began to wipe the mud off... using his best school shirt. "Won't mom get upset?" I asked.

"Yes, she might. But that's OK." He continued wiping off the otters then smiled at me. "Even a knight gets his shining armour dirty." I smiled through my tears as he worked the otter's tail back onto its body. Roy walked me all the way to school and even helped me carry my project. Roy protected me so much then. But now, I wondered if he felt helpless as if he didn't feel he could really protect me.... Now that I worked for the FBI.

"Hi, Emily." A voice called me out of my reverie.

My eyes snapped open and I found myself staring at Tate Carlson. "What are you doing here?"

"Are you okay?" He looked at my hands. They were tightly clenched. "I hope you're not planning on trying to cream me again."

"I won't. But stop sneaking up on me. It's getting on my nerves! What are you doing here?" I repeated.

"Oh, just thought I'd say 'thank you' for stopping Carson. But, please, don't get into my fights. I can handle him."

I laughed. "Ha, you didn't look like you could handle him back there! He had it in for you. Considering what I know about him, he could have even killed you if he wanted to. What did you do?"

He shrugged. "Doesn't matter."

"No, really, what did you do?" I persisted.

"Nothing!"

I gave up interrogation and looked into his eyes. Something I've learned is that if a criminal doesn't give an answer, I can still get it out of them.

When I looked into his eyes, I could rewind the scenario.

Tate was talking to Carson. "Stop bullying Emily Wilkes." Carson laughed and narrowed his eyes, raising his fist. "That's her own problem."

"No, it's yours," Tate replied calmly. Carson pushed Tate.....

I glanced away from Tate, staring at the floor. "You didn't need to stand up for me. Why did you do it?"

"I needed to."

"But why?"

He shrugged and kept his mouth closed. I looked back into his eyes, determined to get to the bottom of this. It was then that I saw something I hadn't seen before. I froze. An entire conversation was being replayed in front of me. I slowed my pace so I could catch the words.

There was a person with a black moustache and a badge. He was talking to Tate:

Moustache: "Are you sure you can handle her? She is pretty powerful."

Tate: "Of course I can. Besides we need to close the deal on Markon."

Moustache: "You must hurry. We're running out of time. We depend on you."

Tate: "You have my word. I can handle Emily Wilkes. No problem. Before long, we'll be working side by side. She'll eventually know what's going on."

Moustache: But are you positive she's the right one for the Job? Wouldn't you rather have....?"

Tate: "Without a doubt. Markon is sunk! Now, about the......"

I wanted to see more, but Tate looked away. I felt like I was going to start hyperventilating, but I was numb with shock. Why on earth hadn't I seen this before? Was my ability weakening? I couldn't believe I had trusted him.

"Who are you?" I whispered. Tate turned to me inquisitively. "What are you doing to me?" I shouted this time.

I picked up my purse, which had slid from my hands and onto the floor. I ran from the room, ignoring his calls. I rushed into fifth period, which for me was math class. I sat down and opened my books. A tear fell from my eye, but I angrily swept it away. Several people looked at me curiously. I didn't care.

Mr Kestrel's voice began its drone of 'explaining new concepts'. But I could scarcely pay attention to him. I was thinking about Tate. I couldn't believe it. He knew who I was and what I was. How? And who on earth was he?

I was in danger. A looming threat hung over me like a black cloud. This time it was from a source I had not expected. But while I did not know it then, my next problem would not come from Tate Carlson, but rather, an old enemy.