Embee

For once in my life, I wished Mr. Bradshaw had slipped a tracker into my shoe or my coat pocket. I wished that he was still keeping tabs on me, even when I told him that I didn__ need him to, or that I could take care of myself. Because the truth was that I knew I__ always need help along the way. I needed help now, and at some point in my life I__ need help again.

Aren__ there different electrical outlets here? And what about money? And isn__ it-_ __elax, Tess,_ Taylor told me. __ have everything covered.

I__ fine. I__ at an antique store, by the clothes store just a mile or so from-_ __hich clothes store, Tess? If you haven__ noticed, there are about a million.

I tried to blink back the tears that just kept coming. Eventually, I gave up and let my sight be obscured.

I was going to die. I was going to die, right now, right here, before I even had a chance to thoroughly apologize to anyone for what I__ done...before I had a chance to forgive myself. I wasn__ even going to leave with a bang, one final act of dignity or at least the thought that I still belonged somewhere; I would die without even the simple acceptance that I__ done everything I could. Tears welled in my eyes, but I didn__ let them fall. I didn__ want to die crying.

Rosalie had never been one to question or accuse, just to forgive -- but I guess everyone had their limits when it came to tolerance levels, and I__ crossed the line.

Mr. Bradshaw was, in a way, my second father. I trusted him and wanted to make him proud. But that day, as I lowered myself to the ground in shock, it was hard to believe I was staring up at the same person.

I'd grown to trust Mr. Bradshaw, even though he was the one who had taught me how to lie. Not to mention the day he lectured me on how to get close to someone to find out the truth about them, as if he was the ultimate expert. Nevertheless, I trusted him. I really did.

That__ not necessary,_ Mr. Bradshaw said, __lthough you are all perfectly welcome in the guest rooms upstairs, I won__ ask you to lie to your-_ __r. Bradshaw._ Nathan grinned. __ou__e been asking us to lie to our parents from the moment we each set foot in this house. We__e spies; we__l all find excuses to stay here. No one wants to leave the only place in the city where the Pentagon won__ dare enter. Not tonight. Not after what happened.

The lie detector didn__ react to anything I said, but I wouldn__ dare smile.

Are you okay?_ someone asked. ____ fine,_ I snapped, turning to face Jayden Griffin. __ have to admit, you__e getting better at lying, Tess Embers,_ he said quietly. __owever, I know you__e not okay.

Waiting. That__ always what being a spy comes down to, isn__ it?

The thing is, Ms. Embers, they aren__ exactly on our side.

Jayden shoved through the crowd and pulled me to my feet. I hadn__ realized I was crying until he wiped a tear from my face. __hat happened?

From the moment I met Christina Georgia, I knew why Mr. Bradshaw had chosen her. She was incredibly smart and thoughtful, and her emerald green eyes were huge and wise. Her wispy blond hair was beautiful and shoulder-length, and her bubblegum pink lips stood out on her pale face. She was awesome, and we were friends after about two minutes of talking.

Why would you tell us the truth? If Christina really wasn__ here, you__ tell us she was, to stall us from finding her. If James taught us one thing, it__ how to detect a lie. You just want us to leave so you can get her to talk. By the way, good luck with that -- Ida can__ even get her to admit that she stole her cousin__ candy at Halloween last year. And that was pretty obvious.

The Didots created happiness and power, or in this case, pain and sadness...but only within its subject__ mind. The power it held was real, but it was not a physical power. It was the power of persuasion, the power of illusion. Mr. Bradshaw was a genius.

Taylor, listen to me. I could tell you that it__ okay. That she wasn__ a wonderful person, or I didn__ love her. I could tell you that she__ happier now, and her life would__e been sad and filled with pain and longing to see her love again. I could say that I__ not struggling with her death, as well as the death of the hope that she could once again be part of my life. But instead I__l just say that I__ sad, too, sweetheart. That way I can spare you the struggle of detecting the lie in my words.