Secrets of the Harts

She was dressed in pale blue, her make-up impeccable. She wore a string of pearls around her neck and a sparkling ring on her finger. Tia would look like the perfect bride-to-be if not for her paleness.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

She forced a smile on her face, turning away from her reflection and looked at me. “Yeah, Tee. This is what I always wanted. Of course it is. But, do you think I look alright? I’m a little worried about this make-up. Maybe it’s just that I’m not used to so much but the lady said that-”

If this was a few months ago, I would have accepted this though I didn’t believe it. Unrequited love (or so it seemed) was a luxurious problem to have. But now, now that I had started caring, it was difficult to take things in a broader perspective.

“-so I guess that means I look alright then,” ended Tia, weakly.
“What happened? On your date?”

She glanced at me and I just looked back at her, waiting for her to continue.

“We had fun.” Tia smiled slightly at the memory but went back to the mirror, fixing the pearls when they were already perfectly arranged around her neck. “You have no idea how long it’s been since we went to the movies together. And then, I guess Luke forgot where, or maybe even who, we were because he kissed me.”

I thought back, back to when Luke had seemed so uncomfortable and then back to when Tia was almost radiating happiness.

“But, anyway, it doesn’t matter what happened then. All that matters is what’s happening now.”
“Of course it does.”

She looked back at me, surprised.

“It does. It’s taken so long before you two are comfortable with each other and you’re just going to let your godfather wreck this by forcing your engagement on you? I don’t think so.” Even I was starting to feel shock at the words coming from my mouth. But it felt good. For once I was speaking my mind.

“Who told you that it’s my godfather’s who arranged it?” She frowned at me, stopping my train of thoughts.

“Dylan. He told me everything. I cannot believe that you’ll actually think that the whole engagement arrangement was your fault. You were only seven when you made that stupid wish aloud. No adult should’ve taken you seriously. But he did. Don’t you find that there’s something wrong with that?” She opened her mouth to contradict me but I continued, softly, knowing that the next part was what she cared about, “You can’t go through with this, Tia, not unless you want things to go back to the way they were, back when the only words you said to Luke were swear words.”

Tia unwillingly grinned at my words. Then her smile wavered. “Tee, you’re wrong.”

“How? How am I wrong?” I demanded, hotly.

“You’re wrong in thinking that I have a choice.”
***
After saying that, Tia refused to explain, only saying that she would like it if I left her alone for a while, so that she could calm down.

It didn’t matter anyway; I could find the answers I wanted from Dylan.

“Whoa. Where are you in such a hurry to?” A man grabbed my arm and I almost turned around and punched him before I remembered who I was supposed to be. Then I shrugged Owen’s hand away, trying not to admire him in his suit.

He leaned in towards me, smiling so that anyone who saw us would think that we were only two kids talking or maybe even flirting, “Calm down, Kristen. Your temper’s not going to do anyone any favour.”

Have you noticed that you’re very dramatic when you’re angry? I folded my arms, finding it disturbing that what Dylan had said weeks ago would come back to me so easily. Unhappily, I asked, “Who invited you?”

“Your boyfriend, of course.”

I pulled a face at this. Two days ago, when Dylan had come by to drop off a dress Tia had picked out for me, Owen had opened the door instead. The situation got very awkward very quickly, especially since Owen was supposed to be Peter Sanders, my cousin, here.

I had given that explanation, that Owen was family and that he was in my room because I was telling him more about the school. But one look at Owen and me, with my dark hair and his light one and my grey eyes and his hazel, the lie was obvious. But Dylan had not pointed it out, like I thought he would. He only smiled politely.

Hoping to defuse the situation, I had hurriedly said goodbye to Owen—who had looked a mixture of annoyed and amused—and asked Dylan what he was doing outside my door.
But they had met again. And Dylan had apparently invited Owen.

“It’s always nice to be so welcomed. So where are you rushing off to?”

There was no reason why I should feel so uncomfortable telling him that I was about to ask Dylan what Tia had meant (how could she have no choice whether she wanted to go through with the engagement?). In fact, there wasn’t any reason why I should feel uneasy whenever Dylan and Owen were in the same room, especially since there was nothing going on between Dylan and me.

“You should enjoy yourself.” I said, finally. “Go mingle with the other guests.”

I waited until I was sure Owen was going to make a snarky comeback before I went off into the throngs of people. Owen could find me easily if he wanted to. But I was sure that he would rather not, because Owen (unlike Dylan) knew when to back off.

It took me a few minutes to locate Dylan, who was listening intently to whoever was speaking to him on his phone. When he hung up, he looked surprised that I was standing in front of him. “Is there something wrong, princess?”

“Tia says that she doesn’t have a choice. What does she mean by that?”

Dylan immediately understood; he suddenly looked nervous.

“Well. Are you going to tell me? Or do I have to find Luke and ask him?”
“Luke won’t tell you anything.”

I turned around, stunned that Owen had followed me after all.

“Peter, good to see you again. Or is your name Owen?”

Owen smiled slightly in acknowledgement. Feeling extremely confused, I waited for someone to say something to explain the situation.

“Your father’s just been apprehended, hasn’t he? Vic too, I would presume,” replied Owen.
Vic. Why did that name sound so familiar? Vic... Vic Leonards?

“What did you do?”
“It’s ironic that you’re asking me that, Fuller because—”
“It must be you, because she doesn’t know anything.”

I knew they were talking about me, but my mind was moving very slowly, trying to link Vic Leonards to Dylan and his father. Dylan... Dylan Fuller.

I swallowed hard.

“Yeah, it was me.” Owen nodded. “I got curious that day, your date. So I did a little background check on you, starting with the school. You weren’t very careful, using your real name, Fuller. After that, things went very smoothly. It was a little surprising, actually, that the Agency didn’t have much info about you.”

“It took that long, huh?”

I knew the look in Dylan’s eyes. It was his calculating expression.

As though he had heard his name in my thoughts, Dylan turned to me and smiled. “Guess you’ve figured everything out too, princess. You’re awfully quiet.”

I knew he was trying to bait me. I knew it and yet, I wanted to retort him.

“Don’t talk to her.” Owen’s voice was cold. “You have three choices, Fuller. Come with me, quietly, back to the agency, I’ll read you your Miranda rights and you won’t have to get hurt. Or I could apprehend you right now, leaving your snipers and mine to fight it out, killing the guests and maybe your best friend Luke. But if you want to be difficult, keep talking and I’ll cut to the chase and just shoot you somewhere. Maybe your leg.”

“You think that your Agency’s the protector of everything good, don’t you?” Dylan was still speaking to me, ignoring Owen’s words as though he wasn’t afraid. But he was, he was only hiding it very well. “You’re really clueless, princess. The Agency’s been lying to you for almost the whole of your life, ever since you’ve been adopted by that bitch Calloway.”

“How do you know about my adoption?”

The words came out more like a whisper but Dylan heard it anyway. I knew Owen did too.

His eyes flicked towards me, concerned, before quickly turning his gaze back to Dylan. But it also meant that Owen was sure he hadn’t lost control of the situation yet. If he was sure he did, he would have taken out his gun already, aiming it at Dylan’s skull.

I ignored all these stray thoughts, concentrating on Dylan’s smug grin because if he knew about my adoption, he would know about my father as well.

“I read your file, princess. Orphan by age twelve, sent under the care of Kendra Calloway. You didn’t attend school, instead you had tutors. You didn’t start training with the Professional Agents until last year. You dated Owen under the sly, so that Calloway wouldn’t find out. You like To Kill a Mockingbird, your favourite is Jem. Your father, Paul Hart, was a lawyer, just like Atticus. You cut and dyed your hair so that we wouldn’t recognise you.” He studied me for a moment. “You looked better as a blonde, actually.”

“Stop talking, Fuller,” said Owen, through gritted teeth. Out of the corner my eye, I saw his hand reaching into his pocket.

Dylan must’ve realised this too. His words came out faster. “But your Agency’s been lying to you. You don’t work for the government, although you are government-funded. You’re not really spies, more like assassins—your Professionals kill people. The Agency’s an agency for contract killers.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I think you deserve to know the truth, princess.”

Owen had gotten a good hold on his gun but he still hadn’t taken it out yet.

He hadn’t said a word the entire time Dylan talked about the Agency. Did that mean that Owen was admitting that he was a contract killer as well? Or was he following protocol, that an Agent should never engage the target in conversation in a hostile situation?

I wanted to feel angry, angry that Dylan had staked me out as the weaker one, the one who he could play with easily and angry that Owen wasn’t helping me understand anything. But I didn’t feel anything. My brain hadn’t caught up with the situation yet.

Instead, I fell back on what I knew.

“Let him go, Owen.”

Owen’s eyebrows shot up.

Dylan, however, didn’t look surprised. His face was completely blank.

“Just let him go. Code 56 says that we can’t apprehend anyone without evidence of wrongdoing,” I continued, hoping that my poker face was as good as Dylan’s.

Code 56 didn’t say anything like that at all. Code 56 said, “Putting on a ruse is more effective sometimes.” I wasn’t sure if Dylan had managed to lay his hands on the Agency’s guidebook but I knew that Owen had it memorised. And there was no need for any of these guests to get hurt by the snipers.

Glaring at Dylan convincingly, Owen said, “I know. But I’m sure that we’ll be able to get some dirt on him easily.”

Dylan took a chance, seeing that Owen was paying more attention to me than him. He ran off, blending in with the rest of the glamorously dressed crowd.

Three hours later, the Professionals caught Dylan in the airport.