Sneak (Swipe Series)

understand.”
    Logan blinked. “How long have you been here?” he asked.
    “Two years.”
    “And how long did it take you to believe that?”
    The Counselor looked at him appraisingly. “Me? I was a Moderator within a couple of hours,” he said proudly. “But some minds take much longer to see the truth. Days, sometimes. Weeks. Even years, in the most stubborn cases. You’ll understand it soon enough.”
    “I’ve heard rumors,” Logan said, “that this is actually an army.”
    The boy nodded. “With these Marks, we become the International Moderators of Peace. Every level funnels into the IMPS eventually. Though lower levels serve their time first.”
    “What is it you do?” Logan asked. “As an IMP, I mean?”
    But the Counselor shook his head. “We do what we’re asked. We don’t ask what we do.” He shifted his weight. “Anyway, things are expected to pick up with the signing of the G.U. treaty. That’ll be any day now.”
    “So I’ve heard,” Logan muttered. He noticed a few IMPS sitting on a nearby bench staring at him. Logan found himself looking down, rubbing his forehead self-consciously.
    “Doesn’t seem like they train you very hard here,” Logan continued. “Do you usually just sit around in the grass all day?”
    The Counselor looked at Logan as though he’d just said the dumbest thing possible. He didn’t respond. And Logan felt his face go beet red. But after a moment, the Counselor patted him on the knee and laughed. “I like you,” he said. “Stick with me. You’re gonna do all right here.”
    “Um, thanks,” Logan replied. And then he culled every ounce of courage he had.
    It’s now or never , he thought. No turning back .
    “You know, actually . . . I’m sorta . . . wondering if someone might be here . . .”
    The Counselor narrowed his eyes, not quite understanding. Logan could guess how weird that question must have sounded— to be looking for someone in a place you weren’t supposed to know existed.
    “Do you go by names here, ever?” Logan asked the Counselor. “Anything other than your rank?”
    “It’s not how we address one another,” the Counselor said. “But we learn each other’s names. Sure.”
    Logan cleared his throat. Here goes .
    “I’m wondering if you know a girl by the name of Lily Langly.
    She would have come here about five years ago.”
    The Counselor’s eyes lit up. “Lily! Of course! Everyone knows Lily Langly!” The Counselor stood up from the bench. “Advocate!” he called. “Advocate Langly!”
    And as if on cue, Logan’s sister emerged from behind a gauzy curtain hanging across an archway into the courtyard. She was older, hardened somewhat, with a wide Mark spanning her forehead. But in every way she was still his sister, right down to the chin-length brown hair, the blue tint of her eyes, the lightness of her step, and the way she seemed to float as she walked . . . it was all somehow exactly as Logan had remembered.
    Logan had pictured this moment countless times, had rehearsed what he would say, had imagined how his sister would respond . . . for years, he’d had it all planned out. But as it happened, he forgot all that. Instead he sat, speechless.
    So Lily spoke first.
    “Get up,” she said, a few feet from the bench. She didn’t smile.
    She didn’t reach out for him. “Now.”
    Logan looked up at her, instantly confused. All across the courtyard, IMPS were staring, whispering, pointing . . .
    He did as he was told, though he found himself wiping his face quickly and clumsily with his hand as he did. He sniffled twice, took a deep breath, exhaled sharply. Be strong , Logan thought. You’ve made it this far .
    Seeing all this, Lily turned and walked swiftly back toward the arch through which she’d entered. Logan took a few quick steps to follow, and soon he was walking beside her, stepping in double time to keep up with her long, cool strides.
    When they’d reached one of the larger patches of grass and had some privacy from curious onlookers, Lily spun around and looked at Logan sternly.
    “What are you doing here? And what are you thinking, asking for me by name?”
    It was not exactly the reunion Logan had pictured. For months now, he’d pictured Lily waiting helplessly for him in some cell, hoping against hope that someday, freedom might come . . . knowing that it was impossible, that none would ever find her . . . that none could be so cunning, or selfless, or brave. He imagined the look of