Tears start forming in my eyes before I even begin to speak. I press myself against Milo as hard as I can, drink in his scent and memorize the contours of his body. Four months, it’s probably more than I deserve anyway.
“What if Celia ends up getting hurt, or worse, because of me?” I say. “You can make sure that doesn’t happen if you leave me alone. Milo, you can’t be with me anymore. I won’t have yours or Celia’s blood on my hands. I have too much on them already. Please don’t ask me to do that, Milo. Please leave.”
“No. I won’t leave. I’m not going to be one more person that abandons you.”
I turn away from him, wincing at the wrenching pain that runs through my leg. My voice is strained and weak when I speak. “I refuse to be the reason you die, Milo. Go, please.”
“No.”
“Get out of here!” I scream at him.
His hands grab my shoulders and jerk me up to his face. The shock of his brute force overrides the screaming my leg is doing. Defiance so intense it presses me down with its force rolls off Milo in waves. “Stop it,” he demands, shaking me again. “Stop it, Libby! I’m not going anywhere. Nothing you say will change my mind. Just stop it!”
“It’s a choice between me and Celia,” I finally say. It stops him cold. I’m asking him to choose between me and his little sister, a choice he should never have to make. But he has to understand. I have to make him see the truth.
“Why does it have to be one or the other?” he asks quietly.
“In what ending could you ever have us both?”
His eyes blaze with fire. “We stand a better chance of protecting her together.”
“No! I’ll get her killed, Milo. If I’m in your life she’ll never be safe. You know it’s true!” I argue, punching against his chest to drive home my point.
Milo shoves me into the bed and straddles my hips. His face glowers a mere inch away from my own. “You want to know what ending will let me have both you and Celia?” He presses down on me, his intensity bordering on frightening. “I get the woman I love and the sister I would die to protect by helping you do what you were born to do. Destroy the people hunting us, and I get my wish.”
My mind stutters in shock. “You…you want me to go against the Guardians? Are you serious?”
The cold glint that was in his eyes when he talked about killing the Guardian in Celia’s room returns. I’ve seen Milo get angry, several times. I can handle his anger. This goes way beyond that. There isn’t a wild fury in him driven by being in the moment, just a stone cold hatred and desire to return the pain they caused him. It frightens me more than the idea of attacking the Guardians.
“I’ve wanted to kill them all since the night they tried to murder Celia. They aren’t protectors, they’re mercenaries. I dream of finding that second Guardian and ramming his own blade into his heart,” Milo says. I can’t stop myself from pulling away from Milo a little. He’s so focused on his dreams of vengeance he doesn’t notice. A shiver ripples through my spine. Then a second, but for a completely different reason.
“Is that why you didn’t ignore me?” I ask. My bottom lip quivers like a frightened child, but in this moment I feel like I am seven years old again, teetering on the brink of having my world pulled out from under me. “You saw me as a way to get revenge?”
Milo’s eyes widen, and his grip softens and slips off my shoulders to the pillow behind me. Any hint of the darkness that consumed him a moment ago disappears completely. “No,” he says, “no, of course not.”
“Then why?”
“Because the sullen pout on your lips was so adorable I couldn’t resist.” His slow smile spreads and threatens to make me forget why I questioned him in the first place.
His irresistible charm won’t work this time. The memory of his cold eyes haunts me. “Milo, I’m serious. You knew who I was when you talked to me. Why?”
“Because I knew who you were before Lance stood up in class,” he says. I start to argue with the impossibility of that, but he doesn’t let me. “I don’t mean you being the Destroyer. I mean you, Libby Sparks. Lance was the only thing in your head before, but you were in mine. I never understood before your Inquest why such a smart and beautiful girl like you was so quiet and reserved. I guess I should have known you had a secret, given my own experience with them, but I wasn’t about to let a little thing like you being the Destroyer stop me when I finally had a chance to get to know you.”
My heart begs me to believe him. Is it really too much to ask for one relationship not tainted by lies and betrayal? I just don’t know if I can trust what he’s saying. He wants so badly to crush every last Guardian into the ground. And he wants me to help him. My Perception is hammering away, telling me he believes what he’s saying, but does that make it true?
“Libby,” Milo says, his voice alluringly soft, “I promise you that I had no other thought in my mind other than kissing your pouting lips that day. I hated that Lance hurt you, but I wanted to take his place. I wanted you, not a weapon.”
He leans in closer. The heat of his body is stealing my breath. Tingling dizziness spreads from my chest to my fingertips and toes.
“I still want you, Libby. More than anything, I want you.”
“But you want me to go after the Guardians,” I manage to say in a breathy whisper.
“I’ll go after them regardless. I think it would be a step toward solving both of our problems. Having you with me will help, yes, but the choice is yours.”
“And if I say no?”
“Then I won’t ask again,” he says, “but I won’t leave you either. So stop asking.”
His unguarded emotions cover me in his love and his honest desire to share my life no matter the risk. I don’t want to doubt him. Someone else with the same ambition might see me as a tool to be used before a woman who needed a soft touch, but I tell myself that Milo isn’t that person. Passion and anger burns in him as fierce as any other warrior wannabe, but it is tempered with concern for me.
The deep-rooted desire to protect and care for others has to be stronger than his darker desires. They have to be. He’s shown me so many times how much he wants to do good. That stuff earlier, it was only there for a few minutes. That isn’t the real Milo. The real Milo is the one stroking my skin, radiating love. Although he is a teenage boy kissing a pretty girl. That can cloud a guy’s mind pretty quickly and make them forget just about anything else.
“You can’t stay with me and go after the Guardians at the same time,” I say.
His old casual shrug makes a return. “I’ll figure something out.”
“You know I won’t let you go alone. You know I’ll come with you whether I want to or not.” It’s an accusation, but not one filled with malice. It’s just the truth. I couldn’t let him face that alone.
“It’s a possibility,” he admits, “but I have a feeling that if you really want to stop me, you’ll have a pretty easy time of it.”
“You think so?” I ask.
He nods before touching my lips, lightly at first then more hungrily. My lips part as his tongue glides over my bottom lip. Need so desperate it can never be sated races through my veins. Milo lowers his body gently to mine as his mouth wanders down my neck. My mind begs him silently to keep going, to explore every inch of my skin. I reach up to tangle my fingers in shaggy hair that is no longer there, and find myself simply pulling him closer. He groans and pulls back.
“No,” I whisper. I don’t want him to stop. I want him to erase the past few days, erase my doubt. I want his body to be the only thing in my mind.
Milo offers me one last kiss and rolls onto his back.
“Milo…”
His fingers wrap around mine but he doesn’t come back. “Libby, you’re doped up on some serious drugs. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”
“But…”
“Libby, when you’re thinking more clearly, if you still want to, I’ll be more than willing. But not now, not when you might regret i
t later.”
That taste of his passion is intoxicating. I can’t imagine ever not wanting to bask in it, but as my thoughts grow more and more fuzzy I start to realize that later might be a good idea.
Chapter 25
Boiling Mercury
Anger can overcome rational thought with barely any effort at all, but curiosity can be just as powerful. The second I arrive on campus with my casted foot and crutches people turn to stare. Concern tempered by amazement makes their eyes linger. I hobble across the blacktop under their wondering stares. I hear more than one person whispering their questions about how I could have gotten hurt.
“Isn’t she supposed to be too powerful for that?”
“Who was strong enough to hurt her?”
“Is she right, after all?”
“She can’t be the Destroyer with a broken leg.”
My foot is throbbing, but there is a secret smile hiding behind my grimace. Milo leans down next to my ear as we reach my locker, and says, “Thirteen must be your lucky number.”
“Must be. Nobody ever cared this much about the other dozen times I broke a bone,” I agree.
This whole thing could backfire in an instant if anyone found out I pretty much did this to myself, but of the four of us who know what really happened, the only one who would even think of telling would be my mom. And admitting to the world that she tried to kill her own daughter, and failed, just isn’t something she’s likely to do. Milo kisses me goodbye at the door to my first class and heads off to his. My first three periods are filled with whispers and guarded stares, but fairly uneventful. They’re so quiet I doze off several times during each one.
Guardian training puts an end to my mini-naps. The click-clack of my crutches on the gym floor draws Coach Clement’s attention at once. He speaks to me for the first time in months. “Libby, what on earth happened to you?”
“I, uh, tripped while I was doing sprints up the bleachers over the weekend.” It’s a lame excuse, but the only reason I would be sprinting up bleachers would be to try and improve in his class. A little extra guilt for the compassionate coach isn’t going to hurt him.
He makes the connection and his frown deepens. I hobble over to him and tug a piece of paper out of my back pocket. “Here’s a note from my doctor. It wasn’t a very bad break, so I should be back after Christmas.”
It’s another lie, but I can’t very well tell him I am a freakishly fast healer due to my phenomenal Strength without cancelling out what I’ve accomplished today. Coach Clement buys the lie without blinking.
“Take as much time as you need, Libby. I’ve been pushing you so hard. I don’t want you training again until your doctor says it okay. Just take a seat on the bleachers for now. Watch the drills and pay close attention to the technique. If you need anything just let me know,” he says.
“Uh, thanks,” I say, a little taken aback by his abrupt shift from hating me to wanting to help me. Maybe he isn’t quite as power hungry as most of the other Guardians are. I lost faith that any of them really cared about protecting people a long time ago. Like the third or fourth time they dragged me back to my house kicking and screaming after sneaking out at night. Coach Clement nods and walks back to the center of the court to start class.
I didn’t even notice Lance wasn’t already here until he comes racing through the doors. The moment he sees me, his eyes bug out of his head. He takes a step toward me, but Coach Clement calls him over. His duffle bag drops with a thud. Four long seconds pass where his expression races through a dozen different emotions before he turns and walks over to join the group.
As confused as I’ve been about Lance, I wasn’t sure how he would react, but his eyes keep darting back to me every few seconds. His distraction makes his performance suffer greatly. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing as he bumps into his classmates over and over again. The frustration in his eyes is more than amusing. And the alarm on my phone doesn’t improve things for him. Or for anyone, actually. The whole class turns to look at me as I try to get my phone out and reset the alarm.
“Sorry,” I say to Coach Clements as he approaches me. “I need to go take my pain medication. I didn’t mean to disrupt class. I’ll just go out to the water fountain.”
My struggle to stand up has him reaching for my arm to help, but somebody else gets there first. “I’ll help her,” Lance says.
Coach Clement frowns for a moment, and then probably after considering Lance’s inability to focus today, he nods his agreement. That taken care of, he walks back to the floor and picks up where he left off. I’m having a harder time doing the same. Lance’s grip on my upper arm is gentle enough, but his touch seems to leech away all my strength, and my ability to think. I stand there in a stupor for way too long before remembering what I was doing.
“I…I need my pills out of my bag,” I say. His familiarity with my belongings leads him right to the side pocket where I keep all the stuff that usually goes in my purse. He palms the pill bottle and starts leading me to the hallway. Neither of us says another word until we reach the fountain.
He hands the bottle over and asks, “Libby, what happened?”
“I fell.” He steps closer and I nearly trip myself trying to move away.
“What really happened?”
Of all the times for him to be in tune with my emotions. “What?” I snap. “You don’t believe me? You’ve seen me in class. You know how many times this has already happened.”
“No, I don’t believe you.”
“Why not?”
He shakes his head and throws his arms up. “I don’t know, Libby, I just don’t, okay? You’re usually pretty ticked off about getting yourself hurt, but you almost seem glad about it this time. You’re lying and I know it.”
The entire time we were dating he never once picked up on the subtle hints I would try to give him about one thing or another. Now he decides to pay attention. “My ankle is killing me. I am not happy about it.”
“You’re happy about something,” he accuses.
“Maybe it’s just nice to have people acknowledging that I exist again!”
“What really happened?”
He’s not going to let this go. Maybe if I tell him the truth he’ll just leave me alone. “My mom. I went to see my mom. It didn’t go very well.”
The intimidating quality of his stance softens. “Your…mom?”
I nod. He knows our history better than Milo ever will. He’s lived it with me. More times than I care to remember, he whisked me away after a fight with her to cry or just escape and blow off my anger. His arms wrap around me in a motion so familiar I can’t seem to resist.
“Libby, I’m so sorry,” he says softly.
For a brief moment I am back in time, back when my life made some kind of sense, back when I knew what my future held, back when I wasn’t an outcast. Back before Milo.
Milo!
I jerk back from him and bump into the water fountain. Lance tries to follow. My hand slaps against his chest. “Lance, what are you doing?”
“Libby, I miss you,” he says. “I miss this.” His fingers reach up and brush against my cheek. My head begins to tilt toward him purely on instinct. I catch myself and snap my head back up.
“You left me, remember? You don’t get to miss me.” He shouldn’t even get to think about me anymore. His presence becomes oppressive instead of inviting. Every hateful glare and snide remark I’ve gotten from him in the past few months crowds to the front of my mind, pushing out the times I thought he was trying to help me. My hands clamp down on my crutches. The rubber grips bulge under the pressure. “Lance, please just leave me alone. I don’t want to do this with you.”
Lance’s hands slip between my crutches and past my waist to plant themselves on the fountain behind me. He’s a safe distance away until his feet move to straddle mine, bringing his chest barely an inch away from me. “Well, I do want to do this with you right now, Libby. I want you to tell me that you don�
��t miss me too.”
“Lance, I’m with Milo now. Please leave me alone,” I beg.
“I won’t. I want you back. Please, Libby.”
Push him away. Slap him. Bite him. Anything to stop him from speaking. I don’t want to hear the words I would have given anything for the day after my Inquest. “Lance, you know who I am.”
His head drops down, touching lightly on my shoulder. “I was wrong, Libby. Everything I’ve done to you, I would take it all back if I could. I was scared. That night, I didn’t even think before I jumped up. Guardian Clement has drilled into me a desire to kill you for the past year. Before you joined class we had drills every day to react, to kill, as soon as we heard the name Cassia. I reacted out of habit, brainwashing, whatever! I didn’t want to hurt you.”
Lance looks back up and meets my eyes. “That’s what I wanted to tell you at the dance, that it was all an accident.”
“But you didn’t because Angus and those other idiots would have heard you.”
“You’re right,” he says with shame in every syllable. “I’ve never felt worse than I did that night after seeing the look on your face. I couldn’t stand it. When Angus confronted me about my loyalties to the Guardians, I couldn’t do it anymore. There was no way I could stand there and tell him I believed you were evil. For the first time since your Inquest I made the right choice and stood up for you. It’s what I should have done from the beginning, but I was too big of a coward.”
My mouth opens, but I can’t immediately form any words. The ache I have been carrying around with me for months is threatening to wither. It all makes perfect sense. But does that matter? Can I excuse his actions because he has a good excuse? Indecision poisons me, weakening my resolve to be angry at Lance. One fault in his logic finally brings my voice back.
“Then why did you run away after my Inquest if all of this is actually true? Why did you tell everyone what had happened the next day? Why have you terrorized me more than anyone else in this entire school?” I ask. Every reason he just gave seems to crumble in my mind. Tears more exquisite than anything ever induced by my mother careen down my face. “You made everyone hate me, Lance. If you had shut up about it, pretended like nothing had changed everybody would have followed along. But you didn’t. You made my life hell! You! You were supposed to love me, protect me from crap like this, not instigate it! You betrayed me. Am I just supposed to forget that and throw my arms around you now?”
Inquest Page 23