Inquest

by Gladden, DelSheree

  Apparently, later has just arrived.

  I hold my own wrist up to Milo’s. Left to match left. If Milo is right, I was the only person in this world who could have unlocked his talents. I found him, the real him that was hiding behind forgeries, and up until recently, ugly clothes.

  “What…?” Milo starts to ask.

  I shush him immediately. I have to be sure. I was unconscious, so I don’t know how long it took with me, but I keep my eyes glued to Milo’s diktats. A traumatic red after being raised, I watch as they slowly begin to darken. It’s barely noticeable at first. As the seconds pass it starts to pick up speed. It looks like the red color is darkening, at first, but then it reaches it tipping point and his diktats turn a sudden and violent black.

  Confirmation hits me hard. Milo isn’t a Guardian for the people. He’s my Guardian, a Guardian to the Destroyer. He is the help my dad promised me I would find. When my face splits into a grin Milo and Celia look at me expectantly. I repeat everything I just figured out and Milo surprises me by laughing.

  “What are you laughing about?”

  He laughs again and grins. “I can’t believe it. I have talents, and all along I was meant to find you. I was meant to help you. Libby,” he says with fire in his eyes, “Now I can protect you for real. We don’t need Lance, we don’t need anybody else.”

  “Oh,” I say, my excitement falling down a few notches. We don’t need anybody else for what? Is he still thinking about going after the Guardians? I push that thought aside as I realize he’s probably just talking about Lance and his Oath.

  Celia grabs her brother’s wrist away from me and inspects it thoroughly. “Guardian to the Destroyer. Well, that’s a surprise.”

  “Definitely,” I agree. I still can’t stop staring at his wrist. This is incredible. Celia gets up and plops back on the bed, drawing my attention. “Thanks for the brilliant idea, Celia. I hadn’t even thought to try a second Inquest. I can’t believe it worked.”

  “I didn’t know if it would work either, but that was awesome!” Celia gushes.

  Milo’s not listening to either of us. He sandwiches my face between his hands and kisses me fiercely. Celia giggles at the display. It’s a far cry from the usual chaste pecks and handholding she gets to see. Milo pulls back but does not let go of my face. “Thank you. Thank you, Libby.” He kisses me again. And again. His passion and enthusiasm drunken me in an instant.

  Only a knock at the door curbs him.

  “Oh, shoot, what time is it?” I ask. I scramble awkwardly to my feet, my casted foot trying to topple me more than once. The Inquest must have taken longer than I realized.

  Celia and Milo both look at me questioningly. Oh, this is not going to be pleasant.

  “It’s seven o’clock,” Celia offers, and is then completely distracted. “Libby, the ballet starts at eight-thirty! We need to get ready.”

  Milo however is still focused on the door. “Are you expecting someone?”

  Very, very not pleasant. Especially after Milo’s we don’t need anybody else comment.

  I offer an apologetic shrug and stumble forward to reach my crutches. My crutches are pinned under my arms before he figures it out.

  “You have got to be kidding me! Isn’t it bad enough that I have to live with the knowledge that he’s creeping around watching us constantly? He’s not coming, Libby. He is not coming!”

  “Milo, you’ve been worried all week about us going where there will be so many people around who might recognize us. I’m not going to be much help with this cast. We need an extra hand tonight,” I say.

  Milo thrusts his wrist into the air, making sure I can see his diktats. “We don’t need Lance. I’m perfectly capable…”

  “Of protecting both me and Celia?” I ask. “Look at my leg. I can’t help you tonight. I understand what you’re saying, but with me in a cast we still need help right now.”

  “Not him.”

  “Then who?” I ask as I pull the door open to a grinning Lance. He’s obviously heard Milo’s rant and is thoroughly enjoying it. I roll my eyes at him, which only makes him smile again. “Come in, Lance.”

  “Thanks, it’s freezing out here.” He slips past me, but not without briefly touching my waist as if he fears he might bump into me. I slap his hand away, but Milo’s possessive growl only serves to brighten Lance’s smile. “Good evening, Milo. Nice to see you too. And you must be Celia,” he says. She smiles back at him winningly, completely unaware of anything else. A big “I don’t think so” flashes in my mind. Celia’s boy-crazy train is going nowhere near Lance, for her own good. And I’m big enough to admit it, because thinking of Lance with someone else makes my own jealousy surge.

  Milo appears to feel the same way about the prospect of Celia and Lance. He steps closer to his sister, and says, “Celia, go get dressed.”

  She nods without taking her eyes off Lance and saunters to the bathroom.

  “Oh, good,” Lance says, glancing at each of our clothes, “I was beginning to worry that I was seriously overdressed. We don’t have that much time, though. Parking is going to be a nightmare if we don’t get there early enough. Libby, you better go get dressed too.”

  I roll my eyes at his attempt to take control. Typical Lance, irritate everyone in the room and still expect them to take orders. Too bad it usually works for him. It most definitely will not work tonight. Especially not with Milo around. As Milo’s incensed grimace turns up into a pleased smile I know this is going to be bad. Close to the bathroom, he only has to lean to the side in order to knock lightly on the hollow door.

  “Make it quick, Celia, Libby still has to change.” She calls out that she will in her happy sing-song voice and Milo turns back toward Lance. “The only reason you’re coming is because Libby’s right. I don’t want her risking herself when she’s already hurt. But me needing your help isn’t going to last long.”

  I watch in horrified fascination as his fingers start undoing the buttons of his shirt. I should stop him, explain everything to Lance first, but I can’t take my eyes off Milo’s chest as it is slowly revealed. Defined muscle every bit as impressive as Lance’s—which I have seen many times thanks to his incurable need to go shirtless during Speed and Strength training—locks me into inaction. Whatever Lance’s reaction is, it’s lost on me. Milo’s right arm slides out of his shirt first. Then his left begins to slide out as well.

  My heart stutters as fear of what Lance’s reaction might be grabs a hold of me. What if Lance sees this as some kind of confirmation about Milo being a danger to me? He won’t have any clue what’s going on before he sees his diktats.

  “Milo…” I begin, but then his arm is out, revealing his newly raised diktats where Lance can certainly see them. The midnight black standing out against his light colored skin makes them pretty hard to miss. Silence deadens the air for a brief second.

  “What the hell?” Lance asks in confusion.

  “Like I said,” Milo drawls, “I won’t be needing your help much longer. Once Libby’s leg is better we won’t need you anymore.” He walks over to the muddled Lance. My warning glance does nothing to hinder him. “But since you’re here, there is one thing I need from you.”

  Milo grabs Lance’s left arm and snatches out his Guardian blade before he can respond.

  To Lance’s credit, he doesn’t even flinch. His eyes are level with Milo’s and as hard as steel. Milo surprises him by turning away and walking toward me. Now Lance grows concerned. Moron. He is obviously still stuck on the idea that Milo is dangerous. The predatory glint in his eye shows that he has no inclination of what Milo is about to do. I knew as soon as he asked for the knife. Elation fills my mind.

  Sure enough, Milo drops his first two fingers to the emblem on the hilt of Lance’s Guardian blade. Lance’s eyes narrow while my lips curl into a scowling smile. Milo’s fingers move to his forehead then to his heart. I know to expect the scarlet flare of Milo’s diktats, but it startles me regardless. Milo’s presence seems
to press over me. I am free to relish it while Lance turns an angry shade of red.

  “You…you’re a Guardian?” he asks. “How is that even possible?”

  “My first Inquest didn’t get things quite right,” Milo says. “Libby was kind enough to remedy that. I’m a Guardian every bit as much as you are, Lance. Just not for the same team.” He holds up his left wrist again. The diktats fading back to black makes Lance flinch.

  I know he has no idea what’s going on, but Lance has the deplorable ability to ignore things like not understanding, and take action anyway. “I don’t know what the hell this is,” he says gesturing at Milo’s wrist, “but we’re on the same team whether you like it or not, Milo. I’m bound to Libby just like you are. Now go put a shirt on.”

  Chapter 29

  Cipher

  Lance sitting next to Celia is out of the question. Lance sitting by me is absurd. Milo and Lance sitting next to each other is a recipe for disaster. But since I refuse to make Lance sit away from us, just in case we need him, Milo takes the least offensive of the three options and sits between me and Lance with Celia all the way on my right, as far away from Lance as possible. Celia frowns at the seating arrangement and peeks glances at Lance every few seconds. Milo wasn’t kidding about how boy-crazy she is.

  Even so, between her and her brother, Celia is by far the better behaved. Outwardly both Lance and Milo are the picture of perfect manners. Inwardly, there is a battle between the two of them that I am the only one aware of. Milo is radiating frustration at being near Lance and having to depend on him for any kind of help. Lance bounces between feeling superior at being needed despite Milo’s blatant unhappiness about it and a mixture of jealousy and depression every time Milo touches me.

  My blocks are up against them both, but they aren’t working as well as I would hope. I’m too close, physically and emotionally, to both of them. I love the ballet because it’s beautiful and peaceful and captivating. I seriously doubt I’m going to get much peace tonight. It’s going to be a long night.

  I’ve never been so happy to be left in darkness as when the lights finally go out. Maybe if I go to sleep no one will notice, and then I won’t have to be inundated with their emotional overload. I almost give in. The audience falls silent in preparation. I honestly expect both Milo’s and Lance’s eyes to close as soon as the curtain rises given how little either of them enjoy the ballet, but they both shock me by focusing their attention on the patrons surrounding us in the dim room.

  The ballet opens with a flare of music and light and closes the same way.

  My head comes up off Milo’s shoulder two hours after the first curtain rose, and I applaud along with Celia. Milo takes my hand when I stop clapping and leans over to me. His lips touch mine briefly, and he asks, “Did you enjoy the ballet?”

  “I did. Thank you for bringing me.”

  “Thank Celia. I never would have thought to come on my own,” he admits. “It was kind of cool, though.”

  I had actually been afraid I would miss seeing “The Nutcracker” for the first time in my life. I’d thought about suggesting it myself, but with everything else going on it seemed silly to ask for something so trivial. I turn toward Celia to thank her, but she breaks in before I can.

  “Ooh, Milo!” Celia gushes. “Look, look! Isabelle Sanders is back on stage. I think she’s signing autographs!”

  “Who?” Milo asks.

  Celia rolls her eyes at him. “The Prima Ballerina! I’ve got to meet her. Please take me down to the stage. Please?”

  “Celia…” Milo glances around at the hundreds of people milling about.

  “Please, please, please?”

  She is impossible for Milo to resist. His deep sigh admits his defeat. “Do you want to come down with us?” he asks me.

  The long ramp leading down to the stage makes me shake my head. My foot throbs even thinking of trying to wade through the crowded slope without tripping. “Go ahead without me. I’ll wait here.”

  Celia bounces up and grabs Milo’s hand away from me. He doesn’t stand right away, clearly not keen on the idea of leaving me alone. But of course, I’m not alone. Lance nudges Milo. Amazingly, his face shows no sign of anything but seriousness. “Go ahead, I’ll keep watch,” he says.

  The businesslike expression on Lance’s face is likely the only reason Milo stands up. “We’ll be right back,” he promises me. And to Lance, he says, “Keep an eye out for anyone even remotely suspicious.”

  Lance nods and crosses his arms over his chest. Milo watches him for as long as possible until the crowd swallows them. Only then does he relax. His elbows come back up on the armrests and one hand lazily gestures toward me. “You look really nice tonight, by the way. If I remember right, when we came last year you wore black slacks and that green sweater. You looked nice then, too, but your dress tonight is even better.”

  An intense desire to smooth my dress and make sure the knee length skirt hasn’t ridden up anywhere makes my fingers itch. I can see that the dress is fine already and refuse to let Lance know his attention affects me. Maybe it shouldn’t, but what he thinks still matters to me. His reminder that he was my date to this very event reminds me of how difficult it must have been for him to sit through the performance. Guilt I can’t fully explain urges me to speak.

  “I’m sorry I had to ask you to come to this, Lance.”

  “It’s okay,” he says. “I meant what I said about protecting you. It’s hard to see you with Milo, but if you need me I won’t let you down again.”

  The lack of jealousy pouring off of him when he says Milo’s name, combined with the sincerity of his promise settles over me like a blanket. “Lance, do you really understand what that means for you? Your dad…”

  “My dad will never approve of my choice,” he says. “I told him as soon as I got home after giving you my Oath. He hasn’t spoken to me since, and at this point I don’t know if he ever will, but that hasn’t changed my mind.”

  “It’s a lot to give up. I believe everything you told me,” I admit. “I believe that you didn’t mean to hurt me that night, and that you tried to protect me in the only way you thought you could, but…”

  His face falls. Lance isn’t a Perceptive, but he doesn’t need talents to know what I’m thinking about right now. He knows me so well he sees it in the way I face him and hears the hurt in my voice. “But all the other stuff,” he says, “the things I said about you, the way I turned everyone against you…believe me, I know what you must think of me for that. I hate myself for what I did to you. I know I don’t deserve it, but I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me, Libby.”

  “I want to,” I tell him honestly, “but it may take me some time.”

  It breaks my heart that I can’t say the words he wants to hear right now, because for sixteen years Lance was my best friend, but the pain he caused me is still too close. Lance nods, a sliver of hope filling him at my words.

  “Libby,” Lance begins. He hesitates, and I worry I won’t like what he’s about to say. “I want you back. I miss you like crazy…”

  I open my mouth, but before I can say anything Lance cuts me off.

  “But I understand that it’s not my choice. I left you. It was a mistake, but it’s one I have to live with. You’re with Milo now. I promise I won’t try to force you into taking me back again.” Lance smiles. “If you willing change your mind, well, I hope you know I won’t hesitate.”

  His sudden grin makes me smile. Forgiving Lance, given enough time I think it’s a possibility. Me leaving Milo for him? That may be asking too much. I can still appreciate his honesty and his promise to back off. When Lance’s smile darkens and disappears, mine does too, though I’m not sure why until Lance speaks again.

  “I won’t interfere with your relationship with Milo. He obviously loves you, and you love him. That doesn’t mean I’ve changed my mind about him.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “I told you I thought he was dange
rous, and I still think that’s true. That’s why despite what Milo says about him not needing me to protect you, I’m not going anywhere. I don’t trust him.”

  Just when I thought having Lance around wasn’t going to be so bad. “Why? What has Milo ever done that makes you think he’s going to hurt me?”

  Lance shakes his head. “It’s not anything he’s done, although I do want an explanation about whatever you did with his diktats tonight. It’s just something about him. He puts on this big act like nothing matters and he couldn’t care less about what anyone else thinks, but there’s something hiding behind that.”

  Turning to face me directly, Lance holds my gaze with his seriousness. “I’ve grown up around Guardians. I can recognize dangerous when I see it, and something about Milo makes me want to stick as close to you as I can.”

  “Milo isn’t going to hurt me,” I say.

  Lance shrugs. “Maybe you’re right, but just in case you aren’t, I’ll be here.”

  Just like when Lance first brought up his concerns about Milo, my immediate reaction is too dismiss them completely. I trust Milo. I don’t believe for a second that he would ever purposely hurt me. I want to chock Lance’s fears up to jealousy or some other mundane reason, but Lance has good instincts. A more sensible part of me tucks his comments away for later and changes the subject.

  “I am sorry I missed your birthday.” He turned seventeen last week. I thought about him that day, sad and frustrated that I couldn’t wish him happy birthday for the first time ever.

  Lance seems to understand the mixture of emotions. “Hey, not your fault. We’ll do something fun next year.”

  “Maybe that…” I begin, but I never finish the thought. My vision ripples as a paralyzing effect sweeps through my entire body. The people moving lazily out of the theater suddenly spring forward as time moves them at an unnatural pace. My focus narrows in on Milo and Celia speaking with the dancer. Even in a vision I can sense them before they arrive. Guardians, not here for me this time, attack Milo in a coordinated effort. The glimpse dissipates and the slow moving patrons return.