Inquest

by Gladden, DelSheree

  Can’t hurt to sow a few seeds of division among these psychos. Chaos in their ranks can only help me. The Guardian slaps a hand against the back of my neck and yanks me right up next to his face. My bags scatter on the ground around me. Okay, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

  “I don’t care who kills you, so long as someone does. Howe or Lazaro…it will be equally thrilling to watch. For me. For you it will be the worst kind of pain you can imagine. I’ve seen both men take down rivals.” He smiles, sending a chill through my body. “Early in Howe’s crusade to the top, he faced a man from Japan. This man loved sushi, and Howe loves to make each death as personal and memorable as possible, so after beating this man in combat, he cut the flesh from his body one strip at a time. Turned him into his favorite meal. It took hours.”

  Watching every expression that flashes on my features, the Guardian relishes the disgusted look on my face. “Lazaro is even worse,” he says. “I don’t care which one of them ends up on top after this. I just want to be sure I’m there when they get their hands on you.”

  “I don’t plan on letting them get their hands on me any time soon. But if you ever touch me again…”

  My hand whips his own blade out of its sheath to press against his neck. He makes a move as if to struggle, but my other hand pressing to his forehead and unleashing a dose of Naturalism stops him cold. He blinks his eyes rapidly as my power enters his body and disrupts its ability to process sight. There’s nothing physically wrong with him. It’s just a trick my family’s butler, Manuel, taught me when we would play our own version of hide and seek. It made sure the seeker wasn’t cheating. It isn’t permanent and only lasts as long as the person doing it stays focused on maintaining the trick. The Guardian doesn’t know that, though.

  “Stay away from me, or next time I’ll make this permanent. You won’t see anyone kill me, and you certainly won’t see me coming either.” I drop the blade and withdraw my power, but not before sending a tendril of Concealment into his mind. I need to make sure this little incident doesn’t become a headline on tonight’s news.

  Regaining his sight, the Guardian takes a menacing step forward.

  “I wouldn’t, Douglas Rudolph, who lives with his wife and three children at 2378 Harvest Place.” Doug’s eyes swell into saucers. Concealment searched out the most basic information of his life so quickly I doubt he even knew I did it.

  “Are you threatening me?” he barks.

  “No, I’m protecting myself.”

  I didn’t wait for him to respond. My words, which were indeed a threat—though not one I could ever force myself to carry out—keep him from following me. I gather my dropped bags in trembling hands and push my way through the crowd to the electronics store. Milo sees me as soon as I cross the threshold. He waves me over and into a discussion about DVDs and Bluerays. I nod and make a general comment, but I have no clue what is said. In the end, I choose one that looks decent enough and pass it off to Milo. I just want to get out of this place.

  “Please tell me we’re done now, Libby. I don’t think I can take much more of this,” Milo says as we step out into the heat.

  “You’re the one who stood there arguing with the electronics guy for forever. I didn’t care which one we got as long as it could play a movie.”

  “I still think we should have gotten the PS3. It plays Bluerays.” His pout is both earnest and laughable at the same time. It begins to distract me from thinking about the encounter with the Guardian.

  “You just wanted to play video games on it,” I argue.

  He shakes his head at me. “Well, what else are we going to do in the room? You can only watch so much reality TV before your brain melts. And both the DVDs we got are chick movies.”

  The room, instead of your room. The DVDs we got. Everything he says pushes my dark thoughts further into the back of my mind. When did we stop shopping for me and started shopping for us? It is ridiculous, of course. We hardly even know each other, but it makes me smile to know that he just expects we will be together after school. Maybe it’s purely a survival instinct for him, maybe it’s something else entirely, but for now I’m glad of the company even if he is a little strange. He fell asleep yesterday for two hours, and then he took off after dinner without an explanation.

  “Just open the trunk please, so I can get rid of these bags,” I say when we reach his car.

  “I’m not sure all of that is even going to fit in there.”

  “Milo, would you please quit whining? I feel like I’m hanging out with a two-year-old.”

  In response to that, he actually sticks his tongue out at me. It’s so unexpected that I lose my stern expression and laugh. Pleased with himself, he closes the trunk on my purchases, barely, and leans against the car. “Are we done or not?” he asks.

  I narrow my eyes at him and seriously consider thinking up at least two more stores that I absolutely have to go to today. My aching feet and back protest as vehemently as Milo would at the idea of more shopping. Plus, I do not want a repeat of what happened by the bathrooms.

  “Yes,” I say, “we’re done.”

  “Sweet. Get in the car.” Milo bounds around to his own side so quickly I once again have serious doubts about whether or not his diktats are accurate about his talents. “Come on, come on,” he demands. It’s time to find a car and he knows it.

  Just to be a snot, I take my time walking over to the passenger’s door, pulling it open, and sliding into my seat. I plan to do the same with my seatbelt, but the way Milo lurches out of the parking space before I can even touch it forces me to scramble to get it clicked into place. He’s out of the parking lot faster than I can even form a coherent thought.

  “Where are we going? I didn’t even tell you where I want to look.”

  “So? I already found what you’re looking for,” he says. There’s excitement in his voice, but he somehow manages to keep it from his face. He looks terribly serious. It’s an odd look for him.

  “What do you mean you already found it?” I ask.

  “Just what I said.”

  “But I didn’t even tell you what I wanted to look at.”

  He huffs at me. “What does that matter? You said I get to pick.”

  “Oh no, I didn’t. I said you could help me pick out a new car.”

  His calm expression finally cracks. He grins at me shamelessly. “Close enough,” he says. “Stop whining.”

  I stick my tongue out at him this time and settle in for the ride. He’s going to pay for this later. See if I help him set up any of the new stuff we got today. We. Ha, I’m doing it too. The mini-fridge and hotplate won’t take much, but the bookshelf and little dresser are going to take some time. Maybe I’ll watch one of my chick movies while he works. Or play around with my new cell phone or laptop.

  Before I can fully enjoy my vengeful thoughts, Milo is pulling off the main road and meandering through a middle class neighborhood. I look over at him to question his choice of routes since there aren’t any dealerships within miles of here, but his stoic focus on the road doesn’t waver. Several short minutes later he pulls up to the curb and turns off the car.

  “Where are we?” I ask. Maybe this is his house? My interest piques. I know virtually nothing about him. Is he actually going to give me some hint of who he is under the grunge and blasé attitude?

  “Um, I believe we are just off Central at a house that belongs to a guy named Bryan,” Milo responds.

  Okay, it’s not Milo’s house. I’m surprisingly disappointed. “Why are we here?”

  “To pick up your new car, obviously. Come on.” He jumps out before I can respond. I’m left either sitting in the car like a petulant child or following him and possibly regretting it very deeply. Well, it wouldn’t be the first thing I regretted doing.

  I push the door open and meet Milo as he comes around the car. He is so enjoying himself. I’m definitely watching my movie tonight. I hope he has fun trying to figure out the ridiculously vague instructions t
hat always come with unassembled furniture. I bet he’ll have even more fun if I hide the English instructions and make him try to use the Spanish ones. I know I will.

  Milo rings the doorbell and steps back. A husky man, slowly going bald, opens the door and offers his hand. “Milo, nice to see you again, and you must be Libby,” he says turning to me. He tries not to flinch when I extend my hand. It’s more effort than anyone else has made today. I wonder if Milo tried to prepare him. “I’m Bryan.”

  “Nice to meet you, Bryan,” I say, genuinely appreciating his even letting me look at his car.

  He turns back to Milo, looking relieved not to have to face me anymore, and says, “Your girlfriend’s a little thing. You think she can handle Betsy?”

  Betsy? Did he seriously name his car Betsy? Girlfriend? Did Bryan just call me Milo’s girlfriend? I glance over at Milo to see him shove his hands in his pockets and duck his head down to hide his expression from me. How exactly did Bryan get the impression that I was Milo’s girlfriend? Does Milo’s embarrassment come from being caught, or from being caught off guard? But more importantly, why don’t I mind Bryan’s mistake? I should. I should mind a lot, actually.

  “Can we see Betsy?” Milo asks without looking up.

  “Sure, sure. She’s behind the fence there.” Bryan leads us over to a wooden fence next to his garage. He unlocks a latch and swings the big double gates open.

  My jaw drops. I can’t believe it. My hand flies up to my mouth to smother the giggles bubbling out of it. Everything I manage to bottle up sinks down into my feet and I start hopping up and down in place, completely unable to contain myself. When I can tear my gaze away from it I look over at Milo, who is laughing at me. I don’t even care.

  “Go. Take a look at it. Make sure it’s what you want,” Milo says.

  I bound away from him. Bryan’s voice follows me.

  “Never seen a girl get so excited about a twenty-year-old Bronco. She must be a big fan of the model, for some reason.”

  Milo’s voice is laced with amusement when he says, “You could say that.”

  I grin even bigger and run my hands along the body. It’s perfect. It’s blue instead of the red one I had tried to get the first time around, but everything else is the same. It even has a winch on the front. Finding the door unlocked, I pull it open and climb inside. As I do, I realize the reason behind Bryan’s comment about my size. I have to step quite a bit higher to get into this Bronco than I did on the last one. I peek down at the tires before I understand. There must be a lift on this to fit the massive things. They’ll be perfect for rock crawling, though. I bounce into the driver’s seat, close my eyes, and inhale the scent of cleaner and air freshener.

  “You like it?” he asks as he comes up next to me. My reaction should have been answer enough, but there is a subtle hint of uncertainty in his voice. I can’t feel it from him at all, but it’s there.

  Without opening my eyes I reach for his hand. “I love it. Thank you, Milo.”

  I can feel his shrug in the way his hand bobs up and down. “No big deal. I’m glad you like it.”

  I know this wasn’t a casual find, though. It was something more. And I’m not going to forget it. Crap, there go my movie watching plans. I guess I’ll have to help put furniture together after all. I open my eyes and meet Milo’s gaze. My hand tightens around his. Under the force of his completely unguarded expression, one of honest pleasure, it’s hard to keep from doing even more.

  Bryan claps a hand on Milo’s shoulder, startling him into dropping my hand. The urge to smack Bryan has to be channeled into a tight smile. “So what do you think?” he asks, still keeping a careful distance from me.

  “I’ll take it,” I say quickly.

  “Milo thought you’d say that,” Bryan chuckles.

  He slips a blue piece of paper out of his back pocket and hands it to me. I have to unfold it to realize it’s the title for the Bronco. I’m locked in a momentary bout of confusion. I’ve never bought a used car before, but I thought you generally don’t hand over the title until after you get paid for the vehicle. Why is he giving it to me now? I’m not even sure how much he’s asking, but I’m guessing I’ll have to head to the bank first.

  I turn to say something to Bryan. He and Milo are shaking hands. Like they’ve just completed some business. Bryan says something about keys and starts walking back toward his house. Bryan’s comments start clicking into place. He said Milo thought I’d want to buy it before I even saw it. He thought we were boyfriend and girlfriend. And he handed over the title like everything else was already taken care of. I jump out of the car and jam my finger against Milo’s chest.

  “You didn’t,” I seethe. “Please tell me you didn’t, Milo.”

  “Didn’t what?”

  I push against him a little harder. “Tell me you didn’t already buy the Bronco.”

  He frowns and taps his finger against his lips. “I’m guessing you’ll know if I’m lying to you, right?”

  I nod slowly.

  “Sorry, then.”

  Fury, anger, delight, desire, they all crash around inside me for a few seconds before I can get a handle on myself. “You bought the Bronco?” I ask.

  “Yeah. For you.”

  My accusing finger starts to tremble and I have to press it against Milo to hide it. I can’t believe he did this. Not only would I never have expected something like this from him, but some part of me is a little frightened by this gesture. We’ve known each other for less than a week. I don’t get it. “Why?” I ask. “And if you shrug, I’ll slap you.”

  Midway through a shrug, Milo freezes and lowers his shoulders. His voice holds almost zero emotion as he explains himself. “I didn’t know if you could afford it. I knew I could, so I bought it last night. You needed a car. Now you have one.”

  This is by far the nicest thing anyone has done for me in a long time. I shove him back a step anyway. “You’re such an idiot, Milo.”

  His eyebrows rise in surprise. “Excuse me?”

  I shake my head at him. “I have half a million dollars in an account that only my dad and I have access to. He set it up for me before he died. My mom can’t touch it. I have more than enough money to live off, especially since I probably only have two years left to live anyway.”

  Milo’s expression doesn’t change. “Well, that’s good to know for future reference. It doesn’t change anything now, though. The Bronco’s yours.”

  “Milo…”

  “It’s done.”

  “But…”

  His fingers on my lips…hmm, cut off the rest of my sentence. After letting myself indulge for a few brief seconds in his touch, I gently pull his fingers away from my mouth. He eyes me speculatively.

  “Milo,” I say quietly.

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you.”

  The corner of his mouth tugs up into a half smile, and what does he say? “No problem.”

  At least he didn’t shrug at me again. He leans forward and my breath catches in my chest, until he turns aside and brings his mouth next to my ear. “You want to know the real reason I bought the Bronco for you?” he asks.

  “Why?” I ask, sounding ridiculously breathy.

  “Because now you’ll feel so indebted to me you can’t help but save my life when Lance comes after me. With all your shopping done, and a car to take you wherever you want, what was going to keep you from sticking to our deal?” he says. “Now I’ve got you for sure.”

  His last sentence sends prickles up my spine. My concerns of a few moments ago resurface suddenly. Is that really why? His words are teasing, but as usual, there is a serious edge to what he says. I feel frozen until a slight smile works its way onto Milo’s lips. He’s just teasing, I tell myself with a sigh. I push him away roughly and laugh. “You’re such a jerk.”

  “But a jerk who just bought you a car.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I say. “You’re so putting the furniture together by yourself.”

  Chap
ter 12

  Perfectly Logical Reasons

  It was too late to take the Bronco out the day we got it. I spent the whole next week doing my best to ignore the hostilities at school and wishing I could be out in Montessa Park instead. With its completely undeveloped five-hundred-plus acres of land, it’s one of my favorite places to go off-roading. It’s the closest too, which makes heading there on the weekend a lot more feasible for me than driving up to Moab or the canyons in Southern Colorado.

  I’m not an adrenaline junkie, not even close. When I go four-wheeling, it isn’t to find the steepest cliffs and scariest routes possible. Searching out places bare of people and their mocking, a place that is remote and calm enough to almost convince me that man and their prophecies have no bearing on me is why I like to four-wheel. It’s an escape from reality.

  When I suggested taking the Bronco out to Montessa Park this morning, Milo was pretty easy to convince. As we roll out of the park with the sun setting behind us, I lean my head against the headrest and close my eyes. I smile for what feels like the first time in years. This was exactly what I needed. We didn’t see another person all day. No name calling, no accidental shoving or tripping, no glaring, no misery. I had almost forgotten what that felt like. Today brought it all back.

  Milo and I spent more time laughing and holding our breath over the more dangerous routes Milo just had to try despite my telling him no, than talking today, but I didn’t mind at all. I don’t mind it now, either. The sound of whirring tires on asphalt and air streaming over the less than aerodynamic car are the only sounds as we drive back toward the city. Even before my Inquest, I can’t remember ever feeling this at peace. There was always the fear and worry about my future looming in my mind. Although everyone knows who I am now, and hates me for it, at least it’s out there. It’s not a secret I have to hide. That’s something.

  The buzzing of wind and tires slows to silence as Milo pulls into the parking space in front of my motel room. I pull myself up in my seat and look over at him. “Thanks for coming with me today, Milo. I had a blast.”