Inquest

by Gladden, DelSheree

  I try to ignore the rage pouring off Milo like he so politely asked me to do, but it’s impossible. It’s way too strong. “That’s what Lance did?” he asks.

  I nod.

  “What does that mean exactly, for you and him?”

  “It m-means,” I say, the quiver in my chin making it hard to speak clearly. “It means that he can feel when I’m in trouble. He’ll have to come help me, or he’ll experience the worst pain imaginable. When he feels my need, he’ll know exactly where to find me, too. Depending on the strength of the link between us, he may be able to find me even if I’m not in trouble.”

  I do not add that Lance’s Speed and Strength are ridiculously powerful. Guardian Clements comments on it frequently, convinced he’s stronger than he is and not even at his full potential. I have no idea how that, and my own power, might affect the link, but I doubt it’s anything good.

  “What about you?” Milo asks. “Can you feel it when he’s hurt, or whatever? Do you have to rescue him, too?”

  “No.” Thank goodness. Knowing he can feel me makes my skin crawl. The last thing I would ever want is to be able to feel him in return. “The Oath is completely one sided. I have absolutely no compulsion to help him.”

  “Good,” Milo says darkly, “because I’m going to kill him.”

  Oh, crap. He means it.

  “Milo…” He’s already walking away from me, into a den of would-be Guardians just itching to try out their talents on something other than practice dummies. “Milo, stop! Wait!”

  “Libby Sparks!” calls a breathless woman from behind me.

  I shake my head and hurtle myself forward with my crutches to catch Milo. Probably just some overzealous teacher on ditching patrol. “Milo! Please, just wait. Milo!”

  Muted speaking behind me catches my ear and sends a jolt of dread straight through me.

  “This is Caroline Gomez for Channel Seven News trying to catch up with the fleeing Libby Sparks.”

  “Milo!” I scream. The panic in my voice stops him. Finally. He turns and his own eyes widen.

  After what happened with my mom, there’s no way I want to face down a pack of reporters, but as I watch Milo’s face drain of its color I realize my mistake. Our eyes meet and I can see the indecision in them. Help me get away, or risk being caught on camera. I can’t ask him to make the choice. My crutches dig into the grass as I come to an abrupt halt. I pinch my crutch under my arm and motion for him to run. He cringes and takes a step forward.

  “Go! Hurry up!” I call, careful not to use his name again.

  “Libby Sparks,” the winded reporter blurts out from right behind my ear.

  I spin awkwardly to face her. She’s shoving a microphone in my face, but her camera man isn’t paying any attention to me. Instead, his lens is focused on Milo’s retreating form. He’s almost back to the school, but with how close the reporter was to me when he turned around, there’s no way he had enough time. Caroline Gomez’s questions wash over me in a daze.

  Milo has just been found.

  Chapter 27

  Noise

  The intrepid reporter Caroline Gomez has no idea of the story she’s breaking with her report. The blurbs of me refusing to answer any of her questions about what happened to my foot flicker across the screen, ignored by both me and Milo. The picture they flash of Milo’s startled face—they didn’t catch his name, thank goodness—only airs for two or three seconds, but we both know it will be more than enough time for the Guardians to identify him. We watch the entire piece in silence.

  Only when the pleased reporter finally signs off do we turn away from the restaurant’s TV mounted above our booth. We thought it best to be in a public location when the story aired, hoping the numerous people around us would put off any immediate attack. Caroline Gomez’s smile is forgotten along with my hope. “Milo, I’m so sorry,” I whisper.

  His cell phone rings and he snaps it open. “Well?” he asks. I can’t hear the response, but a second later his shoulders slump and he sighs in relief. “Thanks, Celia. I owe you big time for this.” He listens again. Then groans. “Fine, I did promise you anything you wanted. I’ll take care of it.”

  A few seconds later he closes the phone. It drops to the table and he sighs.

  “Good news?” I ask.

  “Well, that depends on how you feel about ballet,” he says. “I just promised to take Celia to the Nutcracker at Popejoy Hall this weekend. I hate the ballet.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” I say drily, “but I happen to love the ballet. I see the Nutcracker every year. Did she keep your parents from seeing the news tonight?”

  His demeanor turns more serious as he nods. “She threw a temper tantrum about them not letting her go with her friend up to their cabin in Colorado for Christmas. She didn’t actually want to go, but it turned out to be the perfect excuse.”

  I’m relieved, of course, but it only goes so far. “Milo, is that really going to help, though? What if someone they work with saw it and mentions it to them? They’re going to find out eventually.”

  “I know,” he says.

  “They’ll want to leave, hide you and Celia again.”

  “I know.”

  “Maybe you should go,” I say, “at least for a little while. Your parents aren’t even the real problem. Guardians are going to come after you. I can’t even help protect you with my leg the way it is.”

  “You can’t protect yourself either,” he reminds me.

  Right away I know that isn’t true, not with Lance around, but I don’t care to point that out right this minute. “Milo, I know you’re worried about Celia.”

  His eyebrow quirks up. “You know?”

  “Because I know how much you love her, not because I’m digging into your emotions.” My eyes roll as I say it. Now that I know his Perception was just a big act, he’s very adamant that I keep my own talents to myself. It’s really irritating. “Milo, I have spent years trying to block other people’s emotions out. Believe me when I say I’m not purposely trying to intrude. I hate having other people’s feelings inside my head. The only time I ever get anything from you is when your emotions are really strong. And that’s not something I can do anything about.”

  Milo accepts my explanation, but that familiar note of something not fitting like it should creeps into my mind. I felt the same thing earlier today when Milo got mad at me because he thought I was intruding on his emotions. My brow crinkles as I try to remember what exactly he’d said that made me doubt. He accused me of trying to manipulate him, which was quite offensive, and then he told me the least I could do was stay out of his emotions since he couldn’t block me.

  It’s something about his not being able to block me. Something doesn’t fit. Thinking about my most useful and annoying talent, I try to pick out what is bothering me. I’ve been dealing with trying to ignore the background hum of emotional turbulence that follows me almost wherever I go since I was a child. I used to think it was fun to know what people where feeling and tease or announce that knowledge, but I learned pretty quickly that doing so was a sure way to drive people away from me. Especially my mother. So I started creating barriers around my mind that blocked out other people’s emotions. It has never worked completely, there’s always some background noise, but it keeps everything at a manageable level that’s easy to ignore.

  Then it hits me.

  There’s no noise coming from Milo right now. No latent worry about being seen, no concern for Celia, no pleasure at sitting with me. There is nothing coming from him at all. Perhaps Milo has an unnatural ability to have absolutely zero emotions when he wants to, but I very much doubt that. I know him too well. There’s no way he’s still not brooding about Lance, and Celia is constantly on his mind. Gently, even though I know he’d hate it if he knew, I probe Milo with my Perception. Just a hesitant touch at first, and I get nothing, complete emptiness. I push harder. Closing down each of my other talents systematically so they can’t interfere, I scour hi
s aura for something, anything. And find nothing.

  Milo is blocking me. Somehow my talentless boyfriend is blocking me.

  I prop my elbows on the table and focus all my attention on him. My movement makes him look over at me. The anxiety in my posture draws a frown. “Milo, what are you thinking about right now?”

  “Um, I’m wondering why you’re looking at me like that.”

  “No,” I say with a shake of my head, “what were you thinking about right before I asked you?”

  His frown deepens. “I was rethinking the Nutcracker trip. There will a lot of people there that might see you and know who you are. I know the media has backed off you lately, but after that story, it might pick back up again. If someone calls the media, it could be bad. Maybe the Guardians won’t see the news report, but I certainly don’t want to risk giving them another chance.”

  “That’s all?” I ask.

  “Do you have a more pressing concern than the Guardians not kidnapping me?” He smiles vaguely and runs his fingers through his hair. “Besides all the usual threats, that is.”

  “You weren’t thinking about me getting into your emotions? You weren’t worried about that at all?” I demand.

  He looks at me completely bewildered. “No…You said you wouldn’t, and I trust you. Why, were you poking at me for some reason?”

  “Yes,” I say, drawing a confused and hurt expression from Milo, “but not for the reason you think.”

  “Then maybe you better tell me why you’re doing something I just asked you not to before I go with what I’m already thinking.”

  “You’re really not trying to keep me out right now?” I ask.

  “No! I can’t. Why do you keep asking me that? Are you trying to rub in the fact that I can’t do anything you can? Not the nicest thing in the world to do, Libby,” he says seriously.

  None of this makes sense, but my excitement is growing by the second. “But you can, Milo! You can do what I can do, at least part of it. You’re blocking me. And I think you’ve been doing it since we met.”

  I have never seen Milo look so serious. Even when we’ve been in danger there’s always an undercurrent of disregard. “What?” he asks stiffly.

  “I can’t feel you at all! You’re a complete blank to me right now.”

  “Isn’t that something you’re doing, not me?” he asks.

  I shake my head and sit all the way up. “No, I was trying to get past whatever you’re doing, and I can’t. That has never happened to me before. I can always feel people around me in the background. The only people who have ever been able to block me are other Perceptives and Concealors, and only really powerful ones like my mom and dad, and if I try hard enough I can always get something. I can feel you when you’re really angry or happy, but I never realized until just now that I almost never get anything from you unless your emotions are intense.”

  Milo’s expression hasn’t changed at all but my mind is spinning. More and more evidence comes flooding into my mind. One in particular that I think will help Milo believe what I’m saying.

  “That’s why I didn’t know you were in the hall with me today,” I say. “If I had been able to feel your emotions I would have known you’d walked up. As angry as you were, I’m surprised I didn’t feel you even if you were trying to block me. I should have at least felt that, or sensed you near me. People I’m familiar with, the ones who I know the feel of their emotions or spirit really well, I can usually feel it when they’re near me.”

  “I didn’t want you to know I was there,” Milo says. “I wanted to see what was going to happen between you and Lance.”

  “What do you mean you didn’t want me to know you were there? Did you do something to try and hide yourself?”

  Finally joining me for real in this conversation, Milo rubs the side of his face thoughtfully. “I don’t know what you mean. I was just standing down the hall from you. I wasn’t hiding. I just didn’t want you to see me there.”

  I am literally bouncing on the seat with excitement. “You concealed yourself. You had to have. I would have known you were there otherwise.”

  “Maybe you were just really distracted by the guy pressing himself up against you,” Milo says snidely. I scowl at him and keep going.

  “You’re using talents without knowing it, Milo. That Inquisitor, he did something wrong.”

  Milo shakes his head emphatically. “No, Libby, you weren’t there. He tried and tried to find something in me. I’d been to Inquests for a couple of my cousins I was close to. He didn’t do anything wrong. There was nothing for him to find. I don’t have any talents.”

  “Yes, you do,” I argue. My adamant tone makes the guy at the table across from us look at me warily. I ignore him, but I do try to lower my voice. “You have at least two, and maybe more. The way you punched Lance today, you never should have been able to do that. Lance is one of the strongest and fastest people I know. He started to punch you first, and he should have connected before you could even think about hitting him. And you hit him so hard! He flew into the wall. Without his own Strength, I don’t think he would have gotten back up so easily. Add in Speed and Strength and that makes four.”

  I am starting to feel lightheaded but Milo looks angry. “Stop it, Libby. I don’t like this. Don’t tell me I have something I don’t. I’ve learned to live with what I am. You have no idea how much it crushed me to find out I would never live the life I wanted. I won’t go back to that place in my life.”

  “But you don’t have to. I know I’m right about this, Milo,” I argue. “Have you really never considered this? What about what you said to Lance in the hall about you hiding something?”

  “I just said it to make him scared of me!” Milo says in exasperation. “I mean, I have secrets about my diktats, and he knows I’m hiding something, but I was only trying to piss him off and make him stay away from you. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “There is more to you than forged diktats, Milo. You have talents. I’m right about this,” I argue. There is so much telling me I’m right, but Milo still refuses to believe me.

  “No. You’re not.” His jaw is set in frustration.

  “Have you listened to anything I’ve said?” I demand.

  “Every word of it,” he snaps. “And you’re wrong. Don’t you think I have been training myself to look like I have talents? Whatever you think you’re seeing in me, it’s not there.”

  I growl out my frustration and glare at him. “Why are you being so difficult? You can train yourself all you want to try and trick people, but training would never let you move as fast as you did today. And without Strength, moving that fast would have turned your joints into jelly. And nobody can practice Concealment or Perception. You have talents, Milo.”

  “No. I. Don’t.”

  “This is stu…”

  The sound of my name being called out over the restaurant din cuts off the rest of my sentence. Milo’s irritation morphs into fear. Nobody would have any reason to call out to me in here. Nobody even recognized me that I noticed. Milo starts to move but I grab his arm and pull him back.

  “No, let me,” I whisper. He shakes his head but I’m not giving in on this one. “Milo, it could be the media. They can’t see you again.”

  “Or it could be someone coming after you.”

  I roll my eyes at him. “Yeah, the Seekers are really going to call my name out before they kill me. Stay put and don’t let anyone see you.”

  Grabbing my crutches I scoot myself out of the booth without taking my eyes off Milo. He doesn’t move. It speaks to just how scared he really is of being found. I have to push down my own fear for him and focus as I start to turn away from him and attempt to intercept anyone from seeing him. I try to tap my Vision, but it only sputters at me. It’s not the most reliable talent. At the most I can get a glimpse maybe a minute or two into the future when I try to force it, but half the time I get nothing. It’s still better than anyone else I’ve met, but that doesn’t
keep me from being irritated about my talent’s limitations. I push my frustration away and complete my turn. My eyes close involuntarily. It’s probably just the media. I knew they would find me again eventually. Forcing myself to quit being a wimp, I open my eyes expecting a crowd of eager faces.

  Instead, all I see is one face, grinning stupidly instead of eagerly. “Hey, cool, it worked. I found you,” Lance says.

  “Lance, what are you doing here?” I hiss.

  He leans against an empty booth casually. “Just checking in on you.”

  “She’s fine,” Milo says from behind me, “now leave.”

  “Ah, I thought that was Freak Boy’s car in the parking lot.”

  “Don’t call him that or I’ll punch you myself,” I say. “Several times.”

  Maybe all my pretending has worked a little too well, because Lance doesn’t look scared in the least. Milo notices as well.

  “Purple’s a good color on you, Lance,” Milo says, referring to the streaks of violet bruising under his eyes. “You should wear it more often, and you will if you don’t leave right now.”

  Why does it irritate me that Lance flinches for Milo but not for me?

  “Look, Mi-lo,” Lance says, stretching out Milo’s name condescendingly, “I don’t expect you to understand, but I’m not going anywhere. Libby is mine to protect, mine in a way she’ll never be yours.”

  Milo pushes past me and grabs Lance before he can react. “Oh, I understand better than you think. Libby told me all about your Guardian Oath.”

  Lance’s face pales slightly.

  “I’d kill you right now if Libby would let me. For some reason she thinks you might be useful, although I don’t know why. A sniveling, pathetic idiot like you can’t be worth too much, but Libby asked, and I know how to respect a lady’s wishes. We’ll use you to keep her safe, and if it costs you your life, so be it.”