Inquest

by Gladden, DelSheree

  The vagueness of how exactly it might cost Lance his life, by another’s hand or by Milo’s, doesn’t do anything to improve Lance’s complexion.

  “But let me make one thing clear, Lance,” Milo says, grabbing Lance’s shirt and yanking him closer, “if you ever try to steal my girlfriend from me again like you did with this Oath crap, I won’t let it slide no matter what Libby says. Talents or no talents, I’ll slit your throat with your own knife just like you tried to do to Libby.”

  Milo lets go of Lance’s shirt and turns his back on him as if he isn’t in the least bit concerned about a reprisal attack. And maybe he isn’t. I let out a nervous breath. Milo’s expression turns perfectly sweet, and just a little seductive, as his hand glides across my cheek. Bristling annoyance overcomes Lance’s fear at the touch, but Milo isn’t finished.

  “Why don’t you go ahead and give your watchdog his instructions. I’ll wait for you at the table.” Then to punctuate just how much Lance does not have me, Milo leans down and kisses me. Awkward is an understatement. I can feel Lance nearly boiling over with anger, but Milo knows precisely what he’s doing. His lips draw out my inhibition in an instant and I find myself returning his modest kiss wholeheartedly. He pulls back with a wolfish grin. Without another word, he walks away, leaving me staring at an infuriated Lance.

  “Watchdog?” he asks through clenched teeth.

  “It was your choice, Lance, not mine.”

  His body releases some of its tension. Milo believes Lance made the Oath solely to try and steal me back, and that was probably part of it, but I know from what I felt in him earlier today that he honestly does want to protect me. It’s pretty much the only reason I didn’t let Milo take at least a few more swings at him. Despite his anger, Lance seems to understand that he got himself into this mess all on his own. He leans back against the booth’s support.

  “I could feel that,” he says quietly. “When he kissed you, I could feel you respond to him.”

  The urge to throw up nearly gets in the way of me speaking. “I didn’t think the Oath worked like that.”

  “It’s not really meant to be used on one person,” he says quietly. “When you swear to protect a whole group of people there’s too many to form any deep connection. Personal feelings make it worse, too. I just didn’t expect it to be so strong.”

  “You shouldn’t have done it, Lance.” At the very least he should have asked me first. I might have actually agreed to it if he had. This way I’m too angry at him for forcing me into this connection to be appreciative of his help.

  He shakes his head. “No, I had to, Libby. I have to protect you.”

  I don’t understand him even if I do believe him, but I’m not going to turn away help right now. “Then you’ll just have to live with it, I guess.”

  “I know,” Lance says. For a few seconds neither of us says anything. I want to go to Milo and pretend Lance doesn’t exist, but the tortured expression on his face is hard to turn my back on. Finally Lance is the one to break the silence. “You love him, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you love me?” he asks. “Before?”

  I exhale slowly. “Yes, I loved you as my best friend, and more than that, too.”

  The slow nod of his head is all the reaction I get. After a moment he pushes away from the booth and faces me. “What are my instructions?”

  “You know who the Seekers are?” He nods like I thought he would. Being that his dad is pretty high up in the Guardian infrastructure, I figured he would have at least heard of them. The only Guardian secrets his dad keeps from him are the ones he’s forced to keep because of Guardian promises he’s sworn. “We think they’ll be the ones to come after me, but we can’t forget the Guardians either. President Howe ordered them to leave me alone, but Lazaro has already broken that order once.”

  Lance raises an eyebrow in question but I don’t bother to stop and explain. “It’s been quiet since Lazaro attacked me, so maybe Howe took care of him for me, but I would hate to count on that and find out I’m wrong. Besides, if it isn’t Lazaro calling the shots anymore, one of his lackeys will be. Listen for any hint that either group is going to make a move. I’m not asking you to spy on your own brothers, but if you hear anything…”

  He nods again.

  “And…” I hesitate, as this isn’t something I discussed with Milo. “I can’t fight very well right now. Stay close in case something happens, but it’d be better for everyone if you stayed far enough away that Milo doesn’t know you’re there. Just do what you’ve been doing up to now.”

  “No problem,” Lance says. “Anything else?”

  I take few more steps away from Milo so I can be sure he won’t hear me. Lance raises a curious eyebrow, but follows. “I won’t explain this, so don’t even ask, but if you hear any rumors about the Guardians coming after Milo, tell me right away. Day or night, I don’t care. And if you ever want any hope of me forgiving you for what you’ve put me through, you’ll make sure nothing happens to Milo, because if I even think for a minute that you let Milo get hurt because of your stupid jealousy, I will destroy you, Lance.”

  “I won’t let anything happen to Milo,” he agrees. The words seem bitter on his tongue, but again, I can feel his sincerity. It likely has more to do with the pain it would cause me to lose Milo, which he would feel intensely, than actually caring about him, but I’ll take it.

  “You better go, now,” I say, “and please don’t just show up like this again.”

  Lance flips his keys in his hand, his usual cocky attitude returning full swing. “I’ll see you at school, then. Later, Libby.”

  Great, one more reason to hate school. It was hard enough to deal with Lance when he was making everyone hate me. Having to face him like this might be even worse. Thank goodness it’s almost Christmas break. I hobble back to the table to find Milo pacing next to it. He stops when I sit down. His eyes are dark and focused in the dim light.

  “I still don’t know if I believe you about me having talents,” he says, “but I’m willing to try and find out.”

  I’ve had about enough testosterone for one day. These two are going to give me a brain aneurism. “Your sudden change of heart wouldn’t have to do anything with Lance, would it?”

  Milo’s grin is contemptuous. “Well, I can’t let that prick have all the fun, now can I?”

  Forget the Seekers and Guardians, Milo and Lance are going to be the death of me.

  Chapter 28

  Remedy

  My frustration boils over and I lose my focus completely. The trance I have been holding for an hour slips away. I hear Milo sigh along with me. He claims he has no talent for Spiritualism at all, but somehow he’s able to tell the moment I gain or lose my trance. That’s five. It’s the only good thing that has come out of these practice sessions during the past week. I still can’t manage to reach my own spirit let alone the spirits in the spirit world who could tell me what on earth I’m supposed to be doing with my life right now.

  The rest of my body wakes back up, and I lean against the bed in defeat. “I just can’t do it, Milo. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I thought confronting my mom would help, but it hasn’t. Not as much as I hoped it would anyway. I need to take a break.”

  “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Milo says. “I’m going to get a soda. You want one?”

  I nod. “Something with caffeine, please.”

  Celia rolls over onto her back, her head hanging off the edge of the bed so she can turn and look at me. “It’s too bad we can’t tell my mom about you, Libby. Mom’s a great Spiritualist. I bet she could tell you what you’re doing wrong.”

  “I would love to meet your mom, Celia, but we’re lucky enough they never saw Milo on TV. Telling them about me would make them pick up and leave faster than anything.”

  Actually, I’d love to meet Milo’s family for several reasons. The biggest one being that I don’t like being anybody’s secret. I’ve had enough s
ecrets to last a lifetime. Milo hands me a can of soda and sits back down on the floor across from me.

  “Celia’s right about me needing a teacher, though. I’m not getting this. We’ve got to find somebody willing to help,” I say.

  “Maybe Mr. Walters will know of someone. People are getting used to you at school, but there’s still no way either of the Spiritualism teachers are going to volunteer,” Milo says. “I’ll try calling Mr. Walters tomorrow, but for now we just have to keep trying.”

  I shake my head and groan. “No more. I’m done for tonight. I want to work on figuring you out now. I feel like we’re getting close. We’ve already confirmed you have five talents. I just have to figure out how to unlock them now.”

  “Four,” he says grumpily. “We know there are four.”

  Well, at least he’s admitting the first four now. Why he’s still arguing with me about Spiritualism despite it being blatantly obvious makes no sense, but I ignore him for now.

  “There has to be a way to get them to come to the surface.”

  Celia rolls back over and cocks her head to the side. Her eyebrow rises and her hands lift in a perfect “duh” kind of expression. “Why don’t you just try doing another Inquest? The first obviously didn’t work right, so just do it again.”

  “Celia, you can’t do more than one Inquest. It just doesn’t work that way,” Milo says.

  “But the first one never even happened.”

  I’m about to jump into the argument when Milo frowns, and says, “No, Celia. We’re not doing another Inquest. Drop it.”

  His blatant refusal brings out my combative side. “Milo, maybe it’s worth a try. I mean, maybe the Inquisitor didn’t do it right.”

  “He did everything he was supposed to. The only thing that didn’t go right was me having no talents.” His angry tone is a little shocking. “I never want to go through that again. You don’t understand what it was like.”

  My left hand darts up, right in front of his face so my pure black diktats are glaring at him. “Oh really?”

  “Yeah, really. You had a few years to prepare for what was going to happen at your Inquest. You knew what was coming. It sucked, but at least you knew what was going to happen.” Milo takes my hand and lowers it to his leg, where he holds it tightly. “Everything I thought was important was ripped away from me that night. I was convinced I was going to become something great, only to find out I was nothing. I’ve learned to live with what I am. I don’t want false hope for something I’m never, ever going to have.”

  My frustrated growl surprises both him and Celia. “It’s not false hope, Milo! You have talents. They’re there. Somewhere! We just have to find them. Let me do this, please.”

  In the face of my rant he says nothing. Celia, though, is incapable of losing either her voice or her opinion. “Milo, for crying out loud, just let her do it. If it doesn’t work, nothing changes. Like you said, you’ve already made your peace with being talentless. But if it does work, kudos! You really don’t have anything to lose. Let Libby try.”

  Long moments of silence stretch between us.

  “Fine,” he says quietly.

  My whole being lights up with excitement. Celia bounces off the bed and lands next to her brother. “This is going to be awesome.”

  Milo glares at her.

  “Okay,” I say, “give me your hands.”

  Milo reaches out tentatively. “Are you sure you know how to do this?”

  “Yes,” I say drily. “I spent my entire childhood watching my dad practice with the most talented Inquisitor in the state. I memorized the ritual years ago. I can do this.”

  He nods, looking less than convinced. He’s seen me do ridiculous things like sprint faster than a car, knock trees down with a single kick, and turn concrete into soup. He doubts I can do this? This is the talent I have spent more time on than any other. Maybe it has more to do with watching me fail day after day at the one talent I need the most. I have to shake off the frustration of the week and remind myself that Spiritualism has nothing to do with an Inquest.

  “Okay,” I say, “let’s get started. We still have to get ready for the ballet tonight.”

  Milo groans more about that than going through with the Inquest. I tune him out and send all my focus into awakening my Perception to its fullest. Slowly, my consciousness spreads into the whole of my body. Every molecule of my structure hums with power. The effort to push that power into Milo is tremendous. I can feel his hands trembling as I force it away from me and into him. When the last of my awareness rests in him, I sigh in relief.

  “Milo Hanover, the Inquest to discover your true identity and purpose has begun,” I say with pleasure. Nothing horrible happens, proving Celia’s theory about the first one not counting to be true. If it had counted Milo would probably be writhing on the ground in pain right now. Milo seems to relax as well—at least as much as anyone in the middle of their own Inquest can relax, anyway.

  “Milo, it is now time to uncover your talents so you may use them to benefit those with whom you come in contact.”

  With my Perception firmly planted in Milo, I start examining him. My smile spreads immediately because I know exactly what to look for. Right away I recognize the straining elements of both Speed and Strength locked inside every muscle cell, begging to be released just as my dad described to me. More subtle is the outward pulse of Milo’s consciousness, Perception attempting to assert itself and search those around him for information. In opposition, his Concealment is focused inward, constantly attempting to hide him from those he has been running from.

  His spirit…My attention momentarily wavers as I realize I’ve found his spirit. I take a moment to memorize the feel of it, hoping it will help me later when I try to access my own spirit. The slightly rough edges of his spirit wind around a core as warm and comforting as one of my dad’s hugs. The feeling draws me in, but I sigh as I remind myself that I’m here for another purpose. I file the sensation away for later and notice the bits of his spirit questing out in search of other realms. Spiritualism, just like I said.

  Then I realize that a more significant portion of his self is flowing out and down into the floor, into the natural elements of this world. My amazement grows as I realize Milo also has a talent for Naturalism. Six, one more than I expected. In my eagerness to find even more, I leap up to his mind and search for the mental energy spiraling out in an attempt to make contact with segments of time kept hidden by the future. I’m disappointed when I don’t find the telltale sign of Vision, but the six I already found are incredible!

  Six. I can’t contain it any longer. Gone is the composure I always saw in my dad and Inquisitor Moore as they worked. I search out the rest of the information I need to complete the Inquest and nearly explode in my rush to deliver it.

  “Milo,” I say, my voice sounding giddy and high. I can’t even bear to waste time naming what each talent does. I simply spit them out one after another. “Your talents are Naturalism, Spiritualism, Concealment, Perception, Speed, and Strength. Your true name is from the Warrior line. You are Gideon, a member of the Guardian class!”

  Milo cries out and his hands crush mine. I struggle to bear the pain as I quickly withdraw my Perception from his body. It sweeps back into me in a welcome rush. As the connection between us breaks, Milo releases me and my eyes snap open. He’s doubled over with his hands hidden beneath his chest. I hate seeing him in pain, but my breath is quivering. The pain is good. It means it worked. Not shoving his chest up so I can get a look at his wrist is unbearable. Celia is ducking and twisting, trying to see her brother as well. I count the seconds.

  An eternity later his chest starts to rise up slowly. As soon as I can see his right hand I grab it and stretch it out so both Celia and I can see. My body, mind, breath, everything freezes in confusion. All I see are the same jagged, botched scars of his first Inquest.

  “What happened?” Celia demands.

  I want to know the same thing. My eyes turn
and meet Milo’s. He looks up at me with a startled expression. “What happened?” I repeat.

  “I don’t know,” he says. “It worked, but I think something went wrong.” He’s cradling his left arm against his body…as if it’s in pain. My mind starts whirring. His shirt is covering his arm, but when I look up at Milo I can see my own thoughts confirmed in his expression. Slowly my fingers reach for his left arm. He doesn’t resist as I gently pull it forward so we can all see the almost complete ring of diktats encircling his left wrist. For once, Celia is completely speechless. Left. I don’t understand. Left is reserved for the Destroyer class, but I named Milo as a Guardian. I look at him in confusion.

  “I don’t understand,” I say. “Why are your diktats on your left hand?”

  “Because you’re the one who unlocked them?” Celia ventures. I’m glad to see she’s found her voice again, but that doesn’t make sense.

  “That shouldn’t matter. Inquisitors never leave any kind of personal mark on their clients. They can’t affect the person at all, just unlock their talents. I shouldn’t have done anything to change Milo.” None of this makes sense.

  “But…but nobody else could unlock my talents,” Milo says, “only you.”

  “We don’t know that for sure. Only one other Inquisitor tried. He may have messed up.”

  Milo shakes his head. “He didn’t mess up, Libby. He couldn’t find my talents anywhere. He tried, and tried, and tried. Something about me made it so he couldn’t access my talents like you could.”

  “Why me?” I ask, but even as the words are leaving my mouth a memory surfaces. There were a lot of things my dad told me about his training, but there were some things he couldn’t. After he found out who I was he told me Inquisitor Moore had told him something that he wanted to tell me, but couldn’t. The most he could share was that when my destiny was revealed there would be someone there to help me, someone only I could find. It sounded like some kind of riddle, or some game of pretend at the time. I didn’t know what he was talking about so I tucked it away for later.