Inquest (16 page)

He says it
like it was a polite disagreement. Judging by his scars, it was
anything but. I’m certainly not going to press him for the gory
details, at least not right now. Having more information about
these Seekers will be invaluable if I ever have to face them,
though. Which I probably will.

“So none of
the Seekers ever had a premonition about me?” I ask.

Mr. Walters
smiles like I imagine a grandparent would to a silly grandchild.
“If they had, you would already be dead, my dear. The Seekers
follow a much looser code of conduct than the rest of the
Guardians.”

My spine
twitches in revulsion. I can’t imagine the terror of having men and
woman capable of scarring one of their own so badly slip into my
room at night with the intention of murdering me. There is little
doubt in my mind that they would wake me before they slit my throat
just so they could watch the life fade from my eyes.

“How did
President Howe get to me so quickly then? I was only unconscious
for a few hours, but he and Lazaro were already there. Someone must
have known about me.”

Mr. Walters
stops moving. His eyes stare past me at nothing in particular. “I
don’t know. Perhaps they were already in the area when they were
notified of you.”

I’d say he was
acting kind of strange, but he always acts strange. I don’t know
what to make of this newest oddity.

“Besides,” he
says, coming back to himself, “Howe has use of a Leer jet. He can
travel very quickly that way. He may not have needed to be close
by.”

Hmm. I wasn’t
sure how fast a Leer jet could go, but I suppose Mr. Walters is
probably right.

“What about
you?” Milo asks in the silence that has fallen.

“Excuse me?”
Mr. Walters asks.

Milo folds his
arms across his chest and stares at the old man. “Did you have any
glimpses or premonitions? You’ve studied the Destroyer class most
of your life. If your theory was correct, shouldn’t you have seen
Libby coming?”

Bending his
wrinkled lips into a rueful smile, Mr. Walters returns Milo’s
stare. There seems to be appreciation for Milo’s insight in his
eyes. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say I had either a premonition or
glimpse of Libby, but I was drawn to this town by her presence. I
grew up in Boston, served as a Seeker in Los Angeles, and retired
from that service in Colorado. Sixteen years ago, I felt the need
to move to the desert. Once in a while I would get the distinct
impression that the power I was looking for was being used. It
guided me to this school just over five years ago, though until I
met you, Libby, I had no idea who I was looking for. You, my dear,
are extremely good at hiding your talents.”

The subtle
hint of awe in his voice is reflected in Milo’s expression. It
makes my skin crawl. “I’ve had a lot of practice,” I mumble.

“Yes, I
suppose you have,” Mr. Walters agrees. “But how? How did you do it?
You must have come into your powers almost from birth, because I
felt your presence days after you were born.”

I hate it when
he turns his planned lecture into a “Let’s ask Libby a million
questions” session, but in a weird way, it is actually a huge
relief to talk about everything I’ve tried to hide for so long.
Plus, Mr. Walters really does enjoy hearing me explain everything.
It’s funny to watch him get so eager and interested. So, once
again, I indulge his obsession for no good reason.

“The first
time I remember actually using any of my talents is when I was
three years old. I was playing with a rubber ball in my backyard. I
kicked it especially hard and it went over the fence into my
neighbor’s yard. My dad was at work, so I tried to get my mom to
help me. She was busy, so I decided to get it by myself. I climbed
the tree that leaned over into their yard and jumped down—which I
didn’t realize until much later that I should have hurt myself
doing—and went to find my ball.

“I found my
ball pretty quickly. It was in the jaws of a Rottweiler named Max.
I remember being furious that the dog had popped my ball. I yelled
at it. Stupid idea, but I was only three. It dropped the ball and
starting growling and walking toward me. I was terrified. It
reached me so fast. I still don’t know what possessed me to do it,
but I reached out and put my hand right on its nose. I could feel
the dog’s spirit immediately. It reminded me of a porcupine, sharp
and bristling. I didn’t like how it felt. I could feel its anger
washing over me, so I pushed it away, off of me, and out of the
dog, too. He stopped growling and his spirit mellowed into
something that felt like marshmallow fluff. Max never bothered me
again.

“After that
encounter with the dog, I started to realize that I was doing
things other people couldn’t. I didn’t understand why that was, but
something deep inside of me told me it was dangerous to let anyone
see what I could do. I hated hiding, especially from my dad, but I
knew I had to,” I say.

In the end, my
skills at hiding my true identity weren’t enough. I tried to
protect my dad from the knowledge of who I was, but I didn’t do a
good enough job. He found out, and he died.

“Amazing,” Mr.
Walters says. “At three years old you were able to access your
talents. Strength to kick the ball and protect yourself from being
injured when you dropped from the tree, Naturalism and Spiritualism
to connect with the dog, and Perception to feel its emotions. You
were even able to tap them with enough strength to actually do
something productive. Most don’t even begin to manifest talents
until they’re young adults, and even then they have so little
control over them that they’re practically useless.”

“Lucky them,”
I say.

I would be
thrilled to be one of those people. I look over to see Milo’s
reaction to my story, hoping it isn’t as dramatic as that of Mr.
Walters. I’m not sure he even heard me, actually. Milo is frowning
again, something I’m beginning to realize means he’s thinking very
deeply. When I first met him I might have wondered if it hurt him
to think, given his disregard for school, but now I know better. He
may hate school, but Milo is neither stupid nor incompetent. I wait
patiently to hear what he has to say.

“So why don’t
the Seekers come after Libby now? They know where she is. The whole
world knows who she is thanks to the reporters who like to follow
her around. But all that’s happened so far is we’ve had to take out
of the way routes to avoid the few straggling reporters that hang
around the school trying to get a glimpse of Libby and figure out
where she’s living. Why haven’t the Seekers tried to kill her yet?”
Milo asks.

“If they could
have found her before she was revealed to the world, they would
have. But now that she is known, she falls under the responsibility
of the Guardians,” Mr. Walters says.

“And they
can’t touch me for two years.”

The older
man’s chuckling sounds like leaves tumbling along the ground. “A
fact that I’m sure neither group is terribly happy about.”

“Not to
mention President Howe demanding everyone let me keep walking
around like a normal person,” I add.

“Yes, that is
interesting, isn’t it? I was quite surprised when I first heard
about his edict, but I suppose I shouldn’t have been,” Mr. Walters
says. “He’s always had a flair for the dramatic, not to mention an
ego that could swallow the entire world in one gulp.”

“What do you
mean?” I’m still pretty confused about why Howe didn’t just send a
team of Seekers after me the night of my Inquest.

Mr. Walters
shakes his head. “Howe got to the top by force, but just beating
his opponents wasn’t enough. He always had to do it in the most
memorable way possible. I remember his second-to-last opponent,
Guardian Ivan Bok, particularly well. I still see that man’s face
every time I hear the word bamboo.” He shutters and I refrain from
asking for the details. I’ll probably end up googling it later, but
I don’t want to think about all the spectacularly awful ways
President Howe might kill me right now.

“I still don’t
see what’s stopping the Seekers,” Milo says, interrupting our
conversation as if he weren’t even aware of it. Frustration has him
sitting up straight for once. “If the Seekers were going to kill
her in secret before, why wouldn’t they kill her in secret now?
Nobody even knows about them. If Libby ended up dead everyone would
just suppose some rogue Guardian or crazy citizen had taken things
into his own hands. Traditional boundaries can’t possibly mean very
much to the Seekers when their whole world is at stake. They could
come after her at night when no one else is around and no one would
ever suspect them.”

Milo looks up
and meets Mr. Walters’ eyes. “What’s really stopping them from
killing her?”

Mr. Walters’
voice loses all its mirth. “Nothing.”

Chapter 14

Celia

“Milo, you
can’t spend the next two years brooding over this,” I say. He
ignores me, of course, and sits on my little dresser. “Um, I don’t
think that thing’s sturdy enough for you to sit on.”

“Are you
doubting my carpentry skills?” he asks, still frowning.

My derisive
laugh makes him frown even more. “Yes, actually. I watched you put
it together, remember? I still think those extra screws should have
gone in there somewhere.”

“I still can’t
believe you made me put it together by myself,” he says. But he
does get off the dresser. He almost sits in the sling chair we got
along with the dresser before thinking better of it and joining me
on the bed. That chair looked comfortable, but it was definitely
not.

“You deserved
it,” I remind him.

“Ha, see if I
ever buy you anything again.” He lies back on the bed and sighs. I
think his worry is finally starting to mellow. Thank goodness. This
room is small enough without his nearly six-foot-tall frame pacing
around all evening.

I lie down
next to him, propped up on my elbow. Resisting the urge to snuggle
up next to him is even more difficult than usual. I don’t like
seeing him so wound up. Even more, I hate knowing that being around
me is doing this to him.

“Why don’t we
do something?” I suggest. “You said you brought some movies to
watch, right?”

Milo growls at
me, which unfortunately for him has the completely wrong effect on
me. I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. “How can you not
be as freaked out about the Seekers as I am?” he demands.

“I am freaked
out, Milo.”

“Well, you
sure don’t act like you are. It’s…irritating that you want to watch
a movie when a group of assassins we didn’t even know existed until
a few hours ago could be coming for you.”

I can’t help
smiling this time. Not only is his worry over someone he should
hate very endearing, but he’s incredibly handsome when he’s
frustrated—despite his hair and lack of fashion sense. Milo doesn’t
appreciate my amusement. He jerks back up and turns away from
me.

I pull myself
up behind him and place my hand on his arm, tugging gently until he
turns to look at me. “Milo, I’m not trying to irritate you. It’s
just that I’ve been dealing with this my whole life. I’ve always
been afraid that someone was going to sneak up on me and slit my
throat. Being afraid for my life is like an old blanket for me.
It’s nothing new. The Guardians are all poised to kill me on Howe’s
orders. Lazaro’s followers are out there right now hatching a plan
to get rid of me. Now there are Seekers. They’re only one more twig
on an already high stack of fears. I wouldn’t know what to do if I
didn’t feel threatened.”

“People
shouldn’t have to live like that. It’s not right,” he says
softly.

“But it’s how
things are.”

My hand slides
down his arm to cover his hand. He doesn’t pull away. Instead, he
turns his palm up and winds his fingers with mine. Warmth races up
my arm and surrounds my heart. I start to fill dizzy, so I lean my
head on Milo’s shoulder. Mostly because of the dizziness. I’m not
sure if we sit there for seconds, or minutes, but I have to stifle
a groan when Milo pulls away from me.

“You still up
for a movie?” he asks.

“Sure. What’d
you bring?”

He smiles, and
says, “A classic.”

A few minutes
later I roll my eyes as
Terminator
starts playing.
“Seriously? This was the best you had?”

“Hey, I
watched plenty of your girly movies. You owe me.”

“Whatever. I
saw you getting all choked up last night when the girl died,” I
say.

“Liar.”

I’m pretty
sure he would have been crying if he’d been watching it alone.
Wimp. Not that I can say too much about it. I was crying myself.
There certainly won’t be any crying tonight.

Milo folds his
pillow in half like he always does and lies down. His arms are
folded across his chest, but I plunk down right next to him, near
enough for him to take my hand if he wants to. He doesn’t seem to
notice the lack of distance. His emotions are so nonexistent right
now I wouldn’t even know he was here if Perception was all I had to
go on. The scenes I’ve seen a dozen times before start playing
across the screen. Not that I’ll admit it to Milo after teasing
him, but I actually like the
Terminator
movies quite a bit.
Milo is making it hard to pay much attention tonight, though.

Twenty minutes
into the movie, Milo unexpectedly turns to me, and says, “Did you
see all the posters they put up for the Winter Formal next
weekend?”

And
Terminator
made him think of that why? “Uh, yeah. Couldn’t
help notice. They were everywhere.”

Silence. For a
full two minutes.

“Were you
thinking of going?” he asks.

I laugh. “No.
I don’t really relish the idea of dressing up just so people can
gawk at me even more than they already do. Plus it’d be too easy
for someone to sneak up on me at something like that.” Then that
little cartoon light bulb flickers on in my brain. “Why? Are you
going?”