Inquest (3 page)

“I’m sorry he
isn’t here, too,” I whisper.

“I’ll do my
best in his place. Now why don’t we get started?”

I can only nod
when a lump of fear lodges itself in my throat.

“Everyone
please take your seats,” Inquisitor Moore asks. The resident
Guardian slides into place at the back of the room, watching
everyone. Inquisitor Moore waits for the rustle of chairs and
clothing to settle before continuing. “I would like to thank
everyone for coming tonight to support Libby. She grew up playing
in this house while I trained her father, but this is the first
time she has ever entered this room The ritual chamber is sacred.
In this room, Libby’s true identity will be revealed.”

My heart
stops. Does he know? How could he possibly? I very nearly bolt, but
his next few words calm me back down.

“We all know
Libby for the good, kind young woman she is, but by identity I mean
who she will become. Will she be an artist as she would choose if
only she could? The time for wondering has come to an end. In a few
moments I will reveal Libby’s true name and class and unlock her
talents. These elements of her future identity will determine the
path her life will take from here on out.”

I really,
really hope not. Every cell in my body is begging for a
miracle.

“Libby, would
you please join me?”

I wait just a
moment longer, but no one rushes in to save me. So I stand and walk
over to the two chairs placed in the center of the room. He
gestures for me to sit. Surrendering, I take my place.

Inquisitor
Moore takes his seat as well, and we sit facing each other while
the others watch intently from the edges of the small room. I feel
one gaze more intently than any other. There is a bored look on the
resident Guardian’s face, but I know it will disappear in a flash
when the time comes. Turning away, my gaze is pulled to Jen and
Lance sitting to my left. Their encouraging smiles are impossible
to return. It’s almost physically painful to turn back to the
Inquisitor when he takes both of my hands in his.

“Don’t worry,”
he says, “everything will be just fine.”

For a moment I
almost believe him.

Then he closes
his eyes and the Inquest begins.

Silence falls
on the room so pressing that I can feel it on my skin. Goosebumps
scatter across my flesh even though the room is pleasantly warm. I
close my eyes and feel the Inquisitor’s power start to flow through
me. The rush of soul-scouring intrusion that flows through my hands
makes me tremble, slightly at first, but as the sensation travels
up my arms my convulsions grow more noticeable. The pressure to
control it has me grinding my teeth. I try to hold it off, but the
second the Inquisitor’s power touches my mind it saps my strength
and leaves me shivering like a puppy in the rain. My arms feel
limp, but the Inquisitor’s own hands seem to have gained strength
that a man of his age should not possess. Pain lances up my arms as
he grips my hands.

When he
finally speaks it startles me so much that I jump.

“Libitina
Sparks, the Inquest to discover your true identity and purpose has
begun,” his suddenly firm voice says.

A pitiful
whimper slips out from between my lips before I can stop myself.
The elderly man falls silent for several long seconds. I can feel
the power of his Perception talent searching every inch of me,
devouring the secrets hidden there. The blood pounding in my ears
makes it nearly impossible to hear anything but my own staccato
pulse. It sounds like the Inquisitor is whispering when he finally
speaks.

“Libitina, you
come from a long line of very talented individuals. It is now time
to uncover your own talents so you may use them to benefit those
with whom you come in contact.”

Warmth
suddenly settles around my left wrist instead of my right. Not a
pleasant warmth either. An itching, blistering heat that makes my
hand begin to twitch involuntarily. The Inquisitor pauses briefly,
and I open my eyes to see his brow furrow in…concentration?
Confusion? When he continues I doubt I am the only one who can hear
the uncertainty underlying his words.

“Libby, your
talents are Naturalism, to speak to and protect the natural
elements of this world, Spiritualism, to touch the souls of all
living and non-living beings so you may comfort and guide them,
Vision, to see what others are blind to, Perception, to know the
hearts, emotions, and minds of others so you may not be deceived,
Concealment, to hide what needs to be hidden and to find and reveal
the truth of all things,” he says, his voice becoming weaker with
each talent.

My wrist burns
more fiercely with each one named. I can feel the diktats forming
like scar tissue, rising out of the once smooth skin of my left
wrist. I’m not the only one that can see them. Inquisitor Moore’s
eyes move reluctantly from my right wrist, were the diktats should
have appeared, over to my left. His face falls as what his
Perception talent must be telling him is confirmed in flaring red
reality. Tears drip down his wrinkled cheeks.

I can see my
mom sitting behind Inquisitor Moore, blocked from seeing my wrist.
She’s glowing with ravenous elation. When my dad died she lost so
much more than a husband who treasured her. She lost the power and
prestige of being married to the man set up to be the next ruling
Inquisitor. Lording over a daughter who she must believe could very
likely take his place makes her look positively euphoric. The
problem with her excitement is that the Inquisitor isn’t done yet.
Five of the seven talents being gifted to one person is rare
enough, but all seven is a death sentence. It is a mark everyone in
the world knows, and fears.

Inquisitor
Moore, clearing his voice, barely even makes a dent in my mom’s
aura until he gets halfway through his sentence.

“You also have
a talent of…” His voice falters again. My dad was his apprentice,
his son in every sense of the word, save for actual blood. I grew
up playing in this house while he and my dad worked. I love him,
and he me. He knows the weight of what he is about to say. Tears
fall, but he can no more lie in the middle of an Inquest than I can
make myself disappear. “Libby,” he whispers, “you also have the
talents of Speed and Strength.”

Pain flares
across my skin as the next two diktats emerge.

Everyone in
the room gasps in horror as the reality of me having all seven
talents hits them. My mom nearly topples from her chair as her
visions of the future are shattered. They hear the Inquisitor’s
words, but the meaning has yet to sink in through the shock.
Inquisitor Moore spits the rest of my death sentence out in a
sudden rush.

“Your true
name is from the Iconic line. You are Cassia, the one and only
member of the Destroyer class.”

Everything
happens at once. The Inquisitor slumps in his chair as Lance leaps
from his. My heart swells for a brief second as I think he is
reaching out for me. That illusion shatters when I see the blade in
his hand. The only thing that saves me from being left to drown in
my own blood is the sudden blinding agony that grips the entire
left side of my body. The remaining eight diktats that accompany my
name and class sear their way out of my flesh as if I have just
been branded like a witless cow. The crippling explosion throws me
to the floor just as Lance’s knife slices through the air that my
neck just occupied, clipping my skin briefly before meeting empty
air again. Somewhere through the haze of gut wrenching pain,
betrayal lodges itself into my heart.

Tears pour
down my cheeks and soak into the expensive carpet beneath me. Not
even I know whether they come more from the pain or the dying hope
that Lance would protect me. I want to be strong in my final
moments of life, but I can’t face it. I can’t die with the image of
the guy I love hovering over me, intent on seeing me dead. A thin
trickle of blood slides down my neck, the pain behind it lost amid
greater hurt. I close my eyes and hope he will at least make it as
painless as possible. He knows how much I hate pain.

My heart beats
once. The double thud of one chamber pulling precious blood in and
the other pushing it out is loud inside my head. For some stupid
reason I open my eyes. Lance stands over me with a stunned
expression on his face. His features twist, as if he is waging a
war between his heart and mind. A tiny spark of hope erupts inside
of me. There is a flicker of doubt in his eyes. I wait for him to
drop his knife and wrap me up, show me that he would stand by me no
matter what, that it was all a mistake. The only move he makes is
to run for the door. Leaving me alone. Abandoning me.

The pain of
his betrayal breaks me. When I look away from his retreating form,
I am so furious and hurt that I almost don’t see the resident
Guardian stepping forward. The blade in his hand stops me cold. My
anger at Lance evaporates as the Guardian steps into the room. I
had momentarily forgotten him. But he would never miss this moment.
Vigilant, the Guardian’s only purpose is to find me, to kill me. I
am suddenly within his reach.

There is
absolutely no doubt in my mind that he knows he has just found his
prize. Murderous victory is painted in every weathered line of his
face. With his talents of Speed and Strength I know there is no
hope of stopping him, not while I’m still in so much pain. My eyes
lock with his and dare him to kill me while I face him. It’s all
the resistance I have left. It doesn’t make a bit of
difference.

He lunges
toward me, his blade leading the way.

“Horace, no!”
Inquisitor Moore cries out, his wizened hand snapping out to grab
him with incredible Speed.

Horace turns a
furious glare at the Inquisitor. “What are you doing?” he
demands.

“Stop, Horace.
You must not harm her.”

“But…but
she’s…” He can’t even say it. The venomous words refuse to form on
his tongue. “I can see the diktats on her left wrist. I know that’s
the mark of the Destroyer! Don’t try to tell me I’m wrong about
this. You named her yourself. She has to be stopped!”

“Don’t! You
can’t,” Inquisitor Moore begs.

“I can’t just
let her go! She’ll kill us all! I can stop her, now!”

Inquisitor
Moore’s wrinkled face hardens. “You would really kill her, Horace?
A defenseless young woman? You would slice open her throat and
watch her blood pool on the rug as the life fades from her
eyes?”

Horace’s eyes
flash with a moment of doubt, before returning to their icy scowl.
“I have to. She’ll destroy us all if I don’t. Get out of my way,
Inquisitor.”

The pain in my
wrist finally begins to subside just as the overwhelming reality
that I am about to die finally settles in. With it comes utter
darkness.

Chapter 3

Gift

Opening my
eyes is something I never thought I would do again. The harsh light
and throbbing pain in my arm very nearly makes me cry. Exhaustion
and pain beg me to drift back into unconsciousness, but I refuse.
As sweet as still being alive is, I have no illusion that this is a
permanent state of being for me. Whatever Inquisitor Moore said
after I passed out is only going to postpone the inevitable. Even
the highest ranking man in Albuquerque, New Mexico, can’t save my
life.

“Oh, thank
goodness, you’re awake, Libby. I was beginning to worry,” says
Inquisitor Moore as he sits down beside me. Jen is close on his
heels. The Inquisitor’s bleary eyes are red and wide, while Jen’s
cheeks are streaked with tears.

“What
happened?” I ask. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Jennifer is
the only one still here. The others have all left. You are safe…for
now.” His last two words carry a subtle warning. It’s one I don’t
need, though. Whatever made that Guardian stop, one of those blades
will find me eventually. I’ll deal with that later.

“How did you
do it?” I ask him.

“He didn’t,” a
voice says.

My eyes dart
around the room furiously, landing on not one, but two men. For a
moment I stare at them with no recognition, but only for a few
seconds. When I realize who I’m staring at panic lodges itself in
my throat, choking me in an attempt to finish what Lance started.
The men stalk forward. Power follows in their wake like a blanket
of pure evil descending on the room.

“
P-President Howe,” I stutter.
I
can’t believe the president of the entire world, the ruling
Guardian is standing in front of me. Was this why I was saved? So
he could kill me himself?

“If you know
who I am you should also recognize the man standing behind me,”
Howe says.

Ungluing my
eyes from Howe takes considerable effort. I’m terrified that the
moment I take my eyes off him his Guardian blade will slice through
me like I was made of tissue paper. My gaze settles on the second
man, still standing silently. “Vice President Lazaro,” I
acknowledge. He doesn’t say anything. “What…why are you both here?
How did you get here so fast?”

“I was warned
that I might want to be in the area tonight,” he says cryptically,
clearly not about to offer any other explanation. I swallow
slowly.

“Are you going
to kill me now?”

“That,” Howe
says, “is still undecided.”

“Why? I know
the laws. When the Destroyer is found, she will be killed by
Guardian blade.” Word for word, that is the law. Why didn’t it
happen?

Howe rubs his
chin. I think he was meaning to look thoughtful, but the only
impression I got was of a villain plotting his next atrocity. I
know who this man is. I’ve heard of the horrible things he’s done.
Killing me should be nothing to him.

“The problem
is,” Howe says, “you aren’t actually the Destroyer yet. Your power
was unlocked today, but only a portion of it. You won’t gain your
full power until age eighteen. Until then you can’t be called into
service by any class, either. You won’t truly be the Destroyer
until your eighteenth birthday.”