Inquest (36 page)

Milo appears
to feel the same way about the prospect of Celia and Lance. He
steps closer to his sister, and says, “Celia, go get dressed.”

She nods
without taking her eyes off Lance and saunters to the bathroom.

“Oh, good,”
Lance says, glancing at each of our clothes, “I was beginning to
worry that I was seriously overdressed. We don’t have that much
time, though. Parking is going to be a nightmare if we don’t get
there early enough. Libby, you better go get dressed too.”

I roll my eyes
at his attempt to take control. Typical Lance, irritate everyone in
the room and still expect them to take orders. Too bad it usually
works for him. It most definitely will not work tonight. Especially
not with Milo around. As Milo’s incensed grimace turns up into a
pleased smile I know this is going to be bad. Close to the
bathroom, he only has to lean to the side in order to knock lightly
on the hollow door.

“Make it
quick, Celia, Libby still has to change.” She calls out that she
will in her happy sing-song voice and Milo turns back toward Lance.
“The only reason you’re coming is because Libby’s right. I don’t
want her risking herself when she’s already hurt. But me needing
your help isn’t going to last long.”

I watch in
horrified fascination as his fingers start undoing the buttons of
his shirt. I should stop him, explain everything to Lance first,
but I can’t take my eyes off Milo’s chest as it is slowly revealed.
Defined muscle every bit as impressive as Lance’s—which I have seen
many times thanks to his incurable need to go shirtless during
Speed and Strength training—locks me into inaction. Whatever
Lance’s reaction is, it’s lost on me. Milo’s right arm slides out
of his shirt first. Then his left begins to slide out as well.

My heart
stutters as fear of what Lance’s reaction might be grabs a hold of
me. What if Lance sees this as some kind of confirmation about Milo
being a danger to me? He won’t have any clue what’s going on before
he sees his diktats.

“Milo…” I
begin, but then his arm is out, revealing his newly raised diktats
where Lance can certainly see them. The midnight black standing out
against his light colored skin makes them pretty hard to miss.
Silence deadens the air for a brief second.

“What the
hell?” Lance asks in confusion.

“Like I said,”
Milo drawls, “I won’t be needing your help much longer. Once
Libby’s leg is better we won’t need you anymore.” He walks over to
the muddled Lance. My warning glance does nothing to hinder him.
“But since you’re here, there is one thing I need from you.”

Milo grabs
Lance’s left arm and snatches out his Guardian blade before he can
respond.

To Lance’s
credit, he doesn’t even flinch. His eyes are level with Milo’s and
as hard as steel. Milo surprises him by turning away and walking
toward me. Now Lance grows concerned. Moron. He is obviously still
stuck on the idea that Milo is dangerous. The predatory glint in
his eye shows that he has no inclination of what Milo is about to
do. I knew as soon as he asked for the knife. Elation fills my
mind.

Sure enough,
Milo drops his first two fingers to the emblem on the hilt of
Lance’s Guardian blade. Lance’s eyes narrow while my lips curl into
a scowling smile. Milo’s fingers move to his forehead then to his
heart. I know to expect the scarlet flare of Milo’s diktats, but it
startles me regardless. Milo’s presence seems to press over me. I
am free to relish it while Lance turns an angry shade of red.

“You…you’re a
Guardian?” he asks. “How is that even possible?”

“My first
Inquest didn’t get things quite right,” Milo says. “Libby was kind
enough to remedy that. I’m a Guardian every bit as much as you are,
Lance. Just not for the same team.” He holds up his left wrist
again. The diktats fading back to black makes Lance flinch.

I know he has
no idea what’s going on, but Lance has the deplorable ability to
ignore things like not understanding, and take action anyway. “I
don’t know what the hell this is,” he says gesturing at Milo’s
wrist, “but we’re on the same team whether you like it or not,
Milo. I’m bound to Libby just like you are. Now go put a shirt
on.”

Chapter 29

Cipher

Lance sitting
next to Celia is out of the question. Lance sitting by me is
absurd. Milo and Lance sitting next to each other is a recipe for
disaster. But since I refuse to make Lance sit away from us, just
in case we need him, Milo takes the least offensive of the three
options and sits between me and Lance with Celia all the way on my
right, as far away from Lance as possible. Celia frowns at the
seating arrangement and peeks glances at Lance every few seconds.
Milo wasn’t kidding about how boy-crazy she is.

Even so,
between her and her brother, Celia is by far the better behaved.
Outwardly both Lance and Milo are the picture of perfect manners.
Inwardly, there is a battle between the two of them that I am the
only one aware of. Milo is radiating frustration at being near
Lance and having to depend on him for any kind of help. Lance
bounces between feeling superior at being needed despite Milo’s
blatant unhappiness about it and a mixture of jealousy and
depression every time Milo touches me.

My blocks are
up against them both, but they aren’t working as well as I would
hope. I’m too close, physically and emotionally, to both of them. I
love the ballet because it’s beautiful and peaceful and
captivating. I seriously doubt I’m going to get much peace tonight.
It’s going to be a long night.

I’ve never
been so happy to be left in darkness as when the lights finally go
out. Maybe if I go to sleep no one will notice, and then I won’t
have to be inundated with their emotional overload. I almost give
in. The audience falls silent in preparation. I honestly expect
both Milo’s and Lance’s eyes to close as soon as the curtain rises
given how little either of them enjoy the ballet, but they both
shock me by focusing their attention on the patrons surrounding us
in the dim room.

The ballet
opens with a flare of music and light and closes the same way.

My head comes
up off Milo’s shoulder two hours after the first curtain rose, and
I applaud along with Celia. Milo takes my hand when I stop clapping
and leans over to me. His lips touch mine briefly, and he asks,
“Did you enjoy the ballet?”

“I did. Thank
you for bringing me.”

“Thank Celia.
I never would have thought to come on my own,” he admits. “It was
kind of cool, though.”

I had actually
been afraid I would miss seeing “The Nutcracker” for the first time
in my life. I’d thought about suggesting it myself, but with
everything else going on it seemed silly to ask for something so
trivial. I turn toward Celia to thank her, but she breaks in before
I can.

“Ooh, Milo!”
Celia gushes. “Look, look! Isabelle Sanders is back on stage. I
think she’s signing autographs!”

“Who?” Milo
asks.

Celia rolls
her eyes at him. “The Prima Ballerina! I’ve got to meet her. Please
take me down to the stage. Please?”

“Celia…” Milo
glances around at the hundreds of people milling about.

“Please,
please, please?”

She is
impossible for Milo to resist. His deep sigh admits his defeat. “Do
you want to come down with us?” he asks me.

The long ramp
leading down to the stage makes me shake my head. My foot throbs
even thinking of trying to wade through the crowded slope without
tripping. “Go ahead without me. I’ll wait here.”

Celia bounces
up and grabs Milo’s hand away from me. He doesn’t stand right away,
clearly not keen on the idea of leaving me alone. But of course,
I’m not alone. Lance nudges Milo. Amazingly, his face shows no sign
of anything but seriousness. “Go ahead, I’ll keep watch,” he
says.

The
businesslike expression on Lance’s face is likely the only reason
Milo stands up. “We’ll be right back,” he promises me. And to
Lance, he says, “Keep an eye out for anyone even remotely
suspicious.”

Lance nods and
crosses his arms over his chest. Milo watches him for as long as
possible until the crowd swallows them. Only then does he relax.
His elbows come back up on the armrests and one hand lazily
gestures toward me. “You look really nice tonight, by the way. If I
remember right, when we came last year you wore black slacks and
that green sweater. You looked nice then, too, but your dress
tonight is even better.”

An intense
desire to smooth my dress and make sure the knee length skirt
hasn’t ridden up anywhere makes my fingers itch. I can see that the
dress is fine already and refuse to let Lance know his attention
affects me. Maybe it shouldn’t, but what he thinks still matters to
me. His reminder that he was my date to this very event reminds me
of how difficult it must have been for him to sit through the
performance. Guilt I can’t fully explain urges me to speak.

“I’m sorry I
had to ask you to come to this, Lance.”

“It’s okay,”
he says. “I meant what I said about protecting you. It’s hard to
see you with Milo, but if you need me I won’t let you down
again.”

The lack of
jealousy pouring off of him when he says Milo’s name, combined with
the sincerity of his promise settles over me like a blanket.
“Lance, do you really understand what that means for you? Your
dad…”

“My dad will
never approve of my choice,” he says. “I told him as soon as I got
home after giving you my Oath. He hasn’t spoken to me since, and at
this point I don’t know if he ever will, but that hasn’t changed my
mind.”

“It’s a lot to
give up. I believe everything you told me,” I admit. “I believe
that you didn’t mean to hurt me that night, and that you tried to
protect me in the only way you thought you could, but…”

His face
falls. Lance isn’t a Perceptive, but he doesn’t need talents to
know what I’m thinking about right now. He knows me so well he sees
it in the way I face him and hears the hurt in my voice. “But all
the other stuff,” he says, “the things I said about you, the way I
turned everyone against you…believe me, I know what you must think
of me for that. I hate myself for what I did to you. I know I don’t
deserve it, but I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me,
Libby.”

“I want to,” I
tell him honestly, “but it may take me some time.”

It breaks my
heart that I can’t say the words he wants to hear right now,
because for sixteen years Lance was my best friend, but the pain he
caused me is still too close. Lance nods, a sliver of hope filling
him at my words.

“Libby,” Lance
begins. He hesitates, and I worry I won’t like what he’s about to
say. “I want you back. I miss you like crazy…”

I open my
mouth, but before I can say anything Lance cuts me off.

“But I
understand that it’s not my choice. I left you. It was a mistake,
but it’s one I have to live with. You’re with Milo now. I promise I
won’t try to force you into taking me back again.” Lance smiles.
“If you willing change your mind, well, I hope you know I won’t
hesitate.”

His sudden
grin makes me smile. Forgiving Lance, given enough time I think
it’s a possibility. Me leaving Milo for him? That may be asking too
much. I can still appreciate his honesty and his promise to back
off. When Lance’s smile darkens and disappears, mine does too,
though I’m not sure why until Lance speaks again.

“I won’t
interfere with your relationship with Milo. He obviously loves you,
and you love him. That doesn’t mean I’ve changed my mind about
him.”

“What do you
mean?” I ask.

“I told you I
thought he was dangerous, and I still think that’s true. That’s why
despite what Milo says about him not needing me to protect you, I’m
not going anywhere. I don’t trust him.”

Just when I
thought having Lance around wasn’t going to be so bad. “Why? What
has Milo ever done that makes you think he’s going to hurt me?”

Lance shakes
his head. “It’s not anything he’s done, although I do want an
explanation about whatever you did with his diktats tonight. It’s
just something about him. He puts on this big act like nothing
matters and he couldn’t care less about what anyone else thinks,
but there’s something hiding behind that.”

Turning to
face me directly, Lance holds my gaze with his seriousness. “I’ve
grown up around Guardians. I can recognize dangerous when I see it,
and something about Milo makes me want to stick as close to you as
I can.”

“Milo isn’t
going to hurt me,” I say.

Lance shrugs.
“Maybe you’re right, but just in case you aren’t, I’ll be
here.”

Just like when
Lance first brought up his concerns about Milo, my immediate
reaction is too dismiss them completely. I trust Milo. I don’t
believe for a second that he would ever purposely hurt me. I want
to chock Lance’s fears up to jealousy or some other mundane reason,
but Lance has good instincts. A more sensible part of me tucks his
comments away for later and changes the subject.

“I am sorry I
missed your birthday.” He turned seventeen last week. I thought
about him that day, sad and frustrated that I couldn’t wish him
happy birthday for the first time ever.

Lance seems to
understand the mixture of emotions. “Hey, not your fault. We’ll do
something fun next year.”

“Maybe that…”
I begin, but I never finish the thought. My vision ripples as a
paralyzing effect sweeps through my entire body. The people moving
lazily out of the theater suddenly spring forward as time moves
them at an unnatural pace. My focus narrows in on Milo and Celia
speaking with the dancer. Even in a vision I can sense them before
they arrive. Guardians, not here for me this time, attack Milo in a
coordinated effort. The glimpse dissipates and the slow moving
patrons return.