Inquest (18 page)

My fingers
brush against his diktats, and he freezes. Overwhelming curiosity,
the kind that has gotten me into trouble more times than I can
count, wells up inside of me. Milo seems to recognize it. His
expression goes from startled to begging, pleading. His request is
clear. Just leave it be. Don’t ask me. Not right now. I have to
bite the inside of my cheek to keep from uttering my question.
Breathing out in relief, his grip tightens on my hand before
dropping. He’ll tell me when he’s ready. Whatever terror he
suffered, Milo will share it with me when he’s ready.

Or maybe Celia
will tell me.

Hours, and
hours, and hours later, I sling my newly purchased dress over an
empty chair in the mall food court and plop into the chair across
from Celia. My sesame chicken is steaming in front of me, its
syrupy deliciousness making my stomach growl. Celia is already
digging into her beef and broccoli. The promise of food is almost
enough to make me forget my throbbing feet. At least this shopping
trip went better than the last one. There were fewer glares and
angry comments, probably due to the fact that I have done an
excellent job of avoiding the media like the plague they are.
Without my face plastered everywhere, fewer people react to me. The
general population is a fickle creature. Thank goodness.

Taking a bite
of sesame chicken, my hunger consumes me. We’ve been here forever.
I like shopping as much as any girl, I suppose, but Celia is
clearly the shopping champion. In four hours, we invaded
twenty-three stores and tried on I don’t even know how many
dresses. It was shocking that there were even that many dresses to
try on in one mall. I never knew it before, but there is a very
good reason I don’t go dress shopping. It’s too hard.

Celia
definitely came through for me. The dress is perfect. At least I
think so.

“Do you really
think Milo will like the dress?” I ask Celia.

“Definitely,”
she says between bites. “Probably too much, actually. You look
really great in it.”

“Thanks for
coming with me. I really do appreciate it.”

“I’m just glad
I finally got to meet you. Milo’s practically been a ghost lately.
I had to meet the person who could keep him away from me so much.”
Despite the fact that I’ve practically commandeered her brother,
there’s no rancor in her voice at all.

“Sorry he
hasn’t been around. I really didn’t mean to steal him from you like
that,” I say.

“No problem. I
miss Milo when you guys are together, but it’s worth it,” she says.
“I haven’t seen him like this since before we moved.”

My head tilts
to one side in consideration. “Like what?”

“Happy,” she
replies seriously.

“He wasn't
happy before?”

She shakes her
head. “Not since we moved here. He’s been a totally different
person, sullen, angry, rebellious, nothing like he used to be. It
really scared me for a while. I thought I was losing my big brother
the way he and my parents fight constantly, or the way he acts and
dresses, not to mention his general pissy attitude. He was never
like that before.”

“What was he
like?” Milo never talks about his life before moving to
Albuquerque.

Toying with
her food, Celia stares at nothing. “He used to be Mom and Dad’s
golden boy. He did everything they asked, as long as it didn’t
interfere with friends or football.”

I choke on a
piece of chicken and splutter in disbelief. “Milo played
football?”

“Yeah,
quarterback. He never told you?” Then she shakes her head. “No, he
wouldn’t. He doesn’t talk about it anymore, even though I think he
really misses it. He was incredibly good, for someone without Speed
and Strength anyway. You can’t tell because of the stupid, ugly,
baggy clothes he wears all the time now, but if you could see him
without his shirt on, you’d see how fit he is. Not that I’m making
any suggestions, or anything. Milo freaks out about me and boys so
much he better be following his own advice on that front. He is,
right?”

Her intent
gaze makes me flush scarlet. I’ve never seen Milo with his shirt
off, but I’d be lying through my teeth if I said I didn’t know how
muscular he is. I take every opportunity I can get to put my hands
on him. Celia’s gaze grows even more questioning in the face of my
silence. Oh, crap.

“Milo is
definitely following his own advice,” I say quickly. “Don’t worry
about that.”

Celia relaxes
a bit and smiles. “He was right about you blushing. It is a good
look on you.”

“Milo said
that?” I ask.

“Oh yeah,” she
laughs. “It’s hard to get him to open up since we moved, but when
he does talk, it’s usually about you.”

I stab at my
sesame chicken without taking a bite. “That’s surprising. Sometimes
I think Milo likes me, but other times…I don’t know. It’s like he’s
afraid of getting too close to me, or he’s not sure. He just goes
back to shrugging and mumbling, and I feel like he just wants to be
friends.”

Celia’s snort
shakes her body once before settling into a round of muttering
laughs.

“What?” I
ask.

She shakes her
head, still smiling. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?
That’s all you’ve got?”

“Yep.” She
goes back to eating her broccoli and beef with another shake of her
head.

I’m not really
sure what to make of that. She and Milo must have some kind of deal
not to interfere with each other’s social lives. I don’t see why it
would hurt for her to clue me in about what her brother’s thinking.
Wouldn’t that only help him? I wish I weren’t an only child. Maybe
I’d understand this apparent sibling secrecy thing. Knowing that
getting Milo to be honest with me will undoubtedly take my figuring
out what’s keeping him at a distance in the first place makes me
wonder what else Celia is willing to hide for him.

“Why did you
guys move down to Albuquerque? Milo doesn’t seem very happy about
it, so why did your parents bring you guys here?” I ask.

Celia’s fork
trembles slightly. She drops it back to her plate to cover it. “It
wasn’t really a choice. We had to move. Milo knew that, but it
didn’t make it any easier.”

“So, was it
for a job?”

“No…there
were, uh, family issues.”

“Like what?” I
push.

She squirms,
and there’s no hiding it this time. “Um, like the kind I’m not
really allowed to talk about. Sorry, Libby. If Milo hasn’t already
told you…you’ll have to ask him. I promised him I wouldn’t talk
about it with anyone.”

So it was
something to do with Milo specifically. I feel like I’m very close
to figuring it out. “It has something to do with his diktats,” I
say. It’s not really a question, because I wouldn’t ask Celia to
break her promise, but my musing sends a jolt through her.

“Wh-what do
you mean?” she asks. Pale and barely controlling a tremor running
through her hands, she stares at me with wide eyes.

“I…nothing. I
just saw his diktats, and how they’ve been damaged. I wondered if
they were part of the reason he keeps away from people.”

Reaching
across the table, Celia grabs my hand. Tighter than I would have
expected, her grip turns my fingertips beet red. “Libby, you can’t
tell anyone about his diktats, okay?”

“Why not? I
mean, I won’t, but why? What happened?”

For a moment I
think she’ll tell me. She looks like she’s about to explode.
Clearly, keeping secrets isn’t the easiest thing for her. She
shakes her head. “No. I can’t. You just have to leave it alone. If
Milo tells you, that’s different, but until then, please, Libby,
don’t say anything to anyone.”

Frustration
pulses against my temples, giving me an instant headache.

“Look, Libby,
my parents moved us out here to protect Milo. If you stir things
up, you’ll ruin that. Please, just forget about it,” she begs.

Faced with her
intensity, I can’t do anything but agree. “Sure, Celia. I don’t
want to make things worse. I want to protect Milo too. I won’t
bring it up again.”

“Thank you,”
she sighs. She spears another piece of broccoli and raises it to
her mouth. Her chewing is slow, uncertain, as if she’s waiting to
see if I really will leave the topic of Milo’s diktats alone. She
tries to act normally, but I can see the tremor in her hand that
talking about it has caused. I pick at my own food and wait for her
to get herself back under control.

Maybe Celia is
right about Milo’s diktats. I have enough crap to deal with anyway,
right? If he doesn’t want to tell me the story behind his screwed
up Inquest, then I need to drop it. Whatever it is, it can’t be
nearly as bad as Guardians and Seekers trying to kill me.
Right?

“So, are we
ready to go?” I ask after we’ve both cleared our plates.

“We got the
dress, shoes, hot rollers…” I shiver at the mention. “…jewelry,
makeup. That should be all of it. We made pretty good time, too,”
Celia says.

“We’ve been
here for five hours.”

She grins.
“Exactly.”

Celia spends
the walk back through the mall giving me tips on getting ready for
the dance next weekend. I’m paying close attention to what she’s
saying until we step outside. Deep, thrumming hatred sizzles
against my skin. Somehow I keep walking. Clamping down my own
emotions, I push my Perception out around me like I have done so
many times before, searching for the source.

Make that
sources. Six of them. All around me, closing in on us in a balanced
elliptical. I don’t even need Concealment to point them out to me.
They aren’t trying to hide their presence. If they were they
wouldn’t be walking against the traffic. Everyone else is heading
either to the parking lot or to the mall. But these six, bulky men
are the only ones cutting straight across the packed parking lot.
Directly toward me.

Lazaro just
claimed the opportunity he was waiting for.

I have the
sudden, irrational urge to have Lance by my side. It’s purely for
his skill. Not only have I been forced to watch him every day since
my Inquest showing off his ridiculous talent in class, with no
shirt on to boot, but I grew up with him. I was careful to never
show him my real Speed and Strength, but we loved sparring with
each other. We fight together better than anyone else I’ve ever
met. I swallow nervously. Six Guardians. My talents are unlocked
now. I should be able to take them, no problem. I think.

A stocky guy
in a polo shirt is moving slightly faster than the others, making a
beeline for me and Celia.

Celia. Panic
tries to fight its way into my mind, but I refuse to give it any
purchase. They aren’t here for her. If I can get her in the car,
she’ll be fine. We’re still a good hundred yards from the Bronco,
though. Before I can even start forming a plan, I need to know who
these guys are, Seekers or Guardians. I know almost nothing about
Seekers, but somehow coming after me in a parking lot in the middle
of the day with hundreds of potential witnesses doesn’t seem to fit
their general secretive nature.

They’d come
for me at night, not stalking down the asphalt like tigers in
pursuit of their next meal. A guy dressed in a too-big sports
jersey has a deliciously gleeful expression on his pocked face that
doesn’t seem to fit with being a Seeker either. Guardians then. At
least they don’t have Vision. That would make things twice as hard.
At least.

The fact that
I have Speed and Strength to match theirs, as well as Vision, not
to mention the other four talents, should give me a sporting chance
against the six Guardians closing in on me. I’m not actually
planning to fight them unless I absolutely have to, but it takes
down my anxiety a bit to know I might not die in the next two
minutes. I doubt any of my attackers believe that, though.
Confidence swarms out from every one of them. Unless they’re
morons, they all know I have all seven talents, but most likely
they all think that I have only gained access to them recently.
They’ll expect me to be fast and strong, but clumsy and ungainly,
easy to take down.

Stupid
Guardians.

A spiteful
laugh bubbles through my clenched teeth. That’s when I realize that
Celia isn’t talking anymore. The effort it takes to put a smile on
my face is surprisingly small. I loop my arm in hers and pull her
closer to me.

“Hey, Celia,
you wouldn’t happen to know how to drive, would you?” I ask
casually.

“Sure,” she
says with a shrug that’s identical to her brother’s. “Milo’s been
teaching me to drive the Jeep out in the hills and I’ve been
driving dune buggies for years.”

That was
actually exactly what I figured she would say. “Do you think you
could back the Bronco out on your own?”

She hesitates
for just a second. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good.” I tug
my keys out of my pocket and hand them to her.

“Are they
Guardians or Seekers?” she asks.

My eyebrows
lift in mild surprise. She is very attentive. And amazingly calm.
It’s almost like she’s been through this before. But that is a
topic for later. “I think they’re Guardians.”

“Thank
goodness. I was afraid they were Seekers,” Celia says.

Milo has told
her more about me than I expected. She says it so calmly, too.
“What I want you to do is get in the Bronco and start backing out.
Hopefully I’ll be ready to jump in by the time you get into the
aisle. Be ready to move over, okay?”

“No
problem.”

We’re twenty
feet away from the car, now, and the Guardians are another ten feet
from us. Shutting my Perception down, I open myself up to Vision.
Seeing the things others cannot encompasses a whole host of uses,
but in my opinion none more than glimpsing the future. I’m hardly
as strong a Visionary as I am a Perceptionist, but all I need to
see are the next few minutes. I just have to hope this is one of
the times it actually works.