Qaletaqa (45 page)

“Clearly you don’t
know me very well, then,” I say. If something bad could happen, it
would happen to me. A dozen broken bones, various serious injuries,
embarrassing stories, that’s me. I am a magnet for unfortunate
situations. Granted, most of those mishaps were caused by either my
own stupidity or some brilliant idea I had, but still.

“Well, it’s too bad
the best name the Inquisitor could give you is also the worst one.
Despite how horrible it would be to actually get it, I’ve always
liked the name Cassia. It sounds so ancient and regal.”

I turn so I’m facing
her directly. “There is nothing regal about that name,” I snap. “I
can’t believe you’re even mentioning it. Please, Jen. I have some
trig to finish during lunch. Let’s go already.”

“Aren’t you even a
little bit nervous about tonight?” Jen asks.

I have to lie again.
“No.”

I hate lying to Jen,
but I can’t let her see how scared I am or she’ll know I’m hiding
something. Jen can be relentless when there’s a secret nearby.
There is a reason her articles on the school blog are the most
read, hottest thing on the page. They might be the only thing
anyone actually reads.

“Excited?” she
asks.

I shake my head.

“Scared?”

Before I can shake my
head again I feel someone’s arms wrap around my waist. “Scared
about what?” Lance asks.

“Her Inquest.”

Lance leans his head
down and kisses my neck, making me sigh. His sandy blond hair
tickles my skin as he moves to kiss my forehead. “There’s nothing
about an Inquest to be scared of,” he says. “Unless you have a
problem with pain.”

“Thanks,” I say, but
my fingers wind around his where I can feel the raised, scarred
flesh of the diktats that run along the inside of his wrist. His
right wrist, exactly where they’re supposed to be. Feeling them
makes me shiver. I have a huge problem with pain. I can handle it
with the best of them, given my vast experience with it, but for
that same reason even the idea of being hurt makes me start
smelling hospital antiseptic. That scent sends me into a panic
quicker than anything else.

The chime of Jen’s
phone makes her whip it out of her pocket at lightning speed. Her
fingers flash across the screen as she brings up the text message
she just received. An instant later she groans and stuffs the phone
back into her pocket.

“Speaking of pain,
I’ve gotta go.”

I can’t help the
bubble of pleasure that I won’t have to listen to her badgering me
about my Inquest. Still, her mention of pain forces guilt into my
mind and presses my best friend button. “Go where? We’ve still got
three more classes.”

“Remember? The
dentist?” I shake my head at her. She shrugs and continues. “Oh, I
thought I told you my mom was checking me out for a dentist
appointment. One of my fillings cracked and I haven’t been able to
drink a soda in days.”

Rolling my eyes
dramatically, I say, “Oh, dear, you poor thing. You’d better hurry.
I wouldn’t want you to die from lack of carbonation.”

With a flip of her
long, blond hair, she sticks her nose in the air. “You’ll feel
really terrible if I keel over dead and miss your Inquest.”

“Actually, that might
be the only thing that would get me out of my Inquest.” I almost
feel like it would be worth it. Guilt for my dark thoughts crashes
against my carefully controlled emotions, and I have to bite the
inside of my cheek to hold onto my composure. For once, Jen doesn’t
notice my internal struggle.

“Whatever,” she says,
“I’ll be at your house at five to help you get ready, if you’re
still sure it’s okay Lance and I come.”

“I’m sure, Jen. I got
permission from Inquisitor Moore months ago. All the paperwork
saying you and Lance are allowed to attend are safely stowed in his
safe. The Guardians aren’t going to arrest you for trying to crash
my Inquest. I promise.”

Jen grimaces. I have
to stop myself from doing the same. Just thinking about the
Guardians putting their hands on me again makes me shudder. With
all the times I’ve snuck out or tried to escape my mom, I’ve been
dragged back way too many times by those cretins.

“You’re sure?” Jen
asks again.

“I’m positive.”

“Okay,” she says.
“I’ll be by tonight, then. Maybe we can actually do something with
that blah hair of yours.”

“Good luck with that,”
I say. My dark chestnut hair is staying exactly as it is.

Jen smiles
optimistically—foolish girl—and hurries away from us. I can’t focus
on her for very long, though, not with Lance pulling me against his
chest more tightly now that she’s gone. He drops a kiss on my
forehead, and I lift my chin hoping he will move down to my lips.
Kissing Lance is about the only thing that will take my mind off
tonight. To my satisfaction, Lance does bring his mouth to meet
mine, but the brief touch does nothing to soothe me.

“What’s wrong with
your hair?” Lance asks.

Hair, I can talk about
hair. Maybe.

“It’s not curled and
hairsprayed and poofed a mile off my head like hers.”

Lance twists a lock of
my long hair around his finger and smiles. “Don’t get me wrong, I
love your hair how it is, but would curls really be such a bad
thing? It’s been a long time.”

“Don’t,” I warn him,
my tone making it perfectly clear that we are done talking about
hair. Lance sighs and lets the strand fall. There’s still a gentle
pressure in his eyes, like there always is when this topic comes
up, but this is not an argument I’m willing to have. Seeing that,
Lance switches topics.

He reaches into his
jeans pocket for something hidden there, and says, “By the way,
happy sixteenth birthday, Libby.”

“I suppose it was too
much to hope for that you’d forget,” I say.

Lance shakes his head
with the mischievous smile I adore. I wish I could skip this day
entirely, but my eyes wander down to his hand as he slides it from
his pocket. The hint of something sparkly sets my insides
fluttering wildly. I can barely suppress the excited giggle rising
in my chest. He always knows just how to make me smile. He has
since we were little.

The silver chain pulls
free and dangles in front of me. I watch the pendant dance. Its two
blades of wheat, single butterfly, and a sinuous snake that wraps
around the other two glitter in the muted light. The sign for
Naturalism. Like Jen, he believes my assertion that it is my
talent, my only talent. A faint flash of guilt runs through me
before I can smother it and put on an enthusiastic smile that isn’t
totally false. Lance grins at my reaction and fastens the necklace
around my neck. His hands stay there and pull me closer for a kiss.
The heat of his lips on mine burns away my fear and anxiety,
replacing it with warmth and comfort.

I want more. I want to
stay locked in this sphere of imagined perfection for the rest of
my life. The need to breathe pulls Lance back too soon. I slump
against my locker in disappointment despite how wonderful his
kisses make me feel. Lingering with his head touched lightly
against mine, his hands stay behind my neck as well. My eyes stray
to the blade strapped to his left wrist. The only weapons allowed
on campus, the sign that he is a member of the Guardian class
always makes me shiver.

Not wanting to dwell
on what that knife is meant to do, I turn my head and find myself
staring at the perfectly even and symmetrical row of scarred flesh
on his right wrist. The diktats look like scars, but scars would
never be so perfect. And no one would survive having their wrist
sliced vertically so many times. Without meaning to, my fingers
stray to the diktats and gently brush across the seven marks. Two
for his talents, Speed and Strength. Two for being given a Warrior
name. And three for belonging to the Guardian class.

“I was just teasing
about the pain. You know that, right?” Lance asks softly, his
bright blue eyes filled with concern. He is intimately aware of my
feelings on the subject. Friends since childhood, Lance has seen
almost every one of my dozen broken bones firsthand. He was even
involved in a few of the unfortunate exploits.

The tender concern in
his voice is endearing, but not in the least bit reassuring.
Regardless, I still nod and try to smile. Lance isn’t
convinced.

“Really, Libby, it’s
not that bad. It stings more than anything. You’ll be fine.” He
holds his right wrist next to mine and rubs his thumb across my
skin. “Everything will be okay. You’ll forget the pain as soon as
it’s over, and in a few hours we’ll match.”

That’s what he thinks.
I tuck my left arm behind my back, not wanting to think about
it.

“What did your mom
give you for your birthday, anyway?” Lance asks, changing the
subject.

Taking my new keys out
of my pocket, I dangle them with a scowl. “Not the one I wanted, of
course.”

He laughs. “Did you
really expect your mom to buy you a twenty-year-old Ford Bronco?
She would never allow you to be seen driving something like that.
Which one did she get you, the Audi or the Lexus?”

“The Audi.” The venom
in my voice doesn’t keep Lance from grinning. He’d been hoping for
the Audi. It is much faster than the Lexus. And Lance loves to go
fast.

“Maybe we can take it
out after your Inquest,” he suggests. The eager shine in his eyes
is very nearly catching. The last word of his sentence sours any
hope of my reciprocating his enthusiasm.

I offer him the best
smile I can manage, which isn’t much, and say, “Yeah, maybe. Let’s
go to lunch. I’ve got some homework to finish.”

Lance’s arm wraps
around my waist and guides me down the hall. I try to focus on the
feel of his touch, but all I can think of is how stupid it is that
I’m worrying about my homework. My chances of not being murdered
after my Inquest are pretty slim, which means this assignment is
the last one I will ever turn in. At least there’s one upside to
dying.

About the Author

DelSheree Gladden lives in
New Mexico with her husband and two children. The Southwest is a
big influence in her writing because of its culture, beauty, and
mythology. Local folk lore is strongly rooted in her writing,
particularly ideas of prophecy, destiny, and talents born from
natural abilities. When she is not writing, DelSheree is usually
teaching yoga, coaching gymnastics, reading, painting, sewing, or
studying about teeth as a Dental Hygiene student. Her works
include
Escaping Fate
and the
Twin Souls
Saga
. DelSheree’s newest
novel,
 
Inquest
, set to be released by
Briona Glen Publishing in 2012, is the first book
in
 
The
Destroyer Trilogy
.
 
Inquest
 
follows sixteen-year-old Libby
Sparks as she tries to escape her destiny to destroy the world. But
Libby soon realizes dodging fate might not be worth the
price.

Connect with DelSheree online at:

http://www.delshereegladden.com

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http://www.facebook.com/TwinSoulsSaga

Destroyer Trilogy Facebook:
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Book Blog:
http://theediblebookshelf.blogspot.com/