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Lazaro. “My only responsibility is to ensure some
conniving, underhanded leech doesn’t try and steal my office from
me.”
    Again, he
never yells, just speaks in a way that freezes the marrow in my
bones. He couldn't care less about the world in general, only
keeping his position as an all-powerful demigod. That scares me
almost as much as thinking he is here to kill me. I still don’t
understand what he’s doing, but I’m terrified of finding out.
    “How would not
killing me help you?” I dare asking.
    Howe turns
back to me, a disturbing smile twisting his mouth. “I have been the
president for twelve years. Some think I’ve held the position long
enough. I rule with regret-free cruelty. It keeps everyone in line.
However, I didn’t get to this point solely by ridding myself of any
competitors. I can see an opportunity when it falls in my lap.”
    “An
opportunity?”
    “You. Dripping
acid into someone’s eyes impresses Guardians, but the public
doesn’t like hearing about devices like that. They want to believe
I care about their well-being even if deep down they know it’s an
illusion. I can kill anyone who tries to take my position,” he
says. Lazaro’s hands ball into fists even though Howe never even
glances at him. “I cannot force the general population to view me
as anything more than a murderous demon. But feeling like that
about their leader turns too quickly to revolt.”
    Howe brushes
an imaginary piece of lint from his suit sleeve. The closest thing
to a nervous tic I’m sure he would ever display, I take a wild
guess that revolt is more likely than he wants to admit. Having had
more than one run-in with the hospitality of Guardians, the
possibility of someone taking their egos down a few notches forces
me to hide my satisfaction.
    “So where do I
come in?” I ask, feeling a bit more brave.
    “Killing a
sixteen-year-old that has never hurt anyone despite having been
named the Destroyer isn’t going to improve my image. The majority
of the world doesn’t even believe in you, my dear.” He chuckles,
though I can’t imagine why. There is no merriment in his eyes when
he locks gazes with me. “Don’t misinterpret that to think they
won’t spurn and hate you, because they will. I’ll make sure of
that.”
    “W-what do you
mean?”
    “Just trust
me. I will.” His smile turns vicious, making me sink into my chair.
“If I give the people a new enemy to hate, they’ll be distracted
from their hated of me. Plus, I’ll have earned a step back into
their good graces by appearing merciful in sparing you. At least
until you do something that forces me to end your life.”
    Howe stares at
me with an expression of unbridled anticipation. “And I know you
will. You’ll unleash the power you do have and make my killing you
a heroic act, one that will cement my position for good.”
    “I won’t hurt
anyone,” I say fiercely.
    He laughs.
“You may think that now, but I guarantee you will change your mind
about that soon enough.”
    I can
guarantee he’s wrong. I came to my Inquest believing I would be
murdered because I would rather see my life ended than kill, break,
and destroy like the stories about me say I will. Part of me is
curious what he thinks will change my mind. It’s a small part, and
I ignore it for the time being, afraid of the minute chance he
might be right.
    “This is
ridiculous!” Lazaro shouts. “Kill her now and be done with it,
Howe.”
    “No. Not
yet.”
    “You’re only
giving her the chance she needs to end everything. You’re putting
everything at risk!”
    Howe moves
slowly, turning to face Lazaro at a pace that sucks every last drop
of color from Lazaro’s face. “The choice is mine,” Howe says
calmly, “and it has been made. Libby will return to school
tomorrow. She will do her homework like a good little girl and
train, live her life as quietly as she can manage, and prove that I
was right to grant her this reprieve.”
    Turning back
to me, Howe