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says, “I really would appreciate it if you could hold
off trying to destroy the world until your eighteenth birthday so I
can kill you legally in full view of the entire world. Painting me
as a hero probably doesn’t sit well with you, but it is the only
way you will earn two years you were never meant to have. Do we
have an understanding?”
    The temptation
to kill him right now hums under my skin. I could do it. Probably.
I have more power now than I used to, but that is more worrisome
than reassuring. I saw Lance try to use his Speed and Strength
moments after they were unlocked. He is the picture of grace now,
but until he got a hold of his power, he stumbled and flailed more
than anything. I wouldn’t be facing just another couple of
Guardians, either. I would be going against the two most powerful,
most deadly Guardians on the planet. Destroyer or not, I don’t like
my odds. Accepting Howe’s tainted gift is really my only
option.
    “We have an
understanding,” I say, the venom behind my words not hidden in the
least.
    “Wonderful,”
Howe says.
    Having gotten
what he wanted, Howe makes a military-style turn and walks out of
the room. Lazaro, however, is not as quick stepping. Instead of
following his leader, he glares at me. “Howe may be idiotic enough
to let you live, but trust me when I say that if the opportunity
presents itself, I will kill you.”
    Then he too
leaves the room, storming out in a flourish of fury pouring off his
body. Their absence leaves the room muted and hollow. I feel as if
they sucked out every drop of life and hope out of my soul in the
few minutes they were present. I thought I knew exactly what this
night would bring when I walked through the Inquisitor’s doors
tonight. A two year extension and a visit from Howe and Lazaro had
never once entered my mind as a possibility. I am scared to death
of both of them, but they are a distant threat I do not want to
think about right now. I have two years to worry about what they
might do. In spite of the bizarreness of what just happened, one
fact dominates my mind.
    “Two years,” I
whisper. My life will be over in two years. To some that might seem
like a short span of time, but to me, a person who realized as a
small child who I was, living to age eighteen is two years longer
than I ever thought I would have.
    Inquisitor
Moore stands, heaving out a great sigh of relief. “Thank goodness
they’re gone.”
    He shudders.
Jen looks as if she is about to shake herself to death. A calming
hand on her shoulder offered by Inquisitor Moore helps to calm her
down somewhat. When he seems convinced Jen isn’t going to go into
shock, he faces me.
    “As long as
you stay out of the Guardians’ way you’ll be safe until you turn
eighteen. I wish I could offer you more, but you have a little hope
for now. Despite what Lazaro said, Howe will keep the Guardians in
line.”
    I don’t share
his confidence, but I don’t care to argue about it right now.
    “That means
Lance can’t come after you again either,” Jen says softly.
    Her comment
hits me just as hard as the relief did a few minutes ago. I have
two years to convince the world I don’t plan on destroying
anything, two years to convince both the Guardians and my boyfriend
not to murder me. Ex-boyfriend, I tell myself bitterly. His
betrayal sinks into me like a burning machete. He abandoned me like
almost everyone else in my life has. I could almost forgive him for
anything else, but not for that. Even if I wanted to try and fix
things with him—which I don’t—the quick way he jumped up to end my
life and then bolted when he failed is a pretty clear indication of
how he feels about the possibility. I will never feel his lips
against mine again, never lay in his arms as we watched movies
together, never again call him when I need help and
understanding.
    Stinging tears
roll down my cheeks as the familiar, deep-set ache of loss settles
into me. I never actually thought he would turn