Inquest Read Online Free PDF Page B

against me. At the
most, I thought he might be scared of what I might do, worried
about me changing, but never did I think he would try to kill me.
He was so fast. Not even a breath of hesitation before he was
trying to gut me. I used to enjoy watching him play football. Even
without his full power he could dart or barrel past anyone on the
field, but tonight was no game. I will never see his abilities as
anything more than weapons now. My sense of loss deepens to a
crippling level.
    Trembling from
head to toe as I cry, I can’t feel anything but my pain. Jen
wrapping her arms around me and pulling me into a comforting
embrace is the only thing able to break through my agony. “I’m so
sorry,” she whispers.
    It takes
several more supernaturally long minutes for me to be able to pull
back and face her. “Th-thanks for staying, Jen,” I stammer. The
hiccups that always plague me after a bad fit of crying break up my
words, but my honest appreciation still comes through.
    “Of course,”
she says. Jen takes my hands. Her fingers brush across my wrist,
making me flinch with pain. Her eyes snap down to my diktats and
her face pales.
    I don’t want
anything to do with them, but my gaze slides down regardless. I
expect to see brilliant red from the trauma of the diktats taking
shape, but my eyes widen at the unexpected sight I’m faced with.
Standing out against my flesh are jet black, half-inch long raised
vertical scars that completely encircle my wrist, their unnatural
perfection a ring of judgment that feels like a noose tightening by
the second. It takes me a second to really process the color.
They’re black. They aren’t supposed to be black.
    “What
happened?” I ask, my voice quavering.
    “They turned
black a few minutes after you passed out, when the initial swelling
went down,” Inquisitor Moore explains. “I have never seen that
happen before. It must be a mark of who you are.”
    A quick rise
in my heart rate propels me toward panic. I look up to find
Inquisitor Moore staring at them as well, his face filled with
amazement, confusion, and remorse. When his eyes peel away from me
they go to his own wrist, the right one instead of the left where
my diktats lay. He is the most powerful man I know, yet his flesh
colored diktats only spread across the underside of his wrist.
Anyone who sees my wrist will instantly know what I am.
    “You’ll want
to keep those covered as much as possible, Libby. I know it won’t
keep people from finding out—it sounded like Howe would take care
of that—but there’s no point in reminding them if you don’t have
to,” he says. He’s talking about the diktats, of course, but the
gentle urging in his expression conveys more than his actual words.
The diktats aren’t the only thing he wants me to hide. My talents
need to be as nonexistent as possible. I nod in response to both
warnings. Hiding isn’t anything new for me.
    Coming down
from the shock of a few moments ago brings on a throbbing headache.
I don’t want to think about any of this anymore. Tomorrow will be
horrible enough without making it worse by dwelling on it now. For
whatever is left of tonight, I just want to crawl into bed and be
happy I’m still alive. By tomorrow I might be wishing Lance had
finished what he started.
    “Jen, can you
drive me home? I don’t think I’m up for driving right now.”
    Jen and
Inquisitor Moore both freeze before dropping their gazes down to
the Oriental rug covering the hardwood floor.
    “What?” I ask
wearily.
    “Your mom had
your bags dropped off about an hour ago,” Jen says quietly.
    I suppose that
should send me into another crying jag. My mother has kicked me
out. Blood wasn’t enough to make her stick by me. My body stiffens
in anger instead.
    “Do you think
your parents would let me stay the night?” I ask Jen. “Just for
tonight. I’ll figure something else out tomorrow.”
    Shaking her
head so slightly I almost miss it, Jen tries to blink away