Page 95 of Nemesis

“You just spent the week in bed,” he replies. “It’s common fucking sense.”

“She’s okay.” Reese comes out of the bathroom. He’s been wearing his own clothes, which means at some point during this week, he snuck back to his place. There’s a black canvas duffel bag tucked against the wall I can only assume is his.

I adjust the necklaces hanging down my chest. I layered them extra thick today, intending to cover the scabs and bruises, but it’s still uncomfortable. My shirt is a silky gold halter top, and I added elbow-length gloves to cover my forearms. Brown leather pants.

“I made you both masks,” Saint says, retrieving boxes from the counter. “Don’t read into it, I just don’t want to stand next to cheap generic shit.”

I take the box and roll my eyes. Reese takes his, but he doesn’t open it until I’ve flipped the lid on mine.

The mask is gold and brown, a perfect complement to my chosen outfit. It catches the light. I examine it, and it dawns on me that he used real arrowheads. Gold ones. The brown is soft, like velvet.

Deer fur.

A wicked combination that seems to tell a story in and of itself.

A hunter and the hunted.

“Thank you. This is beautiful.”

Not to mention, it’ll hide the healing cut on my forehead.

The back of the mask, which will sit against my skin, is a creamy silk. The ties to secure it are suede cords, not unlike theones that hang from Apollo’s mask. I hold it to my chest, not really sure what else to do.

Saint dips his head in acknowledgement.

“We talked about who you would pick,” he says to Reese. “And I kind of jumped off of that.”

I’m intrigued.

Reese’s clothing doesn’t give away who he intends to go as—but I’m glad Saint explained the masquerade portion. More than I did, which was not at all.

He removes the lid and stares down at the mask.

I creep closer and peer in. “Wow.”

“I…” Reese licks his lips. “This is stunning, Saint.”

I smile.

He knocked it out of the park. And judging from the satisfied smile onhisface, he’s happy with how we accepted them.

“Who are you?” I ask Reese.

He lifts the mask of fire from the silk bed, setting the box aside. Truly, I don’t know how Saint managed to make it look like actualfire. It gleams in the light, a million pieces of slender, delicate stained glass that form flames.

Reese holds it up to his face, and his green eyes meet mine. A grin curves his lips.

“I chose Prometheus.”

The titan who gave humans fire.

I wonder if that says more about him than he’s letting on.

27ARTEMIS

It’s actually kind offun watching Reese’s face as we drive up to Olympus. And then again, even behind our masks, as we are waved through the huge doors by boar-masked employees and step into the large atrium.

We’re at the tail end of the admittance window, which means most of the guests are already present. So many different masks, people of varying ages and genders. They’re all a blur of a crowd and individual in their own right.

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