Page 16 of Love, Nemesis
The class laughed.
“Look what you’ve done,” Jasper muttered without looking at Ana and then announced, “Okay, class is over early.” Afew students openly complained. “Hurry or I’ll give you more homework,” he said.
A few more students scoffed. They started packing up their things.
“Make sure you finish the assignment for this week. Contrary to popular belief, you will not—I repeat, will not—be considered for the Numbers unless you know every inch of that machine!” he said, pointing to Ana’s Atlas.
“We know!” one kid called back as they left the room.
Jasper watched them go, craning his neck. “I saw that, Patel! Next week you’re reading first, and in front of the class!”
One of them groaned. A few others laughed.
Jasper faced Ana with a deep sigh, tracing the scar on his brow with his thumb, back and forth, as if it hurt. He pointed to her, still using his teacher’s voice. “Now. You.”
She rubbed her neck, putting her Atlas away. “You make it look so easy, but I didn’t enjoy being up here at all. My heart’s pounding.”
“What was that?” he asked, looking at her with irises as dark as night, eyes that gave some hint of his birthplace. Many Statesmen thought the color unnerving—felt the black was unsearchable—but Ana had never met a more obvious person. Jasper’s subtle fidgeting and expressive features meant the only thoughts he could hide were those crowded out by the ones most pressing on his mind.
“I needed to talk.”
“And you didn’t want to just wave me over?” he said, making waving gestures with his hands.
“This seemed like a better idea at the time. I needed the class to be over.”
He rubbed his forehead. “I don’t see you for weeks and then suddenly—”
“Pat’s awake and talking. They know about Dal Hull.”
“They know?” Jasper replied, mouth dropping. She could sense the next part of his question—About how you really spent your time?
She sat up on the desk, and Jasper took his place in front of her. “I didn’t explicitly tell him. I’m sure Hailey put the picture together. He’s sending me to kill Ares, but this could mean you’re in big trouble too, just having been associated with me.”
“What?” He wrestled his surprise into a whisper. “That’s a death sentence,” he added, as if completely ignoring the bit where she’d warned him about the danger to his life.
“Thanks.”
“He’s got that mutated gun! What do you expect me to say? No one that’s gone out to find him has come back yet, have they? I haven’t—” Jasper kept talking, but a vivid memory flashed into Ana’s head.
It was at Crackenger, a station on the Mystic border. She and Ares were holed up in a tower during a stalemate in a battle.It had been two days, and he was still dressed head to toe in black. She hadn’t seen his face. He was unwrapping a packet of crackers, the crinkling of the plastic so loud in the quiet. Mystics were waiting with their mutated artifacts outside. He offered her a cracker. It was the first time she’d seen him eat anything.
Another memory. Crackenger. Day four. The final battle had broken out. The Mystics had charged the station. The gun fired with measured rhythm from the tower. Ares pulled the trigger mechanically. The sound was jarring. The bodies were building outside. Each bullet found its mark.
She watched the bodies drop, one by one. She counted to seventeen and lost count when she dodged a strike of electrical energy from a mutated weapon.
They got out of the tower, taking strategic steps over the bodies in a quiet field. Ares dabbed the sweat from around his eyes. He shared a rehearsed joke.
They gathered all the mutated items and burned them. She remembered Ares’s stone-gray eyes across the fire.
“Ana,” Jasper said, inviting her back to the present. “Is that all?”
“Yes.”
Jasper leaned against the desk beside her. “All right, that settles it. I’m coming with you.”
“No.”
“Look. I’ll let you take the lead. I’ll just need to find a substitute for my class and training sessions.”
