Page 56 of Love, Nemesis
“That’s different.”
“You don’t feel anything when Jasper touches you?”
Ana bristled as if someone had just run sandpaper up her spine.
“You know how he feels about you, don’t you?” Lethe added, picking up another trail now as he slipped the peanut butter packet into his pocket. “He’s a nice guy, nervous—but reallycares about you. Why isn’t he worth the risk to you? The Strike really did a number on you, didn’t they?”
Ana started walking back to camp, ignoring him now.
“Ah, I see,” Lethe said, folding his arms as he leaned up against a nearby tree. “Guilt-ridden past, but no good deeds you do are going to tip the scales in your favor. You know why?”
Ana paused and turned around, hesitating at his confident proclamation.
“Because justice doesn’t exist,” he continued, keeping her eyes as he circled around her again, blocking her path. “It’s not real.”
Her gaze hardened, and she walked past him again to camp.
She didn’t like that one. Not at all,he thought.
Lethe leaned over just enough to snag something off her utility belt.
She reached to snatch it back from him but he coiled back.
“It’s an oil canister, not your knife,” she said, whipping back around and relinquishing it to him. “Enjoy your cigarettes.” She almost sounded genuine, and he was sure she tried to mean it. It was clear she didn’t like being angry.
A little disappointed she’d left so soon, Lethe stayed back, sinching the canister to his own belt like a trophy.
She glanced at him once, but by the time she was at camp, her pace had slowed. She greeted Jasper naturally, back to normal again in only a matter of seconds.
She was right. She didn’t like to be touched, not just physically, but in any way. The world around her was not allowed to touch her. She almost seemed immune to it, and he could see how that might draw in people like Jasper who weren’t fond of unpredictability.
The flowers, the cinnamon sticks, the train.He tried to find some kind of connection, leaning back against the tree behind him as he looked back out at the mountains.The flowers. The cinnamon sticks. The train.He didn’t quite get it and it bothered him.
The flowers. The cinnamon sticks. The—
He stopped himself, rubbing his forehead. He’d need to leave that one alone or his own mind would get carried away with it.
Intent on changing his focus, he looked back at the mountains.It was strange to see them after such a long time. The last time he’d seen those mountains, he’d been preparing to go off to The Burning of the Strike.
He’d once heard that time was an emotion. More than at any point in his life, that seemed most true now.
He removed his cigarette, rolling it between his fingers.
He’d get his knife eventually. In fact, he already knew where it was; letting them keep it was more of a peace treaty than anything.
He glanced behind him to see the group up to their own business back at camp. Knowing they couldn’t see him, he looked back tothe mountains, enjoying the privacy of being able to look back at the past.
Manaj had gotten what he wanted after all. This would indeed be a longer trip than anyone could have predicted.
Lethe tucked the cigarette between his lips.So much has changed, he thought again, watching the icy mountaintops.
Thinking back, he imagined what regret might feel like. It was strange, because if he were who he used to be, a Rider of Saint East, with all of the determination and mission of a soldier, he would regret today. He would regret today and every day between now and when he’d walked into the dark waters of the The Eating Ocean. They’d lulled and charmed him into their depths, late that night, at the conclusion of the Burning of the Strike. Maybe he’d been too wounded, too vulnerable, too exhausted to resist. He could make excuses, but either way, the choice didn’t bother him now.
He snapped his fingers, and his cigarette ignited with flames from his fingertips. He shook his hand to the side, fanning off the flames of the curse, and inhaled. The bruising appeared and then faded from his fingers, The Eating Ocean stifled by the Snake Bite in his blood, the same Snake Bite that his mutation helped him survive.
Lowering his cigarette, he exhaled into the air, watching the smoke curl and billow like mist over the mountain tops. He used to use cigarettes to put his nerves at ease. Now he used them solely for the smoke.
The world was a circus of joy and rage.
