Page 72 of Love, Nemesis
Jasper rubbed his forehead with a groan. “We’re all going to die.”
He stood up as Lethe entered the room again, passing through before meeting Ares back out on the porch.
“I’m going out back to get some air,” Jasper said, leaving her. Everyone in the room kept moving, restless but unable to channel their restlessness around Ares’s unspoken rules of nonviolence and non-escape.
As soon as Jasper was gone, and with Ares distracted by something off in the mountains, Lethe glanced back at her. In that moment of reprieve, he caught her eyes with a knowing, lingering look before he scanned her over and looked back out at the mountains.
Ana wrapped her arms around herself and then rubbed the back of her neck nervously. Not completely sure what it meant, and not wanting to dig deeper, there was a single message that was hard to avoid:You and I are not done.
Lethe offered Ares a cinnamon stick, which he accepted.
“You know, I saw the Last Supper,” Lethe said at one point, catching her attention and drawing her from her distracted thoughts.
“Did you?” Ares replied, voicing the question with a high lilt that expressed he was clearly impressed.
“I was twelve years old. My dad sold art and would drag me to art museums, shows, and whatever else. We went to see it when his job took him to Italy. Of course, I was too busy talking up a high school student who was there for a class or something like that.”
“Quite the memory.”
“Yeah, she wasn’t into it, but it was a numbers game,” he said and Ares chuckled.
“I had this pretentious hat I wore all of the time at that age anyway—bright red.”
Ana tried to imagine it. Lethe in that hat as bright as an alarm, chasing a woman several years older than him instead of admiring one of the world’s most famous artifacts in human art.
“You’re a true Rider of Saint East.” Ares’s compliment, heavy with admiration, jarred her from the image.
“How do you mean?” Lethe leaned back against the doorframe. He tapped his fingers behind his back against the frame.
What does he mean?Ana wondered the same thing.
“I’m not sure I’ve met anyone who enjoys human beings more than you seem to, despite it all.”
Lethe laughed, a full, deep laugh. “I’m flattered.”
“I mean it. You seem to love people—how they work, what they feel, the mess of it. I, frankly, do not like the mess of it,” Ares said, a quick study of everyone and always ready to give his analysis.
Lethe stared up at the sky and walked out to the edge of the porch. He leaned up against one of the porch posts, craning his neck as if to catch sight of a bird or a specific cloud.
“You know, what’s funny is that I used to want to be a lawyer,” Lethe said, and this certainly shocked Ana. For a moment she thought he was joking.
“But The Eating Ocean invaded, I take it?” Ares replied.
“Something like that,” Lethe said. “Acute psychosis. I had a break my freshman year of college, spent the next few years in and out of psychiatric units.” He glanced over at Ares, gesturing with his hand as if he were explaining something simple and casual. “My mutation healed my illness when it came. I woke up sane. I think it’s why I adjusted so well to society just collapsing like it did. When you start to lose your mind, you realize there are very few things in the world we can actually own. You let go of everything—reality, control. I love holding onto it just to let it go. That kind of tension is how music is made.”
He nodded over toward the mountains. “It’s one of the things that got me hooked on the Riders. They didn’t hold onto anything, not even their own lives. It felt real to me in a world where no one could admit they were chasing after illusions.”
“I think you would enjoy creating art,” Ares replied in that way that reassured Ana that most things he said were an assessment or leading to one. “It’s helped me release my own jealousies. I learned how wonderful it could be by watching Ana.”
Much to Ana’s surprise.
“She’s a proficient artist, you know,” Ares finished.
“Is she?” Lethe said, looking back at her and raising an eyebrow.
Ana waved them off. “Neither of you feel like you have to include me in this.”
“She’s very good,” Ares continued. “I’m surprised the two of you haven’t discussed it given your shared appreciation of the arts.”
