Page 17 of Love, Nemesis (Ocean to Ashes #2)

Ana leapt onto the stage and jumped in front of Evira, grabbing Lethe’s wrist with the knife and sliding under him with a hard sweep of his legs, using the oil to her advantage.

She flipped him away from the oil, activating her Atlas around his knife hand and trapping the flaming blade in time as she rolled with him over the oil.

Lethe moved with her as if preparing to throw her.

She posted a leg out and shot up and away from him as she jerked his knife out of the hand frozen in time.

She deactivated her Atlas and tossed the knife into the water tank Jasper had pushed near the stage.

It sank into the tank with a loud hiss before Jasper busted the glass with one of the loose prop swords, releasing the water through the tent.

Smoke and steam billowed across the stage in a blast. Ana jolted into motion as Lethe moved back toward Evira. She found herself crouched before Evira again, but still Lethe did not appear to be in any rush. For the first time, she noticed, he even appeared at ease.

His form emerged from the steam and smoke, and in its own way, time seemed to slow for Ana. With an acute awareness, she noticed the cut on his face, completely healed.

He’s not human.

The idea flipped a switch in her mind and any defensive strategy she had, reversed with so much violence that she found herself carried away with her own reflexes. She charged him, sweeping up a fallen rod that had rolled onto the stage from one of the props.

She swung it toward him, but Lethe grabbed it and yanked it forward.

She gave it up like bait, her feet snapping against the floor as she slammed into him with her full force.

She whipped him against the nearby catapult with an abrupt change in direction.

He yanked her down with him, and she shouted as she shoved forward, using his momentum to roll them both back over the catapult.

The lifted side gave with their weight and flipped down, rolling them down into piles of loose rope.

Ana grabbed some of the rope, looping it around Lethe’s arm before they both flipped into the backstage area and onto a pile of cannonballs.

She sat up over him, yanking the rope that served like a pulley around Lethe’s arm, forcing his arm up toward a tent pole where the rest of the ropes waited, his shoulder arched against a loose cannonball he’d landed on.

“Hello again,” he said, a smirk on his face before he drew a knife with his free arm and bucked her forward, delivering her straight toward it.

Her Atlas activated over him. Ana sat back as she exhaled, weaving her hand around the knife before leveling her eyes with his.

She removed the knife from his hand, inspecting his irises for anomalies. She tossed the knife to Jasper, who pushed through the tent flap, catching it before she grabbed more rope outside of the trappings of her Atlas’s time and scooted it up over Lethe’s head.

She waited, listening to her watch.

Tick.

Tick.

Her Atlas’s time slapped into place. Lethe’s arm jolted as if sensing the absence of the knife. Ana acted fast, snatching the rope from above his head, hooking it around his free arm and tying up both arms this time.

She leaned back, pressing her weight into his stomach as she drew the ropes hard against the pole, forcing his arms up.

He coughed as the motion stretched his body out. “Time is a cheap trick.”

“Is Evira safe?” Ana asked Jasper.

“Yeah,” Jasper confirmed, standing closer over Lethe.

“You’re human,” Ana said to Lethe. “Why do you heal so fast?”

He hesitated. Ana leaned forward over his chest, pressing his weight into the cannonball in his shoulder.

“I’ll warn you, I have a very high pain tolerance,” he said.

“A mutation.”

They both looked to see a boy with his head poking under the tent flap from the stage.

“Nice time to make an appearance,” Lethe said to the boy, a young Number by the look of his uniform.

“He’s a Rider of Saint East,” the boy continued, pointing to Lethe’s arm exposed by the rope.

Lethe rolled his eyes.

“You know him?” Jasper asked.

“My name’s Cal,” he said, moving out from under the flap. “Sorry, I—um, I thought he was going to ask Evira for something. I didn’t realize—”

“That we have a bit of history,” Evira said, pushing past the tent flap beside him. “Good to see you, Lethe,” she said with a click of her teeth.

“You too,” Lethe said. “Of course, last time I saw you, you were wringing blood out of your skirts.” He had an almost chipper lilt to his voice.

Jasper and Ana both looked at Evira.

“He’s trying to distract you,” Evira said, and they both looked back at Lethe.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not true,” Lethe said with a grin.

“It’s getting a little crowded back here,” Ana warned.

Jasper nodded. “Let’s talk back on the stage. Evira, let the audience go outside. The fire and smoke are mostly taken care of.” He removed his Atlas. “I’ll hold him.”

“I’m done,” Lethe said quickly. “Don’t use that thing on me.”

“I imagine it’s pretty humiliating,” Evira chided.

“You weren’t so smug a second ago,” Lethe shot back.

“They need me,” Evira said, gesturing to Jasper and Ana. Cal flinched when she ran a hand over his hair and addressed him. “Just like you mistakenly thought Lethe did.”

“He needed your help to find someone,” Cal defended as he shrank away from her.

“Riders don’t make deals with the likes of us,” Evira said, crossing her arms.

“All right,” Ana announced. “Everyone. On the stage. Now.”

Jasper rounded everyone out, nodding to Ana.

“I’ve got it,” she said firmly and Jasper left her. She directed her attention back to Lethe. “Why do you want Evira dead?”

“An old grudge.” he answered without pause.

“If you want me to let you go, I need you to be specific.”

“All right. You want the details? She used to serve the Strike. She gathered sacrifices for them, executed rituals, performed dissections, offered herself up to become a Strike herself, but the virus didn’t like her blood. You want any more reasons she should be dead?”

Ana wanted to object immediately, but it was hard to resist the horror in the truth.

The dormant, En Sanctan part of her, wanted to let him finish the job right now.

As a slave to the Strike, Ana had seen every manner of depravity that their priests and priestesses committed.

Then again, she’d seen almost as bad from the ROSE, ROSE that had killed anyone associated with the Strike.

If anything, she and Lethe were natural enemies.

She was surprised he seemed so casual with her.

“You used oil. You would have gotten us all killed,” Ana accused and tightened her grip on the rope, pulling him harder.

“If you’d seen her do what I’ve seen her do, then you’d understand,” Lethe replied as if he didn’t notice the pain.

“So, you’d throw your life away that fast just for that?”

“I didn’t go in thinking that.”

“You didn’t realize oil burns?” She raised an eyebrow. “One wrong move and I set this off and have you hand-delivered to the State. Control yourself or I will,” she barked, frustrated now. “You might want her dead, but we need her help.”

“All right. You win,” he said, as if they’d just played a low-stakes game. “But you’re in a bad place if you want help from someone like that. I’m curious though, you were a slave to the Strike, right? I was wondering—”

She cut him off. “No questions, and just so we’re clear, I don’t want advice or perspective from a man who almost set himself on fire.” She eased back, allowing him to free himself from the rope. She followed him out onto the stage where everyone waited. The crowd had vacated the tent.

Evira clapped, beckoning one of her servants from the darkness. She offered her hands toward them. The servant pulled off a set of mutated gloves from her hands that seemed to almost deflate as they were removed.

Cal’s eyes grew wide as he watched the space where Evira’s hands should be.

“I have to use special gloves, tailored from a rare mutated thread found in the Mystics. Now I have to send these back to have them repaired,” she mumbled bitterly.

“Both of your hands are gone?” Cal half announced, half asked, making Ana want to wince.

Lethe smirked.

“From the war, courtesy of the Riders of Saint East,” Evira said, glancing over at Lethe.

“Sorry we didn’t finish the job,” he replied.

Helena walked between them, handing Evira a second set of gloves. As she placed them on Evira’s wrists, they took the form of hands.

She gestured back out to her servants, and they started pushing chairs onto the stage.

Cal jolted as a chair nudged past him to help form a circle.

Evira walked into the circle and sat down. “Join me.”

Ana scanned the room and was the first to oblige. Jasper followed and then Cal. Lethe stood behind one. Helena and several servants watched from the dark.

“Let’s address the obvious for Lethe’s sake.

I did horrible things in the war,” Evira said, crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap.

She said “horrible” as if the word didn’t belong to her.

“But before any of you jump to conclusions, people worshiped us for it, hence why your cult”—she gestured to Lethe—“existed in hiding. If you want to make accusations about me being a villain, remember that first. Ana and…”

“Jasper,” Jasper answered her.

“I see you’re both in a hurry, so I’ll be frank, I know where to find Ares,” she said.

“And I am willing to be your guide, but you will not want to go on your own. Cal. You seem like an ambitious boy, looking to make a name for himself. If recognition is what you want, this is the mission you want.”

“We don’t take amateurs,” Jasper replied, “And hold on. This is our mission. Not yours.”

“Are you sure it’s still your mission?” Evira asked, scanning the room.

“If you don’t want my help, you don’t have to have it, but you won’t find Ares otherwise.

If you do want to find him, you’ll need my help and also the help of an expert navigator.

” She gestured to Lethe. “The Riders of Saint East were renowned not only for their horsemanship but also for possessing a deep understanding of the knowledge that no one in En Sanctus will share. Lethe was well known among even the Strike for understanding the workings of this new world we live in. He was, after all, one of the cogs in the machine that orchestrated our downfall.”

“Your nature was your ultimate downfall,” Lethe said. “And what makes you think I’ll help them?”

“What makes you think we’d accept his help?” Ana broke in.

“I have nothing to do with their mission. You know what I want, Evira,” Lethe said.

“Which is why I know you’ll go.” Evira lifted a hand and rubbed her throat where the silks had been wrapped. No one spoke, waiting for her to explain. “I suppose I jumped in too quickly. Let me explain more slowly for all of you.”

Ana and Jasper exchanged glances.

“You see,” Evira began, “Ares and I met initially because he was investigating my trade on Hailey’s behalf, but of course, I used the opportunity to source secrets from him.

During this, he happened to mention a letter he’d intercepted on the Mystic border.

” She leaned back, moving her arm over the back of her chair in an open expression of comfort and confidence.

“The letter was written with the official seal of Ivan Prince.”

Lethe’s eyes narrowed as his hands folded around the back of the chair, a sign of foreboding. Evira scanned the rest of the room.

“Presumably, the last remaining Strike.”

“Presumably,” Lethe said. “Which city?”

“Eager, aren’t you? I knew you would be and without even checking the facts. That’s very Rider of Saint East,” she purred. “Ares knows. You’ll have to ask him in person, and only I know where he is.”

Silence settled over the room. No one moved.

Evira looked at each and every one of them, allowing the silence to linger. “I see we now have an understanding.”

No one replied.

Ana looked over at Jasper, hoping he’d come up with an objection. He seemed to be asking the same of her. She looked over at Lethe, hoping this time she might see something more than a blaring red risk. No success.

“Does he have to come?” Jasper asked, gesturing to Cal.

“Hey,” Cal said.

“Yes,” Lethe replied, causing everyone to turn toward him. He shrugged under Jasper’s scrutiny. Voting for Cal to come had been an obvious jab.

Ana looked back at Jasper, who already looked miserable. He stood up, rubbing his face.

“All right then. Let’s all meet here at dawn,” Evira said.

Lethe walked behind the chairs, reaching to grab his lighter and knife from Jasper before Jasper drew it away. They both paused, looking at one another.

“Later,” Jasper said, “when we can trust you with it.”

Lethe scanned the room as if assessing his chances. He lowered his hand, exhaling impatiently before hopping off the stage and walking in between the rows of chairs.

Cal left his seat, glancing back at everyone before chasing after Lethe.

Ana stood last, Jasper following her lead. She started to step off the stage, glancing back a final time to Evira, who sat by herself through the light.

The hot light sparked a glint in her eyes, the rest of her body cast like a lone silhouette against it. For the first time, Ana soaked in the depth of her dark irises. A drop of blood had been smeared down one cheek from her fight with Lethe.

It bent with the subtle pull of a smile.

“Goodnight,” Evira said.

Ana turned and walked off in silence.