?ν ?ρχ? ?ν ? λ?γος
I know that. Everyone knows that.In the beginning was the Word. The opening of the Gospel of John; the very first passage I’d ever read in my very first class with him.
God.DoI believe that? Did I ever? Could I, now?
“You are the finest pupil I have ever taught, Ms. Vale,” Emrys goes on. “Well, so far as I know, anyway. We’ll see what the past brings. Regardless. I shall be sad to finally teach you for the first time.”
And then I realize: Emrys hasn’t been there yet. It’s my past, his future, that very first class. The day we met is the last time he will ever see me.
“Time flies like an arrow,” he murmurs.
“Fruit flies like a banana,” I mutter back. Emrys frowns.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just a stupid pun.” What am Italkingabout? I need to get a grip. I’m losing my mind to wordplay when I need to be doinganythingbut thinking myself in circles. Anything but thinking, period. “Look,” I say, verging on frustrated—with myself, with this riddle, with everything. “Ifbeing mewere enough, it would have been enough by now.”
Before people killed because of me. Before people died because of me. Before theEarth itselfstarted to die.
“Perhaps,” Emrys says again. “Or perhaps it is thatby nowsimply needed to catch up withyou.” He smiles faintly, eyesdrifting to the window, to the world beyond that still lies frozen long past overdue. “All a matter of perspective, I suppose.”
TWENTY-TWO
LANZ
I don't knowexactly why King called a team meeting, and I don't know why it feels so strange to be having one. Once upon a time, not even that long ago, this was our routine. Reflex. Conditioning, practice, training, prep for meets.
But now, even with the salle full of weaponry and kit again, with everything looking expectant, like we could just grab a sword, flip on a mask, and start bouting again, it's obviously different. Very different.
But I'm not sure exactly how.
Kai's already there when I jog down the steps, which is strange, because he never shows up to anything before me, let alone first. He nods as I come in from his place on the bench.
“You know what this is about?” I ask, slowing my steps.
Kai shakes his head. He gives me a once-over. “Hanging in there, Slim?”
I clench my jaw. “What's that supposed to mean?”
Kai gives me a puzzled look. “What's it supposed to mean? You look like you have cancer and a tapeworm. And the tapeworm also has cancer.”
“Fuck you,” I say, but I don't have a lot of heart in it.
That's what everyone said about my dad, in the rumor mill anyway, that it was cancer or some kind of wasting disease, that he was just being private about it. But he went quick, at least. Weeks, barely two months. And while I haven't been feeling any better, I also haven't been getting worse. Which is weird, because I've been so cognizant not to touch her, to even look at her more than necessary, which is its own kind of painful, but beats the alternative.
And it does mean that I've basically touched nobody in God knows how long.
As if on cue, Cal strides in. “Hey,” he says to both of us at once, making just the barest eye contact. Immediately he puts his hands in his pockets. “You guys know what we’re?—”
“No,” Kai and I say in unison.
“So I take it it's not some kind of surprise inspection from the consistory, then?” I add to Kai. He snorts. Cal looks alarmed, almost panicked. I'd tell him to relax, but?—
“Hi. Sorry, I was in class.” Kingston rushes through the door, his coat still on and bag over his shoulder. “I apologize.”
“It's cool,” Kai says. “Kinda at your beck and call here, so…” He shrugs.
King's jaw twitches. He sets down his bag, then takes off his coat, but stays standing up, like he's about to deliver some kind of speech.
