The Anathema by Zachary Rawlins Read Free Book Online Page A

teeth.
    “Yes,” Mitsuru Aoki said, nodding.
    “Then please help me,” Alex said, not caring how it sounded now. “I think I messed up my arm again.”
    Miss Aoki nodded a second time, and then stood up, brushing away imaginary dust from her loose brown cotton pants.
    “Now, you can help him,” Miss Aoki said generously, nodding to Anastasia and heading out the door without looking back. Anastasia waited prudently until Mitsuru was gone and the door had shut solidly behind her.
    “She doesn’t have to be so unpleasant. Renton, if you would.”
    “Sure, milady.”
    Renton walked over and helped Alex gingerly to his feet, lifting him on his left side, opposite his injured arm. The worst of the pain had subsided, but everything from his bruised fist all the way up to his elbow throbbed insistently. It didn’t make sense to him. Every injury Alex had incurred since being injected with nanites had healed, rapidly and completely. However, the wound left by the teeth of the first Weir he had ever encountered had never fully recovered.
    “What do you care?” Alex demanded shakily, glaring at Anastasia suspiciously. “Why are you even here? You aren’t in the Program.”
    “It’s sad, how modern youth is ungrateful. Don’t you think so, Renton?”
    “That it is,” Renton agreed.
    “Always assuming the worst of everyone,” Anastasia complained, behind a very slight smile. “On a completely unrelated note, Alex, do you mind if we make a quick stop on the way to the infirmary? There is someone that I would like you to meet.”
    “For God’s sake,” Alex moaned. “I think I broke my goddamn arm again or something. Do you have any idea how much pain I am in right now? Do you think I want to go make a social call?”
    Anastasia looked at him with disapproval. Even after seeing it several times a week for months, Alex couldn’t adjust to Anastasia in gym clothes. Not that they were any different from what any other girl wore to the gym, but he was used to Anastasia wearing outfits that wouldn’t have been out of place in Victorian-Era England, assuming there was some sort of goth scene back then. Even weirder was the two tight braids that held her hair neatly in place. Normally, Anastasia’s hair was elaborately styled; in fact, Renton had confided that she employed a servant whose sole job was managing her hair. With her curled twin-tails, she looked like a junior-high school student on her way to P.E. class.
    “Alex, you big baby. Renton, could you help my sensitive friend?”
    “Of course,” Renton said, smiling at Alex. Renton’s smile was as questionable as the person that lived behind it; friendly on the surface, but the longer he stared, the shadier it started to look. “You mind dropping those shields, Alex? If you prefer, I could bust through them, but then we’ll both end up with a headache.”
    “What?” Alex demanded, his suspicions renewed. He’d needed Rebecca to build the shields that protected him from telepathic and empathic manipulation for the first several weeks he’d been at the Academy, and he had only lately started to build them himself. He recalled Rebecca warning him never to drop them, even for the most innocent request. “Why would I want to do that?”
    “Renton is a telepath, Alex,” Anastasia explained, tapping her foot impatiently. “He can turn the pain off. That won’t fix your arm, but at least it should stop you from whining about it until we can take you to the infirmary.”
    “Oh, come on…”
    “Alex,” Anastasia said firmly. “Work with me on this. I have helped you before. Have I ever lied to you? Threatened you? Have I done anything at all to harm you?”
    “Actually, I find everything you say to be vaguely threatening,” Alex admitted warily.
    “I’m the only person in Central who is honest with you,” Anastasia said, without a trace of humor. “Are you certain that you wish to alienate me?”
    “With friends like these…” Alex muttered, and