Half Lost by Sally Green Page B

Coming from you, that’s almost funny. But strangely enough I’m not in a humorous mood.”
    â€œI wish you’d told me that you thought Annalise had been caught.”
    â€œI wish you’d told me about your attacks on the Hunters.”
    â€œI did tell you.”
    â€œYou told me some things, afterward, when you had to; when you couldn’t hide them anymore.”
    â€œBut you were hiding stuff about Annalise. The Hunters didn’t affect you.”
    â€œDidn’t affect me? A group of eight Hunters that close to our camp? That close to Greatorex and the trainees?”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œYou could have got killed by them, or wounded, and I would have gone looking for you and probably got killed myself.”
    â€œBut I was—”
    â€œI haven’t finished,” Gabriel interrupts. “I admit I hid my thoughts from you. I didn’t tell you my suspicions about Annalise being a prisoner, because I was trying to protect you. You know I hate her. I’d love to see her dead. Part of me would love to see you rip her to pieces, but another part of me knows that would be wrong, not for me or for her, but for you. You’re not yourself at the moment, Nathan. I didn’t want you to kill her and regret it after. Everything I did, I did for you. You hid your thoughts and actions from me because of what you wanted for yourself. You were only thinking of yourself. As usual.”
    I think I’ve lost at talking with Gabriel.
    â€œYou should go now,” he says.
    I don’t move. I don’t want to leave. I still want to talk to him. I need to apologize. This afternoon I worked out what I need to say. I’ve just got to say it.
    I take a deep breath and quietly and sincerely say, “Gabriel, I’m sorry I spat at you.”
    He stares at me and snorts. “Wow. An apology.”
    OK. So that’s not what I hoped for. I say, “I was angry.But I shouldn’t have done that. I wish I hadn’t.”
    â€œNo, you shouldn’t have spat at me. You shouldn’t have spat. In. My. Face. And, yes, I’m angry too. And apologizing, unique though I’m sure it is from you, isn’t good enough.”
    â€œWhat would be good enough?”
    â€œNothing. Just go.” He takes his eyes off me and goes back to his book.
    We sit in silence for a bit. I think he may relent; he has to. He can’t really mean this. Then he closes the book and looks up. “You still here?” His voice is nasty.
    â€œGabriel, I—”
    â€œNathan, I’m really, really pissed at you. I want you to go.” And I know he’s serious.
    I get up and leave the tent, walk out of the camp, and keep going.
    I run and keep running. I can run for hours, letting my body take over.
    I stay away for the next day, and the next, and then more. I spend most of the time as an animal but some time as the human me, to think.
    I’m scared that Gabriel has already come to dread me, like he was afraid he would. And I think about all the stories of Black Witches and how their relationships never last and always end violently. And then I remember how he looked at me and was so angry.
    I think of my father and I want to be like him, as strong as him. In many ways he was honorable and totally honest.And I know he loved me. But he could be cruel and harsh and terrifying. I remember the story Mercury wrote in her diary about Marcus killing the witch called Toro. I never asked my father about that. I didn’t want to hear the answer, because I think Mercury was right: he killed Toro simply because Toro annoyed him and because he could, because he really didn’t care any more for Toro’s life than for a fly’s. And I love Marcus but I don’t want to be like that. I don’t want people to dread me.
    Gabriel respected my father, but he also respects my White side, my mother’s side. I never knew her, except through Gran, Arran,