Rosemary was shaking with fear. She had closed her eyes, and she uttered unheard words to herself. Perhaps she was singing a song, or speaking to someone she had lost, anything to take her someplace else.
Is she so terrible? Jack thought, looking at the Nomad as she passed before him. She gave him a coy glance, and he felt a warm glow in his chest. He did not recognise it: Fear? Calmness? Lust?
“Are you really the Nomad?” Jenna asked.
The woman gave the girl a slow nod as she walked in front of her.
“So are you an Irregular? A Superior? I heard you have many powers, and that—”
“I've no need to name myself other than Nomad.”
Emily was filming. She seemed unafraid. To have her sense of innocence, Jack thought.
“No one can touch you,” Jenna said, and she displayed no fear. Only wonder. “The Choppers can't catch you, the Superiors can't take you. And now I see you, I recognise you, and it's all true. You're Angelina Walker. You're the scientist who crashed into the London Eye and spread the infection.”
“I'm the first vector, if you need to name a first.”
“No need,” Jenna said. “I would ask you why, but…”
“She's moved on,” Jack said. He glanced at Rosemary again, and the woman was still trying to be somewhere else.
Nomad continued to weave around them, and every time she passed before Jack she would give him that strange smile. She seemed to be moving through water.
The air around him felt heavy and thick, and he was not sure he could move even if he wanted to. Nomad performed an occasional, strange dance with her hands, and perhaps she was snatching their breaths from the air. Jack's mind felt open to view, and though there was no sense of being invaded, still he felt exposed and vulnerable to some far greater force.
She passed him again, smiled, moved on.
Emily continued to film. Nomad seemed not to mind, though Jack doubted there would be any recorded image of her when they viewed it back.
The aura she exuded was one of great power. Every one of Jack's senses—normal, unaltered, innocent of the touch of the Toxic City—thrummed with the idea of what Nomad possessed. He saw her movements and her smiles, and her knowledge was so much more. He smelled a sweet, mysterious scent on the air, like perfume from another world. The air tasted of somewhere he'd never been, the sound of her voice was a secret to unfold, and his whole body tingled in her presence, as though touched by colours he had never seen. She was beautiful, wondrous, and terrifying.
“I have a friend,” Jack said, “Lucy-Anne. We lost her. Do you know where she is?”
Nomad paused before him and changed direction, passing so close behind him that he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. “She's a wild girl with the birds,” Nomad said.
“What does that mean?” Jenna asked.
“Not dead,” the strange woman sang. “Just wild.”
Jack sighed in relief, and he felt a grey mass of guilt lifting from him. The air seemed to swallow it away.
“Unchanged,” Nomad said, “apart from the healer. All of you…so pure and untouched.”
“I'm Reaper's son,” Jack said.
“Reaper? Just another name. Nothing to me, when I walk to spread the word.”
“What word?” Jack asked, and he thought, To some of them, she's a god.
“The word of change.”
“You've changed everything anyway,” Jenna said. “You were the one. You were the terrorist.”
“Terrorist?” Nomad's flowing walk continued, and she seemed to be tasting the word, considering its meaning. “It was all about freedom,” she said. “And it's only just begun.”
Jack tried to step forward but could not. Rosemary seemed to have entered a trance-like state, still muttering words none of them could hear. “Why is Rosemary so scared of you?” she asked.
“People are scared of what they cannot know.”
“I'm not,” Sparky said.