Runemaker, page 11
The great doors before them opened, revealing a crystalline hall devoid of life. Tomás bowed and gestured forward.
Aidan stepped inside. And, as the doors shut behind him, he felt only the briefest flicker of panic when he realized he was alone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
DREYA
“You are sure you want to do this?” Dreya asked.
Kianna didn’t glare, just stared her straight in the eyes.
“Don’t make me ask again.” And perhaps it was Dreya’s imagination, but it sounded if it were less of a demand and more of a plea.
Dreya nodded and looked down to Kianna’s arm, to the scarred, unmarked dark skin.
She had already retrieved the tattoo machine from one of the guards—they hadn’t asked any questions. Figuring out the ladder of command and what to do in the wake of battle was more important than wondering why strangers needed a tattoo machine. She held the device with a steady hand. It was not the first time she had given someone the mark, but it was the first time she had felt so...unsteady.
Kianna hated magic above all things, for reasons Dreya could not understand. And yet, here she was, trusting a relative stranger to attune her. She sat in the chair with her eyes closed and her breath slow and steady. Intentionally so. Dreya could tell this was not something she wanted to do.
“Normally,” Dreya said softly, “I would have you meditate on your chosen Sphere. It is easier that way, I think, especially for an initiate.” Kianna raised an eyebrow. “But in this case, I do not believe it is necessary. Just know...this will hurt.”
“Pain means nothing,” Kianna said.
Dreya felt her brother’s disapproving stare on the back of her neck as she opened to Fire and threaded a small spool of energy into the machine. Instantly, it whirred to life. She dipped it into the ink.
Spirits, guide my hand. Grant me the grace to do your work.
Devon grunted.
Dreya brought the needle to Kianna’s forearm and began.
When Dreya had been attuned, the moment had been steeped in ritual. Even now, in the basement of some unmarked Guild, she smelled the lingering trace of sage and palo santo, the heavy hum of frankincense. She could almost hear the songs and the chants of her Clan as she worked. They hadn’t used a machine to give her the mark. A simple needle on a simple stick, the light tap of a hammer. Hours of focus and distant pain as the concentric circles and runes blossomed on her pale skin.
It had felt like an eternity. Not the pain. But the floating. The emptiness. Every tap a vibration, and she an instrument, strummed.
And then the spark when the final runes took hold, when Air blossomed in her throat, and she felt like she had taken her very first, true breath.
She wondered if it would be the same for Kianna. The same spiritual intensity. Or if she would see it as donning another weapon.
“I’ll never hear the end of this,” Kianna muttered. She opened her eyes, peered down at Dreya’s work. “That one looks wonky.”
Dreya felt herself smile. Because there was nothing wrong with the lines she drew, and there was no accusation in Kianna’s voice.
Ugh, Devon thought. He turned and left.
“He doesn’t like me, does he,” Kianna said. Not a question.
Dreya tried not to let her focus wander. She had just begun working on the runes that would connect Kianna to Earth, and if she messed any of these up, she would render the entire design impotent.
“He does not like many.”
Kianna just grunted approvingly.
And then there was silence. Just the buzz of the machine. It made her wonder—how long had it been since she’d truly had silence like this? No war burning on the horizon. No boy to save or protect. At least, not nearby.
“Where did Tenn go?” Kianna asked. Dreya jolted her head up and nearly missed a mark. Did Kianna read her mind?
“Back to Outer Chicago.” It was an estimate. But she thought it close enough to call it truthful.
“Why?”
“It is safer for him there.” This was a lie, although it bore a note of truth, and was easier than explaining the full situation. Especially when she herself did not understand.
“With lover-boy? Hard to imagine.”
Dreya bit her lip and resumed focus.
“Jarrett thought it prudent for Tenn to be away from this battle. It is...difficult to explain.”
“Because you’re afraid you’ll hurt my feelings. Admit it—you were scared that if he stayed here, Aidan would kill him.”
Dreya completed another rune. Only a few more to go.
She wondered what it would be like to understand them fully. She had spent years studying the runes, and yet for Tenn, reading them had been as simple as breathing. They had spoken things to him that they never had for her. She would have felt jealous. And yet, the burden on his shoulders was not one she would ever want to bear.
The gods had chosen him to hear their words and remake the world. That was not a burden she wished upon anyone.
“Yes,” Dreya finally admitted. “We have no way to fathom what Aidan thinks.”
“Used to,” Kianna said. She hissed an inhale as Dreya buzzed the machine over her inner elbow. “He used to just like killing and shagging, just like the rest of us. Now...”
Dreya felt heat rise to her face. Perhaps because “shagging” had never been on her radar. It was an act she knew others performed. But beyond that, she had never thought it would be for her.
“What happened to him?” Kianna asked. Dreya paused and looked up. “You said he’s reading runes of the Dark Lady. So...what? Is he a necromancer now?”
Dreya shook her head.
“I do not know what he is or is not,” she whispered. “We can only hope he has held on to his humanity.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
AIDAN
This felt like a trap.
It felt like a trap, but with Fire burning in his heart, he wasn’t afraid. If anything, he was amused. Tomás thought he could trap him? Natasja thought she could dazzle him with—what?—a glittery hallway? A maze? Please. All it would take was a flick of power and he could turn this entire place into a goddamned puddle. Ice was nothing. Not against the sun.
But he had to admit, he wanted to see whatever snare they had laid for him. This was his final kill, after all. Sigmund had been simple. Desmond ridiculously so. And now that he stood on the precipice of his final victory, he realized he wanted a battle. Even if it was all a farce. He didn’t want to just destroy the castle and everyone within. He wanted to savor it.
He walked down the crystalline hall, admiring himself in the many mirrors that lined it. Mirrors and ice and snow in the corners, and if he hadn’t had Fire in him, he would have been freezing.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
His voice echoed along the hall, reverberating off crystal and glass and stone. He knew this was supposed to be disconcerting. Knew he was supposed to feel like a mouse in a cage. But what could she do that would harm him? He had the primal Fire in his hands. He could unmake her in a heartbeat if he wished.
“This way, young Hunter,” came a voice. It echoed, too, but he followed it with a smile. Down the hall. Around the corner. And into a maze of the dead.
Calum’s hall had been desolate in its depravity. But this...this was artistic. Whereas the frozen statues in Calum’s castle had been dusty and dimly lit, this was clearly meant to be a showpiece. One intended to inspire fear in any who trekked through it. Frankly, Aidan was just bored.
He’d have thought the Kin would at least be a bit more original.
He walked down the rows and rows of giant ice slabs, each lit with bright electric light above. And within each slab was a human. Some with shocked expressions. Some clothed. Some young, some old. But they were each of them posed, each of them floating in eternal ice. And each block of ice had something Calum’s hall had not.
Tubes.
Tubes looping from wrists, carved in the ice and into flesh. Tubes sluggishly transporting thick, coagulated blood.
“Do you like what I’ve done with them?”
Natasja’s voice was as cold and crystalline as her subjects. She glided into the hall in a ball gown, a long, glittering, delicate thing of blue satin and diamonds. She was tall and pale, her hair bleached within an inch of its life. Her eyes glittered light gray, and around her throat was a heavy sapphire necklace.
She probably thought it was impressive. A show of power, that in a broken world like this she could walk around wearing finery. No armor, no weapons, no flank of guards.
He just found it terribly outdated.
“I’ve seen better.”
Her eyes flashed, and that serene expression cracked. Just like Tomás, the monster waiting below the surface of her highly polished exterior was craving blood.
“You’re here to kill me,” she said.
Aidan examined his nails, twining flame around his remaining fingertips.
“Yup,” he said. “Is this the point where you beg for mercy?”
She laughed, high and clear.
“Would you expect me to grant you mercy if the roles were reversed? I think not. Creatures like you and me, Hunter, we are not in this game for mercy. We are in it for power. And we fight to the death to maintain it.”
“And yet you aren’t fighting.” He gestured to the emptiness around them. “No guards. No defenses. Save for those ridiculously bad runes you had out there. Who taught you those, anyway?”
“Our Mother,” she said, and began walking away. “Come. We have much to discuss before you kill me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
TENN
“Once upon a time,” Caius said in his grumbly, smoker’s voice, “there was a nun who grew impatient.”
Despite the confines of the cage and the stink from Caius’s breath, Tenn found himself leaning in closer. The air around them felt heavy, similar to the feeling he’d had when the Witches shared their own secrets.
“This is heresy, you understand,” Caius said. “The gravest of sins. But it is the secret the Church held close to its heart with daggers and blood. Knowing is the reason I came here. Surrounded myself with sinners. Because here, at least, the main Church has no hold. They can’t find me. If I tell you, though, they will know. I know they will. And they will kill both of us in our sleep.”
“I can think of worse ways to go,” Tenn said.
“Right you are.” He glanced around, but they were alone. “She and I worked together. The Dark Lady. When magic was revealed to the world, the Church sprang into action, creating various arms to gain as much information as they could. It took them by surprise. They thought that all magic had died with pagan times. They thought it had all just been a story to tell kids around a campfire. They were wrong.
“The Dark Lady... Her name was Elizabeth. Such a kind, caring name, for a kind and caring woman. We managed a network of spies and intelligence gatherers, hoarding as much knowledge on magic and runes as possible. We didn’t gather much. Not more than the general public knew, but we held hope.
“And one night, Elizabeth and I were in the Church’s library, poring over biblical texts and modern magical treatises and reports from the various schools that had sprung up all over the world, and she turned to me and said...she said, Do you think this means it was a lie?
“I asked her what she meant, but of course I knew. Our stories, she replied. Our savior. Was it all a lie? If magic is real, if miracles are possible, why are none happening within the Church?”
He sighed.
“She asked why our savior hadn’t returned. I knew this was something she had been grappling with for ages. And I said, I don’t know what stories are real and what are not, but I know the core of the Word rings true. Sometimes, I said, we have to be our own saviors. I never should have said that.”
He pulled out a flask from his breast pocket, took a swig and reached it through the bars toward Tenn. Tenn’s first impulse was to decline anything that man’s mouth had touched, but his head swirled with the weight of what Caius was saying. He brought his head forward, and Caius helped him take a long swig.
It tasted just as disgusting as Tenn had expected, but it bit the back of his throat with warmth and filled his lungs with fire. He coughed, tried to hide the sound. Caius just smiled and took another drink.
“She didn’t bring up our conversation again after that. But something in her had changed. Every day she seemed a little more tired. I’d asked her if she was feeling okay, if she’d been sleeping. She never answered me. At least, not honestly. Only once did she hint at the truth. I’ve been studying, she said. And that was it. By the time I learned, well...by the time I learned, she was no longer the Elizabeth I knew. One day, she was just gone. All of her paperwork, too. Not a single damn trace. I was questioned, obviously, but I didn’t know anything. Not until I saw her on TV. Knew it was her right away.”
He closed his eyes, as if reliving the news scene: the man, strapped in a chair, while the blonde Dark Lady twisted him into a kraven.
“Later, much later, I realized what she’d done. She’d taken my words and run with them. We need to be our own savior. Bah! I didn’t mean she needed to try playing God and raising the dead. And that’s what she wanted to do. Stop death. Reverse it. She thought that if God was just a story like magic had once been, there was no point in dying. There was no eternal glory. Just this bleak, accursed earth. This one life. And she wanted to be the savior of mankind. She wanted to heal the world. She wanted everyone to be their own savior. Their own gods. And look what became of it. Bastardized. Just like everything else we do.”
When Caius stopped talking, Tenn realized he hadn’t actually breathed since Caius had resumed. His inhale was shaky and harsh.
“She was part of the Church,” Tenn whispered.
“Was, at one point in time. They got her, eventually.” His eyes leveled on Tenn. “They always get what they want. Eventually.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
AIDAN
Natasja led Aidan up a crystalline spiral staircase, up to the top of the tallest tower in the castle. The room was sparse, only a small white armchair and a mirror in the corner. It was clear this room wasn’t made for lounging, but for viewing. From here, through walls and windows, he saw the great expanse of white stretching out into oblivion.
“Seems rather lonely,” Aidan said, pulling a little deeper through Fire to warm his toes. He tried not to draw so much that the ice steamed around him.
“I prefer it this way,” she replied. “Being surrounded by those who fear you grows tiresome after a while.”
Aidan shrugged. He didn’t want to admit that he was starting to understand.
“So what are you going to show me? Or are you just stalling?”
Natasja looked at him, and it struck him just how much the sadness in her eyes reminded him of Tenn.
“Trust me, Hunter, I am not hoping to prolong the inevitable. I am more than ready to die.”
“Then why didn’t you just do it yourself?”
“Pride,” she said.
She stepped over to the mirror.
“There was a time when I delighted in my power. When I thought the entire world mine to control. But as my hunger spread, my discontent grew. There was no joy in my life, no matter the joy I found in killing or feeding. Once, the peasants surrounding me called this the Castle of Blood. The walls ran red with my hunger, and I would freeze and feed dozens at a time. I would make family members watch as I drained their children or parents. I would make them make the cuts themselves. I delighted in it.”
She sighed. Aidan was already growing tired of this. As she trailed her finger along the edge of the silver-framed mirror, he considered just ending her once and for all.
“But that was the greatest curse of the runes our Mother bequeathed to me. To us. She allowed us to keep our humanity. And after a time, no matter how strong the monster within, humanity wins out. And when you realize what you have done, you cannot live with yourself any longer.”
She looked at him in the reflection. Pointedly. Sadly.
He pulled deeper through Fire. This had gone on long enough.
“I’m not here for a lesson in morality,” he growled. “What do you want?”
“The runes here,” she mused, brushing the silver frame once more. “They are unlike so many. They can be fueled by any magic. Any magic but mine, that is. I was her disciple, you see. From the very beginning, I worked with her to turn the first of the Kin. We created the Kin first, did you know? Four to help usher in a new age. To help recruit those to Her cause and spread Her word. Four. And then I asked her to turn me. She did so, gladly. I had helped her understand so much. The ancient language, it spoke to me. It whispered in ways she would never understand. And now that I have turned, it has stopped speaking. But I still remembered enough from my studies.”
She gestured Aidan forward. He stepped up warily.
“Place your hand to the mirror, Hunter. Channel in your power. These runes will show you my history.”
“I don’t give a shit about your history.”
“And yet here you stand. You haven’t killed me. You are curious. Curious to know why a woman so powerful as the Dark Lady was destroyed. Curious to know why she craves the death of her own creations. Curious as to why she chose you to do Her work. Your answers rest within, Hunter. Or are you too afraid to seek?”
“I’m not afraid of anything except you boring me to death.”
She smiled. And for a moment, he saw a trace of the monster within her, the bloodling struggling to get out.
“Trust me, Hunter. That would not be my way.”
He placed his hand to the mirror. Channeled a web of power into the glass.
