Runemaker, page 20
Demanding he rise, when all he could do was sink.
Sinking.
Sinking.
And then, another jolt in the darkness. Heavier. Physical.
“Come on, you twat,” he heard someone grumble. “Wake up. Wake the fuck up.”
Another jolt. A slap. And with a sting, Tenn stumbled his way back to consciousness.
“What...?” he managed. The room swam back into view, but it kept on swimming, the walls moving on their own accord like oil, like rippling water. It didn’t stop.
“We need to get out of here,” Aidan said.
Aidan. What the hell was Aidan doing here?
And where was—
Memories snapped.
Him in the pavilion with the Violet Sage. The scent of smoke, the runes of Maya burning in his mind. He remembered the feeling, the ascension, the glowing door. And he remembered the screams that dragged him back, that kept him inches away from opening to its power. Screaming, a thud, and then the sinking, ever-present darkness.
“What did you do?” Tenn asked.
Aidan paused from undoing the ropes binding Tenn to a chair. Since when had he been bound to a chair?
“I managed to outdo myself.” He looked back, continued untying. “I’ve damned us all twice over. And you’re going to help me fix it.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
AIDAN
As disorienting as the power of Maya was, more so was the shock when the power cut off.
Aidan’s heart froze as the world solidified once more. Tenn jerked to attention, his arm over Aidan’s shoulders as Aidan awkwardly tried to help him to stand.
“No,” Aidan whispered. They were too late.
“What was—”
The door exploded from its hinges, sucked back into the hall with unearthly force. Violet light and smoke poured through, and Aidan knew they were screwed. The Dark Lady stepped through. She clutched the shard in one hand, purple light dripping from it like molasses, shadows curled between her pale fingertips. She wasn’t open to Maya, not that Aidan could see, but she wore victory on her smile like a crown.
She raised her hand and cocked a finger toward the hallway.
Fog parted, and the Violet Sage floated in.
Even knowing what to expect, even knowing he had been okay helping bring it about, the sight of her made Aidan blanch.
The girl floated, but she looked held up by strings, her arms and head bent at odd angles—suspended, rather than flying. Her eyes were pale, vacant, staring off into shadows unknown, and her skin had bleached itself almost silver, the barest shimmer of her old color traced on her arms and face.
“Behold, perfection,” the Dark Lady said. Her smile widened. She lowered her hand.
And, as if on cue, the Violet Sage opened to all four Spheres, the lights burning like St. Elmo’s Fire in the gloom.
“And before you get any ideas,” the Dark Lady continued. She opened to Fire, a ball of flame curling to life in her hand. It burned white and hot, enough to make sweat break out on Aidan’s skin.
With a flick of her wrist, she launched the fireball toward the Violet Sage. It sputtered apart only inches from her skin, breaking into sparks that flurried and faded to dust.
Aidan swallowed. He knew it wasn’t just Fire the girl was immune to, but all magic. She was a Wight. The one monster that should not be.
And she was under the Dark Lady’s command.
“Kill them.” Her eyes narrowed on Aidan. “Both of them.”
Aidan didn’t think.
He wrapped the runes around himself and Tenn, and fled.
“This is how the world ends.
Not with a whimper or bang,
not in fire or ice.
Our world ends in greed.
Our world will always
end in greed.”
—Diary of the Violet Sage
5 Oct, 3 P.R. (Post Resurrection)
PART 4
CHOSEN
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
TENN
“Where are we?” Tenn yelled. “And what the hell was that?”
Aidan paced back and forth in the rain before him. Not with the anger Tenn had started associating him with, but with, well, despair.
It wasn’t a look Tenn enjoyed seeing on him.
Tenn reached out and grabbed Aidan’s arm. Aidan immediately shook him off, Fire blossoming open in his chest and searing Tenn’s palm.
Tenn took a step back and stared at the boy, at the way his chest heaved, at the way rain sizzled on his skin. Tenn felt like he’d seen the full circle transformation—from a broken, muttering wreck to a Fire-wielding god and now this. Broken in a different way. And somehow, a worse way.
Tenn tried to find pity within him. Surprisingly, in that moment, he found none.
“What did you do, Aidan?”
Aidan looked away.
“What the hell did you do?”
Water unfurled in his gut at the question, a wave of anger that overtook him. The rain around them shuddered. Hardened. Pushed back against Aidan, shoving him over and nearly knocking him off his feet.
Aidan growled. He answered the only way he knew how.
Fire bloomed in his chest, white-hot and fierce, and he lashed out, sending a torrent of fire straight at Tenn’s face.
Tenn whipped up his arms, crossing them over his body, and the puddles below him rose in a heartbeat, formed a barrier of water five inches thick. Aidan’s flame billowed against the shield, steam curling up in a haze. But Aidan didn’t give in. He pushed harder, threw more fire at Tenn, a practical beam of heat that pulsed against the shield, battered at it.
Tenn knew he didn’t have Aidan’s anger. Not even his own pain was enough to mirror the broken boy’s. Tenn wasn’t a killer. Not like Aidan.
Tenn growled. He wasn’t going to die at the hands of this asshole. He wasn’t going to let the world fall to a man-child.
But he wasn’t going to be able to hold this shield for much longer.
His eyes caught on the steam floating above them. He reached his senses toward it, wrapped it around his fingers, and sent the burning steam toward Aidan, engulfing him, choking him out.
Aidan cried out as Tenn thickened the steam, made it impossible for Aidan to breathe, burned at Aidan’s skin with boiling water.
Instantly, the fire died.
Tenn dropped his shield, water splashing back down to his feet. He didn’t let go of the cloud. He wrapped it tighter around the boy, a boa constrictor of burning mist.
Aidan howled, his voice muffled through the steam.
For a moment, Tenn considered continuing. He could feel Aidan’s pulse deep within the cocoon, frantic and frail. A few moments more and the boy would die.
He deserved it.
He more than deserved it. He’d killed dozens if not hundreds of innocents, and damned a hundred thousand more.
Who are you to say who lives and dies? Who are you, if you killed the boy you were burdened to save?
Tenn groaned.
Then, with more force than it should have taken, he dropped the mist.
Aidan gasped, breaking through the fog and stumbling almost to his knees. He righted himself at the last minute, glaring daggers at Tenn. But he didn’t attack.
Tenn wrapped a tendril of water around his wrist, sharpening it into a point before freezing it solid, a dagger aimed straight at Aidan’s chest.
“Talk,” he growled. “What the hell have you done?”
Aidan panted, his skin pockmarked with blisters from the steam.
“She lied to me. She bloody lied to me.”
He had no idea what Aidan was talking about, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out whom he was talking about. Tenn had always known Aidan sided with the Dark Lady to further his own end. He wasn’t the type to serve. He’d wanted something out of it. And he hadn’t gotten it.
“Of course she lied,” Tenn said. “Who the hell did you think you were dealing with?”
Aidan opened his mouth, then slowly closed it.
“She told me to bring her the Violet Sage. To help her attune to Maya. She said she would help me. So I did. And she created...she created that.”
“But why? Why would you help her? She’s the Dark Lady, Aidan, not some fairy fucking godmother.”
Aidan lowered his head and stared at his feet, at the puddle of rippling rain and his spark-lined reflection.
“She said she’d bring my mother back.”
Tenn had expected to hate Aidan until his dying day. After all, Aidan had been nothing but a terror since the moment they’d crossed paths. But those words broke something in Tenn’s heart. Water churned and seethed, and between one second and the next the power took over, dragging him down to memory.
He watches her go. Watches her and his dad drive by, the dorm mother standing at his side as they both wave goodbye. She tells him it will be okay. Tells him that it will be break before he knows it, and he’ll be home again.
She lies.
Even when she says it, weeks before the Resurrection, Tenn knows she lies.
He watches his mother as the car turns and drives off. Watches the tears stream down her cheeks as he tries to stay strong, tries not to cry, because he is here to study magic and it was his idea all along. There’s no use feeling bad for himself. No use making a bad first impression on his new classmates. His new family.
“Come,” the dorm mother says. “Let’s go meet your roommate.”
She turns and guides him into the dorm. He pauses. Looks back.
His family is gone.
Gone.
He stares at his phone as, around him, the rest of the dorm runs about in terror. Stares at his phone and wonders how he can have a signal, but still can’t connect to his family.
“They have to be okay,” he whispers. He tries the numbers again. Mom’s cell. Dad’s cell. Neither work. He even tries his grandparents, and gets the same unending ring, followed by a mechanical voice mail. He hangs up. Stares around.
Everyone is running. Running to the buses that will bring them to...where? To home? Family? Tenn has no idea where they will take them, save for “out of here,” and no one else seems to know either. No one else seems to care. Right now, movement feels like life. Like being proactive. Movement feels like the only way to get the dead back.
They aren’t dead, he tells himself.
He looks down at the phone again. Soon, he will hop one of those buses and head back to his hometown. He doesn’t know what he will find along the way. Monsters? Creatures that shouldn’t exist?
It doesn’t matter. He has to save them. He has magic now. He can save them. He has to try.
He dials his mother’s number again, holds his phone to his ear.
“Come on come on come on,” he whispers, a mantra falling on deaf gods’ ears.
The phone rings for what feels like an eternity. Clicks.
“Hello,” his mother’s recorded voice says. “I can’t come to the phone right now, but if you leave your name and message, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you. Goodbye.”
“Mom,” Tenn whispers, his voice shaky, tears coating his eyes. “Mom, I’m coming back for you. I love you. I’m coming back. I’m coming back.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Aidan asked, his voice cutting through the memory.
Water sloshed away in a tide, the puddles around him rippling. Tears spilled down Tenn’s cheeks, though they were thankfully hidden by the rain. He took a deep breath. Looked at Aidan for the first time.
The boy was hurting. Aidan didn’t want to destroy. Not really. He just wanted his family back. He’d played the hand he’d been given and hoped for the best.
Unsurprisingly, it hadn’t worked at all.
Could Tenn say he wouldn’t have done the same if he’d been dealt the same cards?
“Water,” Tenn managed. He pushed himself up to standing. He wasn’t at all surprised that Aidan didn’t help him up. Aidan just watched him warily, as if at any point Tenn might attack again.
And maybe he should. After all, Aidan had brought the Dark Lady back. But as he stared at the boy, he realized he didn’t have it in him. Aidan was trying to do what he thought was right.
He was trying, and he was failing, but that wasn’t reason enough for him to be killed.
You can’t be trusted around broken things.
Jarrett’s voice was a curse. Tenn shook it from his thoughts.
They stared at each other for a long time, in the pouring rain, one sodden, one steaming and dry.
“What do we do now?” Aidan asked.
Tenn’s gut turned over. He had no idea. And now, the guy he’d been charged to find, the one who’d seemed the absolute farthest from wanting his help, was asking him for guidance.
“We regroup.” He looked to the horizon. He had no idea where the Dark Lady was. He also had no doubt she knew precisely how to find them. “You helped her create a monster. Together, we’re going to have to destroy it.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
DREYA
They sat at the table in Mara’s trailer, a pot of tea forgotten between them as they discussed what they could possibly do to turn the tides of the coming battle.
“It’s not our fight,” Benjamin growled. He was an elder of the Clan, one of the few men Dreya had seen live past forty in this new world. His beard was grizzled and his flannel torn—he looked more like a lumberjack than a wizened Witch, but she had learned long ago that appearances were deceiving. “They brought this curse upon the land. Let them rot in it.”
“You want me to curse an entire country—no, an entire species—to die?” Mara asked. The girl took after her mother. Soft-spoken and gentle in the best of times, but fierce as a lion under pressure. Dreya admired her. She had been Clan Mother for only a few weeks at most, but she took to the role as if it were in her blood. And, Dreya supposed, with the loss of her mother, Rhiannon, it was. “That would be genocide.”
Benjamin shook his head, but it was clear those words cracked his conviction.
“I say we do what we have done from the beginning. We seek a way to end this. War begets war, violence begets violence. We have the runes to hide away. When we learn how to utilize them to undo the Howls—”
“That is your wise plan?” Dreya asked. “Simply sit around and wait in the hopes that one day, the Ancients will finally answer your prayers and tell you how to reverse the Howls?”
Benjamin shrugged.
“Cowards,” Kianna muttered. She leaned all the way back in her chair, cleaning her nails with a dagger. Dreya had to concentrate on not staring at her.
“It is not cowardice to harbor knowledge. It is our charge to keep the language of the gods safe. Look what happened! Not even an hour passes after someone learns of Maya and the damned Dark Lady is back and has a Wight under her control.”
“Theoretically,” Dreya said. “We have no proof that is what she has done.”
“You expect her to have done anything less?”
Quiet twisted between the five of them. Devon leaned against the wall, kept to the shadows, his scarf wrapped tight and his silence speaking volumes.
Dreya thought she would die before she saw the day, but her brother actually sided with Kianna.
“At the very least,” Mara said, “we must gather the Clans. We may have the runes of protection, but they will not last forever, and if the Dark Lady was able to thwart the runes of the Violet Sage, ours don’t stand a chance. Gather the Clans, and let the elders decide as a whole. We will call a council—”
“We’ll all be dead before you lot agree on anything.” Kianna peered up over her dagger. “The Dark Lady is coming for you. All of you. And if you think she’s going to be content to let you watch the slaughter from the sidelines, you’re dead wrong.”
Benjamin opened his mouth, but Mara interrupted him with a raised hand. Amazingly, he said nothing.
“What would you suggest, then?” she asked.
“Call the Clans, yes. Have them teleport or ride their Pegasi here or whatever the hell they want. But rally them for war, not negotiations. The Dark Lady isn’t going to rest now that she has Maya. She’s already waited four bloody years for this. If I was her, I’d attack immediately, before anyone could rally. Humans have grown weak since she vanished. She knows it, too. She’ll crush us before we even realize she’s here.”
Mara looked to Benjamin, then to Dreya and Kianna.
“You would have me declare war.”
“We’re already at war, sister,” Kianna replied. “We’re just declaring sides.”
Mara inhaled. The subtext was clear—fight for the living, or fight for the undead.
“The Witches have a charge to restore balance, do they not?” Dreya asked.
Mara nodded.
“Then we must fight with Tenn. He is the one the spirits spoke of. He’s the one who can end this for good.”
“How?” she asked.
Dreya swallowed.
“I have no idea. But I have hope.”
“Hope is what got us into this mess,” Kianna growled.
Before Dreya could ask her what she meant, she felt a snap of power in the distance. A snap of power, and a rune she dared not hope still existed. She gasped.
“He is here.”
CHAPTER SIXTY
TENN
Winter forest rose up before them, trees draped in snow and the sky a haze of gray. Beautiful, pristine, the snow untouched. The last time he’d seen this place, there had been blood in the snow. The last time he had seen this vista, he’d gone to war.
Not much had changed.
The snow had fallen and covered up old sin, but the stench of it was still there. Or maybe that was just the land itself, every inch of America, blood-soaked and sodden, but ever willing to endure more.
