Runemaker, page 24
She stepped closer.
“Everything you have fought for has been in vain. Even now, the lover you went to the ends of the earth to bring back fights his last fight. Soon, he will die, and he will be back in my arms once more. Just like your parents.” She tilted her head, a movement that reminded him all too strongly of Tomás. “Your fight had been in vain then as well, was it not? Ten days it took you to reach them. And by then, you were far too late.” Her smile chilled his blood as much as her words did. “But you have served me well, child. Even if you did not intend to. And I always reward those who serve me.”
The world around them rippled.
“Creation is mine to bend. Past and present, they are merely words on a page, words I may at any point rearrange, should I so desire.”
He blinked. And there, standing to either side of her, were the two people he had convinced himself he would never see again. At least, not in this lifetime.
“Mom?” Tears filled his eyes. “Dad?”
They looked at him with all the love in the world in their eyes. They were happy. Whole. Not like the corpses he’d found torn apart in the garden shed. Not like the memory that years and violence had bloodied beyond distinction.
He nearly fell to his knees.
The Dark Lady smiled. “They are here. As they have always been, in my arms, from the moment they left this world. I am the Goddess of Death, Tenn. If you were to serve me, I could bring them back to you. I have use of your knowledge. The language of your gods is still largely forgotten. Together, we could bring it back. The power of the old gods, and the new.”
When she stroked his cheek, he didn’t even have the resolve to slap her hand away. Her words struck too many chords. He could barely even focus on her. He wanted to run over and hug his parents, but he knew that the moment he moved the vision would fade.
He didn’t want it to fade.
He reached up, gently took the Dark Lady’s wrist, her fingers still light on his cheek.
“You’d bring them back?” His parents might be illusions, but the tears choking his words were all too real. They were here. They were here.
“Of course, my child,” she cooed. “I could give you everything you desired. The family you lost. And the family you so desperately want to have.”
Another ripple, and the world around them changed. His parents vanished, replaced by another vision, one that hit him even harder.
They were no longer outside, but in a kitchen. The walls bare wood, the counters granite, the room crowded with cabinets and hanging pots and the scent of soup. Outside, rain streamed down, filling the room with its incessant patter.
And humming. Someone was humming. He knew the sound...
Jarrett appeared behind the Dark Lady, stepping over to the large pot simmering on the stove. He was older, his long blond hair streaked with gray. But he was more handsome than ever. Tenn watched with a fist around his heart as Jarrett stirred the soup. He was wearing a wedding ring.
Something thudded farther in the house. Jarrett looked up as a great big golden retriever covered in mud scampered in, trailing filth all over the tile floor. Jarrett let out a yelp, and then Tenn appeared in the picture. Older as well, not in the Hunter’s garb but a rain jacket and rubber boots, all covered in mud and sopping wet.
Jarrett burst out into laughter as the shadow Tenn tried to reign in the excited dog, making the kitchen even messier in the process.
“This could be yours, Tenn,” the Dark Lady whispered, breaking through the illusion. “All of it. You have already proven your love to the gods when you brought the boy back. Do you not deserve a future together? Happiness?”
The vision wavered, but it didn’t fade. It was then that he realized he was crying.
He tightened his grip on her wrist. She was so close, he could still smell the grave dirt and perfume clinging to her dress.
“I don’t deserve this,” Tenn said.
“But you do. You do.”
“No.” He looked back at her. “The only thing I deserve is your death.”
He lashed out, a lance of Earth to her flesh. Just like he’d done to Tomás, but this time, he drew a different rune over her heart.
The sigil of the Church.
The Dark Lady howled and staggered back, her hands to her chest. The illusion faded.
They were back in the field, back in the rain, with Outer Chicago’s war still raging in the distance.
He took a step back and readied himself, opened deeper to Earth and Water.
Then the Dark Lady’s yell turned to laughter. It made Tenn’s skin go cold.
“Not as gullible as the other one, then. But still not very intelligent. What did you do?” She traced her hand over her chest, the smile not slipping. “You didn’t try to kill me. No. Ahh, I see. I know that mark.”
Her smile widened. Above and behind her, the air rippled with power. Maya. It didn’t work. It didn’t work.
“Did you truly think that some mortal symbol would have power over the Sphere of the gods? You’re going to have to try much better than that to stop me.”
“That’s why I’m here,” came a voice.
Tenn looked over, and despite everything, the sight made hope flutter in his chest.
Aidan.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
AIDAN
Aidan had watched the two of them. They looked like they were about to make out, what with the way the Dark Lady stroked Tenn’s cheek and he held her wrist. Except for the blank expression on Tenn’s face, the tears that spilled out unchecked. And the smile on the Dark Lady’s lips that made her look like a panther ready to devour.
Aidan was too far away to hear them. But when he felt the flash of power and the Dark Lady stagger away, he thought perhaps Tenn had done it. She looked surprised. What had it been? A lance of power to the heart? Stopping the blood in her veins? Aidan couldn’t imagine Tenn would draw out the Dark Lady’s death. Not like Aidan would have. Not like she deserved.
Then she laughed, and Aidan knew whatever Tenn had done was nothing more than a scratch.
When she opened to Maya, he knew Tenn had tried cutting her off from magic—his forearm twinged with the memory of that cursed sigil—and failed miserably.
He stepped forward and made his grand entrance.
He still had no idea how the hell they were supposed to kill her.
Tenn looked relieved to see him, and Aidan for his part felt a small surge of pride in that. Until the Dark Lady started laughing.
“Ah, together at last. Let me guess—you believe that your powers combined can defeat me? Because some cultists in the woods told you so?”
“Something like that,” Tenn growled.
“Well, then, shall we see how wrong they were?”
She reached out, clawing her fists at both of their hearts. Pain shot through Aidan from his head to his toes, his heart twisting and burning. He fell to his knees. Heard Tenn thump down beside him.
Fire winked out in a breath. A breath that wouldn’t return.
He felt himself falling. Falling.
In the darkness, he heard his mother scream.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
DEVON
Screaming.
In the darkness, he heard screaming.
The screams of his family as they ran from the necromancers. The screams of his friends as they ran from his flames. The screams of his enemies as they paid for their sins.
In the darkness, Devon heard only screaming.
Amongst the screams were his own.
Offerings on the altar.
Atonements.
I am not worthy.
I am sorry.
I must end this.
I must avenge you.
He reached through the darkness, toward the glowing white door.
It opened on silent hinges.
Silent hinges.
Light flooded.
Screaming stopped.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
DREYA
Kianna ran at Dreya’s side, sword flashing in the half-light. The Wight floated before them as if confused without her master next to her. Confused, but not without purpose. She opened to Earth, and behind them, half of Outer Chicago fell with a disastrous roar, a rumble that nearly toppled Kianna and Dreya to their knees.
Dreya glanced back. To see the great plume of dust. The fires that billowed up to the sky.
A hundred innocent lives snuffed out in a heartbeat.
Not for the first time, she doubted they stood a chance.
Then the Wight took notice of them, and Dreya’s emotion vanished as a great burst of flame swept toward them.
She yelped, tossing Air ahead of her and forming a hasty shield. The Wight’s fire roared off it, searing the ends of Dreya’s hair, crisping her fingertips. It had been close. Too close; if she let herself get distracted, they would surely fail. They kept running.
The Wight wasn’t finished; the ground crumbled away, disappearing in a chasm that yawned down to infinity. Kianna yelled out as she leaped to the other edge. Dreya hoisted herself up with Air. And still, they ran, Howls on either side of them straining against Dreya’s shield.
She ran, and her breath came out in gasps. Not from the exhaustion, but the magic used to keep the other monsters at bay, and the one before them from killing them on the spot. Her mind swam, a blur from the haze of Air spiraling in her throat. She kept her eyes on the Wight. With that in sight, even the backlash of Air could not sway her from her true purpose.
Kianna fired her gun, a single shot, but the Wight was fast. Too fast. The bullet exploded in a tiny burst of Fire inches from the creature’s face. Kianna growled.
“Distract her!” she yelled.
Dreya did what she could.
They were closer now, only a few yards away, close enough to feel the wrongness emanating from the Wight like a disease. Dreya called down lightning, striking not the Wight but the ground beside her, sending up chunks of earth that sent the Wight reeling to the side.
Dreya didn’t let up. If magic wouldn’t affect the creature, she would harm it with the environment.
She opened to Water and froze the rain spiraling from the sky, sending it down like daggers onto the Wight. Only a few shards made it through the creature’s shield, but it was enough to disorient it.
Enough to divert its attention solely to Dreya.
Flames burst around Dreya as the Wight struck. Another quick shield, this one thinner than the first. Just enough, barely enough. Dreya struck back, a bolt of lightning that nearly blinded her.
“Oy! Watch it!” Kianna yelled.
Dreya bit back the panic, her stray thoughts reeling. She was flinging magic around without a care. What if she hit Kianna?
Another burst of flame shot the thought from her mind.
No time for precision. No time.
She was so close to the Wight that she could see her pallid features, the unique markings on her skin. The dark runes scratched over every inch of exposed flesh—the Dark Lady’s workings, no doubt. Runes to bend the girl to her will.
The pity returned, just for a moment, until the Wight struck out again, a pulse of Air that knocked Dreya backward. The air didn’t let up. It pinned her to the ground, and as she tried to right herself the earth itself wrapped around her ankles and wrists, binding her down.
The Wight hovered over her.
And for the first time since she watched her family burn, Dreya was afraid.
She tried to open to Air, but the Sphere eluded her. Her breath caught.
She stared up into the Wight’s pale eyes and began her internal prayer, a hymn for her own death. Around her, the shield she struggled to uphold faded. The monsters were starting to break through. She would die. She would die.
A gunshot.
A hole burst through the Wight’s forehead.
And the Wight crumpled to the ground at Dreya’s feet, a marionette loosed from its strings.
Silence fell. A breath after a storm. Dreya’s own breath. Her lungs burning.
Even the Howls went silent.
Kianna stepped to Dreya’s side, reached out a hand.
“Looks like you owe me a date.”
Even surrounded by monsters, Dreya smiled and took her hand. Let Kianna pull her up.
“The war isn’t over quite yet,” Dreya said, her voice breathy.
Kianna smiled and let go, turning to face the Howls that had begun crawling forward, seeking fresh meat.
“Consider this the foreplay, then.”
Dreya giggled. Opened to Water and Fire.
Then she heard her brother’s voice within her mind: You two are disgusting.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
DEVON
Power flooded through him, electric and hot, And sent flames over his skin and through his veins and he felt alive, alive, his senses, synapses and the light everywhere, everywhere, everywhere as he awoke from the dream or the meditation or maybe he had awoken to the dream, because when he opened his eyes he was in darkness; he knew he mustn’t be in darkness, knew there was a fight, a light, and he willed himself to be there—
and he was.
floating above the Guild with fire in his veins and he could see them, the thousands of Howls stretching to the horizon and the thousands of threads stretching even further, the threads that connected the Howls to each other and the Howls to the Hunters and the Howls to the Everlasting that lay beyond and behind and within them—he felt them, he saw them, and he saw the smaller threads, the ones connecting stone and grass and wind, and he knew how he could manipulate tug stretch pull snap them, and he knew to do so would have its own equal and opposite effect on him, as that was the way of the world—he could kill.
and he would be killed.
because that was the balance, that was the way, but there was another thread, a darker thread, one that pulsed on the horizon with shadows and raven wings and he knew that thread should not be, had lasted far beyond its time; that thread was wrong, and it was worth dying for, but as he floated and watched the threads and the flames he saw the threads snapping off, cutting apart, as life after life was lost—Howl or human, they made no difference, the threads were all the same—and although he couldn’t give his life to use Maya for those lesser threads, Maya was not the only power in his veins.
he had a fire within him, one he had snuffed and stuffed deep within with meditation and mantra, and he had burned himself from the inside out to contain it, had let it burn away his words and burn away his hopes and burn away his everything until he was just a shell for the flame, a vessel for the anger, and now he was something new, something more, but that flame still burned and that anger still raged and he still had to find a way to let it out—
he let it out—
fire from his hands and from his fingertips.
fire from the sky and fire from the ground.
and the world was the sun and the sun a darkness compared, and he roared with anger and ecstasy as he finally released the flame, as he finally became the flame, as flames licked his skin and seared his flesh and charred his clothes and burned his hair and even his scarf trailed to the ground, a smoldering flag, a burning offering, floating to the fires that raced across the countryside below, burning through threads and snuffing lives as he himself had snuffed out his, and in the flames he felt his sister, heard her voice.
her love.
her eternal love for him, her faith that he was not a monster, even though he was a monster, even though he now let the world see it; he didn’t burn her, nor the woman that stood beside her—Dreya deserved a better life, a life only he could give her, a life his death would ensure,
and as the flames scouring the Howls spread, as the screams lessened until the only sound was the roar of flame, he turned his sights to that darker thread, that pitch-black strand that wound itself from decay and back again, and he willed himself there.
and he was.
facing the woman that should not be.
and the boys who thought it was their destiny to destroy her, the boys who writhed in agony on the earth;
she faced him.
she knew him.
just as he knew her, the thread that bound both of them, the shears they both wielded, the act they could each only do but once;
You are the Goddess of Death, he said without speaking, and now it is time for you to die—
and he struck, reached out and grabbed the thread that bound her to life, that one immortal cord—
she didn’t have time to scream or respond—
he severed her thread.
and in turn severed his—
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
TENN
Tenn stood in silence, Aidan at his side, staring at the place Devon and the Dark Lady had been.
Seconds had turned to minutes, and he still wasn’t certain what he’d seen.
Fire on the horizon, brilliant and bright.
And then, Devon before them, the air around him rippling like water on a lake. Staring down the Dark Lady. Before—
“Are they dead?” Aidan asked.
“I don’t know.”
One moment the Dark Lady and Devon had been standing there. The next, they were gone. Only space and silence.
He and Aidan didn’t move. Moving felt like it would shatter a dream. Only Tenn couldn’t decide if it was a dream or a nightmare. The Dark Lady was gone, but so was his friend.
Dreya and Kianna appeared later in a swirl of magic.
They were holding hands.
“Did he—?” Dreya asked.
“He undid her,” Tenn replied. “They both vanished.”
“Of course,” Dreya whispered. She paused and looked at the emptiness. “All Spheres have a price. A blowback for their use. Maya’s must have been one of balance. Any act would require an equal and opposite payment. That is why the Dark Lady did not kill with Maya. To do so would have destroyed herself. She had the greatest power in existence, but could not herself wield it to kill.” She sniffed. A single tear traced her cheek. “Devon gave his life to end hers.”
