Runemaker, page 3
“The Church?” Dreya asked. She stepped closer to the two of them, her pale eyes troubled. “The Church did that?”
Kianna looked at her. Nodded.
“They’ve gone militant. Captured us a few days ago. Tortured us. We’d come down here after an envoy of ours went missing. They’d overtaken London’s Guild in the wake of Calum’s death.”
“Who’s Calum?” Tenn asked.
Kianna glared daggers at him. Clearly, she didn’t like being interrupted.
“Americans. Still so up their own arses that they don’t know what’s happening in the bigger world. Calum was the Kin who ruled Scotland. Until this one killed him.”
She looked down to Aidan.
“For all intents and purposes, he’s the king, now.” Her eyes grew soft. Almost sad. “Long may he reign.”
* * *
Dreya scouted out a flat that was mostly intact, and they made their way up to the second floor. Even with Dreya and Devon clearing out the dust with Air, the place still smelled musty as hell, and Tenn tried not to notice the dead roaches and rats that were swept out with the debris. Still, it was relatively dry, and the moment Devon opened to Fire and created a glimmering ball of flame in the middle of the room, tendrils of fire smoothly licking up like water falling in reverse, it was even a little warm.
Kianna laid Aidan by the fire and wrapped him in moth-eaten blankets. Devon nudged the fire closer to the boy until sweat broke out over Aidan’s skin.
He didn’t stop shivering.
“Do you know what’s wrong with him?” Kianna asked.
Tenn shook his head.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” he whispered. “Magic doesn’t affect him. It doesn’t even touch him. I don’t know what’s wrong, let alone how to heal it.”
Kianna bit her lip and watched Aidan’s restless sleep. Dreya settled down beside her as Devon spread out their scant meal—bread and cheese and a few carrots—but it sat untouched.
Tenn’s gut twisted in knots. Eating was the last thing he wanted.
He wished the spirits would have given him more of a clue on what to do next. He wished the Witches were around so he could speak to the spirits again.
He wished he could convince himself the spirits were real, and actually knew what they were doing.
So many wishes, and not one of them changed a damn thing.
“I don’t think it’s the brand,” Kianna finally said, her words a low rumble in the silence.
“Oh?” Dreya asked. She reached over and trailed a finger over the wound on Aidan’s arm; Tenn expected Kianna to break Dreya’s hand, but she just watched Dreya’s ghostly fingertips as they outlined the jagged cross on Aidan’s mark.
“No. The Church gave him that. Gave it to everyone who used magic. But Aidan wasn’t like this after. They tried breaking him, but he stayed strong. No. Something happened to him after he went back in.”
“What do you mean?” Dreya asked. “He went back in?”
Kianna nodded. “I got him out. Him and this dude Lukas who cut and run the moment we were out of the Guild. But Aidan said there was something he had to do. I know him. I knew he wouldn’t leave without doing whatever it was. I just figured he wanted to kill Brother Jeremiah for doing all this to him. I kept running. And then...bang.”
“But how did you survive?” Dreya asked. Her eyes hadn’t left Kianna for the entirety of her story.
“I jumped in the Thames when I heard the explosion,” Kianna said. “When you spend your days around a Fire mage, you learn to keep water close at hand.” She paused, gently running her fingers through Aidan’s short hair. “And I had this.”
With her free hand, she pulled a thin gold chain out from under her shirt. On it was a medallion of the same symbol branded on Aidan’s mark.
“Where did you get that?” Tenn asked.
“Nabbed it from one of the guards after snapping his neck,” she said. “Had a feeling it would come in handy.”
Dreya reached out and gingerly took the pendant.
“It is cold,” she whispered. Her voice was distant.
Tenn had a feeling that if he’d tried touching the pendant, he’d be missing a hand. Instead, Kianna just looked at Dreya a little warily, firelight dancing in her dark eyes. The Sphere of Fire opened in Dreya’s chest.
“I cannot melt it,” Dreya said, her eyes transfixed on the amulet. “Like the brand, it is immune to magic.”
“I assume it’s how they took the Guild over,” Kianna said. “They must all wear that symbol. Makes them immune to magic. Just as it makes those branded with it unable to use it.”
Dreya let the pendant fall back to Kianna’s chest.
“So that is how the Septs remain safe,” Dreya said. “If all members of the Church carry this ward, necromancers would be unable to attack them. Magic would have no effect.”
Great, Tenn thought. More enemies to deal with. If the necromancers and the Church had declared all-out war, they needed to find answers on how to end it all. Fast.
Devon shrugged. “Doesn’t explain the Howls staying clear.”
“It also doesn’t matter right now,” Kianna replied. “You three say you came here to find him. What for? What’s the plan? The wee man used so much magic they’ll have felt it clear over in Berlin. And now that we have two Hunters with the blood of the Kin on their hands, the rest of them won’t be content to just sit around and wait for you to knock at their doors. I say we have a day, tops, before every surviving Kin is stalking your bedsides.”
An image of Tomás wearing nothing but jeans and a smile, perched at the foot of Tenn’s bed, crossed his mind, but it burned out in the truth of her words. He’d relied on the element of surprise when hunting Leanna. That was a luxury he could no longer afford.
“We don’t have a plan,” Tenn admitted. He had a feeling lying to Kianna would be the last thing he ever did. “We just knew we had to find you. We hoped...” He swallowed. “I hoped that maybe you two would know how to end this.”
As if on cue, Aidan started giggling.
CHAPTER FOUR
TENN
“Aren’t you worried about your lover-boy finding his way back to you?” Kianna asked.
It was late. The twins had gone to a bedroom to pass out, while Tenn and Kianna stayed in the living room, propped against a sofa and staring at the flames. Aidan half slept, half ranted between them.
Tenn’s heart flipped at the phrase. Lover-boy. Once, it would have made him feel amazing. Now, he just wondered if it was still true. Where the hell is he?
He shook his head and drew back his sleeve, revealing the darkened pigment of the tracking rune he’d seared with Earth onto his wrist, just above the arcs and runes of his Hunter’s mark. He could have sworn he saw Aidan’s eyes open, just briefly, and flicker to the runes.
“What is it?” Kianna asked.
“A rune. Lets us find each other, wherever we are.”
“Convenient.”
Silence stretched between them.
“Why don’t you like me?” Tenn finally asked.
“I don’t like anyone. Least of all other Hunters.”
“You like him.” He nodded to Aidan.
“He’s different.”
“How?”
Kianna didn’t say anything, just stared at Aidan with an unreadable expression in her eyes.
“He isn’t like the rest of the Hunters I’ve met. He doesn’t do this because he’s trying to save anyone or create a better future. No, he isn’t delusional like that. He fights because he burns. Because he knows the truth of this new world.”
Tenn felt something lodge in his gut. I’m trying to create a better future.
“What is this truth?” he asked.
Kianna looked him dead in the eyes.
“It’s not going to get better,” she said. “Point-blank. No matter how many kravens we kill, no matter how many necromancers we destroy, there will always be evil in men’s hearts. Often parading as righteousness. And now that you lot have magic, that evil will always have a way to destroy more effectively than ever before. You can blot out the Dark Lady, but a new god will come and take her place. You can’t kill evil, Tenn. The best you can do is enjoy the little things in life until you hit an early grave.”
Tenn swallowed hard. In a matter of seconds, she’d confirmed every fear he’d been holding inside of him since the Resurrection. She also destroyed the shred of hope he’d been holding—that they would find Aidan, and together, they would save the world. Somehow.
He had to convince himself that she was wrong. The world could be saved. There was good. The Dark Lady could be destroyed, and once her mark was cleansed from the world, they could return to something better. Otherwise, why had he been sent here? What was the point?
Kianna chuckled.
“I know that look,” she said. “You think I’m full of shite. Or rather, you want to believe I am. But let me tell you, love. I’ve seen the hatred and vileness of humanity even before the Resurrection. No matter how much magic you have or how many pretty little runes you’ve scratched into your skin, you can’t change the world. Not really. All you can do is prolong humanity’s time on it. And if you ask me, our time ran out years ago.”
“Why are you fighting, then?”
She shrugged and looked back down to Aidan.
“At first, because I wanted to survive. But this one taught me the finer things in life. The joys of bloodshed, or a good victory shag. There are things worth killing for. Not many, but a few. And frankly, I enjoy the killing as much as I do the reward.”
“That’s—”
“Sick? Twisted? I’ve heard it all, Tenn, if that really is your name. And frankly, I don’t give a fuck if you care about my reasoning. All I care about is getting this one healed up so we can do what we do best—kill.”
He could sense it then, the slightest waver in her voice. A hitch in her resolve.
“You’re scared for him,” Tenn whispered. “You’re worried that he isn’t going to make it.”
Her eyes narrowed, and whatever companionship or banter they’d created was snuffed out like a light.
“The only thing that scares me is becoming a twat like you,” she said flatly. And then, without another word, she lay down at Aidan’s side and closed her eyes.
* * *
Tenn couldn’t sleep.
He didn’t want to sleep. Everything seemed to be going wrong—Jarrett was mad and gone, the twins were unhelpful, Kianna hated him again, and Aidan... Aidan was still a mystery, but the more Tenn learned about him, the less he expected the mystery to yield something good.
He had to believe he’d been sent here for a reason. That he was supposed to somehow help, because that was what he did. He’d fixed the runes that would have turned Jarrett into a Howl and brought him back to life. He could fix this. He could fix everything—had to fix everything. He had to believe that was why he’d come here. Otherwise, what else was left?
After a few minutes of staring at Devon’s magical flames—was the guy staying awake, or had he somehow managed to learn how to channel magic even while asleep?—he pushed himself up to standing and slid into his coat and boots. He wasn’t going to pass out. Not anytime soon. Water churned in his gut, begging for him to tap in. Begging for him to sink in the misery of defeat. It whispered to him, oceanic and endless: You have failed. You will never succeed. And even darker, in the shadow of the waves, was a voice he didn’t want to place. Feminine. Eternal. Succumb to me. Give in. There is nothing left to fight for.
He knew that voice too well; he wasn’t about to listen to it now.
So, his clothes still wet, he left the flat and opened to Earth, rooting himself down through the concrete and sandstone, the map of the flats opening in his mind like a blueprint. He followed it down, through the darkness, down the concrete steps and out into the sodden night beyond. He didn’t know where he was going, just that he couldn’t stay inside. He needed to move. To feel like he was doing something. Even as Water churned inside him, trying to drag him under, he fought to keep his head above the tide.
He made it a block. Rain pattering around him. The Guild and half of London glowing to his left. He made it a block, and then he couldn’t fight anymore.
He dropped to his knees. Fire burned in the back of his throat, behind his eyes, even as water seeped through his clothes.
And as he let himself weep for all the pain and confusion, the Sphere of Water pulled him down with icy fingers.
“What do you think it will look like?” Tenn asks.
He lays curled against Jarrett’s chest, tracing the planes of his lover’s collarbone with a finger. The night is heavy and dark, and although the room is cold as ice, sweat trickles down their skin, slick and sweet.
“What do I think what will look like?” Jarrett asks, his words slurred. Tenn can already feel Jarrett’s breathing slow and deepen as sleep claims him.
“Our future,” Tenn says.
It’s the conversation he always circles back to. The light that ever guides him forward.
Jarrett doesn’t answer, not at first, and Tenn wonders if perhaps he’s fallen asleep. Then Jarrett shifts and faces Tenn, their foreheads touching.
“I don’t know what the future will look like,” Jarrett admits. “But I do know what I want it to look like. A house somewhere in the country. A big backyard and garden. We’ll grow our own food, and with your magic our garden will be like an edible jungle. We’ll get you attuned to Air, and together we’ll fly all over the world, and everything will be a new discovery. Every inch of the Earth has changed, and we will see it. Together.”
Then he leans in and kisses Tenn on the lips.
“But if you do not hurry,” came a voice from beyond the vision, “there will be no futures left.”
Tenn jolted. Tears still streamed down from his eyes, mixing with the rain, and his heart pounded in his head. He clutched for his staff, but it was back in the flat. So he opened through Earth and Water and tried to peer through the gloom, to see who spoke in the burnt-umber twilight.
No one stirred in the rain. No one came forward.
Except for a fox.
Silver-white and glittering in the distant embers, it perched on a nearby car and watched him. Silently. Stoically. Its pale eyes seemed more human than not.
Dreya’s voice filtered through his thoughts. A conversation from days or weeks ago. How foxes were the eyes of the Violet Sage, the elusive woman who’d learned how to channel all four Spheres at once. She was watching him.
How long had she been watching? And did she approve of what she saw?
“Was that...was that you?” Tenn whispered. With no one around to make fun of him for speaking to an animal, the potential that it might speak back felt even more likely. He’d believe anything was possible anymore.
The fox bowed its head.
“What do you mean, there won’t be any futures left?” Tenn asked. The more he talked, the more ridiculous he felt. This should have been impossible. But it was rumored that the Violet Sage also guarded the keys to attuning to Maya. Perhaps, for her, anything was possible.
If that’s the case, he thought, why isn’t she doing anything to help?
“He teeters on the brink. Either he will serve life, or he will serve death. Only you can help sway his hand.”
Tenn swallowed.
“But how?”
“Help him. Make him trust you.”
Easier said than done. The guy already thought Tenn was here to kill him.
“He hates me.”
“He fears you. Just as your lover fears what you might become.”
Then its gaze darted to the sky. It stared up into the roiling, red-stained storm for a moment, then leaped from the car and vanished into the night.
Tenn’s nerves tightened. And when he felt the prick of Air magic in the distance, rocketing straight toward him, he didn’t know if he felt relief over Jarrett’s return, or a different sort of fear.
* * *
“There’s a Guild a few miles east of here,” Jarrett said. “Farther down the river.”
No hello, no apology. Just him arriving in a whirl of wind and rain, his blue eyes searing into Tenn the moment he landed.
“Okay. Good.”
Tenn’s mind reeled. Here was the man he’d made love to only hours before, and now it felt like Jarrett was someone else entirely. “I guess, um... I guess we can go tell the others.”
What he wanted to say was why are you acting like this? but those were the only words he could force out.
“No. Not yet. Not until we know what we’re doing with him.”
Tenn took a step back.
“What do you mean, doing with him?”
“We can’t trust him, Tenn. Either of them. Don’t you see? They did that.” He gestured to the burning horizon.
“But he’s the one we were sent to find.”
“But why?” Jarrett asked. The question Tenn had whispered to himself countless times. “He’s clearly unhinged, Tenn. He’s clearly dangerous. Not just to us or himself, but to the rest of the world. Who knows if what happened here was the extent of his power or the tip of the iceberg?”
“You think I can’t see the danger?”
“I think you don’t care,” Jarrett said. His eyes narrowed. “I think you enjoy it. He’s wounded. You know he’ll hurt you. And for some sick, twisted reason, that makes you want him.”
Want him?
“What the hell are you talking about?” Tenn asked. He was used to dealing with his own sadness, with loss, with depression. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had pissed him off.
