Runebinder

by Alex R. Kahler

  Tenn keeps his head turned. Damn it, now he’s blushing. But if Kevin notices, he doesn’t say anything as he pulls on his coat.

  They head toward the on-campus café. Tenn glances at Kevin, then opens to Water. It pulls at him, but he’s getting the hang of it. After two months of sitting by the lake in class and trying to manipulate the waves, even this little bit of magic feels like a victory. He focuses, and arcs the rain around them.

  Kevin smiles and pats him on the shoulder. Warmth floods through Tenn’s chest.

  “See?” Kevin says. “A little magic never hurt anybody.”

  Tenn stumbled as Water sloshed off. Jarrett’s hands were there, steadying him, keeping him balanced. But his hands couldn’t force away the memory, the roar of Water in Tenn’s ears, the after-cries of the thousands of other memories that bubbled alongside that one. He’d hoped that leaving the field and the bloodshed would help, but...

  When will it stop?

  “What was that?” Jarrett asked.

  Tenn couldn’t answer at first; he studied Jarrett’s face, compared it to the boy he barely remembered. Three years of fighting and magic had definitely taken their toll—this new incarnation was taller, more muscled, his skin paled by magic and scarred by bloodshed.

  “Water,” he finally said. “Sometimes it... Sometimes it dredges up memories.”

  Jarrett nodded slowly, studying him, his hands still steadying Tenn’s arms.

  “Are you okay?”

  Dozens had asked Tenn that over the last few years, normally during or after battle. Never had he actually felt like the other person wanted an honest answer.

  “I don’t know anymore,” Tenn replied.

  A Hunter walked past them, saluting Jarrett. Jarrett just nodded. His hands didn’t leave Tenn. The fact that he wasn’t hiding this closeness sent another wash of heat through Tenn.

  “How did you know it was me?” Tenn asked.

  Water and war had changed him, too. He’d watched the transformation in the mirror over the last few years—the new scars, the dark circles under his eyes, the gauntness that never seemed to fade no matter how much he rested or ate. He didn’t think he looked anything like the boy he once was. He sure as hell didn’t feel like it.

  “You stood out back then,” he said, squeezing Tenn’s shoulders. “And you stand out now.” He actually reached up and brushed the side of Tenn’s face, tracing a scar with the back of his fingers. Tenn nearly collapsed at the softness of that touch. “It takes more than a few scars to hide that.”

  Jarrett’s seriousness was replaced with a grin.

  “Besides, you’re just as gloomy as you always were.” He took a half step back. “Who’d have thought we’d meet again out here, at the end of the world?”

  Tenn shook his head. It was still swimming. His skin burned and tingled from Jarrett’s touch, and he wanted nothing more than to close the space between them, if only to be held, if only to connect to a part of his past that wasn’t covered in blood. A part of his past that suddenly, like a flare of light in the dark, felt like it could beckon toward a different future.

  But he didn’t.

  He doubted he ever could.

  “Why’d you change your name?” Jarrett asked.

  Tenn snapped back to the present, felt his treacherous face flush. The question was enough to slam him back into his body, though. It was enough to make him stop thinking of something better and focus on everything that had happened since.

  “Because,” he replied. It was all Jarrett would get. At least for now. “Why did you?”

  Jarrett shrugged. “I thought it sounded more commanding than ‘Kevin.’” He sighed. “Speaking of... I need to go talk to Cassandra. She’ll have learned we made it back, and she’s going to want to know that I found you.”

  Suddenly, the past seemed entirely unimportant. In the weight of what was happening—Tomás and Leanna and Matthias—having this small connection seemed insubstantial.

  “You still haven’t told me why you came after me,” Tenn said. He tried to steel his voice. Water made it waver.

  Jarrett hesitated. It was clear he didn’t want to continue talking. At least not about this. It was a trait Air users seemed to have in common—the moment things became emotional, they drifted.

  “I already told you,” Jarrett said. “The Prophets sent us.”

  Just like that, it was like a wall slid between them, all in the name of duty.

  Anger boiled within Tenn; how could the guy act nonchalant right now? They’d just witnessed a few dozen Hunters get murdered, had just confronted the most powerful necromancer Tenn had ever encountered. Not to mention that Water still hadn’t calmed down, and they still didn’t have an answer as to why.

  “How can you be so calm about it? Matthias is still out there. People died. They died for me.”

  “Thousands of people die every day,” Jarrett said. His voice was cold, distant, and Air glowed faintly in his throat. “That’s the world we live in. That’s the world we’re trying to change. Four years ago, all I could think of was going to college and getting high and playing video games. Now I’m in charge of one of the largest human outposts in America. I’ve sent hundreds of my comrades to die, and I’ll probably send hundreds more.” He closed his eyes. When he spoke again, his words were softer, almost a whisper. “If Leanna wants you, you’re dangerous—either to us, or to them. Either way, I’m going to keep you from them. It gives me a purpose—that’s why I’m calm.”

  Tenn couldn’t even begin to process what Jarrett was saying. It was all bullshit. He didn’t believe in any Chosen One prophecy. He didn’t hold the key to ending the Kin’s reign. He was a fighter, and only because he had to be. Only because not fighting had cost him everything.

  “But why me?” Tenn asked, deflated. He hadn’t actually meant to say it, but the words spilled out against his will.

  Jarrett studied him for a moment before answering.

  “I don’t know,” he finally said. “But I plan on keeping you around long enough to find out.”

  Jarrett continued down the hall, and Tenn followed close behind. His head was spinning. He was in Outer Chicago, standing beside the city’s second-in-command. He’d been pursued by Howls and necromancers and, now, the most powerful mage alive. In a way, it sounded like a fairy tale.

  So why did it feel like a nightmare?

  “All our rooms are underground,” Jarrett said, leading him through a tunnel that definitely hadn’t been part of the building’s original construction. The walls here were bare stone, smooth and shining and dotted with doors; Tenn knew Earth magic when he saw it, and this place had been carved out by Earth mages. Flickering lamps dotted the walls, making the entire place feel like some archaic dungeon. “Hopefully you’re not claustrophobic. We had to put some apartments up top for the Air mages.” Jarrett looked back and grinned—apparently, the seriousness from before had passed. “We’re not so good with being buried alive.”

  Jarrett stopped and opened a door, gesturing inside. “Home sweet home.”

  It was stupid, but despite everything, seeing the room sent a small wave of relief through him. Inside, lit by a hurricane lamp, was a single large bed, a sink and a dresser. Just one of each. Which meant he wouldn’t have to sleep with a dozen others snoring or yelling in their dreams. And, if he was being honest, a space this far underground made him feel safe. Secure. Ever since last year, when he’d been attuned to Earth, the closer he was to the soil, the happier he felt.

  “What am I doing here? I can’t just sit around and wait for them to find me.”

  “No one’s going to find you here, Tenn. I promise you that.” Jarrett reached out and put a hand on Tenn’s shoulder. Once more, the current connected, and Tenn found himself wanting to lean into the gravity. “I’m going to go talk to Cassandra. S
he’s the one in charge. Once we figure out our next move, you’ll be the first to know.”

  Tenn bit his lip.

  “Hey,” Jarrett said. He moved his hand to Tenn’s cheek. “Don’t worry. I’m looking after you. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

  Tenn wanted to say he’d been looking after himself just fine. He wanted to feel a fire of indignation. But the way Jarrett was looking at him...it didn’t make him feel like he was being talked down to. It made him feel kind of nice. To not have to be the only one watching his back. To know that he didn’t have to figure this out on his own.

  “Thanks,” Tenn finally managed.

  “Of course. I’ll come find you after the meeting’s done. Bathroom and showers are down the hall. Rest up. You’ve earned it.”

  When Jarrett left, though, Tenn didn’t feel like showering. Didn’t feel like taking a break. Because the moment Jarrett walked away, Tenn’s thoughts and doubts returned.

  And then, all he could think about was how much he felt like bait.

  * * *

  The room was simple, clean—smooth earthen walls that shone like marble, a worn Oriental rug, a few lamps and candles and a large bed. It had made him feel guilty at first, having his own space down here while the rest of the city seemed to live all squashed together, then he’d remembered the news from New Orleans: a civilian had helped smuggle his fiancée-turned-bloodling into a camp, sure that she would never, ever kill like the other monsters. The ensuing bloodbath had been proof enough that Hunters and civilians needed to be kept apart. Hunters were few and far between, even when they weren’t being murdered in their own beds. Not to mention, Tenn had a sinking feeling that Caius and his ilk would be more than happy to do “God’s good work” in the dead of night.

  He sat on the bed in the suffocating silence and stared at the wall.

  It was all he could do to keep Water from taking control. It roiled beneath the surface, a constant hum in his ears, a baritone tinnitus. His stomach rumbled. He needed to eat. And sleep. But he had no clue where to get food and he had a terrible fear that if he let go for one second, if he let himself drift, Water would open and drown them all before he could control it.

  What the hell was he doing here? How was he supposed to be a threat to the Kin when he couldn’t even keep his powers under control? In less than a day, everything had turned on its head. He hadn’t thought that was possible anymore—the Resurrection had pretty much fucked everything up beyond compare.

  “Lost in thought, Tenn?”

  Tenn’s heart leaped to his throat as he jumped to his feet; he knew that voice in the deepest corner of his darkest desires.

  Tomás.

  The incubus seemed to glow in the lamplight. Or maybe that’s just how he always looked. He leaned against the door, one foot propped against the wood in a pose that reminded Tenn of an old cowboy poster. The fact that Tomás was wearing snakeskin boots helped, though Tenn had never seen a cowboy go about in skintight black jeans and no shirt. He couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering over the curve of Tomás’s lips, the arch of his collarbones, the perfect V of his torso. Tenn was used to seeing bodies carved from use or magic, honed for a purpose. But this was different. Tomás’s body was crafted to be desired.

  Then again, for an incubus, that was a weapon all on its own.

  “How did you get in here?” Tenn asked. His voice caught in his throat. It wasn’t just from the fear of being trapped with a Howl. He hated the fact that desire rose within him. He hated that he didn’t hate it. It made him feel warm.

  It made him feel alive.

  “Oh, I come and go where I please.” Tomás pushed himself away from the door and sauntered toward Tenn. Every step closer seemed to raise the room’s temperature. He burned like a radiator, which meant he must have fed recently. Tenn wondered who they’d find dead and frozen in the morning. “I’m glad to see you made it back alive.”

  Another step, and he was only a foot away.

  Tomás reached out and caressed Tenn’s cheek. Tenn tried not to flinch. He tried not to pull the demon closer.

  “Though I am a bit saddened you didn’t heed my advice,” Tomás whispered. His words were frighteningly delicate, on the verge of shattering. “I told you to run.”

  Tenn tried to hold on to his senses. He tried to turn the desire into rage.

  “I’m not going to take advice from an incubus.”

  Instantly they were both on the bed, Tenn on his back and Tomás crouched on top of him. Tomás’s knees pinned Tenn’s arms to his sides. The Howl’s copper eyes blazed gold and his hands clamped against Tenn’s neck.

  “I told you not to call me that,” Tomás seethed. He shook his head, as though trying to drown some inner voice. When he looked back at Tenn, he cocked his head to the side and smiled. There wasn’t the slightest bit of kindness in those perfect white teeth. He released the pressure on Tenn’s throat. Slightly.

  “It seems he is not good at following directions.” Tomás shifted his grip, released one hand to drag a finger along Tenn’s jaw and toward his collarbones. He leaned in close, until their cheeks were brushing. Tomás’s breath in Tenn’s ear was a sensation Tenn never knew he could want so badly. “Perhaps he wants to be punished?”

  Tomás’s hand continued trailing down, a nail snagging on Tenn’s shirt, slowly ripping it open. Tenn writhed under that touch, his pulse throbbing. Twin voices screamed in his head. One—the sane one—wanted to escape. The other...well, the other part wanted to pull Tomás closer and show him just who was going to be punished.

  He forced the thoughts away. He had to remain in control. Of all the goddamned things in this world, he could at least have some control over his urges.

  “Why are you doing this?” he managed, pissed at how breathy his voice had suddenly become.

  Tomás paused. Tenn wanted to pull the man closer, wanted to force his hand lower.

  “I have already told you,” Tomás finally said. “What my sister Leanna covets, I, too, desire.”

  “But why? Why me? Why now?”

  Tomás sat up, his hands lingering on Tenn’s chest. “You are special, Tenn. Powerful in ways that are only just awakening, in ways only I can help you understand. That is why I want you. And why she wants you. You hold a power that could prove very useful to us.”

  “I would never help you.”

  Tomás chuckled. He dug his nails into Tenn’s hip, and Tenn’s back arched in pleasure and pain.

  “I think you’ll find that you will want to help me,” Tomás said. “In fact, I think you would give me anything I desire.”

  His fingers clenched tighter. All Tenn could do was moan.

  When Tomás finally let go, Tenn collapsed to the bed, shaking.

  “Yes, I believe you will play our game quite well. Leanna was right to place her focus on you.”

  Tenn’s thoughts swam. He had to stay focused. This was a Howl. This was the enemy.

  “Why don’t you just bring me to her, then, if she wants me so badly?”

  Tomás considered a moment, stroking Tenn’s hip absentmindedly. Tenn didn’t want it to stop.

  “Because I would much rather let my sister work for her prize,” Tomás finally said. He leaned in and licked Tenn’s collarbone. Frostbite burned with ecstasy.

  “I’m not your prize,” Tenn gasped.

  Tomás practically purred.

  “Oh, but you are. You are the greatest prize of all. But I am okay sharing you. For now.” Tomás leaned back and looked him in the eyes. All taunting was gone, replaced with cold calculation. “There are two types of men in this world, Tenn. Those who will use you openly, and those who will use you under false pretenses. But do not for one second think that you are not being used.” He ran his fingers through Tenn’s hair. “You may think you are safe here, you may thi
nk you have found someone who sees you for who you are, but he was sent to collect you. He will always see you as an object. A duty.”

  It shouldn’t have worked, but it still made Tenn’s heart sink. Mainly because he had already been thinking the same thing. Even if Jarrett was a link to his past, he had still been sent after Tenn for another, hidden purpose.

  “And you see me differently?” Tenn asked.

  “Of course not,” Tomás replied. “But you will have a lot more fun under my care, that I can promise you.” He leaned in and whispered in Tenn’s ear, sending heat and desire flooding through his veins. “He is using you, my pet. As am I. But at least, with me, you will always know where you stand...or kneel. And I will ensure you relish it.”

  Tenn didn’t even realize Tomás’s hand was inside his jeans until the man’s hand clenched, and ecstasy and flame burned through him. But the moment the wave hit, it was over, and Tomás stood by the wall, hands behind his back and a studious look on his face.

  “That is but a taste of what I could give you. An eternity of pleasure. Of power. Or you could spend it here. With them. Miserable and manipulated.”

  Tenn managed to grab on to his senses.

  “What about Leanna?”

  Tomás just smiled.

  “Leanna won’t be in the picture forever. Not with you around.” His face shifted, once more becoming grave. “Do not let your petty feelings control you. Ask the boy why he sought you, when he returns. Ask him, before you claim that I’m the monster.”

  There was a flicker of power, the briefest twist of Air in his throat, and then Tomás was gone.

  Tenn collapsed back on the bed, panting, the ceiling spinning slowly as his body burned and shivered in turn.

  Despite Tomás’s earlier threats, despite knowing the Howl would carry through on killing everyone he told, Tenn knew he should run from the room. He should tell the compound that a Kin was here. That he wasn’t safe. Or he should simply run from the room and never look back. Death followed him, and Death had many faces.