“They’re a group. A religion, maybe. Honestly, I don’t really know. I’d barely heard of them before this. They pretty much avoid the outside world. But rumor has it they’re the ones who discovered how to use runes and magic. If they know about these—” he brushed Tenn’s tattoo, flooding heat through Tenn’s veins “—maybe they know about the ones the necromancers use. Maybe they know enough to reverse them.”
Jarrett shifted, and suddenly Tenn felt the heat of Jarrett’s arm near his back, reaching out behind Tenn, in an almost-embrace. Heat flared in Tenn’s chest as he glanced over, and Jarrett looked back, not breaking his gaze.
“Tell me a story,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m about to head out into the field with you again. I also just lied through my teeth to keep you from being imprisoned. I need a distraction.” He gave a small smile. “Besides, you once told me you were good with words.”
Despite the compliment, fire turned to fear.
“What do you mean, you lied? About what?”
“Cassandra didn’t know about you specifically, only that the Prophets needed us to investigate. If she’d found out that your magic was acting up, she’d probably have you stuck in a cell for testing. So, tell me a story. Consider it repayment.”
Tenn could only think about Cassandra, and the curious looks she gave him. Did she believe he was the cause of this? And if so...would he actually make it out of there tonight?
He tried to shake the questions from his head and focus on Jarrett. Jarrett, who inspired an altogether different sort of anxiety.
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything. But we can start with where you’re from. I don’t think you ever told me.”
“What’s it matter?” Tenn asked, his walls instantly slamming back up. “Everyone from there’s dead.”
Jarrett went silent. He didn’t try to negate Tenn’s statement or push him into answering.
“Then tell me what you dreamed of being when you were a kid,” he said after a few moments had passed. “What did you want your life to be, before all this?”
“I try not to think about it. Not when I know it can’t be.”
Jarrett brought his arm closer, touched the small of Tenn’s back.
“Why else do you think we’re fighting?” Jarrett asked. “I believe it can be. Someday. We can rebuild. But you have to have a dream to get there.”
Tenn looked to Jarrett. In all the years of fighting and fear, there’d never been a discussion like this—the question of what might come next. Of what the world could look like. Could it ever go back to the way it had been, to the way he’d dreamed? Getting a job and having a husband and living in a cabin in the woods, making art and raising kids and having a herd of golden Labs? Those were dreams he’d kept tightly locked away. They hurt too much to think about. They suffocated in the gray and the rain of this reality.
“Honestly,” Tenn said, “I gave up on that after Silveron. I’m not fighting to rebuild anymore. I’m fighting to make peace.”
“We all are. Tell me what peace would look like to you, then.”
Tenn wanted to ignore the question. He wanted to push Jarrett away and go back to his room and ignore this, all of this, because it was making pain twist in his chest, and he didn’t know if he wanted to rage or cry.
But he realized there was another force. One that made him want to talk. Jarrett seemed to honestly believe that things could change for the better. He didn’t seem to hold on to the past as a reminder of what he’d lost—he held on as a blueprint of what he could one day create.
Jarrett chuckled and flopped back on the mattress to stare at the ceiling.
“What?” Tenn asked, bristling all over again.
“You,” Jarrett said. “You haven’t changed one bit.”
“What do you mean?”
Jarrett’s smile both pissed him off and sent another wave of heat through him. Maybe Tomás wasn’t the only one who made Tenn feel alive. Though with Jarrett, the excitement wasn’t from danger, but from the promise of something bigger. A thread that ran from his past into an unknown future.
“You’re still moody. You still worry about what everyone else thinks.” Another chuckle. “Still cute, too.”
Tenn blushed. It had been a long time since anyone had called him that.
“What was it like for you?” Tenn asked quietly, trying to change the subject. “After Silveron. Where did you go?”
The mirth cut short in an instant.
“It was hell,” Jarrett whispered. He stared at the ceiling, lost in his own past. “I went straight home. All the way to Florida.” He laughed, this time without any humor. “Half the state was already underwater by then. I was too late to save...” He trailed off. “I was too late.”
“Me, too,” Tenn replied, his voice soft. The barbs had dulled at the pain in Jarrett’s voice. He knew it well.
“But we’re here,” Jarrett said. He shifted again, brought his arm to Tenn’s waist. Then, before Tenn could realize what was about to happen, Jarrett gently reached up and pulled him down, bringing Tenn’s head to rest against his chest.
Tenn froze. It was the moment he’d wanted so badly at Silveron. Three years too late.
But then he heard Jarrett’s heartbeat. Felt the thud in his ears, the slight vibration against his body. His tension began to dissolve.
“I didn’t think I would see you again,” Jarrett said, his words so quiet Tenn would have missed them were he not against his chest. Tenn brought his arm over Jarrett’s waist, pulled himself closer to the warmth. He almost expected Jarrett to flinch back. Instead, Jarrett brought him closer.
Tenn didn’t reply, just nodded against Jarrett’s chest. He didn’t want to speak. He didn’t want the moment to end—the heartbeat, the warmth, the closeness.
“What happened after?” Jarrett asked gently. He paused. “Actually, no. Let’s talk about Silveron. What do you remember?”
“How bad Chinese night in the cafeteria was.”
Jarrett laughed. It shook Tenn’s head and made him smile.
“Christ, yeah. That was terrible. My clothes always smelled like soy sauce for a week.”
Tenn chuckled. Then, softly, “I remember you.”
Jarrett made a noise that was almost a purr.
“I’m hard to forget,” he said. He paused. “I remember you, too.”
Tenn’s heart wouldn’t stop flipping, and he was worried if this went on much longer Jarrett would notice and worry.
“What do you miss?” Tenn asked. It was a dangerous question and they both knew it. Hopefully, though, the lighthearted tone would continue.
“Everything,” Jarrett replied. “Watching movies in the dorm at night. Music. I even miss the classes, sometimes. Learning something that wasn’t just how to stay alive. Junk food...pizza, burgers. Soda. All food, really.” He laughed. “Well, except Chinese nights.”
Tenn laughed.
“I’d kill for ice cream,” he said.
Jarrett moaned and pulled Tenn in, rocking slightly.
“Ugh, don’t mention that. I would kill for a milk shake.”
“I think you still owe me one,” Tenn said, smiling into Jarrett’s chest even as tears threatened to prick his eyes. “For helping you study.”
Jarrett went silent. Only for a second.
“I do indeed,” he whispered. He tightened his hug. “I do indeed.”
CHAPTER TEN
TENN DIDN’T KNOW how long they lay there on a stranger’s bed, staring at the shadows on the ceiling and talking.
Discussing the things they missed should have set Water off. Talking about the past should have sent him drowning in misery and regret. But, for some reason, the Sphere stayed closed. The m
emories stayed peaceful. For the first time in nearly four years, Tenn talked about what he missed, and what might have been, and what he would like to be, and Water stayed silent. The fact made him curl even tighter to Jarrett, made his heart warm even more. Jarrett was the ward against the terrible memories. Jarrett was the calm silence after years of inner howling.
Jarrett was warmth.
They talked until they ran out of words and the lamps ran out of fuel. It had to have been a few hours. And there, in the darkness, they stayed, Jarrett’s hand on Tenn’s hip, Tenn’s head on Jarrett’s chest. Tenn listened to the rise and fall of Jarrett’s breathing, though he wasn’t asleep. It was nice, though, to have a moment of quiet. To just exist. It felt like the way life used to be. The way life could have been.
Tenn’s pulse began to race. They were alone in the dark, and he was realizing he wanted more than anything else to reach up and kiss Jarrett, to lean against him fully, to see how their bodies matched. It wasn’t just lust, though, making his blood sing. It was something else. Something that tugged from his chest. Something that wanted to connect on a deeper level.
He hadn’t wanted that since Silveron.
Jarrett clearly felt it, too. He shifted his body slightly, curling in toward Tenn. He wrapped his other arm around Tenn’s back. He nuzzled his scruffy chin against Tenn’s forehead.
“I didn’t think I would ever feel this again,” Jarrett whispered.
“Neither did I,” Tenn replied.
Then Jarrett kissed the top of Tenn’s forehead.
“I want this to last forever,” he said. “But it’s getting late. I need to go check in on a few things before we go.”
It ached, that statement. Tenn hugged him closer.
“This is dangerous,” Tenn said.
“I know,” Jarrett replied. “And I don’t care.”
Another kiss on the top of the head. Then he slowly unwound himself from Tenn’s limbs. Every movement was slow. Every movement was agony.
This was why there was no room for love in this world. Loving always meant leaving. And leaving meant potentially never coming back.
Jarrett opened to Air, and Tenn didn’t have to ask to know it was so Jarrett could sense his way around the room. Tenn opened to Earth so he could do the same, the whole place opening out to his senses like sonar. He couldn’t see the room, any more than he could without Earth, but he could feel it. Much like he could feel his toes or fingers in the dark, the walls were simply a part of him.
“I probably won’t have time to meet up again,” Jarrett said as he walked to the door. “Even though I’d like to. Feel free to take a nap in here if you want—I doubt the twins would mind. Or, I don’t know, explore what’s left of the city.”
The thought of exploring both excited and scared Tenn—there was no way in hell he could fall asleep after cuddling with Jarrett. His nerves were on fire, and besides, he didn’t want to sleep through their escape. In a way, he almost didn’t want to see the truths of Outer Chicago. He preferred his fantasy of the place, where everything was clean and happy and possible. He preferred thinking the two of them could have a future here. Or somewhere better than here. The reality outside these walls wasn’t one he wanted to face.
Jarrett paused in the doorway, like he wanted to say something more.
“Midnight, then,” he said finally. He chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited to start a mission before.”
Tenn laughed, as well. It was short-lived. Now that Jarrett was about to leave, he was reminded of everything he was about to do, and everything he didn’t yet know.
“Midnight,” Tenn said.
He felt Jarrett move, and then he was close again, wrapping Tenn in a quick hug.
“I’m glad I found you,” Jarrett whispered in his ear. He kissed Tenn’s cheek and left.
* * *
Tenn lasted about five minutes in the room before anxiety got the better of him. He kept waiting for Tomás to appear, to threaten him again. Tenn had been so, so close to telling Jarrett about the Kin. Then he’d remembered the sound of Katherine’s neck snapping, and the desire snapped with it. Now, without Jarrett there to keep the thoughts and demons—figuratively and potentially literally—at bay, his imagination was getting the better of him.
He kept open to Earth as he walked, using the element to map out the guild in his head. The place was a lot smaller than he imagined—just the gym and maybe a block or two of underground tunnels and rooms. The stories had made this place out to be a bastion of hope, the crowning gem of the resistance. This was where dreams were remade, where humanity held on and thrived.
The truth was pretty damn depressing.
He managed to walk past the kitchens and grabbed some bread and cheese and a carrot, scarfing them down while making his way outside. He felt naked without having a weapon in his hand as he left the building. But he was safe in here.
Tomás’s face flickered through his mind.
Maybe safe was a relative term.
The night was calm and clear, the sky scattered with stars and a gibbous moon. He half expected one of the guards to call out, demanding to know where he was going at this time of night, but no one stopped him as he walked down the street. No one seemed to be out. The town was eerily quiet.
Moonlight glinted off puddles covering the cracked streets, litter fluttering against chain-link fences like tiny ghosts. Although debris was everywhere, the place smelled a little better. The rain must have washed away the decay that seemed to linger here, the stench of a thousand humans slowly decomposing as they fought to stay alive. His foot hit something, and his heart stopped as a can skittered across the street. So much for being inconspicuous.
“Who’s there?” grunted a man’s voice. He knew that voice, even though he’d only heard it once. Once was enough.
“Caius,” he muttered under his breath, his blood immediately set to boiling. He didn’t stop walking, though. He wasn’t going to let a religious nutjob ruin his only night here.
Something hit the ground in front of him. The bastard was throwing things at him.
“I asked you a question,” Caius called. He kept his voice down, but there was a sense that if Tenn didn’t stop, this would get ugly real fast. He paused.
“Oh,” Caius said. The preacher shuffled closer. He smelled distinctly of whiskey. “It’s you. The newest recruit.”
“Yes,” Tenn said. His jaw was clenched. “What do you want?”
Caius shrugged. He was still in his suit, his hair mussed from sleep, or lack thereof.
“Just to talk, Hunter. Just to talk.” There was a slight slur to his words.
“I don’t have time.”
He took a step, and Caius’s arm reached out and stopped him in his tracks.
“Make time,” Caius grated. He let go of Tenn’s arm and stood back, brushing himself off. It was futile—the dust was as much a part of his suit as the fabric.
Tenn really didn’t want to stand around with this guy. He distrusted the religious fanatics on principle alone. He’d seen the posters in the year or so before the Resurrection, when magic was a new discovery. Magic had always been seen as the devil’s work, and many people died because of it. But not at the hands of the mages or the monsters.
Apparently, burning people at the stake hadn’t died out with the Puritan times. A new Church had formed in direct opposition to magic and the Dark Lady, a faith devoted to ridding the world of darkness and evil. One whose methods overshadowed the whole “love thy neighbor” thing.
The last thing Tenn wanted was to make a scene. Caius’s sheep were probably close at hand, ready to tear him apart. And Cassandra wanted this to be a quiet exit.
“You have two minutes.”
Caius sighed. “Impatient, impatient.” He took a hand-rolled cigarette fr
om his pocket and brought it to his lips. From another pocket came a matchbook; he flipped it open, struck a match and lit his cigarette in one well-practiced movement. “That’s what got us into this mess.” He took a long drag and exhaled slowly. The smoke wafted up into the moonlight like a shade.
“What are you talking about?”
Caius’s breath might have smelled like the bottom of a whiskey barrel, but his hands didn’t shake and his eyes never left Tenn’s face.
“The Dark Lady,” Caius said. He spit, then took another drag. “She was human once. She was impatient, too.”
“I don’t have time to listen to your myths.”
“They aren’t myths,” Caius said, the smoke seething from his lips. “I know. I knew her.”
Tenn paused. The man could be out of his mind—it wouldn’t have surprised him, especially since he was probably drinking homemade moonshine—or just being a dick. But Caius wasn’t throwing slurs or railing against him. He seemed conversational. Rational. Except for the Dark Lady bit. No one from the Church would claim they knew the goddess that destroyed mankind. At least, not unless they were boasting that they were the ones who killed her.
“I know what you think of me,” Caius said. He gestured to his filthy suit. “I wasn’t always like this.”
“None of us were.”
Caius chuckled. “Of course, of course. You weren’t always doing the devil’s work. Might even say you were tricked into it. Too bad you’re going to hell for it.”
Tenn sighed. On that track again. It was time to go, then. “I need to—”
“Listen. For once in your godforsaken life, that’s what you need to do.” Caius flicked the cigarette to the ground. “Why do you think I’m here, huh? Why am I in a devil-controlled colony when there are perfectly good septs a hundred miles away? Do you think I like living among sinners and sheep?”
He had a point. Most of the old priests lived in the Church-controlled septs, the religious safe havens. They wouldn’t think of stepping foot in a place controlled by mages and Hunters, who were no better in their eyes than the monsters roaming outside.
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