Even if the man did deserve to suffer.
Tenn stepped over to the necromancer. Then, holding his staff like a spear, he stabbed forward, right through the man’s back. The necromancer yelled out, but Tenn was faster—he moved in as the man collapsed, so the man fell within the stones’ orbit, and gave the staff another wrench. Blood sprayed over him as the necromancer gave his final cry. No one heard it through the magic of the runes. He yanked out his staff and refrained from kicking the corpse.
Tenn reached out with Earth and snapped a branch from the twins’ tree.
Briefly, he stopped channeling Earth into the stones. Dreya responded to his signal, and the stones flew out another twenty feet, drawing the Witches into their orbit. Then he sent power to the stones once more, rendering them all invisible as the stones orbited the pack. Barely a murmur went through the Witches at his appearance.
“Where’s Rhiannon?” he asked.
She wasn’t there, and neither was Luke. He recognized a few of the faces from the camp, but none he’d spoken to. It was Rhiannon’s daughter—Mara—who stepped forward.
“My mother is dead,” she said.
It should have come as more of a shock than it did, but he’d already experienced too much death for it to register.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“We don’t have time for sorry,” she said. She looked out, to the necromancers and Howls that swarmed around them, clearly confused at the sudden disappearance. The runes might convince the lesser Howls to stay away, but if a necromancer took notice, they’d be screwed.
Tenn nodded. Swallowed hard.
“Stay close to me. If you can fight, stand to the outside. Let’s go. And leave the singing bowl behind.”
The fires ran wild now, and the world was a torrent of sparks and heat and chaos. Tenn and the Witches darted through the madness as fast as they could, which wasn’t nearly fast enough for his comfort. He held his breath. Every single step and he expected disaster.
They were nearly to the edge of the encampment—hard to discern, as even the countryside had been set ablaze—when his good luck turned south. A man stumbled through the edge of the circle, blinking and clearly in shock from the runes and the sudden appearance of fleeing prisoners. His shock didn’t last long. A moment later, his eyes narrowed, and he took a deep breath.
Immediately, the air was ripped from Tenn’s lungs. He nearly dropped to his knees, nearly lost hold on the stream of Earth that was keeping them all hidden and alive as the Breathless One attacked.
For a brief, blinding moment, Fire flashed in Mara’s chest. The Howl went up in flames, blazed bright as the sun. Then the light vanished. The man was gone in a puff of ash.
She caught Tenn’s shocked gaze and raised an eyebrow. He said nothing. Of all the Spheres he’d expected her to be attuned to, Fire was probably the last. He didn’t waste any more time. He ran. The clan followed at his heels.
They dodged the fires that spun out of control, or perhaps the fires dodged them, as they ran up the hill, the shouts and screams of the encampment fading behind them. Tenn kept the twins’ tracking runes firmly in mind, let them guide him forward like a beacon. He kept waiting for Matthias to jump from the shadows and attack him, for a group of kravens to lunge and rip out their throats, but there was no one. Devon kept them all occupied.
When they broke through the line of runes and found the twins, he nearly sighed with relief. He dropped the connection to Earth and their camouflage winked out. The moment he stopped running, the clan crowded around, hugging him and the twins, showering them with kisses and gratitude. Not one of them asked about Tori or blamed him for what had become of them, but the guilt still gaped in his heart like a wound.
For the first time, the twins didn’t look subdued, didn’t look like they were waiting for the ax to fall. Dreya’s back was straight, and even Devon seemed to soften under the hugs of the children that flocked around him. Tenn wondered if they felt they’d finally atoned for their sins.
But there was no time for congratulations; he looked to the twins and nodded.
“Be careful,” Dreya whispered.
Tenn opened to Earth as he brought the whirling stones into a closer orbit, circling only a foot from his body. Runes flashed, ensconcing him in misdirection. He didn’t offer any explanation to those he’d just saved.
He just ran, hunting down the man who would hunt him no more.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
HE THOUGHT MATTHIAS would be difficult to find. He couldn’t have been more wrong. Seeking out the necromancer was as simple as finding a beacon in the night. Matthias stood at the edge of the encampment, staring out at the blazing fields, his eyes alight with anger. All three of his Spheres were churning within him, their combined light nearly as bright as the inferno. Tenn knew he was seeking him out. Tenn knew Matthias was on to their games. And he knew without doubt that Matthias would never find them. Not now. Not ever.
He slowed the moment he neared the man. Tenn’s pulse was calm, his breathing slow. Earth was a steady hum in his pelvis, Water impatiently waiting to be unleashed. Just the sight of Matthias was enough to make the Sphere growl with hatred. Water churned, bubbling with memories of Jarrett’s eyes, flashing traces of his touch. Over and over, with every blink, Tenn watched Jarrett leap to his death. All at the hands of the man in front of him.
Tenn clenched his jaw. Studied his foe. He was so close he could see the fields reflected in Matthias’s eyes, could watch every single bead of sweat drip down the man’s forehead. Matthias was straining. And yes, there was a hint in his eyes of more than concentration. Matthias looked unnerved. Surprised. And that emotion clearly frightened him.
Tenn opened to Water.
The Sphere sang with bloodlust. There were a thousand ways to die, and Water wanted to inflict every single one—impale him on a tree and let him bleed, drain his magic and make him a Howl, slit his wrists and spike him to the ground... It showed Tenn other things, too—things besides Jarrett leaping into the night. It showed him his house, empty, blood smeared on the walls; it showed him his parents, a bloody mound in the back shed; it showed him endless days of nothingness, of waiting to die.
It showed him every single thing that was wrong with his life.
And all he had to do to rectify it was kill Matthias.
He slowly walked around, behind the necromancer. He knew it was cowardly. He was far past caring.
This is for Jarrett.
Tenn struck.
He slashed low with his staff, severing Matthias’s heels. Matthias fell to his knees, his Spheres flickering from the shock.
Matthias gasped as Tenn stepped around him, bringing the man into the stones’ orbit. But he was a man used to battle, and Tenn’s appearance was a quick surprise.
Fire blossomed at his fingertips. Tenn was faster.
He pulled through Water, dragged every droplet of moisture into a shield of ice just inches in front of his skin. Power screamed within him. He tasted blood, but whether his own or his imagination, he couldn’t tell. Fire billowed across the shield, white-hot and angry, but Tenn’s power was stronger. Your pain is your greatest strength, Tomás had said. And Tenn had more than enough of that to spare.
Matthias’s fire died out, and Water took its opportunity. The shield shattered, crystallized into a million tiny pieces that Tenn sent slashing across Matthias’s skin.
This is for me.
The man had the decency to scream.
Water had taken control now, a torrent of rage and memory that wanted to destroy as much as it wanted to prolong the blissful agony. It felt the pulse in Matthias’s veins, the beat of his heart, the blood trickling from his wounds. It delighted in the beauty of red, in the symmetry of every slash, each cut a testament to Rhiannon, to Jarrett, to everyone this man had killed. Th
e man brought his hands up, wisps of flame swirling in his palms, but Tenn slashed off his hands and the magic faded. He fell backward on the ashen grass, staring up at Tenn with narrowed eyes.
Tenn stepped over him and raised his staff, then brought it down and speared the necromancer’s stomach to the ground.
Matthias’s back arched, blood spraying from his lips. Tenn could feel Matthias’s life flickering, fading. But Tenn wasn’t done just yet. Not by a long shot.
When Matthias sank back to the ground, he looked Tenn straight in the eyes and laughed.
The sound made Tenn’s skin turn cold.
Blood trickled from Matthias’s lips in streams, each heartbeat another spurt, each laugh a spray of crimson. Tenn twisted the staff. Matthias gasped, but he kept laughing.
“How does it feel?” Matthias asked. His voice came out in a rasp, but it was still strong, still had the power to chill Tenn to the bone.
“What?” Tenn asked through gritted teeth.
“Revenge,” he said. “Is it everything you hoped for? Do you...do you feel vindicated?”
“I feel nothing. I just want you dead,” Tenn said. Another twist of his staff. Matthias didn’t look away or flinch.
“And what good will that do?” Matthias asked. “I am one man. As are you. Who can you hope to save? Everyone you love is doomed to die.”
“I can at least keep you from killing again,” Tenn said.
Matthias chuckled again, the noise only broken by a wheeze.
“Killing me will do nothing. It won’t bring back your parents. It won’t save you from falling into Leanna’s clutches. My goddess is the Dark Lady. For me, death is a reward.” Matthias’s smile was a red slash across his face, one that dripped to the ground.
No, no, he has to see that he’s losing.
“I’ve already won,” Matthias continued. “Leanna was right. Take the man you love, and you would leap right into our hands.”
“I’m not playing anymore. I have the Witches, and once I have the proper runes, I’ll destroy her.”
“No,” Matthias said. He lifted his head off the ground and smiled. “You won’t. Because you have overlooked one key thing.”
Tenn didn’t say anything. He wasn’t going to fall prey to this, not anymore.
“You’ll seek out Leanna.” Matthias chuckled. “You’re still the mouse in our little game.”
Tenn twisted the staff again. Water screamed, wanted the man to choke on his own blood.
Fire opened in Matthias’s chest. Snakes of flame raced across Matthias’s skin, twisted through his clothes. Tenn yanked out his staff as the fire swept higher, as Matthias burned himself alive.
Tenn wanted to scream, to cry out, but all he could do was watch Matthias self-immolate.
“She has him,” Matthias yelled through the blaze. “Your lover’s still alive.”
PART
3
BLOOD SINGS
“We have no way of fathoming
the evil these creatures possess, the malice
in their hearts. Our only hope
is the dying chance
that they retain a semblance of humanity.”
—President’s Final Address.
P.R., Week Two.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
TENN SCREAMED. WATER ROARED.
Matthias’s body was a funeral pyre blazing in the night, and Tenn was blazing, too. Water raged in his chest, churned with such ferocity he had no doubt that the power would tear him apart. Matthias was burning, burning, and Tenn howled.
There was no thought. There was no questioning.
Water raged.
Water wanted everything to hurt as much as him.
He plunged his senses into the earth, reached deep to the aquifers running silently below. He dragged the water up, pushed it through rock and soil. The earth rumbled and split, a beast coming to life, and then it broke. Water burst from the cracks, lashed high into the night sky, flickering red and orange against the firelight. He held out his arms, power spiraling around him in blue waves. He felt his feet leave the ground, but the sensation was distant, his body barely an impression in the power flooding through him. Fire hissed and steamed as he forced more water up, up, up into the night sky, twisting it like serpents. The tendrils hovered there, stared down into the midst of the army horde. The screams of the army cut short as even the kravens stared up in awe.
Then he brought the water down, brought it crashing against the enemy camp, the flood devouring the beasts within. He had no mercy. He gave no quarter. He felt bones shatter, felt lungs fill as water crashed down like fists, pummeling into the earth, churning snow and blood and earth to mud. The torrent swirled in front of him, a wall of waves twenty feet high. The sky went dark as flames hissed out. He could feel the bodies. He could feel them float and kick and scream as they fought to find air in the swirl of madness.
Then he twisted the power.
Water froze.
He dropped to his knees and stared up at the cathedral of ice. Hundreds of Howls and necromancers were encased within their glass prison, screams frozen on silent faces. But he could hear them, all of them. He heard the tremor of their hearts and the howls of their stilled lungs. Each second the cacophony rose, until everything was pain and heartbeat, agonized ice. Until, as one, the voices cut out and the monsters perished.
The power faded, dropped him to the ground. He fell on hands and knees, felt Matthias’s warm ashes beneath his fingertips.
Everything fell to darkness.
* * *
“Well done, my prince.”
Tomás’s voice echoed through the shadows. Tenn felt a cool, soft bed beneath him, felt Tomás’s hand on his back. But he couldn’t open his eyes. Everything in him hurt like hell, as though he’d acquired every injury from everyone on the battlefield. Everything hurt except Tomás’s touch.
“Your part of the bargain is nearly complete.”
Tenn moved his head, winced. Pain filled him, and then he felt Tomás’s lips on his neck, the chilled burn of his touch.
“Deliver me Leanna, and I will make you king.”
Tomás bit his neck, and the darkness exploded in burning stars.
CHAPTER THIRTY
WAKING WAS LIKE surfacing from an abyss, pulling himself up from a void that wanted nothing more than to suck him back down and devour him whole. He almost let it. But Jarrett’s face kept him struggling toward the surface. The thin light streaming through cracks in the window shades was enough to set his temples on fire, though the cool cloth on his forehead kept the pain from raging. Mostly. Everything smelled of musk and earth, woodland herbs and cool streams. Comforting smells, but not enough to take the edge off the ache in his bones. He’d pulled far too much from the Spheres; this was their way of paying him back. He knew in the dark corners of his mind that he should be dead—that much magic would kill another man. Even the twins.
Moonlight streamed through the trailer, turned everything the shade of dust and memory. Dreya sat in a chair across from him. She was asleep, her eyes closed and her chin drooping against her chest. Innocent. Tenn shifted, making the mattress creak. Dreya’s eyes shot open.
“You are awake,” was all she said.
“Where—” he began, but the moment the words left his mouth he had to fight back a gag.
“You are safe. We found you on the battlefield...after what you did... We are back with the Witches. In their camp.”
He tried to sit up. The process was slow, but it didn’t hurt nearly as much as it should have. Dreya watched him like a hawk and didn’t speak again until Tenn was upright, the sheets gathered around his waist.
“You’ve been asleep for two days,” she said. “We thought...we thought you might not make it. You’d drawn too much. I’ve
never seen such power. Not even the Violet Sage could—”
“He’s alive,” Tenn interjected, his voice barely a whisper. Even voicing the words sent a fresh wave of memory through him, a surge of Water that burned with regret. With hope. He didn’t care who or what the Violet Sage was. Jarrett was alive. Nothing else was important.
“Who’s alive?” Dreya asked, suddenly tense. “The necromancer?”
“No,” Tenn said. He forced aside the image of Matthias immolating himself. “No, Matthias is dead. But...he told me before he died. He said that Jarrett’s alive. Leanna has him.”
“Lying,” Dreya said without hesitation. Her blue eyes seemed to flash in the candlelight. “He was lying to you. He had to have been.”
Even as she said it, he knew it was probably true. Matthias just wanted him to fall into Leanna’s clutches. He would do anything to deliver Tenn to his mistress. But the nagging doubt was too much to overlook.
“I don’t think he was.”
“He was.”
“How do you know? What would you do? If they had Devon? Even if just a rumor?”
Her face darkened. She hesitated before answering.
“If there was a chance, any chance, I would try to save him.”
Tenn nodded. Stupid move. It made his head spin.
“Now is not the time,” she said. She stood and walked over to the nearby table. She opened to Fire, briefly, and steam began waving from the dishes.
“Eat,” she said. “You have much recovering to do. We will speak of this in the morning.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Tenn said. “I’m going to save him.”
“Eat,” she said again. “If...if what you say is true, there is much to discuss.”
“There’s nothing to discuss,” Tenn said, but she was already out the door.
He stared down at the food, forced aside the nausea and tried to convince himself he had an appetite. It wasn’t hard. When the first drop of broth touched his tongue, Earth and Water growled with hunger. They wanted to devour it all.
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