Runebinder

by Alex R. Kahler

  And there, at his feet, lying in a circle of frost and snapped icicles, was Leanna. Tenn thought she was dead. He stopped in his tracks and stared at them. Tomás glared down at his sister, his chest heaving, his whole body shaking. For a moment, he thought the man was mourning. Then the sound of thunder faded, and he realized Tomás was laughing.

  “Worthless, she said.” His voice made Tenn take a step back. He’d seen Tomás upset. Now he seemed unhinged. “Who is worthless now? Dear, dear sister, how sweet you look like this.” He knelt down, one knee crushing into her chest. She gasped, and Tenn felt his lungs expand. “Now who is helpless, sister dear? Now whose heart is made of ice?”

  Tomás’s hand snapped forward, quicker than lightning, and Leanna spasmed. His wrist sunk deep into her chest. She didn’t bleed. Just arched against his hand, a soft cry escaping her lips. Another snap motion, and he pulled his arm back in a spray of broken bone and old blood. He held something up in the red twilight.

  Her heart.

  Tenn watched in horror as Tomás’s fingers clenched the red muscle. It didn’t beat, not like in the movies. Instead, the crimson flesh turned black under his fingertips. It was only when it began to crush in his grip, falling to the ground in sand-fine wisps, that Tenn realized Tomás had frozen it. Tomás let the last of the shards filter through his fingers before standing. He looked down at his sister, still writhing on her bed of ice. Then he turned his head, ever so slowly, and stared straight at Tenn.

  “I had hoped,” he said, hopping off the dais and taking a limping step toward him, “that you would arrive in time to see that.” He snickered and his whole body convulsed. The air around him shivered red.

  “She fought well, my sister. So very well. But she is not used to killing anymore. No, no, that never was her joy. She let others do it for her. That was her mistake. Her big mistake.”

  Tenn took a half step back. The roar in his head faltered, his heart thudding in his chest. With every step closer, the air around Tenn grew both colder and hotter, sending sweat and chills down his skin. He was weaponless, exhausted.

  He was no match against Tomás.

  “She’s not dead, of course. I couldn’t do that. What would they say? Tomás, Tomás, youngest brother, what have you done? Hah!” He did a little jump, and Tenn jumped back. “I saved the rest for you, little mouse. I saved you the best part.”

  Tenn looked past Tomás, to where Leanna lay frozen on the ground. How was she still alive? Could the Kin even be killed?

  “Ah, he wonders now.” Tomás’s voice was singsong. He paused a few feet away and cocked his head to the side. Tenn’s heart raged with fear and revulsion and desire. The damn incubus was still toying with him. “He wonders why. Why why why me? Why must I be the one who kills the beast? And how?”

  Tomás shuddered, and his next words were terrifyingly sane.

  “Thou art the reaper,” he said grimly, “and the world shall bleed at thy hands.”

  “I’m sick of playing your games,” Tenn hissed.

  “But we’ve only just started to play,” Tomás replied. His grin widened.

  The next moment, he was on Tenn, forcing him to the ground and pinning his arms to his sides. The ground was cold and wet, but Tenn’s skin burned at Tomás’s touch. The Howl’s face loomed just inches from his own, only a few, delectable inches. Tenn gritted his teeth and looked to the side, to where Leanna was sprawled much like he was. In spite of the heat roaring off the incubus, the ground around them cracked with cold.

  “Now he sees,” Tomás said, half to himself. “Now he sees my power. Now they all will see my power!”

  “You’re insane,” Tenn said.

  “Those who hear not the music,” Tomás replied, singsong. Another roar filled the sky and he chuckled, sitting back on Tenn’s chest to look to the heavens. Somewhere out there, Tenn heard the unmistakable sound of tornadoes. At least Dreya had made it to her brother safely.

  “If you’re going to kill me, just do it,” Tenn said. He forced himself to look Tomás in the face, forced down the whirl of emotions that the damned incubus stirred in his chest. Oh, how he wanted to rip the man apart, just as much as he wanted to rip off his few clothes and make him scream in other ways. Tenn’s heart hurt as Tomás’s empty Sphere tugged.

  “Kill you?” Tomás said. His head tilted to the other side. “Why would I kill the man who will rule beside me as king?” His words were smooth, remarkably sane in spite of the madness in his glowing copper eyes. He reached down and gently placed his hand against Tenn’s jaw. The movement was so intimate Tenn wanted to vomit. He wanted it to go further.

  “We will be gods,” Tomás said. “Can’t you see? Consider this the day of your ascension.”

  Then, before Tenn could grasp what he was saying, Tomás bent down and kissed him.

  The Howl’s lips were cinnamon and fire, the bite of brimstone and ice. It sent ice through Tenn’s skin, traced waves of blinding heat down his spine. He wanted to resist. Wanted to hate the monster that had torn his whole world apart. He wanted to, for what Tomás had done—to him, to the twins, to Jarrett. He told himself he wanted to hate Tomás. He told himself...

  But under the magic of the incubus, his resolve gave way. Every pulse was a roar in his veins, every second a floating eternity. His back arched against his will, his whole body desiring to be closer, to lose itself in an embrace that tore everything else away. The world around them faded, everything distilled to their lips, to Tomás’s burning hand on his face. The world was red and black and frosted like hell, and Tenn melted. The fear. The anger. The desire for revenge. All of it burned to ash.

  When Tomás pulled back, he smiled down at Tenn with a smoldering light in his eyes. Tenn’s head swam. His lips tingled. His chest burned and heart fluttered. Tomás stood in one smooth motion and reached down, helped Tenn to his feet. Tenn didn’t resist. He floated in a world of static and heat. The ground beneath his feet was light as clouds. He let Tomás guide him over to where Leanna rested on her bed of ice. Her dark hair stuck to the ground, frosted around her head like dead veins. There was a hole in her rib cage, but it didn’t bleed. It didn’t repulse him. Her dull eyes flickered. They were skimmed over, cloudy, but they fixed on Tenn and widened.

  “Do it,” Tomás whispered, his lips brushing promises against Tenn’s ear. Tenn’s heart soared. “Her broken Sphere is the only thing keeping her alive. Rip it out.”

  Tenn knelt at Leanna’s side, Tomás’s hands on his shoulders. Leanna tried to open her mouth, but her lips were frosted shut. Her skin was dusted with white.

  He could feel her twisted Sphere. Air still hungered in her throat, still tried to steal the breath from his lungs. He reached down in a haze. Her flesh was colder than ice beneath his grip, but he barely felt it, not with Tomás so near. The incubus burned like a sun, and Tenn floated in the heat.

  Leanna didn’t scream when Tenn dug his fingers into her throat. She couldn’t.

  Her flesh gave way as easily as burned paper, crisping and collapsing. He jerked his hands, and her throat caved in on itself as ash. Leanna’s eyes fluttered wide. Then they rolled back in her head, and her body paled to ivory white.

  “You have done well, my prince,” Tomás whispered into his ear. The man knelt beside him, wrapping his arms around Tenn’s chest and stomach, holding him tight to the inferno. Tenn burned in bliss. “Now, to take care of your other half.”

  The monster kissed the back of Tenn’s neck, made fire swell across his skin. Tenn shivered with sudden cold. His eyes shut on their own accord. Other half? Jarrett’s face fluttered through his mind, along with the boy he’d seen in the vision.

  His heart panicked as Tomás drained his heat with the press of his lips. But it was mild, distant. None of it mattered, not so long as Tomás was there. So long as he had the heat. The heat and the life and the power. Then hi
s heart slowed. Stopped.

  Before he could wonder if it would ever beat again, the world went dark and numb.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  DARKNESS EVERYWHERE.

  His ears filled with screams, with people calling his name. Pain, so distant. The constant jumble of motion.

  He spun through it all, blind, blissful, floating in a torrent of fire that racked his body with cold. But he didn’t mind. He barely noticed.

  Because in that void, Tomás was ever at his side. And together, they ruled the nothingness as kings.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  “YOU’RE AWAKE,” CAME a voice.

  It cut through the haze of dreams like a knife. Tenn opened his eyes. Jarrett looked down at him.

  “You’re alive,” Tenn whispered. His voice cracked. It hadn’t been a dream. It hadn’t been a delusion.

  Tomás hadn’t lied.

  Jarrett smiled. “Thanks to you.”

  Tenn tried to sit up, but he was tired, so tired, and so damned cold. Blankets piled atop his body, and fires flickered magically in the air, but he still shivered.

  “What happened?” he asked, remembering Tomás’s embrace. “Where are we?”

  “A guild,” Dreya said. She stepped out from the shadows. “East of Leanna’s compound. We brought you here, after you killed her.”

  Clearly time had passed. Dreya didn’t look tired anymore. Neither did Devon, who was leaning against the wall, Fire smoldering in his chest as he fueled the flames dancing around the ceiling. But Tenn’s gaze kept going back to Jarrett.

  Jarrett, whose skin no longer looked bruised and sallow. Whose smile looked as natural as sunrise. Jarrett, whose eyes looked at Tenn the same way they had in Outer Chicago, when their shared history had knit itself into the present.

  Jarrett, who felt like a part of him.

  Who would always be a part of him.

  “You did it,” Jarrett said. “You saved me.”

  “Of course,” Tenn replied. He smiled. “You still owe me a milk shake.”

  Jarrett laughed. Then he leaned over and kissed him.

  It was warmth and light, gentle and strong, and it filled Tenn’s chest with a sensation he hadn’t felt in ages: love. He thought he would never use the word again, but there it was, gossamer and shining as Jarrett kissed him, deep and powerful, and the rest of the world melted away. For a while, he floated there, in Jarrett’s kiss, in the embrace his whole body had ached for.

  When Jarrett pulled back, reality inked in with a dreadful rush.

  He had killed Leanna. He had saved Jarrett. He should have been floating. So why was his heart hammering? Why did it feel like a terrible setup?

  Then he remembered Tomás’s parting words.

  Now, to take care of your other half.

  He looked at Jarrett, who stood there, smiling, safe. He looked to the twins, who watched him with silent eyes.

  His other half was here.

  Tenn’s heart pounded. He fully expected Tomás to appear then, and murder them all. Right before his eyes. Just to prove a point. But the seconds ticked by, and the moment didn’t shatter. It made everything worse. Jarrett ran a hand through Tenn’s hair.

  “You’ve been out for a while,” Jarrett whispered. “But we’ll let you rest. I’ll be right outside. Always.”

  Tenn nodded. He wanted so badly to be happy right then. He wanted to feel like he had done something good. But Tomás’s words were a curse: How could he celebrate when the incubus was still out there, pulling the threads of Tenn’s life? Playing them all in a game he didn’t understand? He wanted to tell Jarrett, but he knew Tomás would deliver on his threat. The Kin had just killed his own sister. He would have no problem killing Jarrett and the twins.

  Tenn closed his eyes. Jarrett kissed him again, and although Tenn’s heart fluttered, it wasn’t enough to cut through the fear he prayed the others couldn’t see.

  They left.

  The door closed behind them.

  Tenn waited for the shadows to shift into Tomás.

  They never did.

  He thought of the tracking rune on Tomás’s heart, felt the incubus’s presence in the corners of his mind, but Tomás was far away. Very far away. So why did he feel like Tomás was a part of him? Inside of him? The Howl had somehow enchanted Tenn into killing Leanna. Tenn remembered so vividly how it felt to be manipulated like that. How easy it had been to give in.

  He may have saved Jarrett. But who would save them from him if Tomás ever came back, if he ever took over Tenn so easily again?

  Tenn shuddered. Pulled the blankets tighter. This wasn’t the happy ending he’d wanted. There was still a monster out there.

  There was still a monster in here.

  Sleep sidled in on him. He felt heavy, though his thoughts raced and drifted in half-slumber. Light flashed across his closed eyes. Silver flickers. Like stars. Like tiny silver fish.

  And he was back in the cave. Back in the swirl of constellations. Back in the vision.

  The stars coalesced. Became the face of the guy with rings in his lip and anger in his eyes. Became a voice. A feeling.

  A fear.

  The boy was in trouble.

  The boy needed him.

  Then the image shifted, and Tomás was there, his hands on the boy’s shoulders, as around them the white stars burst into crimson flame. As the shadows laughed with the Dark Lady’s voice.

  Tenn snapped awake. His heart raced and the lamps flickered and all he could sense was the fire, the fire. The knowledge that the boy would burn the world to the ground.

  Tenn visualized Tomás’s tracking rune once more.

  It was distant.

  It was getting farther away.

  He pushed himself from the bed and went to the door, stumbling in his weakness. The door opened before his hand was on the knob.

  “What is it?” Jarrett asked.

  “Tomás,” Tenn said. “The incubus. He’s after someone. And if we don’t get there first...the end...it’s just beginning.”

  The twins shared a look. Jarrett stared straight at Tenn, his eyes filled with questions Tenn knew he could never answer. Not if he wanted to keep his friends alive.

  Dread settled in Tenn’s gut. Water sloshed with regret and fear. Of what he’d done. Of what he’d do again.

  He wanted so badly to have a future, one that wasn’t filled with bloodshed and monsters and magic.

  He knew, in that moment, that it wasn’t the future he’d created.

  * * * * *

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  FIFTEEN YEARS.

  That’s how long the world of RUNEBINDER has been percolating in my brain. First as a story told at a lunch table, sophomore year of high school, featuring a very not-evil necromancer named Bob and his fluffy sidekick Bane. The plot has changed quite a bit since then. Then as the book that landed me my amazing agent, Laurie McLean, over six years ago. In the time since, the story has gone through many incarnations and three publishing houses, but RUNEBINDER is finally being (re)released into the world in all its diabolic glory.

  As you could imagine, fifteen years means there are many people to thank.

  First, my heartfelt thanks goes to Laurie McLean and Fuse Literary, for taking a chance on a queer apocalyptic story that—six years ago—seemed too outside the box to get published. She believed in me anyway.

  Next, to Patricia Riley, who saw the spark in this book and decided that, yes, the world was ready for a gay, magic-wielding protagonist. And an antagonist with “panty-dropping powers.”

  To Asja Parrish, for loving these characters as much as I did and helping them come alive.

  To Michael Strother, for bringing this book into its latest form. And, obviously, a hug
e thank you for allowing most of our Important Business Emails to be relayed via RuPaul GIFs. Werk.

  To the entire team at HarlequinTeen for putting their heart and soul into this book and making it a work of art, inside and out. With a special shout-out to T.S. Ferguson and Natashya Wilson, for being the latest to take the reins.

  To my publicist Siena Koncsol, for always making me feel like a rock star.

  To my family, who believed in me every step of the way. My mother, for letting me fly. My father, for sharing his love of words. My brother, for showing me perseverance.

  To Beatrice Schares, for drafting the very first sketches of these characters, and being their number one supporter from the very beginning. Who doesn’t want more half-naked images of Tomás?

  To Will Taylor, for the countless hours spent brainstorming. And by that I mean listening to me whine. Sometimes about writing. Usually about boys (sorry not sorry).

  To my Seattle writing friends, who kept me sane in the rainy city—Kristin Halbrook, Danielle Dreger, Lish McBride, and Mark Henry.

  To my LA wives, for the rosé and writing dates—Kirsten Hubbard, Sarah Enni, and Maurene Goo. I couldn’t ask for a stronger safety net in so strange a place.

  To my Scottish family—Adam Wright and Julie Riddell—for being a home when home was far away.

  To the countless readers and reviewers who have shared their love of this world and these characters, and kept me going when things got tough.

  Never has a story been so close to my heart—a book in which a gay boy can be more than his sexuality, a book in which anyone can save the world. And this book has lived in my heart for a very long time.

  So, my final thanks is to you, dear reader, for proving that the world isn’t just ready for diverse YA. The world needs it. Thank you for supporting this and for leaping into a world of monsters and magic and queer love.

  Everyone has a story worth sharing. Everyone is the protagonist in a great adventure.