by A. R. Kahler
Tenn gritted his teeth before they rounded the final corner leading to the guild headquarters. He knew what they were going to find before the mob even came into view.
Caius stood on his usual pedestal in the center of the street, conveniently in front of the only entrance to the guild. The building loomed up behind him like a reinforced fitness center—which was, in truth, precisely what it was. Caius was in his late forties with greying hair, a potbelly, and a venomous tongue. He wore a faded three-piece suit with patches on the elbows, his messy hair unsuccessfully slicked back with grease. Despite his ragged appearance, he still had a crowd. They hovered around him, his sheep, his starving cattle. Tenn was surprised he’d never caught them moo-ing.
Whatever rant or sermon Caius had been on cut short when they rounded the corner. He sneered over at them, causing more than one head to turn. Tenn clenched his teeth harder and shoved his hands in his pockets. He didn’t know how the others managed to stay calm around the man. He didn’t trust himself to speak. Hunters were expressly forbidden from killing the innocents.
“So the child army returns,” Caius said. He had the voice of a man who used to smoke a pack or twelve a day. The child army—that’s what they were to these people. It wasn’t Tenn’s fault most of the elderly had been killed off, that only young teens could successfully be attuned to the Spheres and fight back. It wasn’t his fault, but like so many things, no one really cared about that. “How many have we lost today, friends? How many souls have you handed over to Satan?”
“Ignore him,” Jarrett whispered. He took Tenn’s arm and guided them around the crowd. Small picket signs had been thrust into the grass: Magic Is Sin. The End Has Come. Classic. As usual, the twins walked on as though completely oblivious to the world around them. Or maybe it wasn’t that. Maybe they just hadn’t deemed the outer world worth noticing. It was a skill Tenn wished he could employ, especially right now.
“Oh, look,” Caius said, “God must have been on a break today, friends. He let the queers live.”
Tenn turned and made to say something, anything—Water raged in his gut, told him to surrender, to let the bloodlust sing—but Jarrett’s grip was firm. He dragged Tenn away.
Tenn made sure to kick over a God Still Hates Fags poster on the way.
They walked up the concrete steps and entered the guild. It still felt strange walking in, dressed in leather coats and scuffed boots, when, not four years ago, the place would have been crawling with soccer moms in spandex and bodybuilders with protein shakes. Now, the foyer was relatively empty save for a single guard who gave them a perfunctory nod before going back to reading his book.
The back hall was flanked by workout rooms. One had been cleared to make space for sparring and martial arts, where a small handful of his comrades were practicing as they walked past. The other was still filled with weights and moderately working machines. Orbs of fire hovered in the corners of the room, fueled by a Fire mage currently doing handstand press-ups. The light glimmered off metal and iron, everything within surprisingly well-maintained. Boredom didn’t kill, but it meant you were wasting time. Thus, if you weren’t fighting or eating or sleeping, you were training whatever way you could.
The hall darkened further in, lit only by a couple torches guttering in the walls. Two sets of stairs led up and down. They paused.
“Let us know what you discover,” Dreya said. “We shall be in our room.”
Jarrett nodded. Without even glancing at Tenn, the twins walked downstairs. Jarrett and Tenn watched them go. Then, before Jarrett could try to comfort him again or say he had to go talk to Cassandra, Tenn spoke.
“What did they tell you?” he asked.
Jarrett’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? What did who tell me?”
“The Prophets,” Tenn said.
“I don’t—”
“Don’t play stupid. I know when you’re lying. I know the Prophets said something before we left.” He shook his head. “Why else would you have believed me when I mentioned Tomás? It’s like you were expecting it.”
Jarrett didn’t answer, not right away, and that told Tenn everything he needed. His fears had been correct. Jarrett was hiding something from him. Then a little voice rose inside him and quenched his indignation. He might have a secret, but yours is definitely worse. Yours could get everyone killed.
“Okay,” Jarrett said. He nodded to himself, but he didn’t break eye contact. It was one of his more unnerving traits, especially when standing this close. “You’re right. The Prophets told me something was wrong. They said there was a great darkness stirring in the world, and that you were somehow a part of it. But that’s it. Honestly, I thought it was just a load of garbage or else some really bad riddle.”
Tenn let it sink in. A darkness stirring… That could be anything, from the Kin to a kraven. Everything in the world was dark now.
“That’s it?” he asked.
“That’s it,” Jarrett replied. No flicker of the eyes, just a steady gaze.
He was telling the truth. Or else he knew to lie better when Tenn was around.
“Okay,” Tenn said.
“I’m going to keep you safe.”
“You said that already.”
“You’re forgetting it already.”
Tenn lowered his head. He didn’t want to voice the words in his head. He didn’t want Jarrett feeling any more protective than he already was. Jarrett put a hand on his shoulder, but he didn’t draw him in for a kiss.
“I need to go see Cassandra,” Jarrett said.
“I know,” Tenn replied.
Jarrett’s other hand tilted Tenn’s head up, so their gazes met.
“This isn’t your fault,” he said. “I know you think it is. I know you think they died because of you. But that’s just a part of the job. They died killing a necromancer. That’s it.”
“But he was after me.”
“He won’t ever have you. Not so long as I’m alive.”
“Please stop saying that,” Tenn said.
Jarrett bit his lip, but he didn’t say it again.
“I love you,” he said instead. There was no saccharine sweetness to his words. They were serious, uncompromising. They were truth.
“I love you too,” Tenn said. “I’ll see you back in the room.”
Jarrett nodded and leaned in for one kiss. “I’ll bring you some dinner when I get back.”
Then he stepped back and walked up the stairs. Tenn stood there for a while, listening to Jarrett’s feet echo in the stairwell. Then he grabbed the railing and walked down, toward his quarters. His chest felt tight, and not just because he was terrified of Jarrett’s drive toward martyrdom. Cassandra would want to know everything. Everything. And he had a funny feeling she wouldn’t want him in the guild anymore once she learned all of Leanna’s swords were trained on him.
Tenn lit the hurricane lamp in his room before shrugging off his coat and shutting the door behind him. The rooms had been constructed years ago by an Earth mage when it became clear that the Hunters needed a separate living space from those they were charged to keep safe. The room was simple, clean—smooth earthen walls that shone like black marble, a worn Oriental rug, a few lamps and candles, and a large bed. It had made him feel guilty at first, being lodged here while the rest of the citizens lived three or four to a room on the outside. Then news from New Orleans came in that a civilian had helped smuggle his fiancée, now a bloodling, into camp, sure that she would never, ever kill like the other monsters. The ensuing bloodbath had been proof enough of the necessity for separation. 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.”
He stood in the suffocating silence and stared at the wall.
He wasn’t hungry, he wasn’t terribly tired—both personally astounding given the fact that he’d been using Earth and hadn’t slept for forty-eight h
ours. The wall gave no answers. He hadn’t expected it to.
“Lost in thought, Tenn?” Tenn whipped around. Tomás.
The incubus leaned against the door, one foot propped against the wood in a pose that reminded Tenn of those old cowboy posters. The fact that Tomás was wearing snakeskin boots didn’t help, though Tenn had never seen a cowboy go about in skin-tight black jeans and no shirt. He couldn’t help his eyes from wandering over the curve of Tomás’s lips, the arch of his collarbones, the perfect ‘V’ of his torso. Tomás seemed to glow in the lamplight. Or maybe that’s just how he always looked.
“How did you get in here?” Tenn asked. His voice caught in his throat. He tried to keep his pulse under control.
“Oh, I come and go where I please.” Tomás pushed himself away from the door and sauntered closer to Tenn. The guy gave off so much heat; 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.” His words were frighteningly delicate. “I told you to run.”
“I’m not going to take advice from an incubus.”
In the next moment, 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.
“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.
“It seems he is not good at following directions.” Tomás dragged a finger along Tenn’s jaw and down his neck. He leaned in close, until their cheeks were brushing.
“Perhaps he wants to be punished?”
Tomás’s hand continued trailing down, snagging on Tenn’s shirt and 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 do the punishing.
He forced the thoughts away. As Tomás’s finger continued its slow undoing of Tenn’s shirt, Tenn tried to stall.
“Why are you doing this?” he managed, pissed at how breathy his voice had suddenly become. Tomás paused. Tenn could practically feel the gears turning in his twisted mind.
“I have already told you,” he finally said. “What my sister Leanna covets, I too desire.”
“But why? Why me? Why now?”
Tomás sat back up, his hands lingering on Tenn’s chest. “You are special, Tenn. Powerful in ways that are only just awakening, in ways I can help you understand. And Leanna and I are drawn to men of power.”
“Why don’t you just bring me to her then if she wants me so badly?”
Tomás chuckled. It made Tenn’s blood boil in ways he’d never felt before.
“Because I would much rather let my sister work for her prize.” He leaned in and kissed Tenn’s collarbone. Frostbite burned with ecstasy.
“I’m not your prize,” Tenn said. His words were almost a gasp.
Tomás practically purred.
“Oh, but you are. You are the greatest prize of all. But I am okay sharing you. For now. So long as you do as you’re told.” Tomás leaned back and looked him in the eyes. All taunting, all teasing was gone. “Otherwise, it is not you I shall punish. Humans are frail things. They break so easily. Especially human lovers.”
Anger raged in Tenn’s chest—anger and fear—and he wasn’t certain if it was Tomás or the threat that set it off.
“Don’t you dare hurt him.”
Tomás’s grin widened.
“Then do not defy me,” he said. “I play nicely when my rules are obeyed. The boy can live so long as you remember this.”
Tenn opened his mouth, unsure of what words would come out, when the door opened.
In a heartbeat, Tomás was gone. Tenn hadn’t even felt him use magic.
“You still awake?” Jarrett asked.
He stepped in slowly. Tenn closed his eyes and pressed his hands to his forehead. His heart was going a hundred miles a minute.
“Yeah.” He pushed himself up to sitting. “That was fast.”
Jarrett bore a tray of food in his hands, two steaming bowls of soup and a loaf of bread. He set them down on the nightstand.
“Cassandra wasn’t in,” he said, then paused and looked Tenn over. If he noticed the tear in Tenn’s shirt, he didn’t say anything. Tenn prayed he’d just pass it off as a battle scar. “You sure you’re okay? You’re shaking.”
Tenn nodded. He knew he should tell Jarrett, despite Tomás’s threats. There was an insane incubus wandering the guild, one that could apparently go anywhere he pleased. But Tenn said nothing. He told himself it was because, right now, Tomás wasn’t acting as a threat. If anything, the incubus was helping him, for his own twisted purposes or not. Tenn told himself that, if he played along well enough, he’d figure out why Leanna was looking for him. He told himself he was keeping Jarrett safe.
But there was another part of him, a twisted part, that didn’t want to say anything out of shame. Shame for the way he let Tomás toy with him, shame for the way he bent to Tomás’s rules.
And shame because he had a suspicion that, even if he could have fought it, he wouldn’t have.
Something about Tomás intrigued him. That shamed him worst of all.
7
Tenn sat in the branches of a willow tree, the long limbs dipping into the lake stretched out below. Lights in academic buildings burned on the shore behind him, and across the water, glinting like stars scattered across the sky, were warm windows glowing with the promise of home. He brought his knees closer to his chest and stared out. Home. He’d come here, to the Academy, to learn about magic. He hadn’t known at the time that the biggest lesson he’d learn was loss and the heavy absence of home.
The lake was where he’d spent the last week training. Ever since he’d been attuned to Water, he’d come out here with a small handful of other classmates to practice connecting to the waves, all from the warmth of their small lakeside pagoda. The hours were long and boring, but it wasn’t the practice that was getting to him. It was the Sphere itself. Water seemed to have a life of its own. He’d been to the guidance counselor twice since the attuning, thinking he’d developed schizophrenia or depression or bipolar disorder. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t stop falling prey to visions of his early childhood—all the family fights he hadn’t consciously remembered, all the time sitting alone in his room and wishing public school would grant him at least one friend. The counselor assured him it was normal. That was just what Water brought up for people.
That might have been nice to know beforehand, he’d said, but he knew it wouldn’t have changed anything. They didn’t have a choice in which Sphere they attuned to. After the testing period, they were all paired up to their optimal match. The fact that the overly emotional Water had been considered his best fit made him question his own stability. And that wasn’t something a fourteen-year-old should have been worrying about.
At least it might have explained all the emotions that had bubbled up around that boy he’d seen in class. Tyler. Just thinking of him made Tenn’s heart twist. Yeah, it must have just been Water.
“So this is what you dream, Tenn?”
Tenn jerked around, nearly falling out of the tree.
A man stood on the shore, just a few yards off. He was unfamiliar—pinstriped black suit, slicked grey hair, an ebony walking stick. Then, like some horrible celestial clockwork, things clicked in Tenn’s mind. The man didn’t belong here. But then again, neither did he. He glanced down at his hands. They were worn—calloused and scarred. And he wore the ragged blacks of
a Hunter.
“What are you doing here?” Tenn asked.
He half-expected the dream to fade now that he was aware he was, in fact, dreaming. It didn’t. That was worse.
He tried opening to the Spheres, but they didn’t work. Of course not—not here. Which meant he was facing the man who’d killed all his friends, and he could do nothing about it.
You’re dreaming. You couldn’t do anything anyway, right?
“Why, I’m just observing,” Matthias said. He took a step closer. His feet didn’t leave an impression in the sand. “After all, someone whom Leanna so actively seeks must surely be an interesting specimen.” He chuckled to himself. “I must say, I am so far unimpressed.”
“Get out of my dream.” Tenn stood up on the thick branch, but there was nowhere to go. He dangled over the ice-cold lake. He wondered if he could change the dream, just by thinking it, like he had a few times in the past. He tried. It didn’t work.
“And if I don’t? Will you cry on me?” Matthias sneered. His eyes seemed to glow like a cat’s.
“Get out!”
Matthias walked closer to the tree, only an arm’s reach away now.
“Why do you dream of this night?” he asked. “Why is this so tender in your heart?”
Tenn said nothing. Matthias glanced out to the horizon. Above them, the stars were winking out with small flares.
“Ahh,” Matthias said as recognition dawned. “I see.” More stars blinked out. Even the lights on the horizon faded as the dream twisted into nightmare. The sky was nearly black now. “This is the night the Dark Lady began Her work.”
Tenn shivered in spite of himself. The Dark Lady, the woman who had created Leanna and Tomás and the other four Kin, the woman who vanished off the face of the earth once Her work was done—some said killed, others said in hiding. She was goddess to the necromancers and Howls. She was the new religion. Matthias’s next words were low, the mockery gone. He looked at Tenn as though he knew the most intimate details of his soul.