Martyr

by A. R. Kahler

  Tenn glared at him. “You have two minutes.”

  Caius sighed.

  “Impatient, impatient.” He took a hand-rolled cigarette from his pocket and brought it to his lips. From another pocket came a matchbook; he it flipped 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.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tenn said. Caius might have smelled like the bottom of a whiskey barrel, but his hands didn’t shake and his eyes never left Tenn’s face. If he was truly drunk, he was hiding it well.

  “The Dark Lady,” Caius said. He spit, then took another drag. “She was human once. She was impatient, too.”

  “Listen, I don’t have time to stand out here and listen to your myths.”

  “They aren’t myths,” Caius said, the smoke seething from his lips. “I know. I knew her.”

  This made Tenn pause. 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 this was the first time Tenn had had an actual conversation with him. At least, a conversation where Caius wasn’t accusing him and all the other “queers” for causing the apocalypse. This new Caius—this conversational, almost drunken-grandfatherly Caius—was an unnerving switch.

  “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. And I think you know that’s not why I can’t stand you.”

  Caius chuckled. “Of course, of course. I can tell you aren’t one for repenting. That’s almost what I admire in you. Even if you are going to Hell for it.”

  Tenn sighed. On that track again. “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 amongst sinners and sheep?”

  Come to think of it, Tenn hadn’t actually ever considered why Caius was here. It was true—most of the old priests lived in the Church-controlled septs, the religious safe havens. Most priests 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.

  “I figured you were like everyone else. You were here because you didn’t have a choice.”

  “You’re right,” Caius said. “But not for the reasons you think. I knew things. Things the Church never wanted me to know. And they tried to kill me. Sent their Inquisition my way in hopes of silencing me. So I came here. But soon, they’ll find me. And when they do, their deepest secrets will die with me.”

  “I don’t understand,” Tenn said.

  “You will,” Caius replied.

  He stepped closer, so close Tenn could smell the rot of the man’s teeth.

  “There’s a darkness stirring in the world, Tenn. A darkness that fills even the holiest of men’s hearts. It started years ago, in the heart of the light. You think you know Hell, think you’ve seen death and destruction. But you know nothing, not compared to the evils yet to come.”

  Tenn backed up. Since when did Caius know his name? And since when did he care enough to warn him?

  “What secrets?” He mentally smacked himself for falling into the trap. Caius was a drunken preacher. Tenn knew he was good at getting people to believe him. His followers nearly burned down half the guild last year because of it.

  “You aren’t ready for them,” Caius said, still whispering. “Once you know, you’ll have the whole of the Church with a dagger at your back. But you’ll know. God told me. You’ll know soon just why the first Howl was born.”

  Caius cleared his throat and looked around.

  “Now, I believe you had somewhere to go.”

  “I…”

  “I’m tired of you wasting my time, Hunter,” Caius said, even louder. “Get the fuck away. I’m not your type.”

  Tenn shook his head and let the insult veer off. Caius swaggered as he stepped back.

  “Get the hell off my lawn, faggot,” Caius said.

  “Classy,” Tenn said. He readjusted his bag and walked away, leaving Caius and his cryptic bullshit behind him.

  He had other, less belligerent things to worry about.

  As expected, the twins were already at the south tower when he arrived. Also, as expected, Jarrett was nowhere to be seen. He was the only Air mage Tenn knew who was, without question, always the last to arrive. The twins stood on the edge of the tower , both dressed in white, the fabric glowing in the moonlight. Their coats were new and cleaned of blood and definitely not Hunter-sanctioned field attire. Dreya’s especially, which was covered in more belts and buckles than seemed necessary. Devon’s own trench coat was darker than his sister’s white, like a cloud on the edge of a storm. His collar was popped up over the burgundy scarf. The clean lines of the coat made him look like a military commander. With a cold.

  “You guys look nice,” Tenn said, the compliment nearly lodging itself in his throat. “New coats?”

  Dreya smiled, the merest tilt of her lips.

  “I am many things, Tenn. But among them, I am still a girl.”

  Tenn chuckled and walked over, dropping his bag at their feet. There were a few tailors and seamstresses in town, but they were generally only employed for making standard field attire for the guild. Then again, he wouldn’t have put it past Dreya to put in a custom order: She had a habit of getting what she wanted, through coercion or pure intimidation. A part of him considered asking where she got everything. He could do with clothing that wasn’t a repurposed hand-medown.

  “No sign of Jarrett?” he asked instead.

  Devon shook his head, but it was Dreya who answered. “No. But I have no doubt he will be here soon. It is still early. And he is still covering our tracks.”

  Tenn nodded and walked to the edge of the tower. The streets of the abandoned suburb were beautiful like this. Up here, away from the threat of, well, dismemberment and eventual death, it was easy to imagine how this place would have been years ago—families all asleep in their houses, dogs barking now and again in the yards. Easy to imagine, if you ignored the crashed cars and the glitter of glass that swept across the debris-filled lawns.

  “Do you ever think we’ll get it back?” Tenn asked. He hadn’t meant to say it aloud.

  “This world?” Dreya asked. She stepped up beside him and put her hands on the steel banister that kept them from plummeting. The ground was a long, long ways away. The Earth mage who’d constructed this tower hadn’t been toying around.

  She didn’t say anything for the longest time. Tenn knew she wasn’t dismissing the question; she was mentally debating the possibility. A small part of him yearned for her to say what he knew she wouldn’t. Because that lie would give him hope, the hope that someday he and Jarrett could get a house together and start a family, do all those things that were now no more than bittersweet dreams of a life no longer available. The thought made his heart ache and Water boil.

  “I do not think so,” she finally said. Her words were barely more than a whisper. “But I wish…I wish it could be so.”

  She exhaled deeply.

  “But wishes do not change anything.”

  “What are we wishing for?” Jarrett asked. He stepped up behind them, his sword strapped to his back and another bag of provisions in hand. He was back in his blacks—wool coat, black boots, black combats. The only color was a light-blue knit hat pulled down over his ears. It made him look like a Nordic elf.

  Dreya, of course, said nothing. Tenn wondered if she was actually embarrassed.

  “Everything set?” Tenn asked, doing what he could to cover the silence. Jarrett raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Clearly he could see that he’d interrupted somethi
ng.

  “Yeah.” He set his bag beside the others. “I double-checked to make sure the changeover was still at the same time. Midnight. On the dot.”

  “I still do not like this plan,” Dreya said. She looked at Tenn. “This will kill him.”

  Jarrett bit his lip before catching himself.

  “It’s dangerous,” he said. “But Cassandra insisted we don’t just walk out—she’d rather someone know magic was in use than have us be identified. Over is the only way.”

  Tenn turned and looked over the railing. The cars looked like toys. It would be a very long way to fall.

  “What do you mean, kill me?” he asked. He couldn’t cut his eyes from the ground far, far below.

  Jarrett sighed and stepped up behind him, putting his hands on Tenn’s shoulders. “It won’t. It’s just… Well, we can fly because we’re attuned to Air. For anyone else, it would be like being caught in a tornado.”

  “That is an understatement,” Dreya said. “Do not try to soften the reality. For him, it will not be flying. The winds that bear him will rip him apart.”

  “No,” Jarrett said. “We’ll stick close, shield him with our bodies. And, Tenn, stay open to Earth. Keep healing yourself.”

  Behind them, deep in the heart of the town, a bell began to chime. Midnight. Jarrett scooped up the bags and handed them over.

  “No time for discussion,” he said, slinging one on his back. “They change on the tenth ring.”

  Tenn pulled on his own bag, and the twins crowded close, each wrapping their arms around his waist. He felt like a sandwich. Jarrett took off his hat and shoved it over Tenn’s head. He leaned over and whispered in his ear.

  “Close your eyes. It’ll be over soon. And whatever you do, don’t stop healing.”

  He kissed the back of Tenn’s neck. Then the tenth chime rang, and the three of them opened to Air. The other two chimes were lost to the roar of thunder.

  11

  In the corner of his mind, Tenn knew this was suicide. He could feel the invisible shield surrounding the compound flicker when control passed over to another Air mage. Then they were beyond it. That was all he could sense. Everything else was a roar of wind in his ears. Even with the twins and Jarrett clinging to him tightly, every miniscule piece of exposed flesh screamed as the wind tried to tear him apart. He bit his tongue to keep from screaming, too. He kept open to Earth, kept flooding his body with magic as chunks of skin shot into the night, only to be replaced and torn off again. It seemed to last an eternity, the pain and the screams and the wind.

  Then he felt Earth connect to the sudden ground beneath his feet; the wind stopped.

  Flesh knit itself together one final time as the twins stepped away. Jarrett kept a firm grip on him.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  Tenn nodded, albeit slowly. “Never again,” he said.

  He pulled off the hat and handed it back over to Jarrett. One quick glance told him that Jarrett and the twins were covered in his blood. A momentary pang of guilt flooded him before he was able to remind himself that flying hadn’t been his choice. Dreya opened to Water and pulled the blood from their clothes. It evaporated into the night, leaving everyone as spotless as before.

  “I take it that cured you of your flying fantasy?” Jarrett asked. Tenn could tell he was attempting to apologize.

  “At least until I’m attuned to Air,” Tenn said, trying not to wince as he grinned.

  “We must go,” Dreya said, cutting into their exchange. “The guards will have felt that much magic. They will send a search party soon.”

  It was only then that Tenn realized they weren’t in the suburbs surrounding Outer Chicago. They were in the middle of a highway that shot like a silver arrow through the night. He glanced over his shoulder. The houses were barely a glimmer in the distance. But Dreya was right; that much magic would have triggered an alarm.

  “Where are we going?” Tenn asked. Because here they were in the dead of night, in middle of the monsters, with no plan. At least none that he knew of. They needed to move fast. Even if the Hunters didn’t send scouts, there were still Howls and rogue necromancers to contend with.

  “This way,” Dreya said. She began walking down the highway, Devon at her side. For a moment, Tenn and Jarrett just stood there, watching.

  “I am sorry about that escape plan,” Jarrett said. He put a hand on Tenn’s shoulder.

  “It’s okay,” Tenn said.

  “It’s not. You keep getting hurt.”

  Tenn shrugged.

  “Seriously, it’s okay. It’s the world we live in.”

  “Is that what you two were talking about?” Jarrett asked.

  Tenn didn’t say anything.

  “I heard the tail end. About us never getting this world back. We will.”

  Tenn nodded. He couldn’t say he believed it.

  “And when we do,” Jarrett said, “we’re going to start a life together. I swear it.”

  Again, Tenn couldn’t say anything. He couldn’t believe that either, but he wanted to most of all.

  They walked in silence for a while, until the night was deep and the city was barely a memory behind them. Moonlight filtered down from the clear sky, making everything glow silver and ink-black. They hadn’t come across a single soul since they’d left the compound. The night seemed longer and emptier than it should have—just endless road and fields and abandoned cars. Minutes dragged to hours. There were a thousand questions Tenn wanted to ask—who were the Witches, how did the twins know about them, and where the hell were they going? But as usual, he kept quiet. The questions he truly wanted answers for were the ones he couldn’t voice, the ones he was terrified to know. Tomás and Matthias were out there, still hunting him. And he still had no idea why.

  Tenn and Jarrett took the lead, the twins a few steps behind. If Jarrett hadn’t put a hand on his shoulder, Tenn wouldn’t have noticed when the twins stopped. They turned.

  “What’s wrong?” Jarrett asked.

  Devon and Dreya stood by the side of an old SUV. It didn’t stand out from any of the other vehicles they’d passed, save for the fact that all its windows were intact.

  The twins exchanged another look. Devon shrugged.

  “Devon thinks…he thinks he can drive this,” Dreya said.

  Fire and Water flickered in Devon’s body as he peered intently through the windows, his hands tracing the glass like a kid ogling a candy-store window.

  “Drive it?” Jarrett said. “Good luck getting it to start.”

  Tenn remembered the cold mornings of his childhood and his mother’s frantic attempts to get the car running so she could get him to school on time. The last time this SUV had been used was three years ago. Minimum.

  “The tank is full,” Dreya said. “The battery is dead, but Devon can change that. He is good with cars. They were his fascination as a child.”

  Jarrett raised an eyebrow. If Devon was paying them any attention, he didn’t show it.

  “Tenn?” Dreya said. “The locks, if you please.”

  “Um, okay.” He opened to Earth and pushed his senses through the various mechanisms, finally finding the locks. He clicked them open, and Devon opened the door.

  “Everyone in,” Dreya said. She walked around to the passenger side and got in without waiting for an answer.

  “Beats walking,” Jarrett said with a shrug. He opened the door for Tenn and then slid in, throwing their gear in the back.

  “Have you done this before?” Jarrett asked when they were inside. Tenn buckled up. Just as a precaution.

  Devon nodded. “Once,” came his muffled reply.

  Tenn didn’t want to know what Devon was doing. Fire and Water and Air were glowing in his body, and that was enough to give Tenn a hint. Strange noises came from the engine. The truck shuddered.

  “The oil is bad,” Dreya said. “He is purifying it. And charging the battery.”

  “I didn’t realize you could do that,” Jarrett said.


  “At its base, Fire is energy.”

  “So why don’t we have electricity?” Jarrett asked.

  “Ask Cassandra,” Dreya said. Tenn couldn’t see her face, but he could tell from her voice that there was a smirk on her lips. “Other guilds have electricity. So far, yours is the only one we have visited without it. I think she prefers the appeal of living in the Dark Ages.”

  “Not surprising,” Jarrett replied.

  Tenn sank back in the seat, and Jarrett put his arm across Tenn’s shoulders. Tenn snuggled in close, absorbing Jarrett’s warmth. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend they were just in the back of a car on a cool winter’s night, about to drive with friends to the movies or out to eat. If he ignored the pops and hisses coming from the engine, that is. He didn’t ask if Devon really knew what he was doing. He didn’t want to know.

  Finally, with the crunch of gears and a rumble, the SUV shuddered to life. Devon looked back at the two of them. Although his mouth was covered by his scarf, his eyes grinned with a distinct told-you-so look.

  Jarrett chuckled. “I’ll be damned. If only we’d known about your skills sooner. You could have been the official Hunter bus driver.”

  Devon chuckled and turned back to the front. With a shift of the gears, they were off.

  To say it was strange was an understatement. Tenn hadn’t been in a car since…well, since he’d fled from the Academy. He never expected to have the experience again. He stayed nestled against Jarrett and watched the world streak by outside the window. Devon turned the heat up.

  “Damn,” Tenn whispered.

  “What’s wrong?” Jarrett asked. He ran a hand through Tenn’s hair.

  Tenn shook his head.

  “Nothing. It’s just…this is weird. I mean, it’s just so…normal.”

  Jarrett kissed the top of his head.

  “I know,” was all Jarrett said. Then they both went back to staring out the windows, lost in their own thoughts.

  A few miles in, Devon turned on the radio. No stations played, of course—just static. It’s not like they were expecting some magical mystery signal from a Howl-free country or something. That shit only happened in bad zombie flicks. There was a CD in the player, and Devon switched over to it. Tenn jumped as heavy metal blared through the speakers. Devon turned it down.