by A. R. Kahler
The world had changed entirely. Tenn knew that. But here, in the car, snuggled against Jarrett, he could almost let himself believe otherwise. He could forget about the Howls and the necromancers and the monsters that seemed to stalk his bedside. He could forget the blood staining his hands and heart. If he tried, he could let himself believe that this was a life they could have again—driving around with friends, listening to music, going somewhere for enjoyment rather than necessity. He could believe there’d be a house at the end and a family to invite over for dinner.
He could pretend that everything would be okay.
He could pretend.
Because that lie…that lie was the only thing that made life worth fighting for.
He closed his eyes. Sleep found him immediately.
12
He stood at the window in his room, looking out at the familiar geometry of the streetlamp and garage and backyard, the three-story house across the alley and the giant pine tree at its side. His hand trailed across the curtains. He couldn’t sleep. It was well past midnight, and his parents had been in bed for hours. A part of him didn’t want to be awake, didn’t want to be waiting with this sickness in his stomach. The other part of him wanted to take it all in, every single last second he had here. Tomorrow he left for Silveron. Tomorrow he left everything he’d ever known behind. Not that there was much to say goodbye to. Most of his friends had stopped talking to him the moment he’d mentioned his acceptance—though whether from anger or jealousy, he wasn’t certain. Even his dad had been against the decision. Thirteen is too young to leave home, Tenn had heard him telling Mom. She’d put up a fight. She always would.
Behind him, the room was cluttered with packed boxes and suitcases. He’d tried to pack light, but his mom wouldn’t have it. She’d thrown in extra blankets and sweaters and socks, and even filled a box with emergency supplies—cookies, granola bars, instant noodles—just in case the cafeteria food was gross. Tenn’s stomach turned. It was the little gestures like that that made leaving so hard—the idea that someone loved him so much, the idea that he was willingly leaving that behind. Most kids his age wouldn’t have thought twice about it. Then again, most kids probably didn’t think they needed to leave home to find themselves.
He took a deep breath and went back to his bed, sat down on the covers, and stared at the open suitcase in the corner, filled with all his new uniform clothes. Good thing he liked light blue…
He glanced up into the mirror above his dresser and yelped.
The man in the mirror was barely recognizable—older, taller, and wearing all black. With a crash like a wave, the truth came back. He wasn’t thirteen, and he definitely wasn’t meant to be here. He pushed himself from the bed.
“Going somewhere?”
Tenn turned around and faced the man standing in the shadows. It took a few dangerous seconds for reality to sink in.
“Get out,” he whispered. Matthias just laughed. That’s when he noticed that Matthias was holding something in his hand. A book.
No, not a book. His journal. Matthias caught his glance and smiled, stepping out of the shadows and into the moonlight.
“You’re making this too easy,” he said. “Going out into the field again? It’s almost like you want me to find you.”
“Stay away from us,” Tenn said. The glint in Matthias’s eyes made him realize his mistake a second too late.
“Us? They’re forcing bodyguards on you now? How embarrassing.” He tossed the journal into the air and caught it. “Stupid, too, when one considers the rather mortal implications of being close to you.” He opened to a page. “It would seem that those close to you meet rather untimely demises.”
“Shut up,” Tenn said. He didn’t move to attack; he knew there was no point. Not in a dream. Not without any weapon, magical or material.
“I’m worried about leaving,” Matthias read in a mocking, childlike voice. “What if something happens to Mom and Dad when I’m away? I know I can’t protect them anyway, but I don’t know what I’d do if something bad happened. What if they get into a wreck driving back? How do I know I’m not saying goodbye forever? I don’t want to go. I know I can’t stay here, not if I want to really live my life. But I don’t want to leave them behind. Why does life have to hurt this much?”
Matthias looked up at him. Every word made Tenn sink deeper.
“How does it feel, Tenn?” he asked. “How does it feel to know that every one of your deepest fears came true? And that you were the cause of them?”
“I…”
“You will come to me,” Matthias said. “You are weak. You think you’re strong, that your training has made you hard, but deep inside, you’re still a lost little boy crying for his mother.”
“Shut up,” Tenn said.
“When will you understand this? How many people must die because of you? You’re dangerous, Tenn. That is why Leanna wants you. You need her guidance.”
“I’ll die before I serve her,” Tenn whispered. He tried to build the fire inside him, tried to steel his voice. But being here, being back in this room, hearing those words…he felt all his resolve crumble.
“No,” Matthias said. He knelt at Tenn’s side and put his hand on Tenn’s shoulder. Tenn hadn’t even noticed him move closer. “I know you, Tenn. I’ve seen into your heart. You won’t die. Not yet. You’re too cowardly for that, and Leanna wishes for you to be brought back alive. You are safe, so long as you do not defy me. But your friends? Your lover? They are not so important to my mistress. They will die first. Then, when you have no one left to harm with your protection, you will come begging to her.”
Tenn looked at Matthias.
“If you hurt them, any of them, I’ll kill you.”
Matthias just laughed and dropped the journal in Tenn’s lap.
“Perhaps,” he said. “But the threat of death means nothing to one like me.” He leaned in close and whispered into Tenn’s ear. “Either come to me or do not. I’ll find you no matter what. And when I do, I will kill them. One by one. And you will watch them scream.”
His fingers dug into Tenn’s shoulder. Pain coursed through him, and the dark room bled black.
Tenn woke with a start.
Cold sweat coated his skin, and for a moment, he had no clue where he was. Then he blinked and realized the rumbling was from the car and the warm pillow behind his head was Jarrett’s lap. He looked up into Jarrett’s face, sound asleep and peaceful—pretty much the only time Jarrett ever looked peaceful, actually.
“Bad dreams, Tenn?” Dreya asked, peering around. She was still in the passenger seat, Devon behind the wheel.
“I guess you could say that,” he replied. He slowly forced himself up to sitting, every joint in his tired body reminding him that he was not built to be sleeping in the backseat of a car.
“You mumbled,” Devon said. Which, in Tenn’s opinion, was a rather ironic thing to say.
“Sorry,” he replied instead.
“It’s getting worse, isn’t it?” Dreya asked. It was barely above a whisper, like it was a secret they must keep from Jarrett’s sleeping mind. “Water. You feel it growing stronger.”
Tenn nodded, wondering how much he’d said in his sleep.
“We thought the end had come with the Resurrection. Now I am not so sure.” She looked back to the road. “The world feels once more like it did before the Howls came. An ending is coming. Even the Spheres are calling out to it.”
There was a darkness in her voice that seemed to pass over her like a cloud, dimming her usual radiance. In spite of the heat pumping through the vents, he shivered.
“Does this have to do with the Witches? With our mission?”
She nodded.
“In a sense. The Witches are tied to the very fabric of the world. They understand the Spheres on a level deeper than most. For them, magic is a religion, a way of life, rather than a tool to kill. They were the first to know of the Spheres, and look what the rest of the world did with their d
iscovery. If they knew what we wished to do with their knowledge of the runes…”
They hit a bump that Tenn prayed wasn’t a body. Jarrett snorted himself awake and looked around, eyes immediately wide.
“What was that?” he asked.
“Bump,” Devon replied.
Jarrett opened his mouth like he was going to ask more, then thought better of it.
“Did I miss anything?” he asked instead.
“Just scenery,” Dreya replied. She looked back to him. “It is almost morning. And we are on half a tank.”
Jarrett nodded. “Let’s stop soon then. You guys need to sleep, and I don’t know how to drive.” He looked to Tenn. “Do you?”
Tenn shook his head. He was supposed to get his license the summer after his first year at Silveron. Like so many things, that had never come to pass.
“That settles it,” Jarrett said. “We’ll stop at dawn. Find a strip of cars so we can transfer, get a few hours of sleep. Then we’re off again.”
“Where are we going?” Tenn asked.
Jarrett said nothing. Devon’s hands gripped the wheel tighter. It was Dreya who answered.
“You shall know soon enough.”
Tenn had become used to thwarted plans, so when they stopped by an abandoned traffic jam a little after sunrise, he expected the worst. Jarrett scouted the area with Air while they sat in the parked car, the engine rumbling and the CD still on repeat.
“All clear,” Jarrett said, Air winking out in his throat. Devon turned off the ignition, and the sudden silence was deafening.
“Are you sure this is smart?” Tenn asked.
“There’s nothing around for miles,” Jarrett replied. He put an arm around Tenn’s shoulder and pulled him close. “I’ll take first watch. Gods know I got enough sleep—I forgot how easily driving knocked me out. You guys rest. You need it.”
The twins didn’t need any more coaxing. They both reclined their seats and curled onto their sides. Like true warriors used to the road, they were asleep in moments.
“You too, Tenn,” Jarrett said. “You’ve barely slept at all the last few days.”
“That’s life,” Tenn replied. But he didn’t argue. Now that the car was stopped, sleep crept in through the edges. He yawned and slid down on the seat, resting his head on Jarrett’s lap once more. This time, he didn’t pray for slumber; he prayed he wouldn’t dream.
13
After a few more hours of driving in a new SUV, navigating around stopped cars and overturned semis, they passed into Michigan. The sky outside had darkened, gone from grey to pitch-black. Snow covered the roads and countryside, the clouds above promising more, which meant the drive had become tedious. Devon hadn’t been able to drive above thirty for at least an hour, and he was going slower with every passing snowflake. Not that Tenn blamed him. Without the sun or moon, the only lights in the world were the twin beams of their car, and even those lights were growing less effective as the snow continued to blanket them. The fact that Devon managed to keep it on the road at all was a small miracle. The flat land began to roll and curve toward the slate-grey heavens, the landscape filling with trees and distant lakes. The sight made Tenn’s gut churn with recognition. Water surged, and he tried to push it down, but the past slipped between his fingers…
“Your father and I went to school around here,” Mom said.
Dad had stayed back home—couldn’t get the day off work—so the two of them were driving up to Michigan to check out Silveron. He still couldn’t believe his mother had not only agreed to let him apply, but had offered to drive him the eight hours to check it out when he was accepted.
Even though he wasn’t leaving this time, hadn’t put in his deposit, he still felt something unraveling in his chest, as though every mile they drove undid the tightly knit life he’d had before this. He stared out the passenger window as the cornfields rolled into evergreen forests and the air stopped smelling like pollution and started to smell, well, green.
“You’re going to love it out here,” she said. She reached over and put a hand on his shoulder.
“Mom?” he asked.
“Yeah, sweetie?”
“Do you think I’m making the wrong decision?”
She glanced over at him, then looked back to the road. She didn’t take her hand away.
“I think you’re making the best possible decision you can. It’ll be hard, but there’s nothing back home for you. This is your chance to make something big out of your life. I know you. You’d never forgive yourself if you let it pass by. You’re meant for bigger things.”
He sighed. Bigger things. He couldn’t think of anything bigger than being one of the first students at Silveron, being amongst the first to learn how to use magic. He knew she was right—there wasn’t anything back home for him. Even though he was only thirteen, he already felt like he’d seen and done everything his tiny town had to offer. It didn’t even have a coffee shop to hang out in.
Besides, this was his chance to make her proud. That, perhaps, was the most important thing of all.
With a furious wrench, he pushed Water back down into submission. It seemed to squirm under his fingers. Silveron was still a few hundred miles and five or six hours away, if his memory of road signs was correct, but that didn’t calm the memories. The closer they got to that cursed Academy, the more Water wanted out. He gritted his teeth and didn’t relax until the Sphere finally died down.
“You okay?” Jarrett asked, stroking his hair.
“Yeah,” Tenn said. “Just…memories.”
Jarrett nodded like he understood, but Tenn knew he didn’t. Jarrett’s memories weren’t tactile things. Water was taking over. Water was making him drown with regret.
“We are going to have to park soon,” Dreya said. “We are nearly out of gas, and the roads are becoming treacherous.”
Jarrett nodded.
“Any towns nearby?”
“Yes.” Air glowed in her throat. “We will come to one in a few minutes. It is deserted.”
“Good. Let’s find a place there and settle in for the night. No use being outside in the snow if we don’t have to.” He squeezed Tenn. “Besides, I could use a good night’s sleep.”
Dreya nodded and turned back to quietly confer with Devon. They pulled off at the next exit and drove into town.
Tenn couldn’t see anything in the darkness, so he opened to Earth and pushed his senses out like sonar, figuring out the lay of the land as they drove. The place was small, barely a handful of houses and commercial buildings. Podunk, his mother would have called it. Much like his own hometown.
They pulled to a stop in front of an old farmhouse at the end of a winding drive, the tangled path and fading façade illuminated in the headlights. The house was huge—three stories tall with peeling white siding and large picture windows. A wraparound porch stuck out from the front, complete with broken rocking chairs and a swing.
“This’ll work,” Jarrett said. Air glowed in his throat as well, and Tenn had no doubt he was scanning the interior, making sure the place really was as abandoned as expected. The fact that they hadn’t run into any wayward Howls was unusual. The cold must have driven them to shelter, whatever that was to the undead, and he couldn’t imagine any necromancers traipsing around in this weather.
The first snow. When Tenn was younger, it would have been cause to run around outside, catching snowflakes on his tongue. He’d outgrown that, though staring at the snow-coated house through the beams of their headlights brought a little bit back. If not for the obvious disrepair, the scene could have been from a greeting card.
Devon killed the engine, and they got out, grabbed their things, and trudged through the snow up to the front door. Devon opened to Fire, and tiny orbs of light appeared around them, hissing whenever a snowflake fell into the glow. The scene was nothing but white and black, and it made Tenn feel like they were in some vintage fairytale film. The front porch creaked under their combined weight, but miraculously, it
held.
Jarrett pushed the door open. The air within smelled stale from three years of neglect.
They walked in, Devon shooting lights into every room, upstairs and down, Dreya and Jarrett going off to investigate the kitchen and bedrooms to see what sort of provisions they could scavenge. Tenn opened the door into the dining room.
Two orbs of light hovered up near the crystal chandelier, making everything in the room a pallid greyscale. The air was colder in here, and it took him a moment to realize why. What he had first mistaken for ice on the carpet was actually shards of glass, all glittering like crystal knives. The great picture windows in the far wall were shattered, and a cool breeze filtered in, billowing the long drapes in perfect horror-story undulations. The large oak dining table was a mess of broken plates and scattered cutlery; it looked like someone had left in a hurry. The food, however, had either been eaten by the diners or the ensuing vermin.
Something about the room made Tenn’s heart beat a little faster. His fingers shook, and not from the cold. The air in here just felt wrong. Like it carried the rawness of an old wound, a scab just peeled back from flesh.
He reached out and trailed his finger along the dust of the table, taking a step toward the glass.
Water uncurled in a wave.
“What the hell is that?” the woman asked. “James, did you hear that?”
There were screams from outside—screams and the sound of gunshots.
The man looked over at his wife and kids.
“Stay here,” he said. He pushed himself up from the table and ran to the back room. The woman stood and went over to her two sons, gathering them close. They edged back to the wall, staring out at the darkness beyond the window. The screams were getting louder, but the three of them remained silent. When the man returned, he had a gun in his hand.