Tenn

by Alex R. Kahler

  “Do you have to go already?” Tenn asked as Jarrett stretched his arms above his head. He had the perfect V of a torso, his skin glowing warm in the light. Otherworldly.

  Tenn blinked, and for the briefest moment he thought he saw Tomas standing there, naked as the sun, before another blink pushed the vision away.

  Tenn couldn’t tell what was worse—thinking of the incubus, or feeling his own passion rise because of it.

  “Cassandra is meeting with ambassadors from a few other Guilds this morning,” Jarrett said. “She wants me there.”

  He leaned down to grab his underwear from the floor. Tenn didn’t bother hiding his gaze or the blush in his cheeks, not even when Jarrett turned around and began slowly pulling them on. Tenn really wished Jarrett wasn’t pulling them on.

  Jarrett caught his stare and grinned. Paused with his trunks halfway up his thighs.

  “Don’t worry, babe,” he said. “These are only temporary.”

  Then he slid them up the rest of the way and began dancing about the room, picking up his discarded clothing while Tenn stayed there on the bed, blankets held tight around him. Despite their aerobics that morning, the room was bitingly cold.

  Jarrett came over and kissed him on the lips—a quick peck—and then the top of his head.

  “Go to sleep,” Jarrett said soothingly. “I promise to be back and ready to celebrate your birthday by the time you wake up.”

  Birthday was the last thing on Tenn’s mind, now that work and duty were filtering back in.

  “I still don’t see why I’m not on the committee.” After all, it was Tenn who killed Leanna and basically liberated America.

  “Because no one in the Guild knows what you’ve done,” Jarrett said. “And I plan on keeping it that way.”

  Again, it was something Tenn had agreed to, but it didn’t mean he was currently happy about it—waiting around while other people made decisions that affected him wasn’t exactly relaxing. They’d made the choice as a team before even returning to Outer Chicago, when Tenn had been recovering from the worst of his wounds in a small Guild in Colorado. It would be best if the wider world didn’t know about his newfound powers—either his magic or his ability to read and bind new runes—or the fact that it was he himself who killed Leanna. Well, him…with the help of the incubus Tomas. That was a truth that Tenn had shared with no one.

  Anonymity, Jarrett had persuaded, was the best defense they could hope for.

  Not that Tenn actually hoped he was anonymous. If the Dark Lady was communicating with him in his dreams, he had no doubt that she’d already given his identity to the rest of the Kin. It made him want to move. And yet here he was. Stuck.

  Jarrett grinned and kissed Tenn atop the head again.

  “Trust me, it’s all boring as hell. Sleep, and dream of how special I’m going to make you feel today.”

  Tenn rolled his eyes. Jarrett squeezed his thigh. And then, he was out the door.

  †

  Truth be told, there was another reason Tenn didn’t want to be left alone. If he was alone, he would think. And even if he didn’t think, he would, well…feel. It didn’t help that everything around him was a trigger. Even the room’s view, beautiful though it was, made his memories twist—the abandoned swathe of the compound’s housing, streets muddied with snow and dirt and human filth. Further, the black wall that had kept them safe the last four years towered, now mostly pointless even as it blocked out the view of the desolate suburb beyond. And past that, the lake that he and Jarrett and the twins had traversed under what felt like years ago, right after they first met, right after Tenn’s powers first acted up and his entire world changed. He tried not to think too much about that night. About Matthias and the bloodshed and the horror that had followed.

  Because this, too, had followed in its wake: a room shared with his lover. A country liberated. Even if the clouds above were heavy and the winter sky deep, it still felt like a new beginning. A chance at happiness. A birthday worth celebrating. At least, that’s what he tried to convince himself.

  Every time he thought of the guy he was meant to find, his chest constricted. The boy was out there, somewhere. Tenn had no clue where, just that Tomas would be after him, and Tenn had to make it there first. But Jarrett said they needed to rest. Even if the Dark Lady and her minions never rested, the four of them should.

  Right.

  If he didn’t get out of here soon, he was going to go insane.

  He leaned against the window mantle, staring out at the gathering clouds, Water humming in his gut with recognition—it would snow again soon. Thick, fluffy flakes would blanket this godforsaken world and make it look, if not beautiful, then a little less destroyed. It made him think of Silveron, of a time before Howls, when he and Jarrett had walked the crowded halls under different names, living different lives and dreaming of different futures.

  Water churned in his chest as he stared out at the clouds, remembering the scent of pine trees, the spark of new magic, the weight of homework. His hands trembled against the glass. It was like an overlay, an image of a life that no longer existed, and it didn’t match up with the one he was living now. And yet, if he tried hard enough, he could almost convince himself that this new life was…not necessarily better, but at least still worth living.

  Which wasn’t something he thought often.

  He imagined what Jarrett might have planned. But not in the world as it was now, the world as it once had been. He stared at the clouds and tried to think about the situations that would have made him happy. Going out to the movies after a fancy dinner. Playing board games with friends and eating junk food. Going hiking, camping on a lake, cuddling up close next to a fire. He imagined the breakfasts in bed, the carefully-prepared meals, the love notes and secret hints and surprises. He imagined not only the things he would like to have done, but the things he wanted more than anything else to do for Jarrett.

  The trouble was, he couldn’t imagine any of those in this new, broken world. There was never a moment of silence or safety. Never a chance to relax or let his guard down. And the rest…there weren’t any resources for fancy meals, no movie theaters or technology. It hurt, in a way, to see that even this was ill-fated. He couldn’t imagine good deeds in this world. Even the tenderness he and Jarrett held together was fleeting, was lined with the razor-edge knowledge that at any point in time, it could end.

  Would end.

  He could feel the pain dredging itself up, could feel Water awakening. He didn’t want to deal with it. He couldn’t sink into depression now, not when they were so close to making their next move. Not when he had a birthday to celebrate. So he tried to let the thoughts go, let his mind drift. Let the slow-churning clouds overtake his awareness.

  He lost himself in the grey and the white, the shadow and curl.

  Lost himself.

  And heard it.

  The whisper. The whispers. The faintest voices, resting within the clouds, behind them.

  The same voices as those within the cave, within his vision. The voices that showed him the runes for travel. The spirits who had been calling for him all along.

  His heart leaped. He hadn’t heard their call since the ritual.

  He leaned closer, his breath fogging up the cold glass. Tried to make out what they were saying. Tenn, Tenn, you must hurry….

  “Tenn?”

  Dreya’s voice behind him jolted him away from the window.

  She stood in the doorway, peering in hesitantly.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “But I did knock.”

  Tenn tried not to let that bother him. He hadn’t heard a thing.

  “It’s fine,” he said. He gestured her in, but she didn’t move from the door. “What’s up?”

  He hadn’t seen much of her or Devon since they’d returned. As far as he knew, they’d been out in the field the last few days, sweeping up stray Howls and saving innocents like the white knights they were. But she didn’t look like she’d just returned fr
om battle—her ivory sweater was immaculate, her faded denim ripped but in an artistic way. From the tips of her long silvery hair to the soles of her sneakers, she looked like an ordinary teenage girl. Albeit a very ghostlike one.

  “You…you are needed.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, his idle dreams of birthday celebrations melting like snow.

  She sighed heavily. “Cassandra sent word. You and my brother and I are to head into the field today. There is a Farm nearby that is apparently in need of liberating.”

  “And Jarrett?”

  She shrugged. “He was not mentioned. It is to be just the three of us.”

  “But if there are necromancers still there—“

  “Our other forces have already been dispatched elsewhere.” She sighed. “I already asked. We are all that is left.”

  “At least we can just teleport there and be back before lunch,” Tenn said, hope rising fitfully.

  She shook her head, and that hope dashed.

  “We do not know the exact location. Only that it is south of here. I am sorry, Tenn. We may be gone a few days.”

  He should have known. He didn’t even have time to leave Jarrett a note; Dreya stood there, waiting, saying that Devon was already waiting for them. Within minutes he had packed a spare set of clothes and was out the door.

  So much for celebrating.

  †

  Dreya led him out through the Guild and into the abandoned, frigid streets of Outer Chicago. The town was emptier than when they had left weeks ago, and not just because people had gone indoors to escape the cold.

  Now that the surrounding area was clear of Howls—well, mostly clear—the inhabitants of Outer Chicago had fled back into the countryside, seeking their old homes and lives. Or, what could be found of them. Tenn didn’t need to follow them out into the wild world to know that those who hadn’t found Howls had instead found only disappointment.

  To the civilians, being pent up in Outer Chicago for the last four years had been a curse, a prison sentence. Tenn knew the truth. Being in Outer Chicago, unable to set foot in the outside world, had meant they had been able to keep their dream of some external paradise alive. Now that the gates had opened, they were face-to-face with the reality he had been struggling against since the Resurrection: their imagined Eden was as burnt and dead as most of the population.

  Whatever future everyone was pushing for would have to be something new entirely. Himself included.

  They trudged down the empty street, the snow beneath them turned to gray slush that soaked through his leather boots and up his black jeans. He kept a tight grip on Water and on his bladed quarterstaff, using one to keep the chill away and the other to keep him from slipping. Each empty building was another sign of change, but for the first time, seeing abandonment was actually a good thing. The butcher with its vacant windows and scent of stagnant blood; the clotheslines above with only a few limp, crystalized clothes; multitudes of apartments stacked atop each other, towers of shadowed windows and brick facades. Dreya moved silently at his side, light as a wraith. With her long white trench coat and pale grey hat, she blended in with the landscape whenever he let her drop from focus.

  She led him straight toward the southern entrance of the compound, the tall black gate open and a frigid wind blowing dust and snow across the boulevard. He couldn’t see anyone waiting for him beyond the gate, just the endless broken houses of the suburb they’d made their own.

  Once outside, he got his second shock for the day. Devon, sitting in the driver’s side of a small SUV, muffled music thudding through the windows. Tenn looked at Dreya, who shrugged. He’d gotten used to walking, to needing the element of silence and surprise—and the ensuing slowness.

  “So we can’t use runes, but we can drive?” he asked.

  “It is going to snow,” Dreya said assuredly. She glanced up to the sky. Sure enough, small flakes were already beginning to drift down like glitter. “It is better this than walking.”

  It hadn’t stopped them before. There was still the question of the roads—most were torn to hell—and the actual location of the Farm, where humans were being kept as cattle for necromancers and hungry Howls. As he stepped into the back seat, he wondered if the remaining necromancers had stepped up their slaughter of innocents or turned them all into Howls at a faster pace. Tenn wondered how many lives he had damned in his attempt at liberating them.

  And as he sat there, he thought of the last time he’d been in a car, on a snowy day just like this, with Jarrett curled beside him. So much has changed. Just the thought was enough to make Water boil, to make the ensuing days of blood and pain bubble to the surface. But he had trained himself. He latched on to the image of Jarrett; the weight of his lover as they leaned against each other, the scent of his skin, the timbre of his words. And those, above all things, were able to make the horrors Water dredged up sink back down.

  Jarrett had become his buoy against the dangerous tides in his own heart.

  As expected, Devon didn’t speak. He still wore his crimson scarf, even in the heat of the SUV, and his military-cut coat made him look more stoic than ever. Tenn stared at the boy’s face in the rearview. Devon glanced up once, his pale blue eyes spearing Tenn with more weight than any conversation, before turning his attention back to the bumpy road.

  “Do we know what we’re stepping into?” Tenn asked.

  The twins glanced at each other, wordlessly speaking volumes, before Dreya finally spoke up.

  “Only that it will be unlike anything we’ve encountered before,” she said.

  Tenn grumbled under his breath and settled into the back seat, trying to find comfort against the jarring bumps of the mangled road as they drove off.

  This was not the birthday party he would have hoped for, but it sure as hell was the one he’d grown to expect.

  †

  Hours passed.

  They stopped once to refuel with a spare tank in the back of the truck. Dreya handed out a few rolls and some thick cheese for lunch. And then they were back on the road, the same three CDs on repeat and Tenn slightly nauseated in the back. There was no point trying to start a conversation with the twins, so he watched the snow fly past outside his window and wondered just what sort of fresh Hell they were heading toward.

  He hadn’t fought since Leanna. Hadn’t killed since he crushed her throat with his bare hand. It had felt like paper. Like ash. Like snow. As he stared out the window, he felt it against his palm. The cold skin. The flickering life. The hollow breath. He felt her eyes staring up at him. The defiance.

  The fear.

  In those last moments, she had actually looked like the human she once was.

  He would remember those scared eyes for the rest of his life.

  Just as he would remember the question he had been forcing down from the beginning: What if the runes that made her so powerful had allowed her to keep her humanity? What if she wasn’t driven to evil from her Sphere’s hunger, but from her own human impulses?

  It was easy to justify killing a monster.

  It wasn’t so easy if there had been a chance he could change her mind.

  He swallowed hard and focused on the ride. It didn’t matter. Even if he had wanted to try to reason with or save or heal Leanna, Tomas wouldn’t have given him a chance.

  Tomas…

  The thought of the Howl filled him with dread. And a twinge of something he refused to let himself feel: desire.

  His dreams and bedside had been completely devoid of the Howl since Tenn killed Leanna. He knew he should have been relieved. So why was a part of him secretly disappointed?

  Why did he long for the demon he should have been trying to kill?

  †

  It was nearly nightfall by the time they stopped. At least, it felt like night—the sky was heavy and snow fell thick around them, making Devon drive even slower on the crumbling highways. But at last, they pulled into a small town that reminded Tenn far too much of the one where he had
lost Jarrett.

  Jarrett.

  Was he waiting for Tenn in their room? Surely, Cassandra would have told Jarrett that Tenn had gone into the field. For some reason, the thought that Jarrett might be back in the Guild, waiting for him, sent a pang through his heart.

  The last time someone had been waiting for his return had been when he went to Silveron. He imagined his mother, looking into his bedroom, staring at his made bed and waiting for the winter holidays to start. Waiting for him to come back.

  He wanted to promise himself that he would return. That Jarrett wouldn’t be left waiting. But they were taking down a Farm, a holding cell for hundreds of innocent humans and dozens of bloodthirsty Howls and necromancers. There was a good chance he wouldn’t be making it back.

  “Are we close?” Tenn asked.

  Dreya peered out through the night, Air blazing in her throat.

  “I am not certain,” she whispered. She turned to Devon. “Perhaps we are going the wrong way?”

  Devon just shrugged. He didn’t take his eyes off the road, and Fire didn’t cease burning in his chest as he melted the snow in front of them.

  That slight piece of uncertainty was enough to make Tenn’s gut sink. If they’d come all this way for nothing…

  “We will stay here for the night,” Dreya said. “The town is empty. I think we will be safe.”

  Tenn nodded. Normally, he’d have scanned the area with Earth, but he trusted Dreya’s magic and besides, they’d already sent bands of fighters out this way to mop up any Howls.

  Devon pulled up the drive to a house.

  “There’s a bag of supplies in the back,” Dreya said. “Would you bring them in for me? Devon and I will scout and see if there are any salvageable goods.”

  Tenn nodded and grabbed the bag. Trudged through the thick snow and up to the porch.