Runebinder

Dreya walked back to her brother, who stood with his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed. The red on the horizon seeped closer, the whole town illuminated in its ghostly light. Tenn could sense the magic even from here. Somewhere out there, the necromancers were pulling out their big guns and spurring their undead army with fire and fear. Tenn counted the seconds in his head, like counting the space between lightning and thunder. He counted the seconds until death arrived.

Deep in the pit of his stomach, the Sphere of Water simmered. It knew battle was coming, and it was excited.

Flames leaped higher, burning through the fields and stretching to the clouds above. The wall of flame burned white-hot, speeding toward the city in a ravenous wave. Years ago, magic had turned the tides of war. It was no longer the most powerful who walked away from battle, but the quickest. He prayed his comrades in the field had shielded themselves. He prayed that he would get out of here alive, that Water wouldn’t destroy him.

The fire splashed closer, only a mile away. Its roar chilled his bones, and its heat threatened to melt him.

And then, behind him, the twins began to sing.

The sound sent chills up his spine, and he turned and glanced at them, the fire momentarily forgotten. The twins stood there, heads tilted back and hands outstretched. Three Spheres blazed in them like ghostly lights—the slow blue of Water in their stomachs, the fierce red of Fire in their chests and the swirling vortex of pale blue and yellow Air in their throats. Everyone had all five Spheres, but you had to be attuned to them individually to use them, and each consecutive attuning was more difficult. Most mages could only handle one Sphere. Two at most. To split your concentration to three Spheres was nearly impossible. To be so powerfully trained in them...it made what Tenn’s Sphere did that afternoon feel small in comparison.

It also explained their appearance. Overuse of Air would account for Dreya’s paleness. But Devon...he must have primarily been a Fire mage.

Air flared in the twins’ throats and lightning crackled across the sky, a pulse of blue light that shattered in a dome above them, spiderwebbing down to the earth. Tenn looked to the field just in time to see the necromancer’s fire billow closer, only seconds away. He winced.

Fire hit the invisible shield, burned across it with all the power of hell before flaring out into nothing. He blinked hard, tried to get the sear of fire from his eyes. When his vision cleared, he saw the army.

They swarmed across the land, a black tide that screamed and howled like demons. More fires roared around them, but none broke past the twins’ shield. Yet.

Jarrett had commanded him to stay back; he hadn’t commanded him to stay out of the fight.

Since he couldn’t trust Water, Tenn opened to Earth.

Power surged in his pelvis, pulling down through the concrete of the high rise, rooting him to the soil. He could sense the flesh of every creature for a mile, could taste their decaying feet on the earth as they ran. The Howls were hungry. Their empty, ulcerated stomachs burned with his; their need for flesh brought bile to his throat. It sickened him, but the power of Earth kept him rooted.

It would always keep him rooted.

Then, against his bidding, Water flared to life, and his head swam as the traitorous Sphere pulled him under.

“We’re so proud of you,” Mom says, hugging him one last time. They stand outside the dormitory, Dad idling the car in the street. Dad never likes goodbyes; one quick hug had been enough for him. “You’re going to be great.”

Tenn takes a deep breath. Tears burn behind his eyes, and he wants so badly to tell her to take him back home, to lie and say he doesn’t want to learn about the Spheres and magic, even though a week ago it was all he could think about. The buildings are too big, the other kids too loud. Home is too far away, and no magic, no power, could be worth this much hurt.

“I love you,” she says. One more hug. He inhales the scent of her, the perfume that lingers against his clothes. She is shaking. She’s trying not to cry. That makes it harder to keep his own emotions in check. It’s always been hard to keep his emotions in check. “I’ll see you soon. Over winter break.”

He tries to stem his tears while she turns and walks back to the car. The dorm-mother shuffles up behind him and puts her hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, son,” she says. “You’ll see her again before you know it.”

He knows it’s a lie.

He knows it’s a lie.

And there’s nothing he can say to bring her back.

“Shut up!” he screamed.

His words ripped through the memory and slammed him—throbbing and raw—back to the battle, back to the roof of the hotel and the screams of the monsters now crashing against the shield. He knelt on the ground, hands pressed to his head. The memory pulsed in his ears like a migraine and tears ran down his face like the rain. What the hell was happening? The visions were becoming stronger. Water was gaining control. Sobs welled up in the back of his throat, but a scream from outside the barrier cut them short.

He pushed down the sadness, buried it deep under Earth, forced Water away with a wrench of willpower.

He was in charge. Not the Spheres.

He grabbed his staff from where it had clattered to the ground and pushed himself to standing. Then he reached his senses deep into Earth and pushed the power out.

The ground rippled. Just outside the shield and beyond his comrades, a wave of soil burst up and spilled out, sending Howls and their human slave drivers stumbling. It was a small act of magic, but Earth sapped him fast. Too fast. He leaned heavily against his staff as hunger gnawed at his stomach and his knees shook. If he used much more, he’d drain himself completely.

Lightning flashed down outside the shield like the spears of angry gods, piercing Howls and necromancers and filling his ears with thunder. More fires raged, these spurred by the powers of his friends, flames hungry for undead flesh. The sky swirled faster as great funnel clouds sank from the heavens and roared across the plains. He could feel the power of his comrades, could feel the magic racing through the air as they struggled to hold their ground. It was enough magic to level cities.

The army still came.

He wondered if their power was enough.

Electric-blue cracks spiked along the shield where Howls threw themselves upon it. He gripped his staff tighter. He wanted to be out there. Water wanted to fight. Even now, tired from Earth, he wanted to be close to the blood. More cracks lanced over the shield. He gritted his teeth. If they could just kill off enough before...

Devon gasped.

The shield above them shattered with the sound of breaking glass, blue sparks raining down like snowflakes. Screams pierced the night as the shield collapsed and the hordes of Howls broke through.

“What happened?” Tenn yelled. He ran over to Dreya’s side, to where she cradled her unconscious brother. The town around him erupted in flames, the earth shaking with magical tremors. This magic, he knew, wasn’t fighting for his side.

Dreya’s eyes were wide.

“Someone drained him,” she whispered. “He’s been tapped.”

Tenn’s thoughts spun with the impossibility. Someone tried to drain his Spheres. Someone tried to turn him into a Howl. That shouldn’t be possible, not from so far away.

Dreya glanced up. Her eyes covered over in shadow. She didn’t flinch when someone screamed below them. The Howls weren’t just coming...they were here.

Power surged and the hotel shuddered.

“Shit,” Tenn hissed. He ran to the edge and glanced down. Howls filled the streets, swarmed like ants around a person he could only guess was one of his own.

The Hunter’s screams were cut short.

“We have to get out of here,” he yelled.

The hotel lurched again, magic laced through its very foundations. Necromancers were trying to raze the whole city. He glanced over to Dreya, who still knelt beside her brother with her hands on his chest.

“Dreya, we can’t stay here.” A wail came from the streets below him. If it was human or undead, he couldn’t tell. “We need an escape route.”

She looked up from her brother; he expected her to wallow, but her gaze was sharp.

“That I can give,” she said. She closed her eyes, and Air blazed in her throat.

Wind tore through the streets. It whipped up rubble and shoved cars, bashed through windows and shattered bones. Tenn shielded his eyes as it screamed past him, as the Howls below were swept up and tossed about like crumpled paper, splatting against buildings, crashing through trucks. He didn’t watch for long. He ran over to the twins and pulled Devon to standing. Dreya still channeled Air, still cleared the streets of Howls, but she helped drag Devon toward the fire escape.

It wasn’t any safer down there, but at least they wouldn’t die in a building collapse.

They rushed down the fire escape and into the back alley. The street was clear, wind screaming like a banshee. Tenn kept his eyes narrowed, tried to see through the dirt and rain and debris that swarmed around him like wasps. He needed to keep Devon out of harm’s way. If another necromancer came along and tapped him again, he’d die. Or worse, he’d become a Howl. Tenn couldn’t let that happen. He needed to get them someplace safe. But where in this hell could be considered safe?

They ran through the crumbling, burning streets. Kravens and bloodlings darted about, but the dust and debris from Dreya’s windstorm kept him and his comrades hidden. Elsewhere, he heard the screams and clashes of combat. Blood hammered in Tenn’s ears. Water wanted to fight; Water was tired of running. It felt the pain and agony ripping through the fabric of the city, and it wanted to respond. It wanted to create more hurt. He kept a tight rein on the power, forced it down, but he knew if he stayed here, he wouldn’t be able to hold it down forever.

The temptation to unleash its power sang sweet in his ears.

The streets opened up ahead of them as they neared the shore. If he could get them there, maybe they could defend themselves. At least they couldn’t be surrounded, with the lake at their back. Buildings thinned out into smaller shops, the streets widening into long boulevards of abandoned benches and torn trees. Waves crashed and seethed, but at least here, for now, there were no Howls. He helped lay Devon on the ground.

Fire roared behind them, and their hotel crashed down with a tremor that shook him to his bones.

“I have to go back,” Tenn said, looking between the two of them. His heart hammered and his breath burned.

“No,” she said. Her voice was breathy from exertion, and her pale eyes seemed unfocused. “We have our orders. We are to keep you safe.”

“I’m not going to stand by and watch my troop get killed.”

Dreya must have seen something in his expression. Her resolve cracked.

“As you wish. I will support you,” she said. Her Spheres burned brighter as a tornado funneled down in the heart of the city. It roared like a demon, hungry and feral. He knew Air, being the most ethereal of the Spheres, was easier to wield, but how was she still channeling so much power? “Just make sure you make it back alive.”

Tenn didn’t hesitate. He ran back into the flames.

* * *

If hell was a city, it would have been this one.

Tenn raced through the burning buildings, Water writhing in his gut, Earth filling his limbs with momentum. Even the bricks were on fire, everything shadow and flame. Ash fell down with the rain, coating his sodden body in gray. Everything was crumbling, burning, roaring with despair. He skidded to a halt at an alley thronged with kravens, their misshapen bodies burning and bleeding even as their hunger drove them onward. As one, their heads snapped to face him, jagged mouths open and dripping disease. It was only then that he realized they were crouched over the broken body of a Hunter. All that was left of the corpse was cloth and snapped bones.

The monsters screamed.

Water screamed back.

Tenn gave in to the siren song, and Water dragged him down with delight. Magic beat a battle drum through his veins as he let the power free.

He ran to meet the monsters head-on. He spun, slashed, danced with the pulse of Water. Battle might not have been graceful, but Water made it ecstasy. Blood sprayed through the air like oil, made his black clothes blacker. Water laughed, and he laughed, too.

Kravens fell around him like cards, crumpling headless into heaps. Talons slashed his skin, sent fire racing across his flesh, but Water delighted in the pain. He drowned in power, drenched himself in glory. Dozens fell, and dozens more came, drawn by the screams and the scent of blood. Water was a torrent of agony in his veins, and even that pain was bliss.

Something appeared over the writhing mass of bodies, a shape more humanoid than the monsters. The kravens went still, their prey momentarily forgotten. Tenn’s lungs screamed from exertion. Water wanted more—more blood, more bliss—but he didn’t attack. He stood, transfixed, surrounded by corpses, the buildings on both sides of the alley burning and crumbling, everything black and red and ashen. The silhouette stalked closer, slowly, and that’s when Tenn realized the flames bent around the figure—not away from, but toward. The remaining kravens hunched over as if kneeling, scuttling back toward the shadows and away.

What the hell?

All heat drained from the world the moment the shape resolved itself. Well, herself.

She wore a long white dress, splotches of black and crimson seeping up the hem. In her bloody hands was a glass mason jar. A flickering flame hovered within.

“Hello, Tenn,” she said. How her voice carried over the roar of destruction, he wasn’t sure. It took a moment, through the haze of Water, to realize there was no way she should know his name. “Leanna will be so delighted when I bring her your body.”

Fire opened within her, and the jar blazed red-hot.

Cold lanced through his chest, his heart screaming with ice and agony. His grip on Water and Earth shattered. He crumpled atop corpses and screamed as wave after wave of freezing pain shot through him, all aimed at his heart. All aimed at draining energy from his Sphere of Fire. His back arched. His jaw clenched in a rictus.

The agony stretched on forever. He felt everything, everything. Rage and hatred, passion and desire—they coursed through his burning, freezing heart in a deluge. He couldn’t stop screaming, couldn’t stop the fist from tightening around his chest. Everything turned to ice. Everything threatened to burn his world away. And he knew...he knew that this was how he would die.

He would become a Howl.

An incubus.

Then, suddenly, it stopped.

Heat flooded through his body as he fell limp to the ground. His muscles relaxed, heavy and wet and shaking with newfound warmth. A hand closed on his shoulder. He flinched aside.

“Tenn,” a voice called. Masculine, familiar. His eyes cleared. Jarrett stared down at him, his face bloody and eyes tight with worry. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s me. You’re safe.”

“What...” Tenn croaked. His throat was raw.

“Shh,” Jarrett said. “She’s gone. Can you walk?”

Tenn’s body gave another involuntary shiver. He shifted and tried to sit up; he failed. That was answer enough.

Jarrett lifted him to his feet. Tenn ached with cold and heat, every nerve tingling like he’d plunged from ice water into a sauna and back again. The world around them burned, but he barely felt it. For the moment, Tenn could only focus on the warmth of Jarrett, the solidity of the arms wrapped tight around his body.

“Come on,” Jarrett said. “We’re regrouping.”

With Jarrett still supporting him, Tenn hobbled through the streets. His foot kicked something. He glanced down and saw it was the woman’s head.

“What was...what was she?” he asked.

“A necromancer,” Jarrett said through clenched teeth.

Tenn wanted to speak up, to tell Jarrett that this had been a setup: Leanna was actively hunting for him. My sister Leanna has an interest in you, Tomás had said. If Tenn was wise, he would give up now. Or he would beg Jarrett for help.

Then he remembered Katherine’s limp body, and Tomás’s heavy promise. Another shudder ripped through his body as chills raced down his spine. He looked up to one of the few remaining buildings and swore he saw a shadow standing there, the barest silhouette of Tomás. Watching. Always watching. Waiting for him to speak up. Waiting for another reason to kill.

Tenn kept his mouth shut.

CHAPTER FIVE

THE TWINS AND a half dozen other Hunters waited by the shore. Devon was conscious, but he crouched on the ground with his head in his hands, looking at no one. The sky was a hazy pink from the flames, and Tenn felt the magic of Dreya’s barrier the moment he walked through. Regrouping. Right. It felt more like gathering for the slaughter. Storms stretched across the black horizon, arcs of lightning flickering over the endless water. How much of that was magic? How much was just nature being pissed?

Dark shadows oozed from the city as kravens and other nightmarish creatures swarmed the boulevard. Dreya’s shield was thin at best. Judging from the strain in her features, she couldn’t hold on much longer.

Jarrett helped Tenn sit down on one of the benches. A few other dirtied Hunters were there, but no one seemed too heavily injured. He prayed that this wasn’t all that was left of their troop. Not only because that was a lot of deaths, but because there were many more Howls to kill.

And because, in some unknown, twisted way, those comrades were dying and bleeding because of him.

An explosion rent through the air. Light burst from the city, followed by a tremor so great he nearly toppled from the bench. But it wasn’t the mushroom cloud billowing into the air or the scent of brimstone that made them cower—it was the power, the sheer force of magic, that ripped through the town like a bomb.

Tenn had seen power in his life, but never had he seen magic as great as that. Even the twins paled in comparison.

They stared in silence as the smoke cleared, weapons raised and pulses speeding. Air glowed brighter in Dreya’s throat as she reinforced the shield. There was a note in her eyes that scared Tenn more than anything else: fear. Something told him it wasn’t an emotion she experienced often.

“What the...?” Derrick whispered, Fire sparking around his bared sword.

A shape floated out from the ruins. The silhouette soared high above the crumbling towers and burning storefronts. Then a glint of light, a breath of power, as the stranger’s Spheres came into focus: Earth, Fire and Air. The energy radiating from them made Tenn’s frozen skin drip sweat.

“Shit,” Jarrett cursed. He looked to the troop. They were broken, bruised, barely able to strike the lesser Howls now spreading across the boulevard. Fear was plain on everyone’s faces. Even Derrick’s. Whoever this enemy was, they were far outmatched.

“We need to run,” Jarrett said. “We can’t fight this. Not now.”

Laughter cut over the sounds of fire.

“Run?” came a man’s voice. The figure above the city floated closer. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You’d be so easy to follow.”

In the blink of an eye, the figure stood before them, barely a dozen feet away. The movement reminded Tenn of Tomás, and the thought made his stomach churn. But this man was definitely not the incubus. This man was tall and sharp, wearing an immaculate black pinstripe suit. His gray hair was combed back, and his goatee was the color of ash. Every inch of him was sleek and strong, a sharp contradiction to the destruction around him.

He reached out his free hand and tentatively stroked the surface of Dreya’s shield. It crackled under his touch, flurries of sparkling energy trailing to the ground with a hiss.

“So charming,” he mused as he watched the sparks fall. “And so naive to think a magic so simple could protect him from me.”

With the press of his finger, he brought the whole shield down in a cascade of sparks. Dreya gasped, hands going to her throat as Air winked out. The man smiled directly at Tenn. That look poured ice down Tenn’s veins, and he knew that none of them would leave here alive.

“Who are you?” Jarrett asked. He took a step forward, his sword held at the ready. Air burned in his throat, but he didn’t make any move to attack. Tenn couldn’t help but notice the slight shake in his hand.

“My name is Matthias,” the man answered. He gave a curt nod. “And I have come for the boy.” He pointed to Tenn. Tenn took a half step back.

“You can’t have him,” Jarrett said. Despite everything, Tenn’s stomach flipped at the resolve in Jarrett’s voice.

Matthias grinned. “Oh, I think you’ll find you’re much mistaken. My mistress desires him, and I shall bring him to her with or without your cooperation.”

“Mistress?”

“Leanna.” Matthias’s words dripped poison. The hole in Tenn’s stomach grew wider.

“Never,” Jarrett said. He didn’t take his eyes off the man, but Tenn knew the body language well. Jarrett was preparing himself for one last stand.

Tenn wouldn’t let him fight alone, not when it wasn’t even his fight. He tightened his grip on his staff. Dreya’s hand clamped down on his arm before he could move forward. She gave a slight shake of her head, her eyes never leaving Matthias.

“Let’s let him decide that, shall we?” Matthias asked. He winked at Tenn. “After all, who better to decide the worth of his own life? Is it worth, say, one other?”

He waved his hand, like he was batting away a fly. Fire flared brighter in his chest.

Derrick didn’t even have time to scream.

Fire burst from his chest and lips, curling around him and hollowing him out so that—in less than a heartbeat—he was nothing more than a shell of ash. His sword clattered to the ground, dropping from his paper fingers. The rest of him collapsed in a cascade of soot.

Tenn cried out. Dreya’s hand tightened, kept him from running forward. Derrick had been an ass, but he had been alive. He’d been worth keeping alive.

“You bastard!” Jarrett yelled. He launched forward; Matthias held up a hand, and Jarrett stopped in his tracks, seemingly held in place.

“Now, now,” he said. “Let’s not be too hasty. After all, I highly doubt Tenn would like any more deaths to weigh on his soul.” He looked at Tenn, his smile deepening. “Personally, I would have thought Mommy and Daddy were enough.”

The words were a punch to Tenn’s gut. He stumbled back and felt another set of hands holding him up. He barely had time to register the twins flanking him before Water stirred in his stomach, dragged at him with cold fingers. Mom, Dad, where are you? It took everything he had to force the bloody memory down.

“You aren’t taking him,” Jarrett said. His voice was deadly low.

“Your choice, Tenn,” Matthias said, as though he hadn’t heard Jarrett’s warning. He gestured to the rest of the troop. “You have seven more chances to come willingly.”

There was no way in hell Tenn was going to let anyone die for him. He wasn’t worth it.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll go.”

But before he could shake off the twins to join Matthias, Jarrett lunged into action.

Tenn yelled, but Matthias just brushed Jarrett aside with a wave of his hand. Jarrett skittered to the ground at Tenn’s feet. The rest of the troop rallied immediately, running toward Matthias with weapons raised and magic blazing.

Before Tenn could join the fight, before he could keep these idiots from dying for him—him, worthless, meaningless him—someone pulled him back toward the waves. Fog descended over the boulevard, broken only by muffled shouts and flares of fire. Then he was plunged beneath the waves, and everything went cold and black.