Rooftops

 

Tenma had never been so scared in his life. Yes, his first day of school had shattered his courage, but this didn’t begin to compare. It was one thing to be surrounded by passive, peaceful Amaranthine. Quite another to know with dread certainty that one of them moved like a predator, and you were its prey.

Were they to be the next kidnap victims? Would Ms. Reeves give Class 3-C the bad news tomorrow? No, wait. Beginning tomorrow, they were off for a week to observe the anniversary of the Emergence. But when their classmates returned, Sentinel Skybellow would grimly rehearse his safety protocols, reminding students to take extra care when leaving campus.

Because Tenma had been foolish. He might even die. This thing driving toward them, it felt merciless and manic. A soul-tearing terror he could never hope to outrun on his own.

Gradually, Tenma became aware that Inti was saying things, patting his face, stroking his hair. He was less afraid of Inti than of the monster in the darkness. Of course, the crosser wasn’t exactly Amaranthine. Tenma could see the split in Inti, two natures twining, both wild in their other-ness. Which made him curious if he could actually see the souls of reavers in the same palette of colors that filled his mind when he focused on a person. Maybe he should try it on Isla … if he survived the night.

“Ten-ma, Ten-ma.”

The teasing sing-song pulled at his attention, but another wild leap left him dizzy. All he could do was lock his arms around his friend’s slim shoulders and gasp for every breath. “I’m so scared, Inti,” he confessed.

“Are you with me, Tenma? Can you hear my voice now?”

“I hear you.”

“Good, good, good.”

Inti changed directions so fast, Tenma groaned in protest.

“I know a place. I’m going to hide you there, then go for help. You’ll need to stay quiet while I lead the threat away.”

Tenma fumbled to straighten his glasses. “Inti, is that you?”

The crosser landed on the peak of a roof, slid down the opposite slope, and leapt over an alley. Coming to a halt, he met Tenma’s gaze. A playful little smile warmed his expression. “Inti is here. Inti has always been here.”

“I guess you have.”

Inti let him down, but Tenma’s legs quavered too much to hold him up. Even as he sagged to the ground, he caught Inti’s pant leg, afraid of being left behind.

A warm tail wrapped around Tenma’s chest, its tufted tip tickling his nose. “Can you trust me?” asked Inti.

“I do trust you.”

“This way.” Inti levered Tenma onto his feet and guided him to the other end of the roof.

He wasn’t sure exactly where they were in Keishi, but it was three stories above a busy street. Shops and restaurants were clogged with people already celebrating the international holiday.

Inti crouched before a dark metal box, some kind of ventilation unit, and pulled a louvered grate off the front. “In.”

Tenma crawled into the tight space, pulling his knees up to his chest to fit. His roommate bumped his forehead with a hasty kiss, then snapped the cover into place. Through the downward angle of the metal shutters, Tenma could only see dim slices of the gravel and tar roof, but Inti’s hand darted in and out of view, creating a pattern on the ground.

A sigil? Had Inti warded his hiding place? Or marked it somehow? Since when did their class clown know sigilcraft?

Further speculation was soon driven from Tenma’s mind. Their pursuer had caught up.

Tremors rippled through his muscles, brought on by tension and by the cold. The monster was close enough, he was catching moods—gleeful, vindictive, triumphant. But he didn’t want to be noticed, so he tamped down on the urge to explore further. Tenma wouldn’t disremember this raw, reveling soul anytime soon.

A moment later, the predatory presence veered away, chasing after Inti. And instead of being afraid for himself, Tenma was wretchedly frightened for his friend. Was the crosser cunning enough to stay ahead of something older and wilier?

The panic vanished, which made sense. Without any Amaranthine in the vicinity, fear lost its hold over him. He slumped sideways in the chill space, queasy in the aftermath of all that adrenalin.

For a long while, nothing else happened. But then a howl bit through the darkness, jolting Tenma’s heart back into overdrive. A second howl came, closer this time. Every hair seemed to stand on end, straining for any sign of a threat. Tenma went still, sure that something was coming for him.

Even though the reasonable part of Tenma’s brain knew that Inti had promised to send help, its coming alarmed him. He was being hunted again. And he was trapped.

Something landed on his rooftop and came closer, snuffling. Padding steps, and a pair of large black paws appeared through the slats, their claws faintly scraping the roof’s pebbled surface. A low whine sent ice down Tenma’s spine.

It was stupid to be afraid. But he had to bite his lip to keep from sobbing.

A voice came, speaking in a foreign language. English. Then what he recognized as a muttered oath before he could understand. “Sorry, Subaru-kun. In Japanese this time. You okay?”

Familiarity did nothing to stave off the fear.

“Tenma Subaru?” The person outside crouched as if kowtowing in apology, keen eyes peering up through the metal slats. “Aw, man. He’s so scared. Can you reach Hanoo?”

The howl poured through his heart like ice water, and he shivered.

“I’m opening the hatch, Tenma. Hang on, man. Nice and easy.” He’d reverted to muttering in English, but he moved slowly. Setting aside the flimsy barricade that had kept Tenma hidden, he made the sign for peace. “You know who I am, buddy?”

“Ploom,” he whispered.

“Yeah, it’s Ploom.” He gestured to the big wolf looming behind him. “And this is one of our Kith. You remember Cove? You met him in class, the Nightspangle wolf partnered to Reaver Armstrong.”

He was babbling, just keeping up a soothing monologue, and he’d assumed such a submissive posture, he was almost groveling. Tenma closed his eyes. Ploom was his classmate, his friend. Easily as nice as Quen. Why couldn’t he accept the closeness he craved?

A low call, the sound of running feet, and another voice. “Subaru-kun?”

Hanoo had come.

“Did something happen?” Hanoo frowned. “Hey, now. Where’s your seal, huh?”

“Sorry,” Tenma mumbled. “Lost it. Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for.” Hanoo sat on the ground, elbows on knees, hands hidden from view. “Bad news is … none of us knows beans about sigilcraft, so we can’t give you any relief.”

Tenma nodded. 

Hanoo raked a hand through his hair. “Where is Quen in all this?”

Ploom said, “The entire Starmark pack is at circle tonight.”

“Got it. Okay, then. Guess we’re it.” Hanoo said, “I know this isn’t going to appeal, but the best way to get little reavers over their fear of us has always been touch. May I touch you, Tenma-kun?”

Anything, as long as it worked. Tenma struggled to move his numb limbs and scooted awkwardly forward, to be met partway. Hanoo lifted and pulled, and Tenma collapsed into the young wolf, who’d traded his usual school clothes for a fur vest. By this point, Tenma was half-frozen, and some basic part of his nature had given up the fight. Limp and unresisting, he waited for Hanoo to put him out of his misery—one way or another.

“You’re all jitters and jumps. Give your instincts time to catch up.” Hanoo tucked Tenma under his chin and rubbed circles against his back. “Keep telling yourself I’m a friend. You’re safe now.”

Safe. Tenma withdrew into himself, trying not to think about anything beyond his next heartbeat. Little by little, Hanoo’s presence took shape in his mind, heavy as a quilt, thick with comfort, a hushing darkness that rumbled like distant thunder.

“Did something happen?” Hanoo asked softly.

“Lost my sigil.”

A hand stroked his hair, touched his back, and Tenma could tell it was Ploom, shining green-gold and shifting like sunlight through spring leaves. Tenma was sorry to have worried such a gentle, happy person.

Hanoo said, “Something else, though. We’ve been patrolling these streets since dusk, and none of us has seen anything. We were closest, so we got here first. More are on their way. Only I can’t understand what you’re doing, stranded on a roof, quaking like a slope full of aspens.”

Was he serious? “We were chased. Me and Inti. He went for help.”

“You smell anything?” asked Hanoo.

Ploom said, “Tenma always smells like Inti. Who was chasing you, Tenma-kun?”

“Something … someone … umm. Not a wolf.” He was trying to sort out what he meant. Now that he was paying attention, he recognized an underlying similarity between Hanoo and Ploom. He noticed it because he was relying heavily on their resemblance to Quen. “Not a wolf or a dog. Not a bear or a horse. Nothing like our classmates.”

“You can tell?” asked Hanoo.

“A little.”

Ploom murmured, “Yoota’s coming. He brought help.”

“Surely, this is a false alarm.”

The lilting voice had a peevish quality that sliced through Tenma’s fears. He knew this person, trusted him, wanted him.

“The victims are always female. This one’s clearly male.”

The approaching steps faltered, and there was a harsh trill of displeasure. An instant later, Tenma smelled perfume, and rings sparkled on the hand that caught his chin. He couldn’t help its quivering.

“Hello, sealed boy,” crooned Lord Mossberne. “Or unsealed, it would seem.”

“You know each other?” asked Hanoo.

“Intimately.” Lapis unfastened one of his earrings, whispered something to the stone, and pressed it into Tenma’s palm. “There, now. Tell me you are impressed.”

Oh, he was. He managed a noise. It wasn’t a very dignified noise.

“Well, then.” The dragon lord snatched him from Hanoo’s grasp and assessed their surroundings with obvious distaste. “I do not care for the way the wind is blowing. Is there someplace warmer we can have this conversation?”