TENN WISHED HE’D had a moment to relish the fact that he was wearing the first new clothes he’d had since joining the Hunters—up until now, he’d been given hand-me-downs from the dead. New recruits rarely got anything better. His new clothes were black, but the jeans were slim and fit perfectly, and the long-sleeved shirt was snug. It was the coat, however, that made him want to stop and stare at himself—it was perfectly tailored and, like the white ones worn by the twins, covered in belts and buckles. Far above and beyond the guild standards he’d grown used to. Dreya must have been a seamstress or something in a previous life.
Dreya was waiting for him outside the bathroom, her arms crossed and her eyes closed. Devon was at her side, just as silent as always. She looked Tenn up and down the moment he was out, gave a quick nod and then headed down the hall. Devon followed close behind. Tenn didn’t even have the chance to thank her for the clothes, or ask how she’d known his size.
He wanted to ask them something, anything, to get them talking about who they were, and where they trained. If they were as powerful as they seemed, they had to know more about magic than him. He’d seen them both use Water, so maybe they knew how to control it. Maybe they knew how to control the visions, the flashes of power. At the very least, he hoped they knew how to keep it from controlling them. But the urgency with which they walked told him that now wasn’t the time.
It would probably never be the time.
The meeting took place in an old basketball court. By the time Tenn and the twins got there, it was already well under way. He knew it was all in his head, but he felt like everyone looked at him when he entered the room. Like they could tell he was new.
Like they could tell he was the cause of all this... Whatever “all this” was.
The twins edged past the open double doors and stood in the shadow of the bleachers, and Tenn followed close at their sides.
He assumed it was Cassandra pacing in the center—the command she radiated was more than enough to convince him she was the leader. She was in her late twenties, with dark ebony skin and long black braids that nearly reached her waist. The Sphere of Earth pulsed slow and green in her hips, the faintest trace of a glow. Most Earth mages Tenn knew were stocky, grounded, but not Cassandra. She was tall and stunning, with a perfect hourglass figure. She wore all black, from her knee-high leather boots and tight black leather pants, to her skintight top barely concealed by a sheer coat. It wasn’t an outfit meant for battle. That confidence alone spoke volumes of her power.
“Our forces are dwindling,” she was saying.
Her voice was powerful, and it carried throughout the gym. Dreya had made it sound like the whole of the guild was there, but the bleachers were barely half-full. He’d heard stories of Outer Chicago, and how great its fighting forces were. If this was all they had left...
“Our hold on civilization is slipping. Leanna is pushing her forces east. Already we’ve received reports of her armies as close as Des Moines.” She paused under one of the brilliant balls of fire floating high above. “We can barely hold on to the little land we do control, let alone try and topple Leanna’s compound. No previous attempts have proved successful. America is dying. Every day, another guild or outpost falls and another Farm takes its place. If we don’t do something fast, our great nation will be left to the Howls.”
A murmur rumbled through the bleachers, and Tenn didn’t need to be among the troop to know the gist. None of this was new information, but it wasn’t something anyone wanted to hear. Even he had heard the horror stories of attempted conquests—the Hunters who made it back from raids on Leanna’s compound and could barely speak through their shock; whole armies, wasted in a heartbeat from magic or hordes of higher-Sphere Howls. Even attempting to liberate the Farms had proven useless—the necromancers learned to protect their prized stock, and too many Hunters had fallen for the few innocents that had been saved.
He hadn’t heard of an attempted attack on Leanna or any other Kin in over a year. His stomach dropped at the idea of how this could relate to him.
“Which is why,” she continued, walking out of sight. Tenn stepped closer, so he could see her over the stands. “I have asked you all here.” She gestured to the shadows at the side of the space. “Jarrett, if you please.”
Jarrett walked out next to her, his boots echoing in the otherwise-silent room. He wasn’t in his field attire, and he looked like the Resurrection had never happened—ripped blue jeans, black combat boots and a gray T-shirt with a logo that had faded beyond recognition. Even from here, Tenn could see the intricate lines of Jarrett’s Hunter’s mark on his right forearm.
The sight of him made Tenn’s pulse race. He tried to find a trace of the boy he used to know. He tried, but every time he thought back to Silveron, Water surged with dangerous abandon.
It wasn’t Jarrett’s appearance that brought everyone to a deeper silence. It was the object he gingerly placed in Cassandra’s hands. Tenn’s dread doubled at the sight of it.
A small glass jar, with a curl of flame hovering within.
Cassandra raised it high above her head like Lady Liberty with her torch. Even from here, he could feel the wrongness, hear the whispers he could only describe as evil. Even from here, it made his Hunter’s mark tingle with goose bumps.
“This,” she said, “is the weapon used against us. This is the Dark Lady’s greatest secret, the one her minions have died to preserve and protect from us. Until now.” She smiled at Jarrett. Her grin reminded Tenn of a feral cat. “Now we have insight into their dark magic, and with that knowledge we can finally turn the tide of this war.”
Tenn wasn’t watching Cassandra as intently as the rest of the troop. He was watching Jarrett. And Jarrett looked terribly uncomfortable. He must have known what would come next. Tenn did, too. His chest constricted from the memory of it.
“But first, a demonstration. Sam and Maria, if you please.”
Two Hunters from the front row came forward. The girl had a strong, lean figure and dark hair that curled past her shoulders. Sam was about the same height, with spiked brown hair and a goatee.
“Maria,” Cassandra said, holding out the jar, “if you would take this for a moment.”
Maria took it without hesitating. She held the jar in one hand, staring at the flame with a small smile. Cassandra told them to face off. That was when fear began to show on Sam’s face. Especially because Maria was still staring at the jar, the flame reflecting in her eyes.
Cassandra didn’t seem to notice, or she just didn’t care. “When I say so, channel a thread of Fire into the jar. I want you to focus on Sam while doing so. When I say stop, you stop. Understood?”
Maria didn’t say anything.
“Maria—”
The girl looked up.
“Yeah. Got it. Go easy on him.” She smiled at Sam, who took a step back.
He didn’t have time to reconsider.
“Go.”
Fire opened in Maria’s chest. The flame within the jar burned brighter and the symbols on the glass flared to life. Sam cried out as his back arched and Tenn could see his Sphere being tapped, could see the tendrils of heat and energy spiraling from Sam’s chest and into the ever-burning jar. That wasn’t what made Tenn’s skin go cold, though—it was the voice, the whisper, the harshest female rasp: drain, devour, be mine. Tenn clenched his fists as the voice hissed in his head, seethed with steam and hatred. He felt himself falling. Falling. Twisting into that burning void.
He felt the Dark Lady’s nails scraping within his head. Calling him. Demanding him.
Listen. Be mine. Be mine.
And then, like a switch, it stopped.
Dreya’s hand was on his shoulder, and Devon looked at him with concern in his eyes. Tenn realized he’d fallen to his knees. His breath burned in his chest and he feared he’d screamed. But the show was still going on center stage. Sam clutched his own chest, his eyes angry and trained on Maria, who was already handing the jar to Cassandra and walking away.
Only the twins seemed to have noticed Tenn’s collapse.
Well, them and Jarrett, whose eyes bore into him.
“What the hell was that?” someone called out as Tenn pushed to his feet.
“That, comrades,” Cassandra said, “is how the necromancers have been creating the Howls. This is how they are able to drain a human’s Sphere past the point of depletion.” She traced the jar’s surface with a finger, the line of symbols seeming to glow under her touch. “They’re using runes. Runes we’ve never seen before. And if we can understand them, there may be a way of combating them. Perhaps disabling them. Perhaps even reversing the process.”
The gym had been silent up until then, but that statement started an uproar of conversation.
Reverse the process?
For years, they’d been trained to believe that the only way to eradicate the Howls was to kill them—even if the host had been human, even if they’d been someone you knew. This wasn’t just a revelation or a way forward: this was a tragedy. How many people had Hunters killed in the name of defying the Dark Lady? How many died when they could have been returned to normal?
The thought made Tenn want to throw up. All that blood. All that blood. And the only way he’d been able to handle it had been the thought that it was the only way...
Jarrett opened to Air, and when he spoke, his voice cut through the general din of the room.
“Silence,” he called. The troop hushed immediately. Even Tenn’s inner monologue snapped off.
“There is much we do not know,” Cassandra said. “But trust me, we are going to find out. Tomorrow, a few of our finest will be sent out into the field. Our sources know of those who might have insight into the runes. We are making it our prerogative to seek them out. Those selected will receive their orders by nightfall.”
She took a deep breath and surveyed them all.
“Remember this moment, comrades. This is the day we cease being the hunted. This is the moment we take back what they have stolen. This is the moment we remake our world.”
The crowd broke into applause.
Tenn couldn’t join in.
If they had found the language of the Dark Lady, what did it mean when She was speaking directly to him?
* * *
“A word, Dreya?”
He and the twins had waited in the hall to meet with Jarrett. He hadn’t expected Cassandra to pause by their side as she left. Up close, he could smell the spice of her perfume—a rarity, anymore. Her green eyes looked only at him. If Dreya’s gaze felt like being stared down by a hawk, hers felt like being inspected by a goddess.
“I would like to speak with you.” Her eyes flickered from him to Dreya. “All three of you. I’ll meet you in your room in five minutes.”
She didn’t give anyone a chance to respond. She was gone down the hall before anyone could get a word in. Devon and Dreya exchanged another look. Tenn really wished they’d stop doing that and talk like normal people; it just meant he stood there in silence while they shared some secret language. It didn’t help that Jarrett never came through the doors they were haunting. When the gym was cleared, Tenn and the twins returned to their room.
“What do you think this is about?” Tenn asked when the door closed behind him. He didn’t expect Dreya to answer; he just knew if he was silent anymore, Water would take control.
Dreya leaned against the wall, and Devon took a chair. They did another long look exchange, leaving him to his thoughts. The room was exactly like his—sparse and clean, with a wardrobe and flickering hurricane lamps—though there were two small beds, rather than just one.
“I cannot say,” Dreya said. Her voice made him jump. “We are reaching into territories we should know nothing about.”
“What do you mean?”
She didn’t answer the question. Instead, she peered at him with that intense look again.
“What happened to you back there?” she asked.
He’d hoped she’d forgotten, or passed it off as stress. Of course she wouldn’t—she already knew to keep an eye on him for...irregularities.
He opened his mouth, not sure if he would tell the truth or make something up, but the door opened behind him and Jarrett and Cassandra entered, saving him from having to answer.
Cassandra strode into the center of the room like it was her own and looked them over, weighing them, judging them. Jarrett stayed in the corner. Tenn knew he should be focusing on Cassandra, but his eyes kept looking back to Jarrett. Cataloging the way the man stood. The scars and planes of his face that hid the boy he’d known as Kevin. The slight gray in his pale blond hair, from magic or stress, Tenn couldn’t tell. Somehow, though, the years of fighting didn’t seem to weigh on Jarrett the same way they did on Tenn—Jarrett stood tall, light. Something about him defied the darkness of the Resurrection. Something about him made Tenn feel like things could be okay.
Until Cassandra started speaking. Then his heart fell from his throat to his feet.
“Let me get to the point. In light of recent developments, I’m afraid I must send you back out into the field.” Her gaze narrowed on the twins. “I hear you know how to find the Witches.”
The silence that answered was deafening. Fire flickered in Devon’s chest, just for a moment, but that was enough to make Tenn take a half step back. The guy seemed like a ticking time bomb. He could practically hear Devon’s teeth grinding.
“How did...?” Dreya started with obvious surprise. Then she looked at Jarrett, and her mask slipped back into place. But colder. “You swore you would say nothing.”
Jarrett looked down to the floor. “These are dark days, Dreya. I had no choice.”
The glare Dreya cast between Jarrett and Cassandra could level mountains.
“Our ties to the clans have been severed,” Dreya said, her voice flat and an octave lower than normal. “We cannot help you.”
“I am not asking for your help,” Cassandra replied. She stepped forward. Even with her hands in her pockets, she spoke like she was brandishing a weapon. “I am telling you. If you know how to find the clans, if you have even the slightest inkling of an idea, you are bound by duty to do so.”
Dreya pushed herself from the wall. Air flickered in her throat, and her hair billowed in the sudden breeze. Devon wasn’t able to hold back his agitation anymore; sparks flared around his fingertips where they clenched the chair, sending the scent of burning wood through the room. Tenn’s skin went cold. He didn’t want to see what would happen if the twins tried to mutiny. He doubted he’d get out alive. Even Jarrett stared at them with a hint of fear.
“You know of our agreement,” Dreya said, her voice still taut. “We are not bound by the laws of your guild. We are not governed by your commands. We fight those battles which we deem necessary. And this is not our battle. You know not what you ask.”
“Are you so naive?” Cassandra demanded. The two were barely inches apart. In her high-heeled boots, Cassandra towered over Dreya by a good foot, but Dreya was far from cowering. Hell, Tenn expected her to hover. Cassandra opened to Earth, and somehow, just being open to the Sphere gave her a presence, a solidity, that said she would not be toppled. “Do you truly believe this battle ends with you? If you fail to aid us, how many lives do you think we’ll lose? I’m not speaking dozens or hundreds or even thousands. Millions will die, Dreya. Because we. Are. Losing. And you...you will be responsible for those deaths. Are you really comfortable with more innocent blood on your hands?”
Dreya gasped. Air winked out, and she took a step back, her eyes darting between Jarrett and Cassandra with a look that tore at Tenn’s heart. Betrayal. Pure and utter betrayal. She looked like a little girl who’d just been told Santa wasn’t real.
“We cannot,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. Her voice was soft, tinged with hurt. “Our ties are severed. There is no way—”
“We’ll do it.”
The room silenced in an instant, all tension gone like a snapped violin string. As one, they turned to Devon, who was studiously looking everywhere but into the eyes of those he’d spoken to.
“What?” Dreya asked. More hurt in her voice, with another layer of betrayal.
“I said we’ll do it,” he said. His voice was muffled and husky through his burgundy scarf. Fire still flickered in his chest, sending waves of heat that made sweat break out on Tenn’s otherwise-freezing skin. Devon looked at Dreya and they stared at each other for a long moment. Dreya seemed to wilt further under her brother’s stare. Finally, she sighed and nodded, settling back against the wall and hiding her face behind her silvery hair.
“We know how to find them,” Devon continued. He didn’t stand up, despite the resolve in his voice. If anything, he seemed to sink lower in his chair. “But whether or not they’ll help us, I can’t say.” Then, almost to himself, he muttered, “They have every reason not to.”
“That’s more like it,” Cassandra said. She nodded, and Earth faded out. Her expression wasn’t smug, but it was close. Tenn could tell from that one look that she wasn’t the type who was ever denied anything. “You’ll leave tonight. I don’t want anyone to know it’s you leaving. Jarrett tells me there’s reason to believe you might be targeted.
“You have your orders,” she said, looking back to Jarrett. “I don’t expect you to return until they’ve been fulfilled.”
He nodded.
She walked toward the door and put her hand on the knob. Before opening it, however, she turned around.
“More than you know is riding on your shoulders. If you fail, there will be no point in coming back. You’ll have already damned us.”
Then she opened the door and was gone.
They stood there in the silence for a good minute before Jarrett finally spoke.
“Right. We’ll meet at the south tower at five to midnight, right before the guard changes. We’ll have to fly out.”
That got Tenn’s attention. He’d always heard that non-Air users couldn’t fly, but neither of the twins seemed to catch what he said. Dreya was still slumped against the wall, watching her brother with wary eyes. Devon stared at Jarrett, his blue eyes intense and his hands knuckled white in his lap.
“You should not have told her,” Devon finally said. “We trusted you.”
“We need your help,” Jarrett said. “Things are... Things are changing. The world is changing. And if we don’t find a way to fight back, we’re going to be destroyed. I know what I’m asking you, but it’s nothing I wouldn’t do myself. We have to protect what’s important. No matter the cost.”
Tenn could have sworn Jarrett’s gaze flicked to him when he said it.
Devon closed his eyes and took a deep, ragged breath. Fire burned out, and a little more tension bled from the room.
“We will see you before midnight,” Dreya said. She pushed herself from the wall and put a hand on Devon’s shoulder. Without another word, Devon stood and followed her from the room. They didn’t even seem to care that they were leaving Jarrett and Tenn alone in their space.
Jarrett walked over to the bed and sat. Tenn hesitated, then sank down next to him.
“What was that all about?” Tenn asked.
“Politics,” Jarrett said with a sigh. “The joys of being in command. Sometimes the good of humanity means fucking over the ones you care about. Here’s hoping it wasn’t a total loss.” He looked at Tenn. “As I said, easier to beg forgiveness than ask permission.”
Tenn’s heart stuttered. Jarrett remembered that night of studying together. Did that mean he reminisced about Tenn, too?
“But who are the Witches?” Tenn asked, trying to focus on the matter at hand. “Why are we going after them?”
“They’re a group. A religion, maybe. Honestly, I don’t really know. I’d barely heard of them before this. They pretty much avoid the outside world. But rumor has it they’re the ones who discovered how to use runes and magic. If they know about these—” he brushed Tenn’s tattoo, flooding heat through Tenn’s veins “—maybe they know about the ones the necromancers use. Maybe they know enough to reverse them.”
Jarrett shifted, and suddenly Tenn felt the heat of Jarrett’s arm near his back, reaching out behind Tenn, in an almost-embrace. Heat flared in Tenn’s chest as he glanced over, and Jarrett looked back, not breaking his gaze.
“Tell me a story,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m about to head out into the field with you again. I also just lied through my teeth to keep you from being imprisoned. I need a distraction.” He gave a small smile. “Besides, you once told me you were good with words.”
Despite the compliment, fire turned to fear.
“What do you mean, you lied? About what?”
“Cassandra didn’t know about you specifically, only that the Prophets needed us to investigate. If she’d found out that your magic was acting up, she’d probably have you stuck in a cell for testing. So, tell me a story. Consider it repayment.”
Tenn could only think about Cassandra, and the curious looks she gave him. Did she believe he was the cause of this? And if so...would he actually make it out of there tonight?
He tried to shake the questions from his head and focus on Jarrett. Jarrett, who inspired an altogether different sort of anxiety.
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything. But we can start with where you’re from. I don’t think you ever told me.”
“What’s it matter?” Tenn asked, his walls instantly slamming back up. “Everyone from there’s dead.”
Jarrett went silent. He didn’t try to negate Tenn’s statement or push him into answering.
“Then tell me what you dreamed of being when you were a kid,” he said after a few moments had passed. “What did you want your life to be, before all this?”
“I try not to think about it. Not when I know it can’t be.”
Jarrett brought his arm closer, touched the small of Tenn’s back.
“Why else do you think we’re fighting?” Jarrett asked. “I believe it can be. Someday. We can rebuild. But you have to have a dream to get there.”
Tenn looked to Jarrett. In all the years of fighting and fear, there’d never been a discussion like this—the question of what might come next. Of what the world could look like. Could it ever go back to the way it had been, to the way he’d dreamed? Getting a job and having a husband and living in a cabin in the woods, making art and raising kids and having a herd of golden Labs? Those were dreams he’d kept tightly locked away. They hurt too much to think about. They suffocated in the gray and the rain of this reality.
“Honestly,” Tenn said, “I gave up on that after Silveron. I’m not fighting to rebuild anymore. I’m fighting to make peace.”
“We all are. Tell me what peace would look like to you, then.”
Tenn wanted to ignore the question. He wanted to push Jarrett away and go back to his room and ignore this, all of this, because it was making pain twist in his chest, and he didn’t know if he wanted to rage or cry.
But he realized there was another force. One that made him want to talk. Jarrett seemed to honestly believe that things could change for the better. He didn’t seem to hold on to the past as a reminder of what he’d lost—he held on as a blueprint of what he could one day create.
Jarrett chuckled and flopped back on the mattress to stare at the ceiling.
“What?” Tenn asked, bristling all over again.
“You,” Jarrett said. “You haven’t changed one bit.”
“What do you mean?”
Jarrett’s smile both pissed him off and sent another wave of heat through him. Maybe Tomás wasn’t the only one who made Tenn feel alive. Though with Jarrett, the excitement wasn’t from danger, but from the promise of something bigger. A thread that ran from his past into an unknown future.
“You’re still moody. You still worry about what everyone else thinks.” Another chuckle. “Still cute, too.”
Tenn blushed. It had been a long time since anyone had called him that.
“What was it like for you?” Tenn asked quietly, trying to change the subject. “After Silveron. Where did you go?”
The mirth cut short in an instant.
“It was hell,” Jarrett whispered. He stared at the ceiling, lost in his own past. “I went straight home. All the way to Florida.” He laughed, this time without any humor. “Half the state was already underwater by then. I was too late to save...” He trailed off. “I was too late.”
“Me, too,” Tenn replied, his voice soft. The barbs had dulled at the pain in Jarrett’s voice. He knew it well.
“But we’re here,” Jarrett said. He shifted again, brought his arm to Tenn’s waist. Then, before Tenn could realize what was about to happen, Jarrett gently reached up and pulled him down, bringing Tenn’s head to rest against his chest.
Tenn froze. It was the moment he’d wanted so badly at Silveron. Three years too late.
But then he heard Jarrett’s heartbeat. Felt the thud in his ears, the slight vibration against his body. His tension began to dissolve.
“I didn’t think I would see you again,” Jarrett said, his words so quiet Tenn would have missed them were he not against his chest. Tenn brought his arm over Jarrett’s waist, pulled himself closer to the warmth. He almost expected Jarrett to flinch back. Instead, Jarrett brought him closer.
Tenn didn’t reply, just nodded against Jarrett’s chest. He didn’t want to speak. He didn’t want the moment to end—the heartbeat, the warmth, the closeness.
“What happened after?” Jarrett asked gently. He paused. “Actually, no. Let’s talk about Silveron. What do you remember?”
“How bad Chinese night in the cafeteria was.”
Jarrett laughed. It shook Tenn’s head and made him smile.
“Christ, yeah. That was terrible. My clothes always smelled like soy sauce for a week.”
Tenn chuckled. Then, softly, “I remember you.”
Jarrett made a noise that was almost a purr.
“I’m hard to forget,” he said. He paused. “I remember you, too.”
Tenn’s heart wouldn’t stop flipping, and he was worried if this went on much longer Jarrett would notice and worry.
“What do you miss?” Tenn asked. It was a dangerous question and they both knew it. Hopefully, though, the lighthearted tone would continue.
“Everything,” Jarrett replied. “Watching movies in the dorm at night. Music. I even miss the classes, sometimes. Learning something that wasn’t just how to stay alive. Junk food...pizza, burgers. Soda. All food, really.” He laughed. “Well, except Chinese nights.”
Tenn laughed.
“I’d kill for ice cream,” he said.
Jarrett moaned and pulled Tenn in, rocking slightly.
“Ugh, don’t mention that. I would kill for a milk shake.”
“I think you still owe me one,” Tenn said, smiling into Jarrett’s chest even as tears threatened to prick his eyes. “For helping you study.”
Jarrett went silent. Only for a second.
“I do indeed,” he whispered. He tightened his hug. “I do indeed.”