Tenn

†

A romantic short story of

The Runebinder Chronicles

†

Alex R. Kahler

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

Copyright © 2018 by Alex R. Kahler

Cover Design © 2018 by Alex R. Kahler
Cover Photograph : Adobe Stock

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author/publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

THE RUNEBINDER CHRONICLES

Chronology

†

RUNEBINDER : Book One

TENN : A Runebinder Sequel

RUNEBREAKER : Book Two

†

“You need to learn how to relax.”

Jarrett’s words fell on deaf ears. Tenn paced back and forth in their—not his, but their—small room, his feet slowly treading a groove in the rug before the window.

“How am I supposed to relax when we don’t know where he is?” Tenn asked.

“You could start by sitting down,” Jarrett replied. He patted the space on the loveseat next to him. A loveseat. Their room actually had furniture. Apparently killing one of the Kin had its perks.

Tenn paused his pacing and looked over.

In truth, if there was ever going to be a time or a place to relax it was here and now. He and Jarrett and the twins had made their way back to Outer Chicago a few days ago. And now, safe and sound in the heart of the Guild, he was finally able to rest up. Physically, at least. The last few weeks of bloodshed and fighting still sat heavy on his heart, but here, with Jarrett, in this cozy room they were given to share, he could try to start to forget.

Not that Water would ever let him forget.

Still, the look in Jarrett’s eyes made him give up his current frustrated musing. Another night of pacing wouldn’t get him any closer to finding the boy the spirits had told him to save. He walked over and sat down on the loveseat, snuggling in close. Jarrett wrapped an arm over Tenn’s shoulders and Tenn propped his legs over Jarrett’s lap. He let himself look at his lover. Truly look.

Jarrett’s features had finally started to heal and fill out again, with the help of a regular diet and Tenn’s constant healing touch. The dark circles were fading from his eyes, and the bruising on his cheeks and pale flesh was now no more than a memory. Beneath the plush wool sweater, the scars and further bruising from Jarrett’s torture at Leanna’s hands had mostly healed.

There were other wounds, too, that Tenn knew he couldn’t mend. No matter how often he traced his hands over the hard planes of Jarrett’s chest, he couldn’t fully reach into the man’s heart and heal the trauma that lay there.

But he could feel it. With Water pulsing in his veins, he could sense the pain deep within, the wounds and trials Jarrett surely felt but never voiced. The man had hovered on the brink of death, had endured what must have been terrible torture at the hands of one of the most merciless Kin in the world. Not once had Jarrett mentioned his time in Leanna’s clutches. Not once had he complained.

Tenn knew Jarrett was trying to protect him. Trying to keep Tenn from feeling responsible for what had happened to him.

Even though Tenn was responsible. For everything. The game was convincing Jarrett that he didn’t know it.

“How’s your headache?” Tenn asked, reaching up and stroking the soft fuzz of Jarrett’s temple, the sides freshly buzzed and the rest of his blond hair falling loose over his shoulders. Tenn opened to Earth, gently, and pressed a small tendril into Jarrett’s skin, as he had done so many times in the past few days, searching for wounds, searching for anything he could do to make amends.

“Better,” Jarrett replied. He reached up and took Tenn’s wrist, kissed Tenn’s palm. Sparks raced across Tenn’s skin, making his heart flutter. Jarrett kept Tenn’s hand there, against his lips, pressing his words to Tenn’s flesh. “You don’t have to keep doing that,” he whispered. “I’m fine.”

“I know,” Tenn said. It was easier to pretend things were fine than press the issue. He could spend his entire life trying to make Jarrett happy, and it still wouldn’t feel like enough.

The man had nearly been turned into a Howl. And yet, it often felt like Jarrett was the one trying to comfort him.

“Besides,” Jarrett continued, moving Tenn’s hand down to rest on Tenn’s legs. “It’s you who’s supposed to do the relaxing right now.” He nodded to the window. “Unless that pacing was a new type of yoga.”

Tenn sighed and buried his face against Jarrett’s shoulder. Even now, the scent of Jarrett was enough to make his heart change tempo, that curious mix of excited and comforted, a cologne of musk and soap and something deeper.

“He’s still out there,” Tenn whispered.

“I’m starting to wonder if I should feel jealous,” Jarrett said with a low chuckle. “You keep talking about this other man. Men. Thankfully I’m not the jealous type.”

Tenn rolled his eyes and snuggled in deeper. Trying to push out the dread that flooded his veins every time he thought of the boy his vision had shown him, the need that pressed against his chest until he couldn’t breathe.

“He’s going to destroy us if we don’t find him,” Tenn said. “I don’t know what there is to be jealous about.”

Jarrett chuckled. Ran his hand through Tenn’s hair, his touch warm and light.

“I know, babe. I know.”

Babe. Even that word was enough to make Tenn’s heart spark. And maybe Jarrett did understand, but he didn’t seem to carry it with the same intensity. Tenn knew deep down that the boy was a danger. Or in danger. Or both. And so long as Tenn sat around waiting, the danger grew more and more apocalyptic. Tenn closed his eyes. Firelight flickered through his lids, and in the darkness he saw the boy’s face. The worried eyes. The pierced lip. The flames that wrapped around him, threatening to pull them all to ashes.

“I don’t know how you can be so calm about this,” Tenn said. “Tomas is on the loose and this guy needs our help and we’re just sitting here, waiting.”

“Recovering,” Jarrett amended. “There’s a huge difference. You used a great deal of magic to bring Leanna down. Not to mention bringing me back to life. You need time to rest. Though, since you’re so bad at it, maybe try convincing yourself that your friends need time to rest. You seem better at thinking about the well being of others than you do for yourself.” Tenn felt Jarrett smile against the top of his head. Jarrett pressed his lips into Tenn’s hair. “Besides, I currently have bigger things to worry about than some guy I’ve never met.”

“Oh?” Tenn asked.

Jarrett squeezed him. “Yes. Like what we’re going to do for your birthday tomorrow.”

Tenn’s momentary contentment froze along with the blood in his veins.

“How did you—“

“I have a good memory,” Jarrett said. He snorted to himself. “And I had Cassandra let me look at your file. Blood type O negative, too; of course you’d be a universal donor.”

Honestly, Tenn had forgotten that tomorrow was his birthday. There didn’t seem to be a point in keeping track anymore. It’s not like there was ever anyone around—or any reason—to celebrate. Every day he managed to stay alive was celebration enough. Or curse enough, depending on how depressed Water was making him.

“I don’t want—“

“Blah blah,” Jarrett said. He cupped his hand over Tenn’s mouth, silencing him. “You don’t celebrate your birthday. Yeah, I know. Probably because at heart, you don’t think you’re worth celebrating.”

The statement was a spear to Tenn’s heart. If only because it was entirely true.

Jarrett shifted, tilted Tenn’s head to look him in the eyes. Those pale blue eyes, often so fierce, now were soft.

“You are worth it, Tenn. Please. Let me show you that.”

Jarrett kissed Tenn again, and it made the pain in Tenn’s heart multiply and melt, flooding his veins with a terrified sort of hope. That tomorrow, he would have a reason to be happy he was alive. A reason to celebrate.

And, perhaps more importantly, someone important to celebrate with.

A small part of Tenn wanted to fight it off. Wanted to prevent Jarrett from doing something for him. But he knew Jarrett well—denying Jarrett this opportunity would only hurt both of them. Frustrating though it was, he knew that Jarrett wanted nothing more than to take care of him, even if Tenn felt like it should always be the other way around.

“I’m a firm believer in birthdays starting early,” Jarrett said, his loving gaze turning…sly.

“Oh?” Tenn said again. This entire conversation had him lost for words.

“Yes,” Jarrett said. “Though I’m afraid I wasn’t able to get to the store in time. I’m going to have to be your present.”

The heat in Tenn’s veins changed, became a simmer that rattled his heart. Instantly, all thoughts of the Dark Lady and prophecies faded as a new, almost-unexpected aspect of their relationship burned through his awareness.

“I don’t see any gift wrap,” Tenn said.

Jarrett’s grin widened.

“Oh, it’s there. Half the fun is in the unwrapping, after all.”

Jarrett leaned over to press his lips against Tenn’s cheek. His earlobe. Each kiss sent a wave of heat and electricity through Tenn, and when Jarrett’s hand slid to cusp the back of his head, Tenn practically purred.

He kissed the notch between Tenn’s clavicles, used his free hand to pull aside the collar of Tenn’s shirt. And when he bit into Tenn’s collarbone, Tenn finally let himself focus on the guy he had, rather than the ones who were getting away.

†

The world cracked around them.

Lightning streamed through the fissures of the sky, pulsing as fast as Tenn’s heart. Water boiled in his stomach, made thick rain drops dance and whorl as he ran. The storm above them raged, and so did the soil. Shafts of red light that struck up like spears, pressed from the deepest recesses of the earth. Tremors that rattled Tenn to his bones.

Bones that rattled from the ground.

Broke from tombstones.

Poured from mausoleums.

Bones danced, too.

And on the other side of the cemetery, the boy Tenn was cursed to find stood, fists clenched and flames raging around him. Fire burned so bright in his chest that Tenn couldn’t see the guy’s face. Only the tattoos on his fisted knuckles, flames licking between his fingers: BURN THEM. Around his feet, red and cursed against the soil, were runes glowing against the dark.

Tenn didn’t know why he was running.

Only knew he had to stop him.

“Wait!” Tenn called.

The boy didn’t wait. But as Tenn neared, he heard him speaking. Muttering to himself. His voice nearly lost in the din of the storm and the crush of toppling bones.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, his words thick with accent. “I’ll save you. I swear I’ll save you.”

The boy dropped to his knees. The ground shuddered again.

“Don’t!” Tenn yelled.

The boy pressed his hands to the ground before him. Beside the smooth tombstone. Runes and power arced over the ground, and the black soil breathed.

“Please!” Tenn yelled. He couldn’t run faster. Every step, and the distance grew. Every step, and the boy was further away. “Stop!”

The ground rumbled.

A hand scratched to the surface.

The boy looked up. Crimson flecked his eyes.

“It is too late, Tenn,” the boy growled. But not his words. The low, oceanic lilt of the Dark Lady. “He is mine.”

Fire flared.

The boy lashed out.

Tenn poured all of his magic, all of his strength, into the shield of water he thrust before him.

Fire hit water. Tenn shielded his eyes against the light, against the sizzle and steam.

And when his shield faltered, when black flame consumed him, all he heard was the boy’s laughter.

†

“No!” Tenn yelled out.

He woke, covered in sweat, the sheets tangled around him. Jarrett was there in a heartbeat, his hands on Tenn’s shoulders and his lips on the back of Tenn’s neck.

“It’s okay,” Jarrett whispered, over and over, until Tenn could finally hear the words over his own heartbeat.

Despite the fear running through his veins, that touch was enough to bring him back into his body, to make the world seem like it wasn’t necessarily crumbling.

He had Jarrett. To whatever degree, in Jarrett’s arms, he was safe.

“She has him,” Tenn gasped.

“What? Who?”

“The Dark Lady.” Tenn leaned back against Jarrett’s naked chest. Let Jarrett wraps his arms around him and squeeze him tight. “She has him. I don’t— I don’t know—“

“Shh,” Jarrett whispered. He nuzzled Tenn’s ear. “It’s okay. It was just a dream.”

But Tenn knew it was more than a dream. Ever since Matthias had stepped into his dreams and torn his world to shreds, he knew the difference between a nightmare and a premonition or vision or whatever they were. This was no night terror.

The Dark Lady wasn’t just seeking the same guy he was. She’d captured him. And Tenn knew that if he didn’t act fast, he would lose the guy entirely.

For a while, the two of them sat there, the covers wrapped around their waists and Jarrett kissing Tenn’s neck, running his hands soothingly up and down Tenn’s arms. Unlike the other rooms in the Guild, this one wasn’t below-ground. Instead, they’d gotten a refurbished office on the upper floor. Maybe because the major threat from the Howls was over. Maybe it was another perk of killing the Kin. In any case, it meant the room wasn’t sunken in shadow like those Tenn was used to. The faint light of morning filtered through thin windows along the wall, orange and reminding Tenn way too much of the flickering purgatory of his dream.

Guilt instantly flooded through him. Here he was, curled up against the love of his life, while somewhere, out there, the guy he was supposed to help was struggling against a terrible darkness.

“You can’t do anything about that right now,” Jarrett said.

“What?” Tenn asked. Had he spoken aloud?

Jarrett shifted, awkwardly moved around so he was straddling Tenn on his knees, facing him. Tenn’s eyes flickered down the full length of Jarrett’s torso, once more overwhelmed with desire and the sheer amazement that Jarrett was, for lack of a better word, his.

“I can feel it,” Jarrett said, pressing his hand to Tenn’s thudding heart. “This isn’t your fault or responsibility. Your first responsibility is to yourself.”

“I can’t expect you to understand,” Tenn began, looking away, but Jarrett gently guided Tenn’s gaze back to his.

“But I do,” Jarrett whispered. “Ever since you brought me back, I’ve felt it. Everything you feel, everything you worry about. I can feel it. Like your emotions are my own. I thought I was going crazy at first. Thought maybe I was just overtired or something. But then I spoke with Dreya, and she said…she said that what you did, bringing me back to life, it bonded us. Deeper than magic.” He pressed a little on Tenn’s chest. “I know what you feel, Tenn. Because I feel it too. And this guilt…it’s not helping anyone. We will go find him. But we have to be smart about it.” He sighed, and maybe it was Tenn’s imagination, but he could have sworn he felt something in his own chest, a flicker of Jarrett’s own resolve. And something else.

Fear.

“If the Dark Lady is talking to you in your dreams,” Jarrett said, “there’s a chance she’s just using you. Hoping you’ll make a rash decision. There’s a good chance this guy is fine. The Dark Lady might just be trying to lure you into danger.”

Tenn didn’t know what was worse—the fact that Jarrett believed his dream was more than a nightmare, or the idea that the Dark Lady was actually trying to manipulate him. He’d known for a while that she had been targeting him. At least, through her minions. Never so directly.

“It’s okay,” Jarrett continued. He moved his hand. Took Tenn’s face in his warm palms. “I’ve got you. And I’m going to protect you. I promise.”

Tears welled behind Tenn’s eyes as a sob choked the back of his chest.

He knew, looking into Jarrett’s pale eyes, that his lover meant it. He knew that no matter what, Jarrett would be there. Always his partner. Always his protector.

He wouldn’t have to be alone. Not like he’d been all this time.

“Thank you,” Tenn whispered.

“Thank you,” Jarrett said, for what felt like the thousandth time. “I love you, Tenn. Never forget that.”

“I’ll fight death itself for you.”

Jarrett smiled. “You already have.”

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Tenn’s. Tenn let his eyes flutter shut. Let the warm morning light melt away the dreams of darkness. Let Jarrett’s kiss assuage the fear.

He was safe. Safe.

They would find this stranger soon. In the meantime, he would try to convince himself that he deserved this much love.

That he deserved to feel like maybe, somehow, things would be okay.

†

They didn’t fall back asleep, and not for fear of further dreams. Jarrett’s body was a dream unto itself, and they spent the soft hours of the morning twined in each other’s arms, the only words their muffled whispers, pulses racing from desire rather than fear. And when the sun rose fully and Tenn was ready to fall back asleep, Jarrett slid from the bed and stretched before a window, muted sunlight washing across the chiseled planes of his chest, the grooves of his hips, the strong arcs of his thighs.

“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 from 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.

The moment his hand was on the knob, the car behind him revved to life and spun off.

“What the—“ Tenn began, jerking around to watch it speed off into the night.

As the door opened.

As he realized warm light spilled past from the foyer.

“Happy birthday,” Jarrett said from behind him.

Tenn turned around, his heart in his throat, to see his lover smile.

†

“I can’t believe this,” Tenn whispered.

Jarrett had led him in through the hall and into the living room, gently guiding a shell-shocked Tenn to the couch. Candles flickered on every surface, and a fire burned happily in the hearth. How had Tenn missed the smoke?

“The twins helped,” Jarrett said. “They found this place a few days ago while scouting. Helped me clean. And helped ensure we wouldn’t be interrupted.”

The room didn’t look like it was four years abandoned. Plush throw pillows adorned the sofa, mirrors and paintings glinted on the walls. Plants—albeit plastic—towered in the corners, beside bay windows overlooking a yard laden with snow and bare apple trees. Tenn couldn’t believe his eyes. Or nose. Amidst the scent of candle and wood smoke came the definitive smell of baking bread and…

“Is that turkey?”

Jarrett smiled.

“I’ve been cooking all day. And cleaning. Hopefully I haven’t forgotten how to the do the former.”

Jarrett himself had changed from his Hunter’s garb. Dark jeans, fuzzy socks, a thick cardigan. With his hair pulled back in a messy ponytail and the apron around his waist, he looked right at home.

“I don’t understand,” Tenn said. He was trying to understand, but his brain couldn’t wrap around this scene. The warmth. The light. The cozy scent of cooking.

“It’s your birthday,” Jarrett said. He picked up a bottle of wine from the coffee table and poured a glass. “I wanted to give you something special.”

He handed Tenn the glass and poured one for himself.

“I know how much you miss this sort of life,” Jarrett said. “So I wanted to give you a taste of what we were working for. Of what we would some day have.”

He smiled, and Water opened within Tenn’s stomach.

But this time, the treacherous Sphere didn’t dredge up hurt and sorrow.

It pulled forth love. Filled him to the brim.

Tears welled behind Tenn’s eyes. For the first time, this life felt possible.

No. It felt probable.

“Happy birthday, my love,” Jarrett said, raising his glass. “Here’s to us.”

Tenn raised his glass, his heart full as he looked into the eyes of the man he knew he would spend the rest of his life with. The man he would always fight for.

The man who would always fight for him.

“To us.”

†

Don’t forget to pre-order

RUNEBREAKER

(Winter 2018) today!

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For exclusive art and world information (including the latest short story) visit

http://www.runebinder.com

or follow the author on Instagram @ARKahler

Other works by Alex R. Kahler

THE IMMORTAL CIRCUS trilogy

THE IMMORTAL CIRCUS

THE IMMORTAL CIRCUS: ACT TWO

THE IMMORTAL CIRCUS: FINAL ACT

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THE PALE QUEEN trilogy

(spinoff to THE IMMORTAL CIRCUS)

PALE QUEEN RISING

COLD DREAM DAWNING

BLACK ICE BURNING

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THE RAVENBORN SAGA

SHADES OF DARKNESS

ECHOES OF MEMORY

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THE RUNEBINDER CHRONICLES

RUNEBINDER

TENN (short story)

RUNEBREAKER (Winter ’18)

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more details at http://www.arkahler.com/