Martyr (17 page)

“We will leave you,” the Priestess said, her voice hinting that it was by choice and not command. “But I will be waiting outside should you need anything. Soon, when the threat of danger has passed, we will bring you back. But before that happens, the Prophets wish to speak with you.”

He didn't look up from the obsidian floor as they left. He heard a door open and close, and the room fell into a deeper silence. Silent, save for Jarrett's face in his mind, Jarrett calling out his name.

“What brought you here from Davenport?” Jarrett asked. They stood in Cassandra's office, waiting for her to return with some paperwork so Tenn could be sorted into a room and begin training. It was well past midnight and most of the guild was asleep. Jarrett stood beside him in sweatpants and a ragged sweater, his blond hair mussed like he'd just woken up. Tenn tried not to stare. The last thing he needed the first day at the guild was to be singled out for crushing on the second-in-command
.

Tenn shrugged
.

“I was out on assignment. Scavenging mission. I was gone for a couple days. By the time I got back, the entire guild had gone up in smoke.”

“I'm sorry,” Jarrett said. It wasn't the well-practiced apology they'd all had to perfect in the last year—after the Resurrection, there seemed to be a lot of condolences to pass around. Jarrett actually seemed to care. It made Tenn's heart flutter
.

“It's fine,” Tenn said. “I'd only been there a month. I haven't stayed in the same place for too long.”

“Looking for something?”

Tenn looked down. “I don't think so. Not anymore.”

“Family?”

He nodded
.

“I'm sorry,” Jarrett said again
.

“It's okay.”

“No. It's not.” He took a deep breath. “I hope you find something worth sticking around for. Wandering is lonely business.”

Tenn chanced a glance. Jarrett was looking straight at him. Could it be?

“That'd be nice,” he said
.

Then Cassandra came in, carrying a stack of papers, leaving a dozen unanswered questions hanging in the air
.

Tenn gasped, like a drowned man finding air, as Water let go. He was sobbing, curled in a ball on the smooth, warm floor. One breath, that was all he got, and then the tide dragged him under.

“I don't think this is right,” Tenn said. He sat in the chair in the corner of the room, unable to watch Jarrett pacing back and forth. Jarrett had been away on a week-long mission. Tenn had stayed behind. Plenty of time to think. Too much time
.

“What are you talking about?” he asked
.

“This,” Tenn said. “Us.”

“Us?” Jarrett stopped pacing. The arrow hit its mark. Deep in Tenn's stomach, Water curled and uncurled like a cobra in its basket
.

“Us,” Tenn repeated. “It's not…it's not healthy.”

“I don't understand.”

Tenn let his voice drop, fell into the words he'd been forcing himself to repeat over and over again while Jarrett was away, no matter how much they hurt
.

“There's no room for love anymore. Not in this world. Love is weakness.”

“This isn't you,” Jarrett said. “I know you're not telling me the truth.”

“I am.”

Jarrett stepped over and fell on his knees in front of him. He took Tenn's hands and held them in his
.

“Look at me,” Jarrett said. It was almost a plea
.

Tenn did
.

“I'm sorry I was gone,” Jarrett said. His eyes punched a hole in Tenn's heart. This wasn't how the conversation was supposed to go. Jarrett wasn't supposed to feel guilty. He was supposed to see the logic, the inevitability—one of them would die on one of these missions. It would be so much easier to end the pain now before it began
.

“It's not that,” Tenn said. Words were twisting in his mouth. It didn't help that he didn't want to say any of them. “I just…” He sighed and looked back down. Water throbbed like a bruise. His eyes began to tear
.

“I know,” Jarrett said. “I thought about you. Every single day I was gone. How much it would hurt if I was in your shoes, waiting. It would drive me insane. That's why I spoke to Cassandra. No more missions apart. Ever. Just…please, don't do this.”

“But what happens if…when…”

Jarrett squeezed his hands even harder
.

“I'm not going to lose you,” he said. “I'm not going to stop fighting for you. That's a promise.” Jarrett kissed his hands, and Tenn fell forward, sobbing as Jarrett reached around and pulled him close. “I love you, Tenn,” he said. “No matter what, I will always fight for you.”

Water faded in a haze of tears and sweat, shaking him like he was caught in the rapids.

He could barely breathe. He choked at oxygen, clawed at the floor. Water was a torrent within him, a rage of anguish he couldn't contend with. It pummeled him, tore him, thrashed him against the rocks of his own misery.

He'd abandoned Jarrett. Jarrett, who would never have given up on him. Jarrett, who would never have left the fight. Never. And Tenn had let himself get taken away. He'd watched as Jarrett leaped from the building. All to save him. All to defend him. All for nothing.

Jarrett was dead because of him.

The list of the dead staining his soul was longer than he could imagine, but that didn't keep his mind from unearthing the names. He clawed his fingers to his face, sobs stabbing from his chest. He wanted to tear it all away. He didn't even want to die. He just wanted to hurt.

“Now, now, Tenn, crying won't help,” came a voice. “Your pain is your greatest strength.”

At first, he thought it was a memory, another washed-up vision of the past. There was no way that voice could have been here, deep in the heart of the Priests' temple—wherever that was—surrounded by the strongest, most perceptive mages in history. Impossible. He curled in tighter, wishing the hallucination away. But the voice grew closer.

“If you want revenge,” it whispered into his ear, “you'll have to take it.”

Tomás.

17

Tenn
was too far gone to care. He stayed curled on the floor even as Tomás put one burning-cold hand on his shoulder.

“I can help you,” Tomás said.

“Go away.”

“You're hurt. I understand that. But let's be honest—we both knew Jarrett was nothing but dead weight. Oops, my apologies. A bad choice of words.”

Tenn burst to his feet. Tears still streamed in his eyes, but agony turned to rage. Yes, he wanted to hurt. He wanted to hurt like hell. But he wanted everyone else to hurt as well.

He shoved Tomás to the side.

“Don't you dare,” Tenn hissed.

His hands were clenched. He knew he couldn't use magic, not without alerting everyone around that something was wrong, but he was perfectly fine beating the bastard to a pulp without it. Tomás took a few steps back, a surprised grin on his face. He was in faded grey jeans and a loose white button-down. Leather bracelets wrapped up each of his wrists, and his pointed boots made clacking noises against the floor. He held his hands out to the sides, a sign of submission. Tenn wanted to rip him apart.

“Did I hit a nerve?” Tomás asked, a grin still splashed across his face.

“I'll kill you,” Tenn said. Red filled his vision—red overlaid with Jarrett's face moments before he leaped. “You did this to me. You're the reason he's dead!”

He ran at Tomás, swinging a fist. Tomás ducked and turned in one smooth motion, catching Tenn's arm and twisting it behind his back. Tenn's arm went cold and numb immediately. Tomás held him there, immobilized, his shoulder a moment away from snapping out of its socket.

Tomás leaned in and whispered into his ear, “Don't fuck with me, Tenn. I've kept you alive because I like you, but that doesn't mean I'll tolerate such rudeness.” He bit Tenn's ear and wrenched his arm just a little further. “I had no hand in your lover's death, pain me as that does. I've saved your ass more times than I care to count. Don't make me regret it.”

“I'd rather die than have you help me again. A Howl that thinks he's a god is still a Howl.”

Tomás blazed heat. It burned and seared and froze Tenn's skin as Tomás screamed in his ear, “How dare you call me that!”

With a yell, he jerked Tenn's arm further, snapping his humerus in one quick motion and throwing him to the floor. Tenn winced and looked up at Tomás. The man was transformed. The air around him quivered and glowed red like a hellish mirage. His lips pulled back in a sneer, his canines bared and more pronounced than normal. His clothes and hair seemed to billow in the storm of his rage. Tenn didn't cower. Without Jarrett, he had nothing to live for. He watched Tomás and held his broken arm and waited to die.

“You're still a monster,” Tenn said. “Look at yourself.”

And then, just like that, a switch snapped. The aura around Tomás disappeared, the flame in his eyes winked out. He slouched down to his knees.

“He thinks I'm a monster,” he whispered. “A monster. I'm a monster.” He looked up at Tenn. “I hurt you.” He shook his head and stared at the wall. “No, he deserved to be hurt. He dared insult me.” Another shake of the head, a flicker of red aura. “He deserved pain.” His entire body shuddered this time, like something was trying to escape. When he looked back to Tenn, his face was carefully composed, perfectly arranged.

“I'm sorry,” he said. He clutched one hand to the side of his face. “Sometimes. Sometimes it's hard to…” He shook his head. “We can't fight what we are, Tenn. Not forever. Not even you. We're a lot alike, you know. You burn. You burn even brighter than me.” He reached out and touched Tenn's heart. The Sphere of Fire flared under Tomás's fingertip, made Tenn's breath catch. “You'll burn the whole world, given half the chance.” He removed his finger and sat back, staring at Tenn like a sad specimen. Tenn's whole body ached for that touch, for the hate and passion that seemed to ooze from Tomás's skin. He wanted to burn forever.

“Why. Are. You. Here?” Tenn asked, biting hard on each word to keep his body in control. His broken arm ached, but he knew the moment he opened to Earth to heal it, they'd have even more company. How this entire interaction was evading the Prophets' notice either spoke poorly of their skills or frighteningly of Tomás's power.

A confused look passed over Tomás's face, as though he weren't so certain of that himself. It passed in a heartbeat as the perfect mold of composure slipped back into place.

“I am here,” he said, his words their usual purr. He leaned a bit closer, putting his weight on one hand like a prowling cat. “Because I know what you want. You want revenge.”

“I want Jarrett back,” Tenn said.

“We can't always get what we want!” Tomás snapped, another flare of energy whirling and settling around him. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath.

“I am here,” he said, his eyes still closed, “because I can help you fight back. I know how to reach Leanna. I know her weaknesses. You can't get your
lover
back. I know how that feels. I would rip the head off whoever did that to me.” He smirked, the tone of condolence fading. “I
did
, actually. It felt amazing.”

“Why would you help me?” Tenn asked.

“I have my reasons,” Tomás said quickly, as though those reasons were of the utmost secrecy. “Jarrett would have wanted this, you know. He would have wanted you to defend him. Do you think, if roles were reversed, he would have let your killer live?”

Anger roiled through Tenn's veins. A hundred curses whipped across his tongue—
you didn't know him, don't ever mention him, he was too good
—but the truth hit him like a stone to the chest. He knew Jarrett. And yes, if the roles had been reversed, Jarrett would never have stopped looking for his killer, not until every Howl and necromancer had paid for what they'd done.
I'll never stop fighting for you
, Jarrett had sworn. He deserved the same. Tomás seemed to read his thoughts. His sneer widened, and he crept a few inches closer. Heat coursed through Tenn's body as images floated through his mind—tearing Matthias limb from limb, stabbing the unknown Leanna through the chest. Tomás's visage seemed to echo over all of it, like some heathen god of destruction.

“Yes,” he hissed. “That's the fire. Jarrett deserves your anger. Your retribution. Fight for him.”

Tenn shook his head against the visions of blood.

“What do you want from me? From this?” Tomás was by his side now, his face inches away. His copper-flecked eyes glinted in the candlelight.

“Let's just say Leanna and I have a score to settle. You help me kill her, and I'll help you get your revenge. We both get what we want.” Tomás leaned in, gently brushed Tenn's cheek with a hand. Goosebumps tingled under that touch. “And if you're like me, you want a lot. It's about time we got what we wanted, wouldn't you agree?”

His eyes burned into Tenn's. In that moment, Tenn couldn't decide if he wanted to rip the man apart or rip off his clothes or both.

He nodded. He couldn't be certain what would come out if he opened his mouth.

“I thought you would see things my way.” Tomás leaned back. “I can't do anything to help you here. Too dangerous.”

Tenn didn't ask why Tomás wanted to kill his own sister. He didn't ask why Tomás didn't just do it himself. He didn't ask because he wanted that victory to be his.

If he couldn't have Jarrett back, Tenn would make damn sure that the bastards who did this to him would suffer. All of them.