Martyr (39 page)

“I must go help my brother,” she said. She looked up and faced him again. Her eyes were searching. Pleading. “You must finish this.”

“I can't—”

She raised a finger to his lips.

“I've seen what you can do, the force you have become. Your pain gives you strength,” she said. Another chill swept through him. Did she know she was repeating Tomás's words? “And that will help you win this fight. Just don't let your pain consume you.”

He nodded and looked across the town. Every inch of the mountainside was in flames. For a heart-stopping moment, he wondered how much was Devon's and how much was the necromancers'.

“How will you go?” he asked.

She smiled. Air flickered in her throat. It was faint, barely a trace of its normal strength, but the wind still whipped around her and sent her white coat fluttering.

“I'm not exhausted. Yet.” She lifted herself up, hovered a few inches above the ground with her hair a halo of pale silver around her. “Good luck,” she said. “We will see you on the other side.”

And with that, she shot through the air like an arrow, speeding toward her brother.

It wasn't until he turned to find the Kin that he realized her parting words were far from comforting.

Tomás was near, that much was certain—the incubus' tracking rune glowed in Tenn's mind, a red lace against the fibers of the Howl's heart. Tenn ran around to the back of the house. His body screamed with protest, but he shut it down, deep in the recesses he usually reserved for silencing Water's screams. Those, he let loose. If ever there was a time to drown in the wrongs he had suffered, in the rage he wanted so badly to unleash on the world, it was now.

He found the Kin in a courtyard. The house formed a horseshoe around a cleared space that had, at one time, been beautiful. Now it was the scene of an eerily silent apocalypse.

Every window facing the yard was shattered and gaping, shards of glass sticking from the churned mud like incisors. Chunks of concrete jutted from the soil, along with toppled trees and statuary. The earth itself rippled like static waves in a black sea. And in the center of it all was Tomás. He stood on a dais of marble, his pink shirt torn open and his jeans in tatters.

And there at his feet, lying in a circle of frost and snapped icicles, was Leanna. Tenn thought she was dead. He stopped in his tracks and stared at them. Tomás glared down at his sister, his chest heaving, his whole body shaking. For a moment, he thought the man was broken and in mourning. Then the sound of thunder faded, and he realized Tomás was laughing.

“Worthless, she said,” he cackled. His voice made Tenn take a step back. He'd seen Tomás upset. Now he seemed unhinged. “Who is worthless now? Dear, dear sister, how sweet you look like this.” He knelt down, one knee crushing into her chest. She gasped, and Tenn felt his lungs expand. “Now who is helpless, sister dear? Now whose heart is made of ice?”

It happened so fast. Tomás's hand snapped forward, quicker than lightning, and Leanna spasmed. His wrist was sunk deep in her chest. She didn't bleed. She just arched against his hand, a soft cry escaping her lips. Another snap motion, and he pulled his arm back in a spray of broken bone and old blood. He held something up in the red twilight.

Her heart.

Tenn watched in horror as Tomás's fingers clenched the red muscle. It didn't beat, not like in the movies. Instead, the crimson flesh turned black under his fingertips. It was only when it began to crush in his grip, falling to the ground in sand-fine wisps, that Tenn realized Tomás had frozen it. Tomás let the last of the shards filter through his fingers before standing. He looked down at his sister, who still writhed on her bed of ice. Then he turned his head, ever so slowly, and stared straight at Tenn.

“I had hoped,” he said, hopping off the dais and taking a limping step toward him, “that you would arrive in time to see that.” He snickered and his whole body convulsed. The air around him shivered red.

“She fought well, my sister. So very well. But you know what they say—revenge is best served
cold.”

Tenn took a half-step back. The roar in his head faltered, his heart thudding in his chest. With every step closer, the air around Tenn grew both colder and hotter, sending sweat and chills down his skin. He was weaponless, exhausted.

He would die.

“She's not
dead
, of course. I couldn't do that. What would they say?
Tomás, Tomás, youngest brother, what have you done?
Hah!” He did a little jump, and Tenn actually started. “I saved the rest for you, little Hunter. I saved you the best part.”

Tenn looked past Tomás briefly, to where Leanna lay frozen on the ground. How was she still alive? Could the Kin even be killed?

“Ah, he wonders now.” Tomás's voice was singsong. Demented. He cocked his head to the side and paused a few feet away. Tenn's heart raged with fear and revulsion and desire. The damn incubus was still toying with him. “He wonders why. Why why why me? Why must
I
be the one who kills the beast? And
how?
When I couldn't save sweet
Jarrett
.”

Tenn grit his teeth.

“Don't say his name,” he hissed. Water surged within him. He shook his head, forced down the images of his lover's face.

“Why? He's dead. Dead dead dead! Just like my sister will be. Just like the rest of them.” He chuckled again, another spasm that seemed to shake Tomás to his bones. When he composed himself, he looked at Tenn with a satisfied flatness in his eyes, his lip quirked in the smallest sneer.

“Thou art the reaper,” he said grimly, “and the world shall bleed at thy hands.”

“I'm sick of playing your games,” Tenn hissed.

“But we've just started to play,” Tomás said. His grin widened.

The next moment, he was on Tenn, forcing him to the ground and pinning his arms to his sides. The ground was cold and wet beneath him, but Tenn's skin burned at Tomás's touch. The Howl's face was just inches from his own, only a few, delectable inches. Tenn gritted his teeth and looked to the side, to where Leanna was sprawled on the ground much like he was. In spite of the heat roaring off the incubus, the ground around them cracked with cold.

“Now he sees,” Tomás said, half to himself. “Now he sees my power. Now they
all
will see my power!”

“You're insane,” Tenn said.

“Those who hear not the music,” Tomás replied. As another roar filled the sky, he chuckled, sitting back on Tenn's chest to look to the heavens. Somewhere out there, Tenn heard the unmistakable sound of tornadoes. At least Dreya had made it to her brother safely.

“If you're going to kill me, just do it,” Tenn said. He forced himself to look Tomás in the face, forced down the whirl of emotions that the damned incubus stirred in his chest. Oh, how he wanted to rip the man apart, just as much as he wanted to rip off his clothes and make him scream in other ways. Tenn's heart hurt as Tomás's empty Sphere tugged.

“Kill you?” Tomás said. His head tilted to the other side. “Why would I kill the man who will rule beside me as king?” His words were smooth, remarkably sane in spite of the madness in his glowing copper eyes. He reached down and gently placed his hand against Tenn's jaw. The movement was so intimate Tenn wanted to vomit.

“We will be gods,” Tomás said. “Can't you see? Consider this the day of your ascension.”

Then, before Tenn could grasp what he was saying, Tomás bent down and kissed him.

The Howl's lips were cinnamon and fire, the bite of brimstone and ice. It sent chills through Tenn's skin, traced waves of blinding heat down his spine. He wanted to resist. Wanted to hate the monster that had torn his whole world apart. He wanted to. Every cell of him wanted to fight, to avenge Jarrett's name.

But under the magic of the incubus, he felt his resolve give way. Every pulse was a roar in his veins, every second a floating eternity. His back arched against his will, his whole body desiring to be closer, to lose itself in an embrace that tore everything else away. The world around them faded, everything distilled to their lips, to Tomás's burning hand on his face. The world was red and black and frosted like Hell, and Tenn melted. The fear. The anger. The desire for revenge. All of it burned to ash.

When Tomás pulled up, he smiled down at Tenn with a smoldering light in his eyes. Tenn's head swam. His lips tingled. Tomás stood in one smooth motion and reached down, helped Tenn to his feet. Tenn didn't resist. He floated in a world of static and heat. The ground beneath his feet was light as clouds. He let Tomás guide him over to where Leanna rested on her bed of ice. Her dark hair stuck to the ground, frosted around her head like dead veins. There was a hole in her ribcage, but it didn't bleed. It didn't repulse him. Her dull eyes flickered. They were skimmed over, cloudy, but they fixed on Tenn and widened.

“Do it,” Tomás whispered, his lips brushing promises against Tenn's ear. Tenn's heart soared. “Her broken Sphere is the only thing keeping her alive. Rip it out.”

Tenn knelt at Leanna's side, Tomás's hands on his shoulders. Leanna tried to open her mouth, but her lips were frosted shut. Her skin was dusted with white.

He could feel her twisted Sphere. Air still hungered in her throat, still tried to steal the breath from his lungs. He reached down in a haze. Her flesh was colder than ice beneath his grip, but he barely felt it, not with Tomás so near. The incubus burned like a sun, and Tenn floated in the waves.

Leanna didn't scream when Tenn dug his fingers into her throat. She couldn't.

Her flesh gave way as easily as burnt paper, crisping and collapsing. He jerked his hands, and her throat caved in on itself as ash. Leanna's eyes fluttered wide. Then they rolled back in her head, and her body paled as ivory as the whites of her eyes.

“You have done well, my prince,” Tomás whispered into his ear. He felt the man sink beside him, wrapping his arms around Tenn's chest and stomach, holding him tight to the inferno. Tenn burned in bliss. “One down. Four to go.”

The monster kissed the back of Tenn's neck, made fire swell across his skin. Tenn shivered with sudden cold. His eyes shut on their own accord.

He felt his heart panic as Tomás drained his heat with the press of his lips. But it was mild, distant. None of it mattered, not so long as Tomás was there. Then his heart slowed. Stopped.

Before he could wonder if it would ever beat again, the world went dark and numb.

43

Darkness
everywhere.

His ears filled with screams, with people calling his name. Pain, so distant. The constant jumble of motion.

He spun through it all, blind, blissful, floating in a torrent of fire that wracked his body with cold. But he didn't mind. He barely noticed.

Because in that void, Tomás was ever at his side. And together, they ruled the nothingness as kings.

44

Agony
ripped through him the moment he opened his eyes. It was a pain that went deeper than the fire in his bones and the gut-deep scream that made him feel his flesh was being ripped apart. The pain was also a memory, the memory of giving in to Tomás, of letting the Howl win.

That
memory crashed against him along with the waking world, so sure and instant he saw Tomás nuzzled against him, heard the after-trace of his words echo in his ear:
my prince, my prince, my prince
.

What have I done?

“You're alive,” came a voice. It bled through the pain, forced the room into focus. Tenn found himself reclined in what felt like a dentist's chair. Old hurricane lamps cast a fluttering yellow light over the otherwise shadow-filled room. Only one shape stood out in the dark, glowing and white like an angel.

“Dreya,” Tenn said. His voice was harsh. It felt like using another person's throat.

Dreya stepped forward. She wasn't in the white coat and dirty jeans from when he'd last seen her. No, she was wearing a dress.

“I must be dreaming,” he muttered. He let his head fall back into the chair and shut his eyes. “Dreya doesn't wear dresses.”

“Fool,” she said, the twist of a grin lingering in her voice. He felt her hand against his temple. The touch was light as a feather and cool, but it was solid.

“Where are we?” Tenn asked. “What happened?” He squeezed the arms of the chair. His body hurt like hell, but he knew there was no magic that could heal it. There were memories fighting against the pain, memories beneath the knowledge of what he had done. Memories he had no intention of realizing.

“We are safe,” she said. Tenn laughed.
Safe. Right
. “As for what happened…”

Something rustled in the corner of the room, the sound of fabric and footsteps. Tenn looked over.

The man who emerged from the shadows looked like he was Tenn's age; he was battle-scarred, with short brown hair, wire-rimmed glasses, and a light beard. He wore khaki pants and a pale Henley.