Martyr (40 page)

“We intervened,” the guy said. He held out a gloved hand. Tenn looked between him and Dreya, his gaze wary. He wasn't sure he like the word
intervened
. “I'm Baird,” the guy continued. His hand still hovered in the air. “I'm the commander of this guild.”

“A guild,” Tenn said. He squeezed his eyes shut. The light was getting to be too much.

“Yeah,” Baird said. “A few days east of Leanna's compound.”

Tenn couldn't do this right now. He knew he should question Baird about where they were and what they were doing so close to Leanna's lair and how the guy had saved them in the first place. But he couldn't. All he could do was stare at the black of his closed eyelids and try to shove the screaming down. Leanna's throat, crumbling under his fingertips. Tomás's smile. And Jarrett, Jarrett…slumped against the wall as his last breath faded.
Oh gods, what have I done?

“He needs his sleep,” Dreya said. “We must let him rest.”

“Of course,” Baird said.

“I will be right outside,” Dreya whispered in his ear. There was a shuffle of footsteps, and the open and close of a door. Tenn floated in the silence, weighted down only by the chains wrapped around his heart.

He had killed Matthias without a thought. He had killed Leanna with his bare hands. He should have felt vindicated. He should have felt a weight lift off of his shoulders because he had done what he had set out to do. He'd gotten revenge. And the runes.

But he had lost Jarrett. He had killed his own love. And none of the other things, none of the revenge or bloodshed meant anything, not anymore. Because none of it would bring his lover back.

He was no better than the monsters he was sworn to hunt.

Tears slid down his face, hot and furious. His body shook. But he fought it off. Crying wouldn't help anyone.

But what now? They were in a guild somewhere. Tomás was still running amok. And he himself was still being played. He knew that. He knew it was just beginning. Unbidden, the words of the Prophet scratched themselves down his spine.
The Dark Lady will own you. And when she does, she will burn the world with your hands
.

Pain squeezed his chest.

He wanted it over.

Somehow.

He just wanted it to be over.

“Why are you crying?”

His eyes snapped open. It wasn't a voice he recognized.

He sat up and looked over. There, right beside the chair, was a child. A girl dressed in purple rags. A girl with eyes the color of the moon.

Tenn didn't answer her question. “Who are you?” he asked instead. She shivered, though the room was almost uncomfortably warm.

“They're talking again,” the Voice said. She looked down to her grubby hands. Her words sent chills racing across his skin. “They're saying your name.”

“Who?”

“They say you're killing us,” she continued, ignoring the question. “They say you're helping
him
.”

“I don't know what you're—”

She looked him dead in the eye, cutting him off.

“He will destroy us all,” she said. “Unless you stop him.”

Tenn took a deep breath. And then, he pictured the tracking rune he had burned into Tomás's heart. The signal was faint and growing farther away by the moment. It shamed him to admit how relieved he felt.

“He's long gone,” he said. “He's not coming back.”

The girl shook her head.

“Not the incubus,” she said. “There is someone else.”

“Who? Another Kin?”

“No.”

She reached out and put a tiny hand on his wrist. Her touch felt like static and oil, the grease of something unbearably tarnished. Lights flashed across his vision, and he was back. Back in the cave with the flickering light. Back with the words of the Ancients ringing in his ear.

And back with the image he had managed to forget. The boy with the black hair and rings in his lip. The boy whose copper eyes glittered like constellations. The boy who somehow felt like a mirror.

“
He
is your other half,” the Ancients whispered. And it wasn't just the Ancients. It was the little girl at his side in the lamp-lit room, her fingers digging into his skin. The statement filled him with anger, with denial. He'd just lost his other half. He'd just lost Jarrett. There was no one else…

“You must find him. Save him,” she said. Her words burned as bright as his indignation. “Before you damn us all.”

Acknowledgments

This book has been in some stage of production since I was fourteen.

At this very moment, that is half my life ago.

What began as a story told around the lunchroom table soon branched out in a dozen different directions—late-night cosplays, comedies about a fuzzy blue minion and his necromancer boss, high-fantasy epics, and eventually, the oh-so-very-different book you hold in your hands. Fourteen years of development and input. Fourteen years of people to thank.

So here is the very abbreviated list. I am probably forgetting many.

First, to Laurie McLean, for being the greatest ally I could ask for. This was the book that brought her into my life, and I'm so grateful for it. She and everyone at Foreword Literary have been my saviors.

To Patricia Riley, for taking the chance and being the first to turn my dreams of being a published author into a reality. And, of course, to everyone at Spencer Hill Press for turning this story into a work of art. Your enthusiasm has meant the world.

To Asja Parrish, for her unwavering enthusiasm and editing prowess.

To my family, for their support and excitement throughout the entire process. It's been a long road.

To my friends over the years and continents who have read and loved and helped this tale grow. To Beatrice Schares, for the support and beautiful fan art. To Will St. Clair Taylor, for constantly inspiring me with zany ideas. To Delilah Dawson and Julie Kagawa for being plain amazing. And to Adam and Julie, for making Glasgow a second home.

To Danielle Dreger and Danny Marks, for welcoming me to the Seattle writing community.

To my amazing cover designer, Hafsah at IceyDesigns, for integrating all my crazy input and creating such beauty.

To everyone who told me the world was ready for fantasy stories with gay protagonists. Thank you for giving me footing. And to everyone who said the time wasn't right. Thank you for giving me something to overcome.

And finally to you, my friend and reader, for coming along on this journey. You're the real reason I'm writing.

About the Author

Alex is many things, but first and foremost, he's a Sagittarius. This means he generally has a hundred projects on his plate. He also doesn't sit still. Ever.

Born in Iowa and educated across the States, he's taught aerial fabric in Amsterdam, gotten madly lost in the Scottish wilderness, drummed with Norse shamans, and received his masters in Creative Writing from Glasgow University. And that's just within the last few years.

Kahler's published works include
The Immortal Circus
trilogy and the upcoming
Ravenborn
series. He also wrote
Love is in the Air
as Alex R. Kahler.

When he's not writing or exploring or climbing in the rafters, he's probably drinking coffee. And seeing as he currently resides in Seattle, there's coffee aplenty.

Follow his travels at
www.arkahler.com
or find him on Twitter @ARKahler.