Martyr (5 page)

Neither of the twins spoke as they stood there, waiting. He hadn't expected anything else, and he hadn't tried to broach any subject. The silence was far from comfortable, but at least the twins weren't accusing him of anything. Their stares had been bad enough.

He stiffened when Dreya walked up next to him. For the longest time she stood by his shoulder, staring out at the abandoned town. She was almost a head shorter than him, though she always seemed much taller.

“I hear you have encountered Tomás,” she said. Her voice was sharp, her words absolutely precise. Just like the rest of her.

“Yes,” he said. He didn't even bother asking her how she'd found out.

In truth, Tomás was all he could think about—the glint in his eyes, the way his hands had felt when they gripped Tenn's skin. Just the thought made his pulse race with fear and desire. He tried to keep Jarrett's face firmly in mind, a ward against this new demon—blue eyes, blond hair, golden skin, the antithesis of Tomás's dark, Mediterranean features. But somehow, his thoughts always returned to Tomás. Tomás, who seemed to stare at him more intently than anyone ever had before. He knew it was just the effects of the incubus's charm, but it still made him feel like a traitor.

“That is very odd,” she said.

No shit
, he wanted to say.

“I know,” he said instead.

“Do you not think it strange,” she asked, “that we have been brought all the way out here just to stop an army?”

Tenn shrugged. The fact that they were having a true conversation unnerved him almost as much as Tomás's presence. Everything was flipping on its head today.

“I try not to question the Prophets,” he said. “It's safer that way.”

She laughed. It was light, almost girlish, but there was a note of something darker.

“Then you are most wise. Still, I must wonder… why have we been brought out here? There are other strongholds, much closer than ours. Surely they could have sent a team.”

The thought
had
occurred to him in the early days of the assignment. Their home base in Outer Chicago was a good hundred miles from this small Michigan town, and there were other bases near Grand Rapids and Detroit. Smaller, yes, but much closer. So why
had
they been sent out here?

Like with most things, he didn't question. The Prophets moved them where they wished, and the Hunters followed orders. Their duty was to protect the living. So long as the Prophets' directives matched that one aim, the Hunters acquiesced.

Dreya didn't question further. She didn't have the chance.

Fire blossomed on the horizon, a red stain on night's canvas. Thunder roared overhead.

“That is the first line,” Dreya said. She looked to Tenn. In this new light, her hair glinted rose. “The army is near.”

Tenn closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He'd spent the last week waiting for the executioner's ax to fall, and here it was at last.

Dreya walked back to her brother, who stood with his hands clenched at his side, his eyes narrowed. Neither of them carried a weapon; their powers were weapons enough. Tenn ground the point of his staff into the concrete, let his adrenaline fire on all cylinders. The red on the horizon seeped closer, the whole town illuminated in its ghostly light. Tenn could sense the magic even from here. Somewhere out there, the necromancers were pulling out their big guns and spurring their army with fire and fear. Tenn counted the seconds in his head, like counting the space between lightning and thunder. He counted the seconds until death arrived.

Deep in the pit of his stomach, the Sphere of Water simmered.

Flames leaped higher, burning through the fields and stretching to the clouds above. The wall of flame burned white-hot, speeding toward the city in a ravenous wave. Years ago, magic had turned the tides of war. It wasn't the most powerful who walked away from battle anymore, but the quickest. For the briefest moment, he felt fear prick the back of his neck at the thought that, this time, they hadn't been quick enough. He prayed his comrades in the field had shielded themselves. He prayed Jarrett was close to base. The fire splashed closer, only a mile away. Its roar chilled his bones, and its heat threatened to melt him.

And then, behind him, the twins began to sing.

The sound sent chills up his spine, and he turned and glanced at them, the fire momentarily forgotten. The twins stood there, heads tilted back and hands outstretched. They were attuned to the elements of the tempest, and like many Air mages, they wove their magic with their voices. The Spheres blazed in them like ghostly lights—the slow blue of Water in their stomachs, the fierce red of Fire in their chests, and the swirling vortex of yellow-blue Air in their throats. Most mages could only handle the power of wielding one or two Spheres. The twins were terrifying exceptions to the rule. Air flared in the twins' throats, and lightning crackled across the sky, a pulse of blue light that shattered in a dome above them, spider-webbing down to the earth. Tenn looked back just in time to see the necromancer's fire billow closer, only seconds away. He winced.

Fire hit the invisible shield, billowed across it with all the power of Hell before burning out into nothing. He blinked hard, tried to get the sear of fire from his eyes. When his vision cleared, he saw the army.

They swarmed like a plague across the field, a black tide that screamed and howled like demons. More fires billowed around them, but none broke past the twins' shield. Yet. It was time. Tenn opened to the Spheres.

Earth surged in his pelvis, pulled him down through the concrete of the high rise, rooted him to the soil. He could sense the flesh of every creature, could taste their decaying feet on the earth as they ran. The Howls were hungry. Their empty, ulcerated stomachs burned with his; their need for flesh brought bile to his throat. Water opened under his fingertips, and he could feel the water in their blood, the droplets covering their festering skin. Then Water took over, and his head swam as the traitorous Sphere pulled him under.

“We're so proud of you,” Mom said, hugging him one last time. They stood outside the dormitory, Dad idling the car in the street. Dad never liked goodbyes; one quick hug had been enough for him. “You're going to be great.”

Tenn took a deep breath. He wanted to cry, wanted to tell her to take him back home, to lie and say he didn't want to learn about the Spheres and magic, even though a week ago it was all he could think about. The buildings were too big, the other kids too loud. Home was too far away, and no magic, no power could be worth this much hurt
.

“I love you,” she said. One more hug. She was trying so hard not to cry. “I'll see you soon. Over winter break.”

He tried to stem his tears while she turned and walked back to the car. The dorm-mother shuffled up behind him and put her hand on his shoulder. “It's okay, son,” she said. “You'll see her again before you know it.”

Lies
.

The Howls had seen to that
.

“Shut up!” he screamed.

His words ripped through the memory and slammed him—throbbing and raw—back to the battle, back to the roof of the hotel and the screams of the monsters now crashing against the shield. He knelt on the ground, hands pressed to his head. The memory pulsed in his ears like a migraine. The visions were becoming stronger. He pushed them down, buried them under Earth.

He
was in charge. Not the Spheres.

He grabbed his staff from where it had clattered to the ground and pushed himself to standing. He couldn't trust Water, not now, so he reached his senses deep into Earth and pushed the power out.

The ground rippled. Just outside the shield, a wave of soil burst up and spilled out, sending Howls and their human slave-drivers stumbling. It was a small act of magic, but Earth sapped him fast. Too fast. His fingers were already shaking. If he used much more, he'd drain himself completely.

His wasn't the first attack, but it heralded the maelstrom. Outside the shield, the air turned to fury. Lightning flashed down like spears of angry gods, piercing Howls and necromancers and filling his ears with thunder. More fires raged, these spurred by the powers of his friends, flames hungry for undead flesh. The sky swirled faster as great funnel clouds sank from the heavens and roared across the plains. He could feel the power of his comrades, feel the magic racing through the air as they struggled to hold their ground. It was enough magic to level cities.

Electric-blue cracks spiked along the shield where Howls threw themselves upon it. He gripped the staff tighter. More cracks shattered, raining sparks down onto the torn asphalt. He waited. If they could just kill off enough…

Devon gasped.

The shield above them shattered with the sound of breaking glass, blue sparks raining down like snowflakes. With a resounding scream of triumph, the Howls broke through.

“What happened?” Tenn yelled. He ran over to Dreya's side, to where she cradled her unconscious brother. The town erupted in flames, the earth shaking with magical tremors. This magic, he knew, wasn't fighting for his side.

Dreya's eyes were wide.

“I do not know,” she whispered. “Everything was fine, but then…something just…”

Devon lay crumpled like a rag doll. His breath was soft, even, but his Spheres were fading. Tenn placed a hand on his shoulder. In that second, Earth told him everything—something had punctured Devon's Spheres. Air throbbed in Devon's throat, raw and angry as though he had drawn too much.

“Someone drained him. He's been tapped,” Tenn whispered.
Someone tried to drain his Spheres
.

She glanced up. Her eyes covered over in shadow.

Below them, someone screamed. The hotel tilted.

“Shit,” Tenn hissed. He ran to the edge and glanced down. Howls filled the streets. He watched a group amass in the main square, swarming a person he could only guess was one of his own.

The screams cut short.

“We have to get out of here.”

The hotel lurched again, magic laced through its very foundations. The necromancers were trying to bring the whole town down. He glanced over to Dreya, who knelt beside her brother with her hands on his chest.

“Dreya, we have to get to the meeting point.” A wail came from the streets below him. If it was human or undead, he couldn't tell. All he knew was that the hotel was completely surrounded and ready to collapse. “We need an escape route.”

“That I can give,” she said. She closed her eyes, and Air blazed in her throat.

Wind tore through the streets. It whipped rubble and shoved cars, struck through windows and shattered bones. Tenn shielded his eyes as it screamed past him, watched the Howls get swept up like crumpled paper. He didn't watch for long. With his coat streaming around him, he ran over to the twins and pulled Devon to standing. Dreya still channeled Air, but she helped drag Devon toward the fire escape.

They rushed down the creaking iron staircase into the back alley. The street was clear, the wind still screaming like a banshee. Tenn kept his eyes slitted, tried to see through the dirt and rain and debris that swarmed around him like wasps. If they could just make it to the lakeshore, they'd be fine.

He needed to keep Devon out of harm's way. If another necromancer came along and tapped him again, he'd die. Or worse—he'd become a Howl. Tenn wouldn't let that happen.

They ran through the streets, the wind shielding them from the Howls. Blood hammered in Tenn's ears. Water wanted to fight. Water was tired of running. It felt the pain and agony ripping through the fabric of the city, and it wanted to respond. He kept a tight rein on the power, forced it down, but he didn't close it off. There was no telling when he might need that edge.

The streets opened up ahead of them, and the crash of waves filled his ears. They were close. So close. Buildings thinned out into smaller shops, the streets widening into long boulevards of abandoned benches and torn trees.

Behind them, another roar of fire. The hotel crashed down with a tremor that shook him to his bones. They ran faster.

The moment they reached the designated meeting point—an obelisk carved with MIAs and worn graffiti—they laid Devon down on the grass. The city burned behind them, brighter than day and hotter than summer. Sweat and rain drenched Tenn's skin, his breath a ragged pulse in his lungs.

Seeing Devon there, so quiet, so close to death, brought another body to mind.

“Stay here,” he said, beginning to stand. “I have to go back.”

Dreya grabbed his arm.

“Don't,” she said. It almost sounded like a command. “You have your orders.”

He shook his arm free and pulled deeper through Earth. Water howled for control. It churned Jarrett's image over and over. Jarrett bleeding, Jarrett smiling, Jarrett dying… Water wanted blood, and it would do anything to get it.

“Fuck orders,” he whispered. “I'm not standing by while Jarrett's out there.”

Dreya bit her lip. The movement was so innocent, so childlike, that for the briefest moment he was reminded that they were all just kids, out here fighting a losing war so everyone else could live. They were fodder.

She nodded.

“I will support you,” she said. Her Spheres burned brighter as a tornado funneled down in the heart of the city. It roared like a demon, hungry and feral. “Go.”

Tenn didn't hesitate. He ran back into the flames.