Runebinder (The Runebinder Chronicles #1)(17)

Laughter cut over the sounds of fire.

“Run?” came a man’s voice. The figure above the city floated closer. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You’d be so easy to follow.”

In the blink of an eye, the figure stood before them, barely a dozen feet away. The movement reminded Tenn of Tomás, and the thought made his stomach churn. But this man was definitely not the incubus. This man was tall and sharp, wearing an immaculate black pinstripe suit. His gray hair was combed back, and his goatee was the color of ash. Every inch of him was sleek and strong, a sharp contradiction to the destruction around him.

He reached out his free hand and tentatively stroked the surface of Dreya’s shield. It crackled under his touch, flurries of sparkling energy trailing to the ground with a hiss.

“So charming,” he mused as he watched the sparks fall. “And so naive to think a magic so simple could protect him from me.”

With the press of his finger, he brought the whole shield down in a cascade of sparks. Dreya gasped, hands going to her throat as Air winked out. The man smiled directly at Tenn. That look poured ice down Tenn’s veins, and he knew that none of them would leave here alive.

“Who are you?” Jarrett asked. He took a step forward, his sword held at the ready. Air burned in his throat, but he didn’t make any move to attack. Tenn couldn’t help but notice the slight shake in his hand.

“My name is Matthias,” the man answered. He gave a curt nod. “And I have come for the boy.” He pointed to Tenn. Tenn took a half step back.

“You can’t have him,” Jarrett said. Despite everything, Tenn’s stomach flipped at the resolve in Jarrett’s voice.

Matthias grinned. “Oh, I think you’ll find you’re much mistaken. My mistress desires him, and I shall bring him to her with or without your cooperation.”

“Mistress?”

“Leanna.” Matthias’s words dripped poison. The hole in Tenn’s stomach grew wider.

“Never,” Jarrett said. He didn’t take his eyes off the man, but Tenn knew the body language well. Jarrett was preparing himself for one last stand.

Tenn wouldn’t let him fight alone, not when it wasn’t even his fight. He tightened his grip on his staff. Dreya’s hand clamped down on his arm before he could move forward. She gave a slight shake of her head, her eyes never leaving Matthias.

“Let’s let him decide that, shall we?” Matthias asked. He winked at Tenn. “After all, who better to decide the worth of his own life? Is it worth, say, one other?”

He waved his hand, like he was batting away a fly. Fire flared brighter in his chest.

Derrick didn’t even have time to scream.

Fire burst from his chest and lips, curling around him and hollowing him out so that—in less than a heartbeat—he was nothing more than a shell of ash. His sword clattered to the ground, dropping from his paper fingers. The rest of him collapsed in a cascade of soot.

Tenn cried out. Dreya’s hand tightened, kept him from running forward. Derrick had been an ass, but he had been alive. He’d been worth keeping alive.

“You bastard!” Jarrett yelled. He launched forward; Matthias held up a hand, and Jarrett stopped in his tracks, seemingly held in place.

“Now, now,” he said. “Let’s not be too hasty. After all, I highly doubt Tenn would like any more deaths to weigh on his soul.” He looked at Tenn, his smile deepening. “Personally, I would have thought Mommy and Daddy were enough.”

The words were a punch to Tenn’s gut. He stumbled back and felt another set of hands holding him up. He barely had time to register the twins flanking him before Water stirred in his stomach, dragged at him with cold fingers. Mom, Dad, where are you? It took everything he had to force the bloody memory down.

“You aren’t taking him,” Jarrett said. His voice was deadly low.

“Your choice, Tenn,” Matthias said, as though he hadn’t heard Jarrett’s warning. He gestured to the rest of the troop. “You have seven more chances to come willingly.”

There was no way in hell Tenn was going to let anyone die for him. He wasn’t worth it.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll go.”

But before he could shake off the twins to join Matthias, Jarrett lunged into action.

Tenn yelled, but Matthias just brushed Jarrett aside with a wave of his hand. Jarrett skittered to the ground at Tenn’s feet. The rest of the troop rallied immediately, running toward Matthias with weapons raised and magic blazing.

Before Tenn could join the fight, before he could keep these idiots from dying for him—him, worthless, meaningless him—someone pulled him back toward the waves. Fog descended over the boulevard, broken only by muffled shouts and flares of fire. Then he was plunged beneath the waves, and everything went cold and black.

*

They raced beneath the waves of the lake. Magic wrapped around them, pushing them through the water at breakneck speed. Tenn’s lungs burned as they rocketed away from the shore, heading deeper and deeper into the depths of the lake, far out of Matthias’s sight. He couldn’t see anything through the darkness, couldn’t tell how deep they were diving. But he could feel the cold pressure of the water, the endless expanse of the lake, as his own magic-fueled senses stretched out. Dreya’s hands were still tight on his arm; he tried to fight her off. He had to get back to them. Had to save them. Had to keep them from killing themselves over him. But Dreya’s hands were a vise, the magic and water pressing him tight to her. Try as he might, he couldn’t break free. His lungs and limbs burned with the effort.