Runebinder (The Runebinder Chronicles #1)(52)

Tenn could barely convince himself that Jarrett was a future he could have.

Jarrett had known Tenn was worth sacrificing his own future over.

The thoughts sloshed in his head as the SUV drove through the night. He didn’t even try to hold Water down. He didn’t need to; the Sphere didn’t need to do a damned thing to drag him down into despair. He was there. Sinking. He was there, because Jarrett was not.

What could Water show him that would outmatch this?

He didn’t know how long they drove. Hours, maybe. Maybe only a few minutes. The sun rose and the world was filtered gray and dark and his insides felt the same. He wanted the twins to say something. Anything. They didn’t. And that meant he couldn’t say anything, either. This wasn’t a world for mourning the dead; he would get no comfort from either of them, and he knew that. But he wanted it. He wanted someone to acknowledge the loss that gaped in the car like a wound. Did they expect him to just follow along now? Not that he really had any other choice. He would keep ambling forward until he died.

Tears ran down his cheeks as he slumped against the window and watched the gray world go by.

Twelve hours ago he’d been snuggled in the backseat with Jarrett.

Twelve hours ago he’d thought he could have a future.

Now, he had nothing.

Eventually, the tears ran out and he could only slouch and watch and wait with cold dread for Matthias to come. Because, eventually, Matthias would come. In Tenn’s dreams, and now his reality, Matthias was always waiting.

He couldn’t even be angry at Matthias.

What use was revenge when he no longer had a future to fight for?

This was the world they lived in: it was always spelled out that, eventually, one of them would die. If anything, the whole situation just felt inevitable.

And, if he was being terribly honest, it was almost a relief.

He’d now experienced the worst. There was no need to wait for the ax to fall anymore.

He tried to quell the thought. Tried to figure out if it was Water talking or his depression. Eventually, he decided it didn’t really matter. Water was a part of him. So were all the terrible thoughts he ever tried to hide away.

They weren’t made better by the scenery. The snow lessened as they drove, and the open expanse of fields quickly turned to thick pine forests. But that wasn’t what kicked his numb heart into gear. It was the sign they passed that made him want to jump from the car.

Silveron Academy

for the Magical Arts

40 Miles Ahead

Maybe he’d been kidding himself about the worst already happening.

The green sign was pockmarked with bullet holes. Below it was a sign he’d become all too familiar with in the days before the Resurrection.

MAGIC USERS

ARE THE

DEVIL’S MINIONS

Howls weren’t the first monsters spawned by the Spheres. The protesters had almost been worse.

Tenn had never heard of a Howl barricading children in a school for magic and burning it down. That had been in Texas, two weeks after his classes at Silveron began. A week after that, an academy in Georgia had to close after a fanatic blew up half a dorm. His school had never suffered the same fate, but that didn’t mean the locals enjoyed having a school of sinners so close to their homes. Protesters continually lined the front gate, and the school received a multitude of threats. And Tenn received anxious calls from his parents every week, making sure he felt safe, making sure he didn’t want to go home.

Tenn hadn’t realized, when he applied, that the first and last time he would be allowed to leave the campus was after the first Howl was born.

The fear in his chest was a nice change from the numbness. Another inevitability. Of course they would be passing by his old school. Of course.

He slid down in his seat and closed his eyes. He didn’t expect to fall asleep. He didn’t want to fall under, didn’t want to cave to Matthias’s gloating, but the hum of the car overtook him, and the stress of the last few hours finally gave way to exhaustion.

Sleep came on ragged wings, carrying with it a silence as deep as death.

The last thing he thought before he was dragged under was Jarrett’s face.

I’m sorry, he mouthed to the darkness. I’m sorry.

*

He didn’t dream of Matthias.

But he didn’t know if that made him feel better or worse.

“Now, now, Tenn, crying won’t help anyone,” Tomás said, reclining on the leather armchair. “If you want revenge, you’ll have to take it.”

Tenn’s thoughts slurred with his emotions. He was dreaming, he knew he was dreaming, and he’d experienced enough of these to feel a sort of indifference. It was just a dream. Of course Tomás would find a way to infiltrate them.

“Fuck off,” Tenn said. He was on an armchair across from the Howl, and manacles secured Tenn to the leather.

Tomás just smiled and adjusted his pose, the leather creaking under his skin.

“You’re hurt,” Tomás said. His voice dripped saccharine. “I understand that. But let’s be honest—we both knew Jarrett was just using you. Why do you think he even showed up at your outpost? Everything he said was a lie, Tenn. He only told you those things so you wouldn’t leave him. So he could do his duty. So he could interfere with your destiny. But now, he is out of the picture for good.”