Runebinder (The Runebinder Chronicles #1)(88)

He ran straight up the main street.

The pedestal of earth towered above the center of the town, the chateau atop it glowing white with electricity. The closer he got, the nicer the houses looked. Smoke came from a few of these chimneys, smoke that didn’t smell like coal or burning flesh. Wood smoke. If he closed his eyes and ignored the monsters running past him, he could have pretended he was camping in the woods, snow piling around his ankles... His eyes snapped open. The snow. He looked behind him, his heart hammering stupid stupid stupid, but the snow here was churned to hell and stained with dirt and...other things. Although his feet were making imprints, they were impossible to see in the churned-up muck. He sighed in relief. He might be invisible, but even a dumb kraven would notice footprints without a foot.

In minutes, he stood at the base of the earthen pedestal. It rose a good ten stories into the air, the sides sheer and glinting like granite. He considered what it would be like having to scale the thing—not impossible, not with the strength of Earth, but not something he wanted to try—when he heard the clomp of boots to his right. He followed the noise and found a ramp cut into the side of the mound. Guards ran down in tight formation. They wore armor and, of all things, carried assault rifles. The sight made him hesitate. Not out of fear—it was more the shock of seeing someone actually using a gun. Unless the guards had imbued each bullet with their own magic or blood, any mage could turn the projectiles against them.

When the guards passed by, heading the direction he had come, he made his way up the spiral ramp, keeping close to the wall lest another guard run past. He didn’t meet any. Wind howled past him, eddying with scents of char and industry, bringing and hiding the cries of the Howls that scoured the city for whoever had dared breach their defenses. He smiled grimly. Oh, how pissed they would be when they learned he’d snuck in.

He reached the top of the rise and took a moment to stare in wonder at the house. It was grand—three stories tall with all-white siding and Roman columns, the great picture windows glowing with soft electric lights. The lawn was covered in snow, miniature topiaries dusted and glowing with inner lights. The sight made Tenn’s stomach roil. Just a hundred feet away, the rest of the town was dark and freezing. And here was Leanna, warm and comfortable, using more electricity in an hour than most of the States had seen in a year. He pushed through with Earth and felt for the figures inside, ignoring the ache the Sphere spread through his bones. Figures crowded the labyrinthine corridors, but he still had no clue who was who. He walked up to the front door. It was wood, with diamond glass windows that glinted invitingly. All this place needed was a tree glimmering in the foyer and it would look like a fucking Christmas card.

But now what? Could he sneak inside like before? He fed his senses through the door. Locked. Easy to fix with a flick of Earth, but would they notice? There was a small group of people in the front hall. Guards, no doubt. He bit the inside of his lip and wondered if maybe there was another entrance, one less guarded.

Then one of the guards opened the door.

It was a woman. She wore a thick black dressing gown. Her hair was black and spiraled behind her in loose ringlets. She left one crimson-manicured hand on the doorknob and scanned the exterior. Light-blue eyes, nearly gray. Tenn stiffened the moment that gaze swept over him. She looked awfully unarmed to be a guard. A necromancer, then?

“What is it?” someone inside called.

The corner of the woman’s lips curled into a tight grin.

“I do believe our guest has arrived,” she said. Her nostrils flared. His grip on his staff tightened.

She stepped out onto the stoop and closed the door behind her. It latched, the sound like a gunshot in the night air. Then, before he could think to act, she took a deep breath.

It hit him like a punch to the chest.

He fell to the ground, staff skidding into a snowdrift. Stars flashed across his vision. Breath left his lungs. He tried to gasp, hands clenched to his burning chest. Then the stars spun, and he spiraled into darkness.





CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

COLD WATER FORCED him awake.

Tenn’s eyes snapped open, and he tried to turn away from the freezing current. He was facedown on the concrete, the world a harsh mix of fluorescent light and cold. He blinked, spluttered, rolled over to his side. His lungs burned and every breath was a ragged gasp. He tried to push himself up to standing, but that made his head swim.

That’s when he saw his captors.

The woman from outside was there in front of him, still in the black dressing gown, the hem of which was getting soaked under the shower’s jet. A man stood by her side. He was tall and lean, wearing a T-shirt and slim jeans, his blond hair slicked back loosely. Something about his appearance made Tenn think of all the old commercials for surfing in California—the defined features, the nonchalant pose with his hands in his pockets. But it was the woman who had his full attention. Her eyes were fixed on him like a hawk. Which should have been impossible.

“Now,” the woman said. “I will ask you nicely. Remove whatever enchantments you are wearing, and we will talk. Otherwise, I will have Justin remove your limbs one by one.” The man at her side smiled even wider at the mention of his name.

Tenn glanced down at himself. Of course. They could see his shape in the spray. There was no doubt that they would follow through with the threat. He glanced around the room. He was in a basement. The water siphoned into a drain next to a dusty water heater, and the rafters above were covered in cobwebs. Even if he did manage to dodge these two, the woman could fell him in a moment. She was a Breathless One. She didn’t even have to be able to see him to take him down.