Runebinder (The Runebinder Chronicles #1)(89)

So, against all his better judgment, he opened to Earth and bled out the runes, leaving only the tracking rune on his wrist. They didn’t need to know about that one.

“Much better,” the woman said. “Now we can talk.”

She reached down and pulled him from the spray, yanking him up by the collar of his shirt. She looked willowy, but she nearly lifted him off his feet in that movement.

“Who...who are you?” he asked. He tried to will his voice not to shake. It worked—mostly.

“Who do you think?” she asked, leaning over to whisper in his ear. Then she did something that sent chills down his spine—she opened to Earth and shut off the tap.

“Leanna,” he said. He didn’t flinch back. There was no point—he wouldn’t get an inch away from her. He had thought, coming in, that maybe he had some sort of divine purpose, that he’d be able to walk right up to her and kill her without breaking a sweat. He had the runes.

But the runes hadn’t saved him. They’d just helped him walk straight into her clutches.

Leanna nodded.

“I take it this means you’ve killed him,” she said.

It took a moment for it to click. Of course.

“Matthias,” he said. “Yeah, I killed him.” To be fair, he killed himself.

“Pity,” she said. There was nothing in her flat blue eyes to hint at any such emotion. “He was my favorite of pets.” She looked back to the man still lounging a few feet away. “We’ll have to find a suitable replacement. Perhaps one a little less arrogant.”

Justin nodded.

“What have you done with him?” Tenn asked.

“With whom?” Leanna said, turning her attention back to him. There was a hint of a grin at the corner of her mouth.

“You know who. Jarrett.”

For half a heartbeat, he worried her eyes would glaze over, that she’d admit to not knowing what he was talking about. But then that little grin widened.

“Ah, yes,” she said. “Of course. You’re here for the boy.”

“Where is he?” Tenn hissed. He was inches away from one of the Kin; he knew he wasn’t in any condition to make demands. He didn’t care.

“Alive,” Leanna said. “For now.”

“I want to see him,” Tenn said. His teeth gritted together.

“Be careful what you ask for,” Leanna said, though she was looking at Justin. He stepped forward. “Justin, take our guest to his room. He has surely had a long journey. I want to make sure he’s comfortable.”

Justin nodded and stepped over to Tenn, throwing him over his shoulder fireman-style. Tenn wanted to map the place out, but all he could see was the floor and he was too drained to fight for a better view.

A door opened, and Tenn was hit with a blast of warm air that smelled like cinnamon and fir as they went down a maze of white-carpeted hallways. He closed his eyes briefly. How long had he been unconscious in the basement? How long until sunrise and the twins started their attack? How the hell was he going to fight his way to Jarrett—and fight their way out—when he could barely move his head without being struck with pain? They already knew he could cloak himself, and it was clear even that magic was faulty.

He tried to think. He tried to race through the runes, to discover some deeper level of meaning, but his thoughts were thick, his mind slow from what Leanna had done to him.

They halted, and he heard the click of a door opening. All thoughts of fighting and escape were knocked from his head, along with the wind in his lungs, when Justin threw him to the ground. Tenn moaned.

“Don’t be such a pussy,” Justin said. He kicked Tenn in the side. Then he knelt down. “After all, you don’t want to fuck up your heroic entrance.”

He grabbed Tenn’s chin and forced his face to the side.

The room was white and dimly lit. And there, in the shadows, was Jarrett.

“I’ll let you two lovebirds reconnect,” he said.

Then Justin stood and left, the lock latching behind him.

Jarrett’s eyes were closed. He didn’t register the noise of the door slamming. Tenn crawled over, his muscles screaming nearly as loudly as the hammer of his heart. Please. Please. Please be alive.

Jarrett’s arms were twisted behind his back, his legs bound with rope in front of him, and his hair hung limp over a pale face. Bruises masked his eyes and a gag wrapped around his mouth. Jarrett was still. So, so still. Tenn reached out and put a hand to Jarrett’s face, his fingers shaking. Jarrett’s skin was warm. But not nearly warm enough. Tenn gently removed the gag, swept the strands of hair behind Jarrett’s ear. More bruises. Jarrett didn’t move. When his chest rose, Tenn gave a small cry of relief.

“Jarrett,” he whispered. He brushed his forehead, touched his lips. Jarrett remained as still as the dead. “Please,” he whispered. His words were salty with tears. “Please be okay.”

He opened to Earth and tried to heal Jarrett’s wounds.

Tenn gasped.

The force of it hit like a blow to the gut. The moment he pressed the magic to Jarrett’s body, something took hold. A hunger so great, a void so vast, Tenn felt himself nearly swallowed by the pull. Earth screamed. He fell back, stared at his hands as though burned. Then he looked at Jarrett. Really looked.

The sallow skin, the bruises that had nothing to do with being beaten. Jarrett hadn’t been attacked. His Earth Sphere had been tapped.