“I should have you killed for this,” Derrick said. He stood up straighter, as though taking more control of himself and the situation. “You jeopardized the safety of everyone in this troop. Because of you, we have lost the element of surprise.”
This outpost has been here for over a year. We lost that element a long time ago. But Tenn didn’t say that. Of course he didn’t say that. Outposts always changed locations. Keeping one in place had been a new tactic, decided by the higher-ups of Outer Chicago itself. If it was expected that base locations changed, having one stay put would be a surprise to the necromancers and the Howls. So long as it kept a low profile. So long as it wasn’t compromised.
“I’m sorry,” Tenn said.
“Tell that to your comrades who are going to die tomorrow.”
Tenn’s eyes shot up.
“Tomorrow?”
Derrick turned and walked back toward the desk.
“Our scouts have spotted them. The armies are moving. They will be here by sunrise.”
A lump of dread twisted in Tenn’s stomach.
“We need every fighter we have,” Derrick continued. “So I won’t kill you. Not tonight. I’ll let the necromancers do that in the morning.”
There wasn’t the slightest hint of humor or mockery in Derrick’s voice.
Tenn bowed his head and turned from the room.
It wasn’t until he was halfway down the stairs that he realized he hadn’t even mentioned that Michael was dead.
It didn’t matter. In the morning, thanks to him, they all would be.
CHAPTER THREE
THE RAIN TURNED to a drizzle as the night bore on. Tenn stood on the hotel roof, watching water pool and stream below. The hotel offered the best view in town—quite literally—and without magic to guide their sight, they needed all the vantage they could get. There was a small, guttering torch on the ground, the only source of light in the darkness. Beyond, everything was dark and sifting and slick with rain.
He knew that Derrick hadn’t sent him up here out of necessity. He was up here for punishment. Far from the glory of battle. And, being so high up, he’d be the first thing the necromancers could target.
Tenn turned at the sound of footsteps. Katherine. She’d been chosen as the other lookout, probably on some sort of probation because of him. He wondered if this was the worst of her punishment for not killing him in the field.
“We need to talk,” she said.
He didn’t answer, just tightened his grip on his staff and stared out into the dark. His stomach flipped over, and once more the thought flickered through his head, What is wrong with me?
“What happened out there—”
“There’s nothing more to talk about.”
“I wanted to thank you.”
Tenn’s internal tirade silenced. He turned to her. Firelight flickered over her face, but even in the shadows he could feel her eyes trained on him.
“What?”
“You saved my life. You avenged Michael’s death. So...thank you.” She brushed a strand of hair from her face and looked toward the darkness. “Don’t make me say it again.”
“I...”
But there wasn’t anything else for him to say. He hadn’t tried to save them. He hadn’t wanted to save them. Something else had taken control.
She sighed and walked over to the edge of the roof.
“Derrick is an asshole,” she said. She glanced at Tenn. “And I think he’s scared of you.”
He frowned. “What?”
She didn’t look at him, just kept staring out at the shifting rain and shadows.
“Everyone felt it. That much power... Hell, I was there, and even I don’t believe it.” She paused, took a breath. “It should have killed you.”
“I know.”
“What did it feel like?”
It wasn’t the question he expected.
“Honestly...it was terrible. I’ve never felt so much pain.”
She nodded to herself.
“Fire can be like that, sometimes. It burns through you. But it feels good, in a way. All that pain makes you feel alive. Even if it does nearly kill you.”
“Yeah.”
Except it wasn’t like that. Not really. Fire was about rage. Water just felt like drowning in misery. And delighting in it.
“Are you hungry?” she asked. Again, not the question he expected.
“Yeah.” His stomach rumbled with the thought. Derrick had sent him up here immediately after their meeting, and Earth was still ravenous. “Starving.”
“I’ll grab you something from the storeroom. I think they have Twinkies down there.”
She walked over and patted him on the shoulder.
He wanted to ask her something, anything. He wanted to talk, to have someone help him understand how the impossible had happened. Instead, he stayed silent. He knew she wouldn’t have any answers, and he didn’t want her thinking he was crazy as well as dangerous.
She left, the roof door slamming loudly behind her, and he went back to his watch.
It was nearly impossible to see anything in the darkness, but he was out here to sense more than see. Necromancers would use magic to lead the Howls in their army. Most turned to the Goddess of Death for power or immortality, to be on the winning side of this constant battle. There really wasn’t a middle ground—either you used magic to fight the Howls, or you used magic to create them.
Tenn figured they were all insane. The Dark Lady was just a myth. The trouble was that the necromancers took the idea of her seriously. Their cult was what had caused the Resurrection—the day the first Howl was created. Tenn never quite understood the event’s name—Resurrection—since Howls could only be created from the living.
Really, it didn’t matter if She was real or not. Her followers were dangerous either way.
Footsteps sloshed through the puddles behind him. He didn’t turn around, assuming Katherine had taken the stairs at a run.
“Beautiful night, isn’t it, Tenn?”
It wasn’t Katherine. It wasn’t any voice he knew.
He spun around, staff raised and ready.
The man in front of him was a stranger. Despite the freezing rain, he wore dark jeans and a thin white shirt unbuttoned to his waist. The fabric clung to his body like some romance-cover model, accentuating his perfectly chiseled chest and stomach, his smooth olive skin. Chin-length black hair hung in loose waves and twined over his ears. Everything about the man screamed sex and desire and danger, from his broad shoulders to his low-slung jeans. Even his copper eyes glinted seduction. Tenn’s heart raced, but whether from fear or something else, he couldn’t be sure.
“Who are you?” Tenn asked. He took a half step back, then realized he was already too close to the edge. Thunder rolled overhead; he could barely hear it over the thunder in his own blood. “How did you get up here?”
The stranger cocked his head to the side, the smile never slipping, as though he were examining a plaything. Or a tasty appetizer.
“How civil.” He ran a hand through his hair, and even that movement seemed perfectly executed. His voice was low and husky, a bedroom murmur. “He asks not what, but who.”
In the blink of an eye, he stood an inch before Tenn, his face so close their lips nearly touched. Copper irises filled Tenn’s vision. The guy’s heat sent sweat dripping down his skin.