“I probably won’t have time to meet up again,” Jarrett said as he walked to the door. “Even though I’d like to. Feel free to take a nap in here if you want—I doubt the twins would mind. Or, I don’t know, explore what’s left of the city.”
The thought of exploring both excited and scared Tenn—there was no way in hell he could fall asleep after cuddling with Jarrett. His nerves were on fire, and besides, he didn’t want to sleep through their escape. In a way, he almost didn’t want to see the truths of Outer Chicago. He preferred his fantasy of the place, where everything was clean and happy and possible. He preferred thinking the two of them could have a future here. Or somewhere better than here. The reality outside these walls wasn’t one he wanted to face.
Jarrett paused in the doorway, like he wanted to say something more.
“Midnight, then,” he said finally. He chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited to start a mission before.”
Tenn laughed, as well. It was short-lived. Now that Jarrett was about to leave, he was reminded of everything he was about to do, and everything he didn’t yet know.
“Midnight,” Tenn said.
He felt Jarrett move, and then he was close again, wrapping Tenn in a quick hug.
“I’m glad I found you,” Jarrett whispered in his ear. He kissed Tenn’s cheek and left.
*
Tenn lasted about five minutes in the room before anxiety got the better of him. He kept waiting for Tomás to appear, to threaten him again. Tenn had been so, so close to telling Jarrett about the Kin. Then he’d remembered the sound of Katherine’s neck snapping, and the desire snapped with it. Now, without Jarrett there to keep the thoughts and demons—figuratively and potentially literally—at bay, his imagination was getting the better of him.
He kept open to Earth as he walked, using the element to map out the guild in his head. The place was a lot smaller than he imagined—just the gym and maybe a block or two of underground tunnels and rooms. The stories had made this place out to be a bastion of hope, the crowning gem of the resistance. This was where dreams were remade, where humanity held on and thrived.
The truth was pretty damn depressing.
He managed to walk past the kitchens and grabbed some bread and cheese and a carrot, scarfing them down while making his way outside. He felt naked without having a weapon in his hand as he left the building. But he was safe in here.
Tomás’s face flickered through his mind.
Maybe safe was a relative term.
The night was calm and clear, the sky scattered with stars and a gibbous moon. He half expected one of the guards to call out, demanding to know where he was going at this time of night, but no one stopped him as he walked down the street. No one seemed to be out. The town was eerily quiet.
Moonlight glinted off puddles covering the cracked streets, litter fluttering against chain-link fences like tiny ghosts. Although debris was everywhere, the place smelled a little better. The rain must have washed away the decay that seemed to linger here, the stench of a thousand humans slowly decomposing as they fought to stay alive. His foot hit something, and his heart stopped as a can skittered across the street. So much for being inconspicuous.
“Who’s there?” grunted a man’s voice. He knew that voice, even though he’d only heard it once. Once was enough.
“Caius,” he muttered under his breath, his blood immediately set to boiling. He didn’t stop walking, though. He wasn’t going to let a religious nutjob ruin his only night here.
Something hit the ground in front of him. The bastard was throwing things at him.
“I asked you a question,” Caius called. He kept his voice down, but there was a sense that if Tenn didn’t stop, this would get ugly real fast. He paused.
“Oh,” Caius said. The preacher shuffled closer. He smelled distinctly of whiskey. “It’s you. The newest recruit.”
“Yes,” Tenn said. His jaw was clenched. “What do you want?”
Caius shrugged. He was still in his suit, his hair mussed from sleep, or lack thereof.
“Just to talk, Hunter. Just to talk.” There was a slight slur to his words.
“I don’t have time.”
He took a step, and Caius’s arm reached out and stopped him in his tracks.
“Make time,” Caius grated. He let go of Tenn’s arm and stood back, brushing himself off. It was futile—the dust was as much a part of his suit as the fabric.
Tenn really didn’t want to stand around with this guy. He distrusted the religious fanatics on principle alone. He’d seen the posters in the year or so before the Resurrection, when magic was a new discovery. Magic had always been seen as the devil’s work, and many people died because of it. But not at the hands of the mages or the monsters.
Apparently, burning people at the stake hadn’t died out with the Puritan times. A new Church had formed in direct opposition to magic and the Dark Lady, a faith devoted to ridding the world of darkness and evil. One whose methods overshadowed the whole “love thy neighbor” thing.
The last thing Tenn wanted was to make a scene. Caius’s sheep were probably close at hand, ready to tear him apart. And Cassandra wanted this to be a quiet exit.
“You have two minutes.”
Caius sighed. “Impatient, impatient.” He took a hand-rolled cigarette from his pocket and brought it to his lips. From another pocket came a matchbook; he flipped it open, struck a match and lit his cigarette in one well-practiced movement. “That’s what got us into this mess.” He took a long drag and exhaled slowly. The smoke wafted up into the moonlight like a shade.
“What are you talking about?”
Caius’s breath might have smelled like the bottom of a whiskey barrel, but his hands didn’t shake and his eyes never left Tenn’s face.
“The Dark Lady,” Caius said. He spit, then took another drag. “She was human once. She was impatient, too.”
“I don’t have time to listen to your myths.”
“They aren’t myths,” Caius said, the smoke seething from his lips. “I know. I knew her.”
Tenn paused. The man could be out of his mind—it wouldn’t have surprised him, especially since he was probably drinking homemade moonshine—or just being a dick. But Caius wasn’t throwing slurs or railing against him. He seemed conversational. Rational. Except for the Dark Lady bit. No one from the Church would claim they knew the goddess that destroyed mankind. At least, not unless they were boasting that they were the ones who killed her.
“I know what you think of me,” Caius said. He gestured to his filthy suit. “I wasn’t always like this.”
“None of us were.”
Caius chuckled. “Of course, of course. You weren’t always doing the devil’s work. Might even say you were tricked into it. Too bad you’re going to hell for it.”
Tenn sighed. On that track again. It was time to go, then. “I need to—”