The twins were already at the south tower when he arrived. It was clearly a new construct, made of magic-churned earth and bristling with steel spikes. It towered above the encircling wall, accessible only by a staircase that spiraled its way up through the center. The twins stood at the edge of the roof, their white coats glowing in the moonlight. Dreya’s coat was especially embellished, covered in more belts and buckles than seemed necessary. Devon’s coat was darker than his sister’s, like a cloud on the edge of a storm. The clean lines made him look like a military commander, though the burgundy scarf made him look like a commander with a cold.
“You guys look nice,” Tenn said. He didn’t know what else to say. “New coats?”
Tenn expected coldness from them, but to his surprise, Dreya smiled, the merest tilt of her lips. That was enough. Apparently, still being a newcomer had its merits.
“Has Jarrett been here?” he asked.
Hopefully she couldn’t see the blush that rose to his cheeks as he asked.
Devon shook his head, but it was Dreya who answered. “No. But I have no doubt he will be here soon. It is still early, and he is still covering our tracks.”
Tenn nodded and walked to the edge of the tower, staring out at what lay beyond the safety wall of the colony. The streets of the abandoned suburb were almost beautiful like this. Up here, away from the threat of, well, dismemberment and eventual death, it was easy to imagine how this place would have been years ago—families all asleep in their houses, dogs barking now and again in the yards. Easy to imagine, if you ignored the crashed cars and magic-pitted streets and the glitter of glass that swept across the debris-filled lawns.
“Do you ever think we’ll get it back?” Tenn asked, thinking of his earlier conversation with Jarrett. He hadn’t meant to say it aloud.
“This world?” Dreya asked. She stepped up beside him and put her hands on the steel banister that kept them from plummeting. The ground was a long, long way down.
She didn’t say anything for a while. Tenn knew from her expression that she wasn’t dismissing the question, but mentally debating the possibility. A small part of him yearned for her to say what he knew she wouldn’t. That lie would give him hope, the hope that someday he could entertain the idea of a boyfriend, or a husband, or a home. The hope that maybe Jarrett—back after so many years apart—would be the one to signal it. The thought made his heart ache and Water boil.
“I do not think so,” she finally said. Her words were barely more than a whisper. “But I wish... I wish it could be.”
She exhaled deeply. “But wishes do not change anything.”
“What are we wishing for?” Jarrett asked. He stepped up behind them, his sword strapped to his back and another bag of provisions in hand. He was back in his blacks—wool coat, black boots, black combats. The only color was a light-blue knit hat pulled down over his ears. It made him look like a Nordic elf. One into heavy metal.
Dreya, of course, said nothing. Tenn wondered if she was actually embarrassed.
“Everything set?” Tenn asked, doing what he could to cover the silence. Jarrett just raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah.” He set his bag beside the others. “I double-checked to make sure the changeover was still at the same time. Midnight. On the dot.”
“I still do not like this plan,” Dreya said. She looked at Tenn. “This will kill him.”
Jarrett bit his lip before catching himself.
“It’s dangerous,” he admitted. “But Cassandra insisted we don’t just walk out. She’d rather someone know magic was in use than have us identified. Over is the only way.”
Tenn turned and looked over the railing. The cars looked like toys. It would be a very long way to fall.
“What do you mean, kill me?” he asked. He couldn’t cut his eyes from the ground far, far below.
Jarrett sighed and stepped up behind him, putting his hands on Tenn’s shoulders. The motion felt so easy, so familiar...
“It won’t kill you,” he said. “It’s just...well, we can fly because we’re attuned to Air. For anyone else, it’s like being caught in a tornado.”
“That is an understatement,” Dreya said. “Do not try to soften the reality. For him, it will not be flying. The winds that bear him will rip him apart.”
“No,” Jarrett said. “We’ll stick close, shield him with our bodies. And, Tenn, stay open to Earth. Keep healing yourself.”
Behind them, deep in the heart of the town, a bell began to chime. Midnight. Jarrett scooped up the bags and handed them over.
“No time for discussion,” he said, slinging one on his back. “They change on the tenth ring.”
Tenn pulled on his own bag, and the twins crowded close, each wrapping their arms around his waist. He felt like a sandwich. Jarrett took off his hat and shoved it over Tenn’s head before wrapping him in an embrace. Tenn closed his eyes—despite everything, all he could focus on was Jarrett’s scent, the musk and far-off fragrance of soap. He wanted to lean forward into that embrace forever.
“Close your eyes,” Jarrett murmured into his ear. “It’ll be over soon. And whatever you do, don’t stop healing.”
Then the tenth chime rang, and the three of them opened to Air. The other two chimes were lost to the roar of thunder.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
IN THE CORNER of his mind, Tenn knew this was suicide. He could feel the invisible shield surrounding the compound flicker when control passed over to another Air mage.
Then they were beyond it.
That was all he could sense. Everything else was a roar of wind in his ears and the flare of pain in his flesh. Even with the twins and Jarrett clinging to him tightly, every minuscule piece of exposed skin screamed as the wind tried to tear him apart. He bit his tongue to keep from screaming, too. Earth flooded his body with magic as chunks of flesh shot into the night, only to be replaced and torn off again. It seemed to last an eternity, the pain and the screams and the wind.
Then he felt Earth connect to the sudden ground beneath his feet. The wind stopped.
Flesh knit itself together one final, searing time as the twins stepped away. Jarrett kept a firm grip on him.
“Are you okay?” he asked. His voice was a little breathy, and his chest moved fast. Only the twins seemed unfazed by the experience; they stared at the horizon, Air glowing in their throats as they scanned.
Tenn nodded and the world swayed with that movement. If not for Jarrett’s firm grip, he would have fallen over.
“Never again,” he said, his lips cracking from Earth’s drain. He let go of the Sphere; his stomach rumbled in protest.
He fought down the bile that rose in his throat and wiped away his tears—from pain or the wind, he wasn’t certain. All he knew was that he’d used far too much magic lately. He needed to sleep. He needed to recharge.
The four of them were covered in Tenn’s blood, white clothes stained crimson, Jarrett and his blacks oily and slick. A momentary pang of guilt flooded him before he was able to remind himself that flying hadn’t been his choice. Before he could feel too guilty, Dreya opened to Water and pulled the blood from their clothes. Blood could be controlled by a Water mage only once it was outside of a living body; otherwise, bodies were protected against manipulation unless direct contact was made.