Tenn sank back in the seat, and Jarrett put his arm across Tenn’s shoulders.
He tensed for a moment. Even though they’d spent a few hours earlier curled against each other, this felt foreign. This felt too normal. Too good. He waited for Jarrett to shift, to retract his arm. He didn’t. So Tenn decided to go with it. Tenn snuggled in close, absorbing Jarrett’s warmth. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend they were just in the back of a car on a cool winter’s night, about to drive with friends to the movies or out to eat. He could pretend there were no monsters and no magic—just an empty road and warmth on the horizon. If he ignored the pops and hisses coming from the engine, that is. He didn’t ask if Devon really knew what he was doing. He didn’t want to know.
Finally, with the crunch of gears and a rumble, the SUV shuddered to life. Devon looked back at the two of them. Although his mouth was covered by his scarf, his eyes grinned with a distinct told-you-so look.
“Damn, boy,” Jarrett said. “If only we’d known about your skills sooner. You could have been the official bus driver.”
Devon chuckled and turned back to the front. With a shift of gears, they were off.
To say it was strange was an understatement. Tenn hadn’t been in a car since...well, since he’d fled from the Academy. He’d never expected to have the experience again. He stayed nestled against Jarrett and watched the world streak by outside the window. Devon turned the heat up.
“What are you thinking?” Jarrett asked. He ran his fingers through Tenn’s hair.
Tenn shook his head. It was way too easy to get used to this closeness. Way too dangerous to think this was possible.
If he let himself think either of those things, he’d just want it more.
“Nothing. It’s just...this is weird. I mean, it’s just so...normal.”
He didn’t just mean the car ride. He meant Jarrett, the way that being around each other felt natural, every movement and touch one of memory and not new territory.
Jarrett felt like home. All of this did.
“I know,” was all Jarrett said. Then they both went back to staring out the windows, lost in their own thoughts.
A few miles in, Devon turned on the radio. No stations played, of course—just static. It’s not like they were expecting some magical mystery signal from a Howl-free country or something. That shit only happened in bad zombie flicks. There was a CD in the player, and Devon switched over to it. Tenn jumped as heavy metal blared through the speakers. Devon turned it down.
The world had changed entirely. Tenn knew that. But here, in the car, snuggled against Jarrett, he could almost let himself believe otherwise. He could almost forget about the Howls and the necromancers and the monsters that seemed to stalk his bedside. He could almost forget the blood staining his hands and heart. If he tried, he could almost let himself believe that this was a life they could have again—driving around with friends, listening to music, going somewhere for enjoyment rather than necessity. He could almost believe there’d be a house at the end and a family to invite over for dinner.
He could almost believe that everything would be okay.
He could pretend.
That lie... That lie was the only thing that made life worth fighting for.
He closed his eyes, and sleep found him immediately.
CHAPTER TWELVE
HE STOOD AT the window in his room, looking out at the familiar geometry of the streetlamp and garage and backyard, the three-story house across the alley and the giant pine tree at its side. His hand trailed across the curtains. He couldn’t sleep. It was well past midnight, and his parents had been in bed for hours. A part of him didn’t want to be awake, didn’t want to be waiting with this sickness in his stomach. The other part of him wanted to take it all in, every single last second he had here. Tomorrow, he left for Silveron. Tomorrow, he left everything he’d ever known behind. Not that there was much to say goodbye to. Most of his friends had stopped talking to him the moment he’d mentioned his acceptance—whether from anger or jealousy, he wasn’t certain.
Even his dad had been against the decision. Thirteen is too young to leave home, Tenn had heard him telling Mom. She’d put up a fight. She always would.
Apparently, a few of his friends thought that magic was the devil’s work, and if so, what did that make him? He’d spent the last weeks of summer vacation here, in his room, alone, watching TV and waiting. It was supposed to be an exciting time—that’s what all the pamphlets said. Instead, he felt miserable. His summer hadn’t been filled with video games and pizza, no more talk of what the coming school year would bring. At least, no more days of that for him; his friends had kept up the tradition without him.
The photos they’d scattered on social media like intoxicating bread crumbs were proof enough of what he was missing.
Behind him, the room was cluttered with packed boxes and suitcases. He’d tried to pack light, but his mom wouldn’t have it. She’d thrown in extra blankets and sweaters and socks, and even filled a box with emergency supplies—cookies, granola bars, instant noodles—just in case the cafeteria food was gross. Tenn’s stomach turned. It was the little gestures like that that made leaving so hard—the idea that someone loved him so much, the idea that he was willingly leaving that behind. Most kids his age wouldn’t have thought twice about it. Then again, most kids probably didn’t think they needed to leave home to find themselves. His only consolation was that it was just for a few months.
Just a few months.
Even then, though, he knew he’d never come back. Not as the person he was. He’d come back and be able to use magic, and that would set him apart farther than anything else. He’d entertained the idea of showing off to his friends, making things fly or lighting candles or walking on water.
What was the point in even thinking that when he didn’t have friends to return to?
He took a deep breath and went back to his bed, sat down on the covers and stared at the open suitcase in the corner, filled with all his new uniform clothes. It wasn’t robes. He’d almost hoped it would be, fulfilling some childish wizarding fantasy. The uniforms didn’t even look British. Just generic gray collared shirts and black slacks they’d gotten from the same store he got all his clothes.
He wasn’t even able to convince himself to bring his stuffed owl. He had a feeling the other kids would think it was stupid. Magic was no longer for the geeky. Magic was a career move. Magic was humanity’s way forward.
He glanced up into the mirror above his dresser and yelped.
With a crash like a wave, reality came back. He wasn’t thirteen, he wasn’t leaving for Silveron in the morning and he definitely wasn’t meant to be here. His heart raced; if he was here, that meant... He pushed himself from the bed.
“Going somewhere?”