“Emotional transference,” Dreya whispered.
Whatever magic she’d been working had done its job. The pain in Tenn’s temples subsided. He opened his eyes and squinted. The twins were lost in a silent conversation, staring at each other as though their expressions could convey stories. He desperately wanted to know what they were thinking, just as much as he never wanted to know.
“What?” Jarrett and Tenn asked at the same time.
Again, another glance between the twins. When Dreya spoke, she didn’t look away from her brother. Devon’s eyes were furrowed with concern, and he kept looking over to Tenn like he was a newfound threat.
“Emotional transference,” she repeated. She sighed. “It’s rare. Very rare. But sometimes, if you use a Sphere for long enough, it becomes sensitive to the external world. Normally, the Spheres respond to inner triggers—emotional responses, like fight or flight. Or they are willed into use through training. But if a Sphere is sensitive enough, it can pick up triggers embedded in the nature of things. Strong emotions, from memories ingrained in the wood of a place.” She trailed her finger along the same dusty path he had. If she saw anything, she didn’t show it.
“How do you know this?” Tenn asked. “They never taught that at Silveron.”
Then again, there was a lot he hadn’t learned at Silveron. Maybe because the training was cut short. Maybe because his teachers didn’t actually know.
“Because we get it, too, at times,” she said. She sounded sad. “Fire and Water, they’re emotional Spheres. They resonate highly with the pain and anger in the world. You’re just able to tune into it more than most.”
“How do I control it?”
Dreya shrugged. “You don’t. Any more than you can control your inner workings. When the world wants to speak to you, it will use whatever tools it has. And Water is the most vicious tool of all.”
“Can I stop it?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“How?”
It was Devon who responded.
“You die.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
TENN SAT ON a stool in the corner of the kitchen while Jarrett cooked. Pretty much everything in the house had expired, but they’d managed to find some canned carrots and dried beans that still looked good. Dreya sat at the island in the center of the room, idly chopping a few wild onions and fueling the fire simmering under the large cook pot Jarrett was stirring. Devon had gone out into the night—who knows where—and no one had questioned him. Tenn had a feeling Dreya knew precisely where her brother was at all times, and that was enough for him.
He still couldn’t force out the memory of the family’s last moments. There was no telling what other horrors he would have seen if Jarrett hadn’t snapped him out of it. Matthias had been here, in this very house. Almost like he was hunting Tenn’s past.
He shuddered.
He’d never encountered a Breathless One in real life, but the memory had been enough to tell him he never wanted to. Kravens were the most common Howl, the Sphere of Earth being the quickest to deplete. From there, the Howls got more deadly, more humanoid and thankfully more rare. He’d encountered a fair number of bloodlings in the field. Tomás had been his first incubus. But a Breathless One...a creature who could kill crowds with a single inhalation...that was the stuff of nightmares. His lungs still burned with the trace of memory.
At least no necromancer had learned how to tap into the Sphere of Maya. He couldn’t even imagine what sort of Howl that would breed.
For a while he could only sit there, imagining the rest of his life like this—falling apart whenever he stepped into a room touched by tragedy, reliving every nightmare. The States were scabbed with pain and hatred. There was no way he could manage if this emotional transference shit kept happening.
Still, if the twins could do it, so could he. You’re not as strong as they are, Water hissed within him. You’ll succumb eventually.
He pushed the dark thoughts from his head and focused on Jarrett, who had taken off his coat and was dancing around the kitchen with his long white sleeves pushed up to his biceps. More scars laced his pale forearms, crossed over his single tattoo. Every once in a while, Jarrett would glance over and smile. Every time, Tenn blushed and looked away. He was already dreaming of Jarrett in their own kitchen, making coffee and reading the paper. It was a beautiful image, even if it was an impossibility.
Then again, maybe Jarrett was right. Maybe he did have to envision a better future. Maybe it did make everything else more manageable.
The strangest part was the ease with which Tenn could visualize that future. Even before the Resurrection, he’d been a fatalist: couldn’t imagine reaching his next birthday, or what college would look like. A few of those fears had been realized, sure. So why was it so simple to build a warm and happy home for him and Jarrett in his head now? Jarrett, whom he barely knew? Water usually curled doubt and questions through his gut, but even it was quiet. He might not know if Jarrett was right for him, but Jarrett was here, in this kitchen, and that had to mean something. Something that a cold, desperate part of Tenn wanted badly to discover.
The near silence of the kitchen felt comfortable and calming—the sound of simmering soup, the chop of metal on wood. After everything that had happened, this alone threw him for the biggest loop. This was all so normal, so fucking familiar, that it hurt worse than any stab wound. They’d driven here in a car and, sure, they’d used magic to get the car running, and even now Dreya’s chest was glowing red with the thin flicker of flame she funneled into the stove’s burner, but it was so easy—the normalcy, the ability to forget that at any moment another Howl might burst through the window and try to kill them just as it had in Tenn’s vision. They all knew the world was no longer safe, but this felt safe. It felt like nothing could possibly be wrong in the world. And that was the most dangerous thing of all.
While Tenn was lost in his thoughts, Jarrett came over holding a wooden spoon.
“Try it,” he offered.
Tenn took a sip and smiled. “You make an excellent housewife,” he said. He hadn’t meant to say the words he’d been imagining, but Jarrett—rather than freaking out—just smiled.
“Always knew that was my calling in life.” Jarrett moved back to the stove and said, “Dinner will be ready soon. Is Devon nearby?”
Dreya nodded. She was reading a cookbook she’d found on the shelf. It was the last thing Tenn would ever expect to see her reading. She seemed more like the Foucault and Kierkegaard type, not that Tenn had ever actually read either of them. He’d been too busy studying magic to focus on literature.
“He’s just outside rummaging. He’ll be in soon.”
Sure enough, Devon returned a few minutes later, carrying a few sacks of stolen goods that clunked when he set them down.