Martyr by A. R. Kahler Read Free Book Online Page A

Ash fell down with the rain, coated him in grey. Everything was crumbling, burning. Everything roared with despair. He skidded to a halt outside a street thronged with kravens, their misshapen bodies burning and bleeding even as their hunger drove them onward. As one, their heads snapped to face him, jagged mouths open and dripping disease. It was only then that he realized they were crouched over the broken body of a Hunter. All that was left of the corpse was cloth and snapped bones. The monsters screamed.
    Water screamed back.
    Tenn gave in to the siren song, and Water dragged him down with delight. Magic beat a battle drum through his veins.
    He ran to meet the monsters head-on. He spun, slashed, danced with the pulse of Water. Battle might not have been graceful, but Water made it ecstasy. Blood sprayed through the air like oil, made his black clothes blacker. Water laughed, and he laughed, too.
    Kravens fell around him like cards, crumpling headless into heaps. Talons slashed his skin, sent fire racing across his flesh, but Water delighted in the pain. He drowned in power, drenched himself in glory. Dozens fell, and dozens more came, drawn by the screams and the scent of blood. Water was a torrent of agony in his veins, and even that pain was bliss.
    Something appeared over the writhing mass of bodies, a shape more humanoid than the monsters. The kravens went still, their prey momentarily forgotten. Tenn’s breath screamed in his lungs. Water wanted more—more blood, more bliss—but he didn’t attack. He stood, transfixed, surrounded by corpses. The silhouette stalked closer, slowly, and that’s when Tenn realized the flames bent around the figure—not away from, but toward . The remaining kravens hunched over as if kneeling, scuttling back toward the shadows of a nearby alley. What the hell?
    All heat drained from the world the moment the shape resolved itself. Well, her self.
    She wore a long white dress, splotches of black and crimson seeping up the hem. In her bloody hands was a jar. A flickering flame curled within.
    â€œHello, Tenn,” she said. How her voice carried over the roar of destruction, he wasn’t sure. It took a moment, through the haze of Water, to realize there was no way she should know his name. “Leanna will be so delighted when I bring her your body.”
    Fire opened in her chest, and the jar blazed red-hot.
    Cold lanced through his body, his heart screaming with ice, with agony. His grip on Water and Earth shattered. He crumpled atop corpses and screamed as wave after wave of pain shot through him, all aimed at his heart. His back arched. His jaw clenched in a rictus.
    The agony stretched on forever. He felt everything, everything . Rage and hatred, passion and desire—they coursed through his burning, freezing heart in a deluge. He couldn’t stop screaming, couldn’t stop the fist from tightening around his heart. Everything froze. Everything threatened to burn his world away. And he knew…he knew that this was how he would die.
    He would become a Howl.
    Then, quite suddenly, it stopped.
    Heat flooded his body. His muscles relaxed, heavy and wet and shaking with warmth. A hand closed on his shoulder. He flinched aside.
    â€œTenn,” a voice called. Masculine, familiar. His eyes cleared. Jarrett stared down at him, his face bloody and eyes tight with worry. “It’s okay,” he whispered. His hand moved to stroke Tenn’s forehead. “It’s me. You’re safe.”
    â€œWhat…” Tenn croaked. His throat was raw.
    â€œShh,” Jarrett said. “It’s over. Can you walk?”
    Tenn’s body gave another involuntary shiver. He shifted and tried to sit up; he failed. That was answer enough.
    Jarrett lifted him up to standing. Tenn ached with cold and heat, every nerve tingling like he’d plunged from ice-water into a sauna. The world around them was still burning. For the moment, though, Tenn