The Last Sun (The Tarot Sequence, #1)

by K.D. Edwards

“Don’t you do it, Rune,” Brand said without having to ask what I was thinking. “Don’t you fucking dare.” “I’m just going to wait. Over there.” “I’m fucking serious. Get the fuck out of there.” “Right over there.” I pointed innocently. “I will shoot you in the ass, the goddamn ass! I will shoot you in the ass, and you’ll be shitting through an inner tube for weeks!” “I’ll be right back,” I said. “In! The! Ass!”

“I may have used the dishwasher without asking her.” “Bullshit,” I said. “You put your socks and underwear in it again, didn’t you?” “The washing machine is broken,” he said defensively.

“Stop that,” Brand said. “You’re going to give yourself frown lines.” “And that bothers you because . . . ?” “Because you’ll get old faster than me, which means you’ll get rejuvenation treatments before I need them, and through the wonder of the Companion bond, I’ll fucking end up looking twelve.” “Did you come up here for a reason?” “The water. And to tell you I pulled the research on the idiot scions.”

“We could spar,” Brand said. I frowned at him. “It’ll make you feel better. We could go outside and spar, if you want.” “Sparring means something different for me than it does you,” I said. “Sparring is getting hit in the face a lot.” But I smiled and started unpacking my beach bag with a little less morbidity.

Enclave staff swept through the doorway and deposited sandwiches and frosted pitchers. The last one to leave stood rigidly at attention, waiting for a tip. I said, “Do not remove a fly from your friend’s forehead with a hatchet.” The young man hesitated, bowed, and departed.

There were many, many boxes of mac and cheese between me and a seat on the Arcanum.

“It shouldn’t be this easy to influence you,” Lord Tower said. “You need to practice your resistance techniques.” Then his face froze and he looked down. I poked my sabre, transmuted into dagger shape, into his belly. “At least you didn’t banter before the killing blow this time,” he said lightly.

Guns were anathema in our culture. You didn’t bring bullets to a magic fight; it bruised our sense of spectacle.

The bartender gave us a glance as we approached, and he swiped his way toward us with a dirty rag. He was very handsome and not wearing a shirt. He said, “Hey, love. What’s your poison?” “Something with an antidote,” I joked, lamely, because he was handsome and not wearing a shirt.

Even in shadow, he had the bluest eyes in the world.

I thought, Down is good. Lying down would be better. Lying down several city blocks away would be ideal. But we’d bought ourselves a window, that’s it. A window of opportunity. Plus, I was my father’s son, and I did not kneel between battles.

Addam Saint Nicholas faced away from me. He had an MP3 player in one hand and was dancing. There was a tray of food, a bottle of wine, a small stack of new-release paperbacks, and a camping cot. He wore only black suit pants. No shoes, socks, shirt, or sigils. My first thought was that he danced like Brand. Then, in an astonishingly fluid motion, Addam snagged the leg of a roughly-sharpened footstool he’d hidden in his waistline, and spun around to stake me. His eyes jerked from my extended sabre blade to my face. His fingers spread open and the stake clattered to the ground. He said, “Ah. You’re not dead. I am being rescued, yes?” He had white teeth and a freckled tan. Tattoos covered one arm and one shoulder in an intricate Celtic sleeve. He was well over six feet tall. His hair, the color of sand, was tied into a short ponytail with a dirty rubber band. He held out a hand and said, “Your blade.” I blinked back at him. “Um. No, thank you?” He frowned. “Apologies, it has been a . . . long few days. Does anyone have a blade to spare? It would be better if I were armed.” It clicked. “Oh, I get it. You think this is one of them big, fancy rescues. Boy are you about to be embarrassed.”

I said, “Just to make sure I’ve got things right, this is a prison cell, isn’t it? You’re not just ducking your mom because you got drunk and woke up with a sailor?”

“Want me to go fetch your stake?” I asked. He gave me a smile. “I am unaccustomed to being upstaged by a proper hero. That was very good spellwork.” He winked, turned, and retreated. “This way, Hero.”

You know, it is conceivable that I could survive on my own for another hour or two. And you skipped over the part where you complimented me on my derring-do.” “Yes, awesome job, thank you for not dying after you left me behind. I baked cookies.” “Chocolate chip or oatmeal raisin?” I asked. Brand hung up. I tucked the phone back in my pocket and headed to the car. The phone vibrated. I pulled it out and saw that Brand had texted: “Dick.”

Addam just looked at me, long enough to have me fidgeting. He finally said, “You interest me, Hero. I’m fairly sure you saved my life, and a simple thank you seems so small. I don’t know whether I should pay you handsomely, or invite you into the shower with me.” “We take checks,” I said, before I could get uncomfortable or act stupid. His smile brightened, just briefly, and then he vanished into the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind him. Back through the bedroom door, I heard Brand either snicker or sigh. I couldn’t tell which.

I studied both the laser printouts and the browser. “Zoinks. A clue.” “Zoinks?” Addam laughed.

I waited a couple beats. “Are you going to say ‘or else’? It sounded like you were going to say ‘or else.’”

It wasn’t until I opened my eyes that I realized Addam Saint Nicholas was dancing. He held the earphone cord like a dance partner, twirling under its lariat arc. He’d taken off his shoes and socks. His feet, long and angular, were calloused with the wear of someone who didn’t just dance for occasion. I liked men who danced. It was something I was far too self-conscious to do well myself.

“I am half-naked, Hero,” Addam said. “And yet you have not taken your eyes off the scissors. Such a vigilant warrior prince.” “Thank you for noticing. And please tell Brand.

“There’s a house in the woods ahead. I saw it when I ran that way.” “A house?” “In the woods. I didn’t see any lights on.” “I see. And this doesn’t worry you? Did it have gumdrops in its roof?” He laughed. “We’ll be very cautious.”

Addam said, “We may possibly come to blows over the animal crackers.”

“So,” Addam murmured. “Do you want children?” “What an awful pickup line.” “And what are your views on group marriage?” “Even better. You want to knock me up and see other people. You know, I was led to believe you were good at this sort of thing.” “Perhaps I am sly. Perhaps I am overreaching in my negotiations, in hope that I end up with a simple kiss.” “I don’t think there’s a single thing about you that’s simple, Saint Nicholas.”

“I think people make themselves beautiful. I think everything on our outside is a line sketch, and whatever’s on the inside blows those lines into three dimensions.

“I don’t think it will be easy at all, Hero. I think what would be easy for anyone else is a very great challenge for you; just like I think you routinely do things that would be impossible for others.

“What look?” “Like you’re about to burst into song or hug me.” Brand glared at Addam. “He wasn’t like this when you left. I told you not to break him.” “You have my word, he did not burst into song once while we were together,” Addam said.

And it felt so fucking good to be a hero to you.” I blinked a few times. More than a few times. “That wasn’t the first time. You’ve always protected me. You’ve always been my hero. You ate my broccoli. You told my father that you were the one to run out on the ice when the pool froze over. You made me drink my stupid juice when I was sick. Always. You’ve always been there, and I don’t know why I deserve it. Because of my DNA? Because of whom my father was? Because—” Brand grabbed the sides of my face. He stared in my eyes and said, firmly, “Rune of Sun House, I believe that you are meant for great things. I truly, truly do. Your story has barely begun. It is my honor to be along for what has been, and is, and will be one hell of a ride. So don’t leave me on the bench again. That’s all I wanted to say.” He gave me a rare smile, untouched by anything except pleasure, and leaned forward to kiss my forehead. Then he shoved me back to my side of the shower. I ran my palms over my eyes. “We just covered a lot of ground, didn’t we?” “Fucking emotions. What’s next on our to-do list?”