Rune Awakening Read online

  © 2019 Genevra Black

  All Rights Reserved

  LIFE-IN-DEATH Press, January 2019

  GenevraBlack.com

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, places, institutions, families, alcoholic zombies, or giant fish men is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, in any form, by any means electronic or mechanical, including but not limited to photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system currently in use or yet to be devised.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal use and may not be re-sold or given away to others. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase a copy for that person. If you did not purchase this book, or it was not purchased for your use, then you have an unauthorized copy. Please go to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting my hard work and copyright.

  Print ISBN: 978-0998212777

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Acknowledgments

  Glossary

  About the Author

  Prologue

  The dark river waves lapped at the sides of the boat as it approached the mouth of the cave. The sky was gray, and clouds roiled as thunder mumbled in the distance. The woman sitting in the boat, shivering, raised her face to the sky and closed her eyes as the rain covered her; her companion rowed, slow and deliberate, toward the sound that pierced even the growling clouds—the deep-throated, earth-shaking, unceasing howl of a wolf.

  At last, they were close.

  Hope lifted the woman’s heart, but a contraction brought it to a stuttering halt.

  She lowered her hands to her swollen abdomen, grimacing in pain as the beings inside of her writhed, spurred into a frenzy by the oncoming storm and the immense energy calling to them from the craggy breach ahead. The cave jutted out of the river’s center, the slanted, jagged stone ebony with moisture. Standing guard before it were pillars of similarly jagged stone and sharp rocks just above the surface of the water, obscured by fog.

  The woman’s companion struggled for grip against the wet surface of the boat’s stempost, clutching the jaws of the wooden serpent which adorned it. He dug his long oar into the riverbed and turned to look at her, brows knit. “Are you okay?”

  She just nodded, giving him a reassuring smile, and pointed ahead. “We’re so close….”

  He smiled back, then eased into rowing position again, pushing them forward. The path was treacherous, the going slow as they navigated the maze of razor-sharp, black rock. Thunder growled, closer now—and, in the distance, lightning.

  “Go faster,” the woman breathed.

  Her companion dug deeper and pushed harder, and the boat rocked as they veered off-course and grazed the slimy side of one of the pillars. The howling came again, long and low and mournful, from the mouth of the cave.

  There was only sheer stone on either side of them as they finally disappeared into the thin breach, guarded at last from the rain. Inside, it was darker than anything.

  The man let the boat drift as he raised his hand and lit the lantern clutched in the serpent’s jaws. A blue-green light illuminated the close walls and low ceiling of the passageway; a quieter howl called to them from beyond.

  Finally, they came to the end of the tight passageway, and the ceiling raised, the light following and filling the space. The hull of their boat bumped up against a rocky embankment.

  Before them stood a great, circular stone door etched with ancient runes. The woman gripped the side of the boat as the beings inside of her grew agitated in the presence of the runes—runes enchanted with the blood of their father.

  The door would open for her.

  Her companion laid his stick down and pulled the boat ashore, then returned to help her from where she sat. Slowly, she rose and approached the door, taking heart in her children’s excited reaction even through the pain. The sound of thunder roared through the passageway behind them and was answered with another, more agitated howl from beyond the stone slab.

  “Are we sure this will work?” the man whispered.

  “The door will open to the kinsblood.”

  The children stretched, pushing on her ribs and spine as though trying to escape her body. She felt like she might burst. With a groan, she closed her eyes and delved into her body, into the children, trying to grasp their agitated minds. She pulled at one, dug her fingernails into the silk of her robe.

  “Give it to me,” she demanded in a hiss.

  One of them, the weaker, struggled and refused. The woman spread her roots deeper into the little thing’s body, drinking of its veins until they were sunken and scarred.

  The child stilled.

  When the woman brought her hand away from her abdomen, a cloud of red mist followed it. Deep crimson flecks roiled there, tripping over each other like frenzied insects before swarming to the runes in the stone and pooling in the etchings like water in a basin. As the woman stepped closer, the stone absorbed the blood magic. The runes blazed gold.

  Slowly, the circular door rolled to the side, rumbling and shaking the whole cavern. Gravel and fine dust rained down upon both their heads.

  A fevered howl greeted the woman as she stepped into the enormous amphitheater beyond. From the darkness, two bright red eyes peered at her. The light from the passageway outside touched just the tip of the great wolf’s muzzle and his slavering jaws. Hewn into the stone floor all around him, aqueducts of stinking river water glistened. His saliva dripped from the corners of his mouth and into the ducts, and in the distance, the woman could hear a steady stream of liquid flowing from the amphitheater into the river outside.

  She raised her head to meet his eyes. “So, you are the Wolf of Ván.”

  The monster was so enormous that his arched back touched the ceiling of the cavern—there was barely room for him to lie where he was, bound to the floor with immense chains.

  The wolf’s red eyes drifted to her abdomen, then back up. He growled.

  “I’m a friend,” the woman said, “and I have much to tell you.”

  Chapter One

  25 YEARS LATER

  Edie Holloway had never touched a dead thing before.

  Hervey the hamster had been sick for a week or so; he was sluggish and had stopped eating or drinking the day before. Edie supposed she should have taken him to the vet, even though it seemed a little ridiculous to take something as small as a hamster in to see a doctor. Es
pecially considering the bill.

  It didn’t help that she’d just been fired from her second job at Weiner’s Gas & Garage. She’d had to pick up a bunch of new, super-late shifts at Nocturnem, the bar that was her second job. Still, despite the little bit of extra cash, the prognosis wasn’t shaping up to be a good one. Who knew when she’d find another job? At this point, she couldn’t spare the extra hundred bucks to take Hervey to the vet.

  She’d thought about borrowing money, or maybe dipping into the band fund, but Edie didn’t think DYSMANTLE’s sole other member—her roommate, Mercy—would be very keen on that idea. Usually, she left the money stuff to Mercy; Edie was just the bassist, after all. And when it came to asking Mercy for help directly, she still hesitated. Her odd (but charming) best friend would probably end up rubbing patchouli oil on Hervey or hanging magic crystals in his cage or something.

  Besides, at the moment, Mercy was away with her boyfriend Drake for the weekend. So Edie was stuck waiting, hoping her sick rodent just had a bug or something. Just her luck that the hamster had only started having problems when he’d come to live with her, after never needing medical attention in his life.

  First-world problems, maybe. But her heart—and her bank account—still ached.

  Edie walked down the hall toward her tiny apartment, feet tired after a long day of bussing tables and helping tend bar. She pursed her lips as she continued to read an article on hamster illness that she’d found during her preoccupied shift. Technically, she wasn’t supposed to have her phone out at work, but she’d told her boss there was a family emergency to keep track of.

  It wasn’t completely a lie. Hervey had come from a friend who just hadn’t wanted him anymore, and she’d felt sorry for the little guy, so she’d offered to take him in.

  Her actual, human family was just like they had always been: Mom had moved across the country, Dad was dead, and everyone else was gone or estranged. The concept of extended family was alien to her.

  She tried to convince everyone that suited her just fine. Anyway, Mercy had plenty of family drama for Edie to revel in vicariously.

  Edie envied Mercy. Not for the family thing, but because she’d gotten to leave for a few days and hang out about an hour away in Salem, Massachusetts with Drake, her boyfriend. The air was probably nice and fresh there—nothing like Anster, the huge city Edie had always called home.

  She’d scraped a little money together so she could go, too, but that had been before the garage had let her go. “Nothing personal,” Mr. Weiner had said, like nothing personal would pay her rent. “Just your standard cutback.” Since she couldn’t imagine what kind of “cutbacks” a family-owned business would have, anyway, she was pretty sure he was only trying to let her down easy.

  At least Nocturnem was more fun—a dark, pretentious “drafthaus” for dark, pretentious people. It looked like an Addams family fever dream, and Edie looked less out of place there, even if she didn’t quite fit the aesthetic. It was probably pretty ridiculous to see a pasty, raven-headed grunge-goth cleaning Nissan windows and handing out road maps at Weiner’s. Maybe even bad for business.

  With a sigh, Edie tucked her phone away and unlocked the apartment. The door squealed, and the floorboards under the rug did the same as she stepped through. Mercy had an eye for interior design, but even her wreaths of flowers and postmodern art couldn’t hide the cracking brick facade; under the smell of sandalwood and vanilla, a mildewy, musty scent lingered. Edie passed through their living room, tossing her bag onto the second-hand couch as she went, and entered her room to check on Hervey.

  The poor little guy had made an admirable attempt at clinging to life the past week, but he was so small and had gotten ill so quickly. Still, going into her room and seeing him lying stiff in his cage was a shock to her system. She stopped mid-stride and stared.

  Maybe she should have known it was coming. Maybe she should have known it was ridiculous to think of taking a hamster to the vet when money was as tight as it was—that the most she could do, feasibly, was give him a comfortable death.

  She’d never even been near anything that had died. Her father had been cremated hastily after the crash, and holding his urn was way different than having an entire body there, empty of anything—even if it was little and not human.

  It was … strange. She could feel it. She could feel how utterly empty Hervey was, even from across the room.

  “Oh, no,” she mumbled as she finally unfroze herself and crossed to Hervey’s cage. He was lying just outside his little hutch, prone and completely unmoving.

  Maybe he’s just sleeping? But she already knew he wasn’t.

  After a moment of numb silence, she bent over and unlatched the cage, sticking her hand in.

  Whoa.

  Her fingers hovered over the small corpse for a moment, shaking, her whole body thrumming with a strange energy. It was almost as if his hurt and sickness were tangible to her. And, god, it really was uncomfortable. Maybe this was why people hating being near dead bodies so much.

  She hesitated, then scooped him up, bringing him close to her chest. Definitely dead. She didn’t need to be an expert to know that. His fur felt all wrong, and he was cold. That was the strangest, most startling part of it all—how cold he was. He must have been dead for a few hours.

  “Oh, no,” she whispered again. She’d have liked to be there, even if that was silly.

  No one who saw her on the street would have expected this. Her overall style suggested she’d break the kneecaps of anyone who looked at her sideways, and here she was, wishing she’d been there to comfort her sickly hamster in his last hours. But no one deserved to die alone.

  Tears sprang to Edie’s eyes, though her emotions were all so jumbled that she couldn’t tell if it was just because she was exhausted and overwhelmed or really, truly devastated. The hamster hadn’t even been hers for very long, but ... it was still sad. He’d been all alone, locked up in a cage. Had he been scared?

  Please get over yourself. Hamsters don’t think like that. She shook her head and almost laughed at herself, holding the little body close and willing away tears for the moment.

  Edie looked him over for a second, turned him onto his back. Trying to gather her thoughts, she thumbed him between the eyes, ruffling the fur there. Eventually, she sat down on her bed and closed her eyes.

  “Okay,” she told herself in a breath. “Okay. I don’t know where to put you. I don’t know what to do.” The freezer? The freezer could work until she found a better place. Did she have anything she could wrap him in, though? She really didn’t want a dead hamster falling out the next time she reached for a frozen pizza.

  There was something strange about Hervey’s body. She was preoccupied, trying to think rationally about how to handle the current situation, but she kept losing focus to a weird feeling. That heavy, sick feeling around him—she could feel it, too, inside of her.

  Her heart rate began to speed up as though she were approaching an anxiety attack. Her fingers and toes were numb, and heat rushed to her stomach, turning it unpleasantly slimy. He was just a hamster, but she hadn’t been there. He’d been alone.

  Like Dad.

  Of course her stupid brain would connect the two.

  It had been an accident. He’d been driving too late, on a road he’d had no reason to be on. He’d crashed into a tree and died right there on the scene. Edie had always, always wanted to know more. Her mother had never allowed her to visit the crash site, had never allowed her to see Dad’s body or even know the particulars of just how he’d died, thinking they’d only upset her further. Mom didn’t understand that the things that gave her closure weren’t the same things that gave Edie closure.

  But then again, Mom didn’t understand most things, especially when it came to Dad. One day, Edie had kissed him good night; the next morning, she’d been told he would never see him again, ever. That wasn’t closure. That was just raw loss.

  And there was so much about her that no one
would ever know, so many memories only she and her father had shared. Now that he was gone, she was the only one. How could someone understand what that felt like—to own memories that might as well have not even existed?

  The thought of her father made her angry for poor Hervey, though she didn’t understand why. Why did everything she cared for end up hurt or dead or gone? Dad dying, Mom moving…. Mercy tried to understand, but Mercy hadn’t known Edie before her father had died, and no one in Mercy’s immediate family had ever died suddenly. In fact, Mercy had a huge extended family, and they were always bugging her to visit.

  That annoyed Edie, and her own annoyance annoyed her even further. Edie had no family contacting her just to check up or begging her to spend time with them. Even her own mother hadn’t called all year.

  And on top of that, stupid Mercy’s stupid fish was just in the other room, perfectly healthy.

  She knew it was wrong, but just for a second, she wished it had been the fish instead of her hamster—not because she wanted to cause Mercy pain, but because … she was just tired of striking out.

  Suddenly, her body went stiff and, though she didn’t close her eyes, her vision darkened. Misty, almost-human outlines of blue and teal and gray rushed at her from behind her eyelids, groping at her throat, emitting shrieks that vaporized into whispers.

  In all, the flash of darkness probably lasted for less than a full second, but it felt like hours; it felt like she’d been sleeping, weightless, completely unaware of herself, who she was, or anything around her.