“Raider…” Rune starts, but can’t think of anything else to say. Gods, Raider has to know what he’s doing to Rune. He never lays the praise on so thick—Rune can hardly concentrate through the barrage of sweet words.
“Good boy,” Raider adds, which is unfairly distracting. “Okay, I’m going to hang up, then voice call. I need my hands free for this.”
When Raider calls back, Rune presses the phone to his ear.
“Are you ready?” Raider asks.
“Please,” Rune whispers.
From a distance, Val calls out, “I’m starting.”
A chime echoes through the connection. A hiss like a sudden flame. The scattering of small stones.
“Okay!” Val says.
Raider takes a deep breath, right in Rune’s ear. “All right, cutie, you’ve been so fucking brave. The door’s going to appear behind the mirror. You won’t see it at first, but the cracks will start to glow. They’ll be orange like the light in your beautiful eyes. Once you see the outline, all you have to do is push.”
Rune floats on the high of every sweet word. “I need both hands, so I’m... I’m hanging up now.”
“That’s perfect,” Raider says. “Just open the door, and I’m waiting for you. You’ve been so good waiting for me. You’ve got this.”
With a shaky exhale, Rune hangs up. Slips the phone into his back pocket. Raider’s words still circle, cushioning Rune’s every move. Grateful joy floods his chest, chasing away every fear and doubt.
Raider is waiting for him. Raider says he’s good.
This will be okay. This will work.
Rune grips the edge of the mirror. It separates easily from the stone wall. The heavy wooden frame bites into his fingers, and he has to concentrate to settle it on the floor.
There’s a patch of darker stone where the mirror once hung. As Rune watches, the darkness flickers. Spreads. Warm, orange light slices through the solid stone. A thin outline twice as wide as Rune and half again as tall.
A door. Just like Raider described.
The stone is coarse and dusty beneath Rune’s palm. The slightest pressure pushes the door outward—and Rune is free.
8
Raider’s pressed so close to the stone wall, he has to step back when the door moves. Nerves strung tight, praying this will work, he stumbles back to give Rune space.
Because that’s Rune, divinely beautiful and achingly real, framed with light and stone. He’s smaller than Raider imagined. Maybe five foot seven at the most, his frame swamped in the purple tie-dye shirt. His face is open and soft with nervous awe, and so much trust Raider isn’t sure he deserves.
“Well, fuck,” Val says, voice echoing in the catacombs. “It fucking worked.”
“You did it, Rune,” Raider says, and holds out his hand.
Rune steps forward slowly, eyes darting everywhere, and touches Raider’s palm. Like a bird landing on an unfamiliar branch—and balancing perfectly. If Val’s research is correct, this is the first time Rune has touched anyone in two hundred years.
Her research probably is correct, because she’s been on a winning “I told you so” streak all month.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, cutie,” Raider says, with an unstoppable grin. He’s never cared much about holidays before, but this is definitely his new favorite. “How’s this for a date?”
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Rune repeats softly. His voice is strange, the accent hard to place, but not as strange as it should be given his long captivity. “You’rehere.”
“I’m here.” Raider’s palm heats beneath the slight touch. He wants so much more, but he’ll go as slowly as he needs to. And he thinks he can help Rune out a bit. “You’re doing so good, cutie.”
Sure enough, the praise brings Rune to motion again. His eyes glitter at the simple words, which lends weight to Raider’s current working theory about Rune’s origins.
It’s also why Raider’s scheme worked just now.
