Venators: Promises Forged. Devri Walls

show up because they assisted in creating the markings and didn’t feel the need to add themselves.”

      “But why—?” Rune stopped under Tate’s glare and snatched the last adilat from the table. “All right, I hear you. Throw.” She squared up to the target, muttering.

      Grey dropped into a roll. On his way up, he grabbed the knife from the sheath on his thigh, then threw. It hit the target . . . barely, but it hit. He took it as a win for the day. “How do we turn the markings off?”

      “We’re going to experiment.”

      Rune’s adilat joined the litter of others, point down in the earth. She ground her teeth. “Basically, that translates into . . . you have no idea.”

      Tate leveled a cold, hard stare. “Exactly.”

      “Great.” She leaned back against the table, kicking one ankle over the other. “Just checking.”

      “Rune,” Tate snarled. “You’re getting on my nerves today.”

      “That’s cool, cause I’m not annoyed at all right now.” She raised an eyebrow and jabbed her finger at the failed-adilat graveyard.

      Grey snickered, then covered it with a cough.

      “Subtle, Grey.” Rune smirked, throwing him a sideways glance. “Real subtle.”

      “Just taking lessons from you,” he said. “Any ideas on where to start?”

      “Verida originally told me that you would have to learn how to turn your Venator side on,” Tate said. “You’ve both accomplished that. Turning your markings off should be the same concept. A mental exercise.”

      “How would Verida have known that?” Grey asked.

      “That is her story to tell, not mine.”

      “Look, Tate,” Rune said. “I know you wanted us to work distracted, but I was almost eaten by a werewolf before I managed to turn on my inner Venator. I’m not going to get anywhere if I’m still trying to throw these nightmares.”

      “Agreed.” Grey took one last throw with a knife. “We need to focus.”

      “Very well.” Tate surveyed the range. “Focus. I’ll collect the sad mess of weaponry you two have strewn across the ground.”

      “Hey!” Grey motioned to a target. “That one hit. Dead center.”

      “Yes. And you were standing completely still with no distractions. Bravo.” Tate moved out, picking up the trail of knives and adilats. “Get to work. Grey, once you figure it out, you can help Rune.”

      “Hey!” Rune shouted.

      “Made a call based on history.”

      “History,” she grumbled under her breath. “We’ll see about that.” Rune raised her voice and called over her shoulder. “You know, since we got here, the council has been talking about how you’re going to teach us to turn off these markings. Now we find out that you have no idea how. Anyone else enjoying the irony?”

      An adilat thudded next to Rune’s boot.

      She screeched and leapt to the side. “Tate!”

      “As I said, you’re getting on my nerves. Now work.”

      “You almost hit me!”

      “My aim is excellent. Shall we see if I can get closer?”

      “All right, all right.” Rune scooted a plate of sliced bread out of the way and pushed herself up to sit on the table. “Grumpy.”

      Grey closed his eyes and tried to focus on turning the markings off. He had no idea where to start or what to think or even if he could. It felt like he was trying to flex his mental prowess in an attempt to make something levitate. He peeked several times to see if anything was happening, but his markings still shone a pale green.

      Off, Grey thought. No more. Stop. Turn off. I command you to . . . I feel like an idiot. Um, please?

      There was the sound of weaponry clunking about; goats; horses. Several annoyed sighs—some from Tate, some from Rune. He tried to ignore it all, searching for something—some switch.

      Rune let out a crow of excitement. “Yes!”

      Grey’s eyes popped open as she pulled her feet in and stood on the tabletop for a flailing celebratory dance.

      “Check it!” She shoved out her arms. “There ain’t no colors on me!”

      Grey pursed his lips, oddly annoyed that Rune had beat him to it. “Ain’t?” he repeated. “Check it?”

      “Yes, sir-ee,” she gloated in a singsong voice. “You still be green, but there ain’t no colors on me. Ha!” She fist-pumped and jumped off the table, twirling before she landed.

      “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this happy,” Tate observed.

      “That’s right! Because I proved you wrong, and I kicked Grey’s Venator butt!”

      “Give me a break,” Grey said. “You’ve spent your entire life being better than me.”

      “Noooo.” She waggled a finger. “Not as a Venator. And you know it.” She set her hands on her hips. “And that’s why you’re pissed.”

      “I’m not—”

      “Yes, you are.”

      “No! I’m not—”

      “Grey,” Tate interrupted. “It’s fairly obvious.”

      “Fine! Yes. I’m a little annoyed.” Grey took a deep breath through his nose. “Just teach me how to do it.”

      Rune cocked that brow again.

      “Please.”

      “Gladly.” She grinned. “Close your eyes. Now, imagine the markings. Have you got it?”

      “Yes.”

      “OK. Think of them like an . . . um, an alarm system that you would set in your house.”

      “An alarm—?”

      “Just do it!”

      “OK. OK.”

      “Once you’ve got that, I want you to imagine that there’s a switch, like on an alarm panel. Make sure you see it.”

      “I’ve got it.”

      “Good. Now, just switch it off.”

      Grey concentrated on the imaginary switch in his mind.

      “Well, well,” Tate said. “Good job.”

      Grey looked his arms over. The tattoos were solid black. “How do we get them back on?”

      Rune’s tattoos started flickering green again, and she grinned. “Same process.”

      Grey’s took more effort, but eventually, they too were in full color.

      “Good.” Tate nodded his approval. “If only you were that fast of a learner at everything.”

      Rune threw her hands in the air. “There’s no pleasing you. I suppose you learn every weapon the moment you pick it up.”

      “Mostly.” Tate shrugged. “Death is a good motivator.”

      “Or maybe that’s the skill set you inherited,” Grey said. “Like Rune’s climbing.”

      “Yeah,” Rune said. “It’s not like you get to take pride in something you didn’t have to work for.”

      “Really?” Tate asked. “So you’re not proud of how much better you were than Grey just now?”

      She grinned, rocking back on her heels. “Yeah,