Page 17 of Runaway Magic
It was over two miles from his current position, and traffic was backed up as far as he could see. Fourteen’s SUV would be useless.
He ran.
What had once been a graveyard was now a gaping hole surrounded by police tape, a variety of vehicles covered in flashing lights, and swarms of people in uniform. The only body bags he saw were near the building leveled by Cym’s family, though he didn’t imagine Cym would find any comfort in that. The kid would probably take the whole thing on his own shoulders.
Fourteen didn’t know Cym well enough yet to anticipate what he would do once he got here, which meant finding the guy in this clusterfuck was going to be a challenge, so Fourteen hung back to survey the scene. Delving into his sniper training, Fourteen stood still and allowed the landscape to talk to him.
First, he scanned the area in front of the police tape, hoping to find Cym stymied along with the rest of the civilians. When that turned up nothing, he began to filter out useless information, deleting the flashing lights from emergency vehicles and the low buzz of the crowd from his perception. He let the setting play out in front of him, waiting for something different to attract his attention.
On the top floor of a white building to his far left, he caught a quick movement that stopped abruptly, like somethingbeing jerked away from a window. It was as far away from the cemetery as a person could get and still be able to see, but Fourteen thought someone as cautious as Cym would choose distance over details right now. Sentimental he might be, but the guy wasn’t stupid.
It was easier to move away from the scene of destruction than it had been to get closer, so Fourteen got to the top floor only minutes after seeing the movement in the window. He was still running up the last flight of stairs when he heard the sound of something hitting the floor above him and a sharp yelp.
Through the open door on the landing he could hear, “It was stupid for you to leave your shield behind, Boy.” The voice was rougher than before, but Fourteen thought it was the older woman from the fight earlier. “Or maybe he just ditched you when he saw how much trouble you are?”
Fourteen drew his gun as he made it to the landing and burst through the door without slowing. In the hallway, he spied Cym sprawled out on the floor and moving feebly like he was trying to get to his feet but couldn’t figure out which way was up. Fourteen assumed the reason was the head-shaped dent in the wall behind him.
Towering over him was the lady from earlier, only she didn’t look as nice as she had in the graveyard. One side of her face was caked in blood and dirt, and her dress was torn. Fourteen processed the information as negligible—he was more concerned with the outstretched hand she was pointing toward Cym. Fourteen noted the boy from the cemetery pressing his back against the opposite wall, eyes wide with fear. His jacket was torn and missing half its buttons. And, like the woman, his bedraggled form was caked in mud.
Fourteen ignored the cowardly boy and shot the woman directly in the head.
Instead of seeing the normal result after shooting someone, Fourteen’s eyes registered something his mind couldn’t process. Before him, ripples in reality warped and bent around the woman. She jerked her head around to look at him, and her face twisted in rage at the interruption. She didn’t have a scratch on her.
He shot her again with the same result, this time noticing that his bullets weren’t bouncing off, but rather disappearing once they hit whatever magic was shielding the woman. At least he didn’t have to worry about Cym catching a ricochet, which was a plus. On the downside, they were making enough noise to draw attention, and half of the Boston PD was just one cry for help away. Having a silencer on his gun didn’t mean zero noise. It meant less noise.
He proceeded to empty his clip at her. In his experience—with one notable exception—every shield could be breached.
After the first few shots, the anger drained from the woman's face and was replaced by fear as the ripples from her shield grew fainter with every hit it took. When he’d emptied his clip, she threw up a hand and put it through a series of strange positions. Fourteen felt something flow past him and heard the door behind him fall to the floor with a crash.
He cocked an eyebrow at the woman, reloaded his SIG, and trained the gun on her. Firing as he went, he pressed forward, forcing the lady away from Cym. When he reached Cym, the woman turned and ran. The next time he shot her, there was a wave of distortion that looked like a bubble being popped, and he heard a faint chuffing sound. The woman jerked sharply, stumbled, and then fell against the wall.
Cym put a hand on Fourteen’s foot, digging frantic fingers into his ankle.
Fourteen paused. “I won’t leave her behind us,” he told Cym, assuming he was about to plead for the woman’s life. “She’ll just keep coming after you.”
Cym’s eyes were dazed and didn’t track together, but he managed a weak, “Behind you… idiot.”
A wave of distortion passed over him and evaporated. Fourteen turned to see the cowardly boy standing before him with an outstretched arm, and he was staring at his hand like it had betrayed him.
“Where did my brother find you, the Terminator store?” Eyes wide, the boy backed toward the door but didn’t make it before Fourteen grabbed him by the front of his tattered jacket and threw him into the wall.
“This is your brother?” He kicked the now-stunned boy’s leg.
Cym nodded. “Sterling. He’s… just a kid.” His eyes were pleading, but one of his pupils was twice the size of the other, and looking at it didn’t put Fourteen in a forgiving mood. “Please.”
“He’s the only one, Cym. Anyone else who attacks us, I will kill. Understand?”
Cym’s nod was so weak Fourteen nearly missed it.
Fourteen strode over to the woman, now missing a portion of her arm, to eliminate the threat she presented, but when he got there, a blinding white hole opened in the wall, and she toppled inside. Before he could do anything, it was gone. Fourteen turned around to see that Cym’s brother was gone too.
Fucking hell.
Walking back to Cym, he heard footsteps on the stairs. The echoing sound of police walkie-talkies let him know his time was up. Fourteen braced himself for contact with Cym and gritted his teeth as waves of sensation poured through him. It was nothing like the skin-on-skin contact from before, but it was enough tohave him on his knees panting by the time it subsided enough for him to function.
Once he was able to adjust to the random flashes of his childhood, both savory and horrible, he was filled with something he could only describe as pure beauty radiating from the young man before him. As gently as possible, he scooped up Cym’s barely conscious form and hurried to the other side of the hallway, hoping that, like many large buildings, this one had a set of emergency stairs on both sides. He was in luck but had to kick the door open to break the lock.
Fourteen had to fight the softness and sense of safety flooding through his system from touching Cym.
