Page 3 of Runaway Magic
He pried a board away from the screen door, dislodging a tattered sign announcing the building was scheduled for demolition, and ushered the kid inside. After one final look around to make sure they weren’t being tailed, he followed them into the dim interior of the porch.
A squatter must have called the porch home at some point—it was filled with old garbage and the occasional skittering creature. The kid didn’t complain about their accommodations,nor did they look around for a comfortable—or even less disgusting—place to sit. Instead, they collapsed to the floor, shaking with exhaustion.
How long had the kid been running before they found Fourteen? Together, they’d run a fair distance, but they were acting like they’d just finished a marathon. He couldn’t make out much in the scant light, but what Fourteen had seen of the kid so far made him think they were underfed.
They were probably a runaway. The sooner he got them back to their family the better.
“Listen, kid. I’m sorry you got caught up in that mess back there, but I think the worst of it is behind us. I’ll let you rest for a few more minutes, and then I’ll get you to a bus stop. Get you a ticket back to your folks so they can take care of you.” It didn’t sound right as he said it, but there was nothing more for Fourteen to do here. He was way out of his element, and he wasn’t a nanny.
The kid let out a harsh laugh that was completely at odds with their small body, and Fourteen had a strong feeling they were likely to be a he. “Sure, they’ll take care of me. They’ll take care of me so well that no one will ever hear from me again.” They shifted in the garbage and pulled a tin can out from under their backside, trying to get more comfortable. “I appreciate what you’ve done, but we should part ways here. You need to get out of here before they find us.”
“You don’t need to worry about the cartel. Most of them were killed in the explosion, and the rest are probably more interested in vanishing before the police show up than they are in finding us.”
The odd look on the kid’s face made Fourteen think he was missing crucial intel on his current situation. He realized he hadn’t been listening to the kid up to now because he’d been sofixated on getting them to safety. What had they been running from?
“I’m not worried about your enemies,” The kid said. “Whoever they are, they have nothing on my family.” They propped their elbows on delicate knees and cradled their head by fisting handfuls of hair on either side. “Listen, you really need to get out of here, mister. So do I, for that matter, but we need to go in opposite directions. It won’t take them long to find me, even though your explosion was a really good distraction. Thanks for that, by the way.”
The fluttering Fourteen felt in his chest earlier was getting stronger. Before, it had been like a butterfly. Now it was more like a large bird beating its wings against a cage, but instead of trying to get out, it was trying to get in. “Kid—” he began.
“I’m not a kid,” they interrupted. “According to society, I’ve been a man for more than a year.”
Well. That answered that question.
“Sure, kid. Whoever is after you hasn’t met someone like me. I’m not exactly off the clock right now, but I can give you a hand for long enough to get you somewhere safe. Where do you want to go?”
Fourteen had no idea where this was coming from. He wasn’t this chatty, and he never took on side projects. He worked the job and got paid. Unless he had wounds that needed time to heal, he would move on to the next mission.
He liked to keep busy, anything to keep him out of Storage. This situation was new to him, and he didn’t like new. It shouldn’t be difficult, though—there wasn’t much chance a kid could be in enough trouble to tax his skills.
The real challenge would be going dark on The Company for a few hours. They were going to want to debrief him soon.
A jagged, broken space in his mind flared to life, reminding him exactly what it felt like to have The Company unhappywith him. Rather than heed the warning, he allowed the desensitization training he’d received to force the space to vanish.
He could take whatever they came up with. Whatever The Company did wouldn’t actually damage him. The services he rendered to The Company were valuable enough that they wouldn’t want to keep him off active duty. No, the worst thing they would do to him would be to send him in for retraining.
Fourteen managed to contain the shudder that tried to ripple through him at the thought.
“I know you want to help, and I appreciate it. It’s super nice of you, but really, you need to go.” The boy stood up slowly, as if testing his legs. Fourteen assumed they held firm since he didn’t fall back down. “It’s been nice meeting you under the circumstances.”
Nice? Fourteen watched the kid make his way off the porch, not offering to help when his hair snagged on a nail. Instead, Fourteen observed quietly as he fought his way free and stumbled down the steps into the night. Fourteen didn’t do nice; he didn’t know what nice was.
He gave the boy sixty seconds and followed him.
The boy continued in the direction they had been running, but instead of choosing deserted streets as an amateur might, he chose streets with people on them. He did his best to stick to populated areas, but eventually, he trudged down a dark street with no signs of life, his heavy steps showing his reluctance. He moved with extreme caution, forcing Fourteen to stay well behind him to remain unseen.
If Fourteen had been closer, he might have mistaken what happened for an explosion, but, from a distance, it was obvious to him that it was something completely outside his expertise.
It was as if all the shadows had peeled away from between two buildings and jumped at the boy. He sensed it at the lastminute and hit the ground rolling, landing between two parked cars. When the shadows hit the wall next to where he had been walking, the brick exploded and dust billowed out, covering the street and bringing visibility down to nothing.
Fourteen darted into the cloud and aimed for the cars the boy had tucked himself between. On a whim, he went around to the other side of the cars and found the boy crawling on his hands and knees, directionless and coughing hard enough to break a rib.
He bent over the boy, ready to scoop him up and run, when he saw a hole appear in midair. It floated toward them slowly, its edges shimmering in the dust and gloom. In its center, he could just make out something resembling a glowing ball, but instead of creating light, the ball seemed to be stealing it from its surroundings. When its antiglow intensified, he instinctively jumped between the boy and the mysterious hole, taking the blast himself.
A crackling distortion streaked through the air, flowing around and over him, but it hovered several feet away from his body. Then, as though it had decided to give up, it swirled up and away, dissipating into nothingness.
The boy behind Fourteen was still gasping and choking, but he managed a strangled, “What . . . are you doing?” and something that sounded like, “Get out of here?—”
He gave the boy a dirty look he probably couldn’t see and glanced back at the hole and its glorified raver toy. He couldn’t tell if the attack had done what it was supposed to do or not, but he didn’t plan to see what would happen if he got hit with it again. He pulled out his SIG P220, fired six shots at the center of the hole, and heard a very human yelp of pain. The hole closed abruptly with a sharp shriek reminiscent of metal on metal.
