Page 83 of Runaway Magic
Fourteen had clearly managed to do some damage when he’d shot Astin earlier. Cym could see spell patches peeking out from under the sleeve on one of his cousin’s arms.
Astin ignored his jab and called out, “Sterling, you little shit, cut this out right now, and we’ll let you live. Your brother is too far gone to save. He needs to be put down for his own good.”
“His own good? What the fuck is wrong with you? And like hell you’ll let me go!” Sterling said angrily. “You forget that I know how awful you are.”
Astin sighed. “I locked you in a cupboard one time, kid.”
“For two days!”
“I got busy and forgot. I said I was sorry.”
“Forget it. I don’t care what’s inside him. He’s my brother, and you can go fuck yourself.”
Shrugging his shoulders theatrically, Astin said to the crowd around him, “You heard him. Kill them both.”
“So your orders are back to killing me? What happened to needing my body?” Cym didn’t expect an answer, he was just stalling for time. He wasn’t sure what he was hoping for, but not getting horribly murdered by his family for even another minute was pretty appealing.
Astin winked at Cym, making his blood boil. The fuckhead didn’t give one single shit about either of them. Cym doubted he even cared about getting benefits from Sekt for helping. Given his psycho ways, Astin was probably there just because he was told he’d get to torture someone. Hester probably adored him for it.
Hell, it wouldn’t surprise Cym if he found out Astin had been in on the whole thing from the day Cym had been first locked up. He’d always been awful when they were kids.
How many of Cym’s family members knew the whole truth? And for those who didn’t, what lies had they been told that could have convinced them to fight on the side of monsters?
The ground rumbled ominously. One look at Sterling’s face, now devoid of any color, told Cym his brother’s magic was at its limit. The next attack that came for them would be the end.
Then the world erupted around him for the second time that day.
Chapter 21
Fourteen
There was a loud cracking sound, followed by a lot of screaming. Then there was nothing.
Then there was pain. Like, a metric fuckton of it.
Fourteen didn’t know how long he had been out, but he did what he always did following an unplanned unconsciousness—a full system diagnostic. His face had two abrasions, one across the temple, one on his left cheek, the first one potentially serious, the second one minor. There was also a low throbbing in his shoulder from when he’d damaged it during the fight at the warehouse.
It had been knitting together quickly and efficiently until he’d had to kill the shit out of Cym’s family members and their entourage. That combined with whatever the hell had just happened to him put his shoulder back to square one.
A pile of small to medium rocks were pinning his lower body, but neither of his legs were more than superficially damaged.He detected a bruise on his sternum in the exact area where he’d removed a plate in his armor. It wasn’t an ideal spot to leave exposed, but it was the only plate that came loose when he had the idea to see what would happen if he used his armor offensively. It had been exceptionally useful in hand-to-hand combat during his rescue of Cym.
Wait. Where was Cym?
Fuck.
Fourteen blamed his head wound for addling his mind enough to forget where he was and what he was supposed to be doing. At least he knew it would heal quickly. Minor injuries were little more than an inconvenience for him—it was the major ones involving broken bones and sucking chest wounds that slowed him down. He could work through them if he had to, but he didn’t enjoy it.
He peered into the darkness to locate Cym but couldn’t see for shit. He dialed down his attention to eyesight and focused on his hearing instead.
From the muted sounds above, it seemed as though there was still a battle going on overhead, and he needed to get to it. Cym was damaged and had nothing but his questionable brother to help him. Hopefully, Cym could recreate the godforsaken spell he’d managed in the cemetery.
Fourteen had a feeling they were going to need it tonight.
He worked on removing the rocks pinning his legs and was halfway done when he heard something heavy land behind him. He forcefully tore his body out the rest of the way, going for expediency over caution, and ignored the pain as fresh lacerations bloomed down the side of his left leg; they'd be gone soon enough.
Fourteen rolled to his feet and whirled around, wielding the plate from his armor in one hand and a sharp rock in the other.
“Whoa, buddy, whoa! I come in peace!” A soft light appeared in front of a familiar face.
