Somehow, they got behind him.

He had to stop them.

Fourteen spun, bringing his full weight to bear on the enemy behind him and stopped his blade an inch from Jack’s throat.

“Fourteen. Buddy. It’s over.” Jack reached out a careful hand to push the glimmering blade away from his neck. “It’s okay. You got them. You got them all. You can stop now.”

Blink.

Cold reigned inside Fourteen’s mind. Why did he stop? What could have induced him to stop his swing at the last moment? Who was the man in front of him? His conditioning gripped him tighter, demanding he finish what he started.

Jack’s hand went to Fourteen’s shoulder, but still didn’t touch him. “This isn’t you. Don’t let them do this to you. Come back. Come back, man.”

A shudder swept through Fourteen’s frame, and he closed his eyes.

Weakness, the Cold insisted. It wanted him to kill his way out of the situation and continue to his goal. He didn’t need anyone else to finish his mission. He was trained from the start to rely only on himself, or, if absolutely necessary, Company operatives, and there were none of those at hand.

The hand hovering over his shoulder radiated heat, bringing Fourteen back to his body. He opened his eyes, and his gore-covered hand caught his attention. It was clenched around his weapon. He felt completely disconnected from it. What was it going to do next? Would it try to kill his new comrades again? Would he be able to stop it?

“This was done to you, Fourteen. This isn’t you. You can control this, I know it.” Jack’s voice was calm and low. His hand lowered slowly. So slowly. Fourteen could pull away easily if he wanted to. Any contact would be his choice, and Jack made sure he knew it.

Fourteen held still and allowed it to happen.

He concentrated on the sensation of Jack’s hand on his shoulder, trying to bring awareness to the rest of his body. He realized he wasn’t breathing and released a slow, shuddering breath. Inch by inch, his body came back under his control, and finger by finger, he pried his hand away from the weapon. It seemed an eternity before he heard the clatter it made as it hit the pavement.

Panting, Fourteen said, “Is the demon dead?”

“I think everything around us is dead right now.” Adelle’s dry voice came from behind Jack. She pointed to his right. The pile of unconscious bodies had become a gruesome circle of dead bodies.

He felt like a puppy that killed the family cat. He should be put down before he did something worse.

“Oh, no, none of that now. We’ll get this shit out of you, just hang on a little bit longer.” Jack shook him lightly.

When Fourteen continued to stare blankly at his surroundings, the hand on his shoulder increased pressure until it was gripping him hard enough to press his armor plates painfully into his skin. Instead of shaking it off, Fourteen welcomed the pain. It cleared out some of the cold invading his mind, telling him he was nothing more than a misfiring weapon. Now that he didn’t feel like he was freezing to death from the inside out, he could think.

“He’s back,” Jack said with a touch of relief.

The hand left his shoulder.

Fourteen didn’t miss it. Regardless of his temporary break with control, he still disliked being touched.

Only Cym was allowed.

“Good, unmaking that demon made me tired. I didn’t relish binding this one.” Adelle jabbed a thumb in Fourteen’s direction, and he stiffened at her words.

“Relax, Addy. He’s got this. It was just a small lapse. Ready to go, soldier boy?” Jack scooped up Fourteen’s poleaxe and offered it to him.

Fourteen raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Adelle’s connection to Sterling said he was that way. Is that still true?

Adelle nodded. “Yep.”

“You’re still interested in getting your boy back, aren’t you?”

“He’s not a boy,” Fourteen stated firmly. If he was, then the things Fourteen wanted to do to Cym would be beyond even his moral flexibility.

“Fair point,” Jack conceded. “You still want to get your man, right?”

“Yes, but…” Fourteen wanted to find Cym, but he wasn’t used to being thrown back into the field after slipping his leash. From what he could remember, any time he’d gone berserk, he’d had mandatory time in the capsule before being assigned another mission.

But The Company didn’t own him anymore. Fourteen could do anything he wanted.

“Then take up your weapon, my man. You aren’t charming enough to rely on your personality to get you past these monsters. I, on the other hand, could probably manage it if I didn’t have you two weighing me down.” Jack’s fathomless eyes sparkled impishly in the firelight as he held out the poleaxe.

Fourteen eyed the weapon thoughtfully. All he had to do was keep it together long enough to find Cym. After that it didn’t matter what happened. If Fourteen fell apart, Cym could fix him, and if he couldn’t, at least he had the guardians to help him now. They weren’t Fourteen, but they would be the next best thing in keeping Cym safe.

He closed his hand around the staff of the weapon. Damned if it didn’t feel good. “Where to?”

Adelle’s face went distant, and he saw her magic flare around her head briefly before she snapped back to the present. Her eyes locked on to Jack’s, and Fourteen saw a thin thread of orange stretch out to touch Jack. After a minute, she nodded curtly and said, “Fine. We’ll do it your way.” She jerked a thumb back in the direction of the glittering mess of dissolving demon behind her. “This way.”

Their boots scattered the remnants of the demon into stardust as they tromped through. Hopefully the glitter clinging to Fourteen’s pants would dissipate as well.

It wasn’t covert to sparkle.

Fourteen followed Adelle as she led their team unerringly to the main building, and questions swam in his head. Why would Cym be in the main building instead of the forest? Had he been captured again? How did Fourteen know he was still alive? All he had was the word of near-strangers that he was.

He quashed the last thought before it had a chance to sink hooks into him. Said near-strangers had saved his life multiple times tonight, and he knew questioning his allies at this point would only hamper the mission. They were all he had, and he had no choice but to follow them.

Fourteen had to continue on the assumption Cym was still alive, otherwise there was no need to keep the cold at bay anymore. He wouldn’t need to fight it anymore. He could just let his faulty conditioning take over and let whatever happened happen.

He shook his head slightly to dislodge the invasive thoughts. There was no point in dwelling on them until he needed to.

When they reached the main building, Fourteen was relieved that it had escaped Harper’s fires. At first glance, it was an unimaginative, three-story, prefabricated box, but the magic climbing up the walls made Fourteen look at it again.

The windows crawled with a red mesh of power, writhing and pulsing inside the glass rather than on top of it. He was willing to guess they weren’t a weak point of entry. The red bled out into a subtle orange woven into the walls and the effect was unsettling. It made him feel like the house was breathing.

As Adelle marched up the stairs, the red sigils enmeshed with the front door lashed out violently, only to be absorbed by the warm orange halo surrounding her. She pressed forward, drawing the red into herself and transmuting it into orange. By the time she passed through the door, it was nothing more than the white rectangle its original designer had meant it to be.

Fourteen covered their six as he entered the building. If they were going to be attacked, now would be the time for it. “Where is he?”

“He’s straight ahead,” Adelle corrected. “It’s quicker to follow the magic I pumped into Sterling. All I have to do is look for it.”

“You mean you aren’t even looking for Cym?” Fourteen’s voice was a barely controlled growl. Why the fuck had he trusted strangers?

Adelle was unfazed and turned her back to him as she made her way down the long hall in front of them. “Cym’s essence is different from other witches. It’s more slippery and tends to blend in with the magic around him, making him difficult to find. If I checked specifically for Cym, I’d have to stop every few yards and reconnect to him to make sure he hasn’t moved or been affected by someone else’s magic. In this situation, it’s quicker for me to follow his brother.”

“It’s sound logic.” Jack jumped in to assure him. “I mean, if he didn’t cut and run on Cym earlier, he isn’t likely to now.”