“Unless they were separated by the explosion.” Fourteen pointed out. He might respect their fighting skills, but optimism was a weakness that had no place on a mission.

Adelle hesitated and turned, “I’m sure⁠—”

The door at the end of the hallway burst open, releasing a dozen or so people—all running as if their lives depended on it. Sterling brought up the rear.

“It’s nice to see you guys,” Sterling grabbed Adelle’s arm and turned her back the way she’d come, “But for now, it’s time to run!”

Fourteen stood his ground and blocked the way. “Where. Is. Cym?” He gripped the poleaxe so tightly he heard the leather of his glove creak.

“Safe in the forest. Now go!”

Fourteen complied.

As one, the team raced back the way they came, quickly catching up with the fleeing witches in front of them. Fourteen was fairly certain he saw the building ripple around him as he ran.

“Not that I don’t love a good run, but might I inquire—?” Jack attempted.

“No!”

They reached the front door only to come up against a bottleneck as several witches tried to force their way through one small door.

“This wouldn’t have happened at the old house,” Sterling said with a touch of hysteria, shifting his weight anxiously from foot to foot. “Hester couldn’t have spent a few more dollars on a set of double doors?”

The walls rippled again, and this time, Fourteen felt something in his body ripple too.

Yanking a slender, prepubescent boy out of the doorway to make enough room for an old man and a rotund woman to fit through, Jack asked, “Sterling, what did you…? Oh no. Seriously? Tell me you didn’t.” He chucked the young boy through the opening as soon as it was clear.

“The entire upper floor was full of monsters, and I was out of magic!” Sterling shouted as he dove through the door.

Fourteen was at his heels rather than bringing up the rear. This wasn’t his mission and these weren’t his clients. Fourteen was under no obligation to get anyone here to safety.

Fourteen turned at the bottom of the steps to see Jack toss Adelle out the door and jump after her. The entire house blinked out of existence seconds after Jack’s feet left the concrete. The only thing left was a hole where the foundation used to be.

“What the hell?” Fourteen thought he was past being surprised by the magical world, but apparently not.

“Astin had us trapped in a room upstairs… He… he wasn’t Astin anymore!” Sterling shuddered and hugged himself. “Alex cut a hole in the floor—he has a carpentry gift—and we ended up in the infirmary. They were going to catch us. Astin was already coming through the hole we made. There were so many of them, and they had something horrible with them.” Sterling choked as he tried not to cry.

Adelle put her arms around the boy and crooned, “It’s okay, you saved everyone, it’s okay.”

“There was a crate full of crystal boxes that hadn’t been unpacked.”

Jack’s face was grave as he nodded as if in confirmation to himself.

“So, I threw it to the ground and smashed everything inside and ran. I was hoping for a distraction…” Sterling buried his face in his arms and shivered. Adelle tightened her arms around him and stroked his hair.

Jack whistled. “That would do it. That much magic blending together and refracting off the crystal… My guess is the buildup of all that undirected power took everything it was touching back to the Source.”

“Can we get them back?” Sterling asked, sounding much younger than his sixteen years.

Jack’s kind face creased in sadness. “I’ll check when we get out of this, but…”

Adelle kicked him.

“There’s certainly a chance of it.” Jack finished lamely.

“My condolences on you killing half of your family, kid. Can we find Cym now?” Fourteen snapped. His patience was a thing of the past.

The look Adelle threw him was pure anger, and Fourteen didn’t give a single shit. Maybe he would have been more concerned if he’d seen orange magic flare up inside her, but her anger wasn’t a threat, merely an emotion.

Fourteen wasn’t an expert on those, but he knew enough to know that they were only a danger if the wielder allowed it.

Instead of backing down, Fourteen allowed the cold inside him to show through his eyes. The fewer Blaikes he had to deal with, the better. Hadn’t he just proved that in the alley? If something inside him writhed at the thought, he chose to ignore it.

Adelle met his gaze head on, and her anger vanished. A mask of calm settled over her face, and Fourteen wondered if she had a similar cold place inside her to help control her emotions like he did.

Sterling straightened and pulled himself away from Adelle’s protective embrace. “You’re right.” He wiped his eyes on a sleeve. “Let’s get Cym and get out of here.”

“Can you find him?” Fourteen asked Adelle, holding back an I told you so and feeling virtuous. Even a killer needed a few manners to fall back on from time to time.

Adelle nodded and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I’ll see what I can find.” She closed her eyes and went still.

Fourteen saw the orange around her pull in tight against her body, condensing and growing still, echoing her body language. Fourteen accessed levels of restraint he usually didn’t need to keep from bouncing impatiently.

The orange around Adelle flared out like quills on a porcupine, and her eyes flew open. There was horror in their hazel depths. “Sweet Vis, he’s with Marshall.”

Chapter 24Cym

:Stillbringer:

Cym thought he’d just heard someone whisper into his ear before the sounds of a baby’s cries and loud, stressed-out voices surrounded him.

When the world solidified around him, he was looking through the window of an old-fashioned, wooden house. Inside he could see people dressed like they were in a Regency romance novel, but there was nothing romantic about the dying woman on the bed. Next to the bed, a man was clutching a red, screaming infant to his chest as he sobbed.

Cym’s eyes burned in sympathy, and tears fell down his cheeks unchecked.

“That’s me he’s holding.” The young man Cym had been trying to rescue stood at his side. His ageless eyes were a calm oasis amid the chaos, and when he reached out and squeezed Cym’s hand, instinctively he squeezed back, comforted. “I was told that when I was born, it was like the life flowed right out of my mother as I was leaving her body. It happened too fast. Even with all the power he held, there was nothing my father could do to save her.”

The scene changed as the light and noise ended abruptly. The wind whipped at Cym’s hair, and for a moment, he thought he might be back at the compound in the growing snowstorm, but there was no fire and no buildings. A terrible roar assaulted him, and he tried to cover his ears, but the man held fast to his hand, so Cym only managed to cover one.

“What is that?” Cym whispered, not wanting to attract the thing’s attention. He decided to let the man keep his hand for now. It was absurd, but he felt more comfortable knowing he wasn’t here alone.

“That’s the thing that killed my father. He got it in the end, but it took him with it.” The stranger’s gentle voice sounded detached, as though it was an event that had happened to someone he had only heard about. “I’m Marshall, by the way. I’m guessing you’re Cymbeline?”

At least he found the right guy.

“Cym,” he corrected. “I’d rather be called Cym, if you don’t mind.”