He dropped to his hands and knees, barely registering the muffled swearing from Sterling as he fought to keep Hester from escaping into the night. Since Sterling was only a kid and Hester was at least two hundred years old, Cym wasn’t surprised that he lost.
“Well, I’m pretty sure I just swallowed a bug,” Sterling said mildly, like he hadn’t just gotten his ass kicked by his great-something-grandmother. There was a nasty squelching sound as he made an abortive attempt to pull his body out of the mud pit he’d been knocked into. “Good riddance to her anyway. At least you and I made it out.”
“We still have to find Fourteen before we can leave here.” Cym’s stomach clenched. What if he hadn’t survived the blast? “If he’s still alive, I mean.” Cym tried for a neutral tone, but his voice cracked on the word alive.
Sterling waved his comment away, a blurry gesture in the dim light. “Your champion will be fine. That asshole can clearly take care of himself, and he’s with the guardians—I wish we’d been in that hole too.” He finally heaved himself out of the muck with a loud grunt.
Cym wished he could have been as positive, but until he saw Fourteen with his own eyes, he wasn’t going to be okay. “How can you be so cheerful after getting your ass kicked by our mom? Don’t think I’m letting that go any time soon.”
Sterling sputtered indignantly. “Okay, first, that creature isn’t our mother, and second, could you not mention this to Adelle next time you see her?”
Cym laughed and instantly regretted it. “Ow.”
He poked the side of his head gingerly and sighed. He really should have paid more attention when Adelle had fixed him up, but in his defense, he had a lot on his plate right now.
Regardless of their predicament, Cym could feel the grin stretching across his face. Of course a sixteen-year-old boy would get an instant crush on someone as beautiful as Adelle. It was nice to have something as normal as his brother’s hormones to laugh at amidst the pain and horror of the past two days.
“Here let me help you up.” Sterling’s form loomed over him, and he took Cym’s hand without thinking.
Cym’s head went swimmy when he was yanked upright, and he suddenly felt giddy. He’d lost Fourteen and Hester and now they were stuck in the woods, but in that moment, he was halfway to feeling euphoric. He was just a dumbass guy doing stupid shit with his brother.
Something he should have done a million times. The fact that this was a first for Cym had magnified it times a thousand.
“You really are the best, you know? Hey, remember that one summer when we did that thing with Helen?” Cym knew he should be making a plan to find Fourteen and escape, but it was a small concern.
Fuck. Cym felt fantastic.
Sterling put an arm around his shoulders and laughed.
“You mean when we took all of Astin’s clothes and put them on every horse in the stable?”
“No wonder he hates us so much!”
“It was Helen’s idea!”
Sterling began giggling like a twelve-year-old learning his first fart joke. Cym was supporting most of his weight at this point and began sinking slowly back to the ground, taking Sterling with him, but he found he didn’t care. He felt warm inside. Not at all like he had just lost his very important person and then been blown across a field.
His knees hit the dirt, and he did his best to keep his brother off the ground.
“We have to get out of here!” Sterling howled as if it was the funniest thing he’d ever said.
“We’ll get right on it. Any minute now.” Cym burst out laughing too and, again, regretted it. “Ugh.”
Still draped over him, Sterling’s body shook as he laughed helplessly. “I don’t… know why I’m not…getting up right now.” He gasped between giggles.
“I know! We could be swarmed any minute by Astin and his circus of freaks!” Cym grinned, not giving three rotten oranges about their impending doom. Sterling’s elbow was digging deeply into his side, and Cym shoved him, knocking Sterling to the forest floor.
Suddenly, the bubbly, drunken feeling lessened, and Cym could think more clearly.
“What… what the hell was that?” Sterling’s laughter faded, and now he just sounded bewildered.
“I’m not sure. My magic has been doing some weird things since I ran away.” Cym pushed himself back to standing, keeping well away from his brother. “Shit. We need to move before they find us.”
“Yeah… Right…” Sterling’s dark shape rose unsteadily from the ground, and he swayed back and forth as he spoke. “I know the woods around here pretty well. If we circle around that way, we might be able to sneak back into the compound without anyone seeing us.”
“Which way? I can’t see you pointing, I can’t see anything in here.” Cym tried to imagine what Fourteen would say if Cym accidentally got himself killed while stumbling around in the woods at night. Probably nothing nice.
Sterling said hesitantly, “Maybe you could hold onto my jacket and follow me? I’m standing pretty close to you right now, and all I feel is a little tipsy. I don’t feel angry or murderous at all.”
“Thank the gods for small favors,” Cym muttered. It might be frustrating to have such unpredictable magic, but at least it was finally doing more than just driving people into homicidal rages. There was a glimmer of hope in his mind that, if they got out of here alive, he might not have to spend his life locked away or on a deserted island somewhere.
Before they set off, Cym smeared more mud into his white pants to keep from standing out like a beacon in the night, but he might as well have saved himself the time and effort. Five minutes of stumbling and tripping after his brother gave him ample opportunity to wreck his clothes and cover them with dirt.
Once they reached the spot Sterling had mentioned, he said, “You know, I don’t even feel drunk right now, just mellow. It’s kind of nice.”
Cym patted his brother’s back. Even with the world crashing down around them, he was still trying to make Cym feel better about his freakishness.
Movement on the compound snatched his attention away from their little bonding moment, and Cym and Sterling watched as a beehive of activity swarmed through a break between buildings.
Three nightmare-tainted witches flew past a dormant rosebush. One smacked against a car, and white smoke shot out of her chest, only to dissipate like dandelion seeds in the wind. The other two collapsed to the ground, the larger one crushing the smaller one under his bulk. As soon as they landed, the same white smoke drifted away into the night. A deep orange shield flared out, causing the entire area to stand out in sharp relief, and another two witches followed the first three, also losing their nightmares upon hitting the ground.
The shield became transparent, and Cym could just make out Adelle’s features.
“Yes! They’re alive!” Fourteen had to be okay if Adelle was. Cym had to believe it so he didn’t go nuts.
Cym stopped himself before running out to meet her. What did he think he was going to do? Stand off to the side and cheer loudly as Adelle fought twice as hard because she now had someone to protect?
Cym couldn’t just stand around and watch someone fight for their lives, but before he could figure out what to do, Fourteen came into view, brandishing a shiny new toy. As he fought a shadow made up entirely of beaks and eyes, he swung a massive staff that glimmered with the same nebula of colors Cym had seen in Jack’s impossible eyes. With every swing of the weapon, another chunk of monster fell to the ground and melted away.
