Power ripped through the monsters like tissue paper in a tsunami. It happened so fast that it was over almost as soon as it had begun. What had been an army of horrors one minute was now a field of glittering smoke, mixed with snow.
:You flexed too hard, Marshall! If you weren’t going to give a speech, you should have at least let me give one.:
There was a sheepish pause and then Marshall said, :Sorry. You had more magic than I realized.:
:How am I supposed to get closure? All the therapy books say closure is important for trauma survivors. Now I’m going to end up weird!:
:I think the boat already sailed on that one, my friend.:
Cym gave a pfft and shrugged, but it was weird because it was all internal since his consciousness was still mashed together with Marshall’s.
Movement at Cym’s periphery yanked his attention from Marshall. It was their friends clear across the field, stumbling over themselves, still caught up in the momentum of the massive battle that ended too abruptly. Then Fourteen locked eyes with Cym, and as a single unit, Jack, Adelle, and Fourteen began to run across the field toward them.
:We should sort ourselves out now, or this could get confusing,: Marshall said gently.
:How do we do that?: Cym could still feel the power swirling out from him endlessly, but it seemed less a part of him now and more like an entity of its own.
:Just like before. You pull back as much as you can, and I’ll push you out the rest of the way.:
Oh. Right. Cym’s mind was hazy now that the rush of battle was over and his do-or-die mode fucked off. Now all he wanted was sleep, but he figured he could do Marshall the decency of extricating himself from his soul before he dropped off.
:That would be nice, yes.: Marshall sounded amused.
Cym summoned just enough energy to pull his magic back from Marshall and was glad when he managed to send Cym back to his own body. Blinking up at Marshall, Cym smiled drowsily.
Marshall returned his smile with an equally exhausted one, squeezed Cym tightly against his chest for a moment, and then sighed heavily into his hair.
“Gods, Marshall, what the hell happened?” Adelle demanded as she, Jack, and Fourteen pounded to a stop a few feet away.
Fourteen took in Cym’s position in Marshall’s lap with narrowed eyes.
“Cym happened,” Marshall said, laughing shakily.
Dropping to his knees, Fourteen raked his eyes over Cym’s form, looking for injuries. When that wasn’t enough, he growled, “Give him to me,” and pushed Marshall’s arm firmly away with a shiny weapon.
“You got a new murder toy!” Cym said happily and jump-started his relocation by trying to throw himself into Fourteen’s arms. His mind and body were still wonky, so he failed spectacularly and flopped face-first into Fourteen’s chest. It was covered in glitter and Cym realized he was rubbing his face all over dead demon remains.
Well, at least it wasn’t blood.
“Easy, soldier, easy. I’m not getting in your way. He’s just tired, that’s all.” Marshall relinquished his hold and allowed Fourteen to take Cym from him.
Jack kneeled and took Marshall’s hand in his. He cocked his head and narrowed his gaze at Cym before turning back to Marshall and asking, “Cym did all of that?”
“He could have done twice that much and been fine. And don’t worry,” Marshall said as Adelle crouched to touch his other hand. “I’m not going to fade. Cym tapped into his stillbringer power before I had a chance to do something stupid.”
“Stupid, huh? Sounds like you.” Jack punched Marshall’s arm none-too-gently then turned to Cym, who was busy getting manhandled by Fourteen who seemed convinced Cym was sporting numerous secret injuries. “Good for you, I had a feeling you were special.”
“I knew he was,” Adelle said. Even after being in the middle of a warzone, she was the epitome of calm and far better groomed than she had any right to be. “Thank you for rescuing my brother from himself.”
Cym pressed his face against the now-familiar buzz of Fourteen’s jacket and said, “He wouldn’t have had to be here if it wasn’t for me.”
The stillness had receded from him entirely now. With its departure, all of Cym’s old insecurities had returned. Only a small, quiet part of him could remember now that they were merely illusions. It seemed like something he should explore further at some point, but for right now, he had a hard-earned snuggle he’d been promising himself.
“It’s our job to be here, and from where I’m sitting, you’re worth it,” Adelle said just a touch too forcefully. “Your family has a lot to answer for. Where is Elanor? Did she survive?”
Did Cym want her to have survived? He didn’t have the first clue. Before he could get too emotionally involved in the issue, he heard Jack say, “Over here.”
Cym stayed put and watched as Jack and Adelle went over to inspect a shivering mess of a human.
Jack poked her with a toe. “She’s alive,” Jack smirked and poked her again. “Look at you, you great big lump. You got away with being a sack of garbage for a long time, didn’t you?”
Hester didn’t move, or answer, but from where Cym stood, he could see her staring up at Jack and Adelle in terror.
Adelle pulled Jack away when it looked like he was going to continue poking Hester. “Stop it, dork, or the new Blaike patriarch is going to think you’re unprofessional.”
“The new what now?” Cym blurted. They weren’t talking about him, were they? No fucking way. Cym was a walking disaster disguised as a human being and should never be put in charge of anything larger than a decision involving dinner options.
He threw a panicked look at Fourteen and realized that Fourteen wasn’t following the conversation at all. Instead, he was looking at Cym like he was the only person there.
All of the exhaustion and stress slammed down on Cym at once. Fuck closure; Cym just wanted to leave. “Can you get me out of here?” he whispered to Fourteen.
Instead of answering, Fourteen simply turned and walked away with Cym in his arms.
“Hold up, Stillbringer,” Marshall called out in a tired voice.
Fourteen didn’t pause, but Cym tapped his chest and said, “Can you hang on a second and turn us around, please?”
Cym made sure to not make any statement to Fourteen that could be interpreted as a command. He’d already fucked up big time when he’d ordered Fourteen to retreat, and he didn’t want to make it worse. From now on, he was only asking Fourteen to do things until the man had his own autonomy back.
