Burn(38)

“It might burn things,” Malcolm said, gently, “but it would spare me. And you.”

“I don’t want to be spared.”

“I want you to be spared.”

Nelson began to cry again. Malcolm waited a moment, then moved to the bed next to him. This time, Nelson didn’t pull away. He allowed Malcolm to put an arm around him, and then another, allowed himself to be brought into an embrace. Once again, Malcolm’s nose was filled with the smell of him, and oh, how his heart reached for that smell, longed for it, as if it was an answer to a question Malcolm never knew he had been asking. He breathed in Nelson.

Oh, Mitera Thea, he prayed, save him. If not me, him. I beg you.

Nelson suddenly looked up. “Do you hear something outside?”

“You don’t want to wait for backup?” Agent Woolf said, as they stood outside the motel room door, directed there by an alarmed manager who Dernovich had sent scampering.

“Backup from where, exactly?” he said. “The Canadians are an hour away in heavy snow and, need I remind you, we’re in Montana now. They have no jurisdiction here.”

“We had no jurisdiction in—”

“Backup from the Billings office is even farther than that. We need to stop this. Right here, right now.”

She considered for a moment, then nodded at him and took her place on the other side of the doorframe. His blood was jumping, but finally with something other than bafflement and missed opportunities. This was the stuff he knew how to do. Apprehension, interrogation, extreme prejudice, if necessary (though it still galled him she was the one who got to say it out loud to the superintendent). Her expertise was what got her put on this job, but he had expertise, too.

As the little murdering shitbag who had made a new widow today was about to find out.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Go into the bathroom,” Malcolm said, urgently, with such solemn command Nelson barely even hesitated, just looked frightened (I’ve lost him, Malcolm thought then, and knew it to be true) and started moving— It was too late. The door burst open with the boot of a man who was clearly a colleague of the two men who’d tried to kill Malcolm in the woods. A woman was with him. Both had their guns drawn.

“Freeze!” the man yelled. Malcolm heard Nelson cry out, but he didn’t look around. He kept his eyes on the man as he stepped a little in front of the woman, who had her own gun on Nelson. “Drop it,” the man said, for he had seen the blade Malcolm held in his hand.

Malcolm did not drop it, his heart pumping. Guide me, he prayed. This cannot end here. I know you will not let it.

“Drop it, or I will kill you,” the man said.

“We need him alive,” the woman said.

“That’s up to him. Drop it. I’m not going to count to five. I’m just going to shoot you, all right?”

Malcolm looked at the blade in his hand. It seemed so far away, so oddly quiet among all this shouting. Almost like it was a secret, a whisper.

He dropped it.

I am in your keeping, Mitera Thea. I hand myself over to you.

“Cover me, Woolf,” the man said. His gun was still out as he approached, but he lowered it slightly to take a pair of manacles out of his coat pocket. “I’m going to put these on you,” he said, “and if you try anything, anything at all, she’ll shoot you dead.” The man addressed the woman without looking at her. “You got him?”

“Affirmative,” the woman said, her gun now pointed at Malcolm.

The man lowered his gun.

Malcolm released the second blade he held in his left sleeve. It fell silently into his hand. The man took Malcolm’s right, raising the open cuff of steel to slap on him. Malcolm moved his left arm back to start the swing.

“No,” Nelson said, seeing, “don’t!”

The man’s eyes met Malcolm’s.

Malcolm swung the blade.

A gunshot filled the room like a wave, unbelievably loud in the small space.

Mitera Thea, he said. How does the world end?

It ends in fire, of course, she said. But we will change its destiny. We will change it entire.

What is my role?

You are the tipping point. You will nudge history in the right direction, and it will be changed.

And all will be glorious?

All will be glorious.

Mitera Thea?

Yes?

Will I die?

I will guide you and protect you and guard your path. Do you believe me?

Yes, Mitera Thea.

Do you Believe?

And he raised his eyes, and he said, I do.

The man lay on the floor of the motel room, astonishment on his face along with the blood bubbling on his lips. He was alive, but Malcolm could see that he would not be for long.

“Woolf?” the man said, looking at the woman.

The woman who had shot him.

“You have to hurry,” the woman said to Malcolm. “The time frame has changed. You must leave right this moment.” She nodded toward Nelson. “Take the boy. I’ll make sure you’re not followed for as long as I can. Do you understand me?”

Malcolm didn’t answer her, just held his blade and looked at the dying man.

“Do you understand me?” she said again, but gently, no anger or harshness there.

Malcolm turned to her. “Yes, Mitera Thea,” he said.