Burn(78)

“I don’t know any Malcolms.”

Malcolm sighed. This really couldn’t be going any worse. “I am you,” he said, simply, deciding to go for bare honesty. “If your circumstances had been very different.”

The Other Malcolm still looked angry. “I don’t have time for this. Lunch is almost over, I have to get back to school.”

“You’re in danger,” Malcolm said. “We all are.”

“From whom?”

“Did you read today’s newspaper? The little town that burnt to the ground?”

“So? So what? Sometimes volcanoes erupt. Why do you have my face?”

Malcolm closed his eyes. If he’d had proper time to plan, how would he have gotten through to this person? This version of himself one hair’s breadth and a universe away? How would he make him believe? And most important, what was the very fastest way to do this?

“When I dream, I dream of men,” he said, quietly, eyes still shut. “When I love, my love is for men.” He opened his eyes. “Does this seem like the truth of you, too?”

The Other Malcolm looked horrified, and now here was Malcolm’s own familiar furtiveness, one that made Malcolm curse himself for coming to find this boy who had maybe even been happy just moments ago.

“You need to get out of here,” the Other Malcolm said. “If you come near me again, I will hurt you. I’m a hell of a lot tougher than I look, believe you me.”

“Oh, I do,” Malcolm said. “You wouldn’t believe how well I know.”

The Other Malcolm started backing away, his fist with the keys up. It was so gentle a threat that Malcolm actually felt a little glimmer of humor. But there was nothing humorous in the boy’s face. He backed up and up, before finally turning from Malcolm and starting to stomp away.

“There’s a boy who could love you,” Malcolm called after him. “A boy you could love.”

The Other Malcolm stopped, but didn’t turn around.

“He’s called Nelson,” Malcolm said. “I think he needs your help.”

“Imagine that,” Agent Dernovich said. “A world with dragons in it, just flying around like birds. Of course, being who we are, we built up an entire scenario should one ever cross the boundary between universes.”

“Was that the only scenario?” Darlene asked.

Agent Dernovich looked somewhat abashed. “We have ninety-four in total. An incursion by a real, fire-breathing dragon isn’t actually the most alarming possibility.”

“Oh, my.” Darlene sat down on her chair.

“Okay,” said Agent Dernovich. “An exchange of information. Your turn.”

Sarah and Kazimir exchanged a look. “Shall you or shall I?” he said.

“You should,” Sarah said. “And you know where you should start.”

Kazimir sighed heavily. “Fine,” he said. “We both come from one of your other universes. One where I am a dragon.”

There was a silence in the room, as even the little girl looked up in surprise.

“You don’t really look like one,” Agent Dernovich said.

“I was what was known in our world as a Russian blue. Smaller than the red you saw destroy your town, but perfectly capable of doing so should I choose. Which, I hasten to add,” he said to their looks of alarm, “I never would. And neither would any other dragon in our world. We have lived in peaceful if somewhat uneasy coexistence for centuries.”

“You’re a dragon,” Darlene said, clearly not believing him.

“In sheep’s clothing,” Agent Dernovich said.

“That is apt,” said Kazimir. “I changed shape as I came into this world. You can imagine my surprise.”

“Are you who Kelby meant by a ‘teenage assassin’?” Dernovich asked.

“No,” Sarah said, “that’s someone else who you don’t need to worry about.”

“I beg your pardon—”

“But Kazimir’s telling the truth,” Sarah said. “I knew him, know him as a dragon. My father hired him to work on the farm. He saved my life from our world’s version of your Sheriff Kelby.”

“He was just a deputy in our world,” Kazimir said. “Clearly some universes had the good sense not to promote him.”

“Was?” Agent Dernovich said.

“I ate him,” Kazimir said, “after he tried to murder this young woman and the Japanese boy.”

Another silence at this.

“But perhaps we are getting offtrack,” Kazimir said. “Let me tell you about our Goddess.”

“There are more worlds than this one,” Malcolm said. “And I come from one where I made a huge mistake.”

The Other Malcolm was watching him again, but warily, like he might jump at any second.

“Nelson helped me.” Malcolm felt his voice choking. “He was tender to me. I can remember the smell of him. The touch of his skin.”

The Other Malcolm’s eyes grew wider. “You can’t talk like this. You can’t talk like a queer here.”

“It’s what happened,” Malcolm said. “I feel like I loved him in the short time we spent together. And then I brought him into danger.”