Burn(83)

“We can’t stop her,” Sarah said, quietly.

“She will come anyway,” Kazimir said. “And the prophecy says you will be in the right place at the right time to thwart her.”

“We’re just going to keep ignoring the fact the prophecy was dead wrong about that in the last world?”

Kazimir squirmed. “Prophecies. . . . Sometimes you have to improvise with them as circumstances arise.”

“How on earth is that supposed to be a comfort?”

Agent Dernovich said, “Thank you, sir,” and hung up the phone. He looked at Kazimir and Sarah. “We’ve got an army.”

Hugh had a car, one he had paid for himself out of after-school jobs. It was extremely long and a spotless light blue, even in the bad weather. He took exquisite care of it; Malcolm had watched him run a finger over a single mote of dust before they’d got inside and headed north.

They made bewilderingly fast progress. They’d already crossed the border, which had given Malcolm panic, but they had literally been waved through without stopping. The address Malcolm remembered from Nelson was a further forty-five minutes away. It had all gone so quickly.

“So have you . . . ?” Hugh blushed so hard Malcolm could see it on his neck. “Have you done more than kiss a man?”

“Yes,” Malcolm replied.

“And you weren’t ashamed after?”

Malcolm’s forehead creased. “Not at all. Why would I be?”

“Because it’s, you know, it’s . . . an abomination.”

“Against whom?”

Hugh swallowed. “God, I guess. People hate it. They hate people like me.”

“They’re wrong.”

Hugh turned to look at him at that.

“They are,” Malcolm said. “There are people who believe that in my world, but I was told it was their weakness. Not mine.”

“So you’re not ashamed at all?”

“I’m plenty ashamed at things I’ve done, but I’m not ashamed of holding Nelson close to me. Feeling his skin on mine. Taking him into my body.”

“Oh, my God.”

“None of that shames me. None of the tenderness, none of the carnality, none of the intimacy. None of it.” Malcolm felt his eyes filling. “It was love. And I threw it away.”

Hugh looked over from the driver’s side. “Tell me again why we aren’t taking you to see him?”

“Because my Nelson needs me,” Malcolm said. “And this one needs you.”

“Well, according to the map,” Hugh said, “we’re nearly there.”

They had come to a poor section of the outskirts of Vancouver. The houses were smaller than the ones they’d been passing, but were clean and well-tended. “What was the number again?” Hugh asked.

“Two two one.”

221 was mid-block, quiet like the others. After a bit of quibbling, Malcolm was the one who went to knock. No one was home. He went back to the car.

“Maybe he got held up at school,” Hugh said, then gave a little laugh. “Gosh, I’m actually disappointed. I’ve never even played truant before. I had some stupid fantasy we’d drive up and I’d meet this dream man and . . . I don’t know. Live happily ever after?”

“I never promised that,” Malcolm said. “No one can ever promise that. Believe me.”

“Will he even know me?”

“No.”

Hugh frowned. “Then what am I supposed to say?”

“Ask him if he needs a place to be safe. Ask him . . .” Malcolm thought. “Ask him about his grandfather’s truck.”

“Why?”

“It’s his only escape route.”

“And then what?”

“And then I don’t know, Hugh. All I can tell you is that I saw him, and he saw me, and there was . . . an understanding. One deeper than should happen just by accident.”

Hugh started jiggling his leg up and down, but then he smiled. “I wish I had a recording of everything you’ve said.”

Malcolm laughed, along with his other self. It was, he thought, one of the nicest things that had ever happened to him.

“Holy moly,” Hugh said, the leg stopping. A young man was walking down the street toward them. “Is that him?”

They watched Nelson—for oh, yes, it was him—as he came down the sidewalk, head low, his posture hunched and closed.

“He looks unhappy,” Malcolm said, and it took everything in him, all his training, not to get out of the car right then and take Nelson in his arms.

He had no idea what he expected of or for Hugh, really. No idea what future either of them could forge. They lived in two countries, for one thing; they were both teenagers in a world that didn’t give teenagers much freedom. Was there even a chance for them?

Yes. There had to be. He had to at least give them that chance. If nothing else, they would both know there were chances to be had, even in this world.

Nelson never fully looked up as he turned into his walkway, took out a key, and entered his house.

“Your turn to go knock,” Malcolm said.

“What am I supposed to say?” Hugh looked panicked. “This is crazy. This is completely crazy.” He put his hands back on the wheel. “I’m not doing this. This is a dream that’s now come to an end—”