It was a small thing, but it would keep Second Wind from being able to steal Malcolm’s powers. Or at least, that was what he hoped. He thought back to how he’d acquired Savior’s abilities and wondered if Second Wind’s power absorption was similarly overcharged.
I’ll just have to be on guard.
The basement hideout had become his home over the months. It was odd to consider that this might be the last time he’d ever see it. The thought also led him back to Tapestry and Rose, and how much it would hurt them if he died.
The same was true for the pain it would cause him to lose them, and that was why he’d sent them away. Malcolm had a vague, nagging sensation that told him that Tapestry and Rose absolutely must not be there for the fight between him and Second Wind.
He had time to spare, and found himself wishing he had some food in the hideout. A slow smile spread across Malcolm’s face as he thought about how many months he’d spent caring about little else, barely scraping by. It almost felt like that time belonged to someone else, a substitute who’d been treading water as best as they could in his absence.
But now, he was back. Malcolm climbed up the ladder and waited just outside the warehouse, arms folded across his chest. He didn’t have to wait long.
Second Wind appeared in the night sky like a bird of prey, circling overhead several times before dive-bombing toward the ground. Malcolm felt the wind as his copy dropped, making note of the fact that Second Wind still used his original power for flight.
Malcolm reminded himself that there was no telling how powerful Second Wind had grown since he’d last seen him. He knew that Second Wind had Tapestry’s regenerative abilities, which alone would make him nearly impossible to kill through most traditional methods. And on top of regeneration, knowing his copy’s personality, and of course, his own personality, Malcolm was sure that Second Wind would have picked up at least a few other abilities in the time since.
Savior’s powers would be useful in a fight. Malcolm only wished that he’d had more time to practice with them before being thrust into combat. He silently felt for them at the edge of his awareness, flight, energy blasts, super strength, invulnerability, and illusions. He’d only be able to use one at a time, and the intense concentration required was exhausting, but he certainly wasn’t helpless.
Malcolm’s eyes focused on Second Wind as he landed. His copy wore a white and gold suit of stretchy latex, complete with a red cape and an emblem of a bird on the front. He wore a crown on his head, which sank down to rest on the demon bumps on his skull. His skin was almost chalk white, completely different from the blue tone Malcolm had taken on, and he wondered at that.
It’s just another sign of how much we’ve changed. We weren’t the same person, and in the end, we aren’t the same demon, either.
“So,” said Malcolm, calling out to him. “Are you here to kill me?”
It was a joke, but not really. Second Wind had asked him the same question when he’d first discovered that Malcolm had survived the battle against Rain Dancer. How differently would events have played out if Malcolm had decided to kill him in his apartment on that day? How many millions of people would still be alive?
Second Wind smiled, and in that expression, Malcolm saw so much of himself. He had more of an emotional reaction than he’d been expecting, sadness and shame pairing off in his heart. It was like looking into the mirror after having done something terrible.
“We have such a great sense of humor,” said Second Wind. “But I can’t leave you hanging, can I? That question deserves an answer.”
He went silent. Malcolm knew that regardless of anything, Second Wind would try to draw the encounter out for as long as possible. Multi had passed the info on that Malcolm was a threat again, but he didn’t show up here solely to kill him. There would be more to it than that. At least, there would have been for him, if the roles were reversed.
“No,” Second Wind finally finished. “I already spared your life once. It would be such a waste to kill you if I didn’t have to.”
“Sick,” said Malcolm. “I guess now the question is whether I waited here for you so that I could kill you?”
Second Wind feigned laughter.
“Shhh…” said Malcolm. “I’m thinking about it. Give me a nice, dramatic pause.”
“Of course.”
The two of them stood there in silence, staring at each other. Second Wind let it go on for almost a minute before he spoke again.
“So…” he said. “Tapestry and Rose? How are they?”
“They both died,” said Malcolm. “In an earthquake. Yeah, it was pretty terrible. A very hard time for me when it happened.”
“If you’re just going to be an ass, maybe we should skip right to trying to kill each other,” said Second Wind. “My time is precious.”
Malcolm rolled his eyes.
“Of course it is,” he said. “You’re the mighty Zeus now. How could I have forgotten?”
Second Wind nodded as though Malcolm had given him a glowing compliment.
“Exactly,” said Second Wind. “And I see you’ve also taken the leap into demonhood. It’s a little surprising that you’re blue instead of white. I guess we really have changed from who we started out as.”
“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing,” said Malcolm.
The banter was effortless. It was hard for Malcolm to equate it with all he knew Second Wind had done. New York, Chicago, Philadelphia, Toronto, Los Angeles… the list of cities he’d wiped off the planet went on and on. Second Wind had more blood on his hands than any other single human who’d ever lived.
Does Second Wind have the blood on his hands? Or do I, for being the one to create him?
“If you have a question, feel free to ask it,” said Second Wind. “I recognize that expression on your face all too well.”
Malcolm took a slow breath, forcing down anger that lacked any real direction.
“Why?” he asked. “You’ve killed so many people. How can you think that it’s okay? How could you? I don’t understand.”
Second Wind nodded, as though confirming that the question was one that deserved an answer. “The only reason you don’t understand is because you don’t have a full picture of what’s going on,” he said. “We’re the same. We’re both Malcolm Caldwell. Rather than trying to kill each other pointlessly… Why don’t you let me show you, and help you understand?”
Malcolm wanted to say no. He wanted to grit his teeth, dive into his anger, and kick off the fight to end all fights. He wanted vengeance for all of the people his copy has killed, and whatever absolution of guilt he could find in making sure his mistake came to an end, there and then.
But he also wanted to know what cards Second Wind was holding. He needed to know, needed to see for himself if there was a justification for all the death and destruction. Was it all pointless? Was there some misguided greater plan that had led Second Wind onto the path he was on?
Malcolm hoped that there was. Because the idea that someone who was, in almost every sense of the word, him, could kill so indiscriminately made him sick to his stomach.
“Alright,” said Malcolm. “Show me whatever it is you want to show me.”
CHAPTER 32
Second Wind immediately took to the air. Malcolm leapt after him, pushing himself into flight across the night sky with his wind manipulation. He followed his copy north, though it was hard to know exactly what direction they were headed without being able to see the details of the landscape below.
Malcolm was the one who set the pace. He was still suspicious of Second Wind, and wondered if the flight was just a ruse to get him using his powers to a degree that would draw out his euphoria and body load.
It’s possible. But of course, it would affect him in almost the same way.
It was clear, however, that Second Wind really was interested in leading him somewhere. He slowed to match Malcolm’s speed, never getting more than a few hundred feet in front, always making sure he
stayed in sight.
If Second Wind wanted to lead him into a trap, Malcolm was almost certainly flying to his death. It was possible that his copy was careful enough to have decided that Malcolm would take more than just his powers to defeat. Perhaps Second Wind was leading him toward a place where Multi could assist him in the fight, or other demons and sprytes allied with him? There was no way for him to know.
Malcolm didn’t trust Second Wind, and he wondered what that said about himself. His primary reason for letting his copy lead him off into the night was to change the location of the fight. If they’d stayed by his hideout for much longer, Rose and Tapestry would have shown up with “reinforcements”. It would have put all of them at risk, and he wasn’t interested in letting that happen.
He followed Second Wind for a long time, and despite himself, he did end up increasing his speed until the two of them were moving faster than a commercial plane. There weren’t many birds at their current height, thankfully, but they did have to swerve around a few flocks.
They flew for over an hour. Dawn was breaking as they finally descended. Malcolm had no idea where they were, but judged from the angle of the sun that they’d continued on a northern trajectory for the duration, placing them somewhere in Canada.
He saw a small, recently constructed town in the middle of the dense, northern forest. Nobody was awake yet, and Second Wind landed in the middle of what could have been a town square. He smiled as Malcolm landed next to him, looking proud of himself.
“And here we are,” said Second Wind. “Welcome to Olympus.”
“Olympus…” Malcolm muttered. The door to one of the houses, more of a log cabin, really, opened. A man dressed in a heavy sweater, jeans, and work boots walked outside, waving to Second Wind. In his wake followed a tiny, pint sized spryte, maybe six or seven years of age.
“Glen,” said Second Wind, nodding to the man. “Good to see you. We didn’t wake you, did we?”
“Oh, heavens no,” said Glen. “That was Chelsea’s doing. She’s desperate to check on the strawberries. Says that she doesn’t want the Palmer twins to eat the ripe ones before she’s had her pick.”
Second Wind smiled at the little spryte in Glen’s wake. She showed no fear of either of them, despite the fact that they were both demons, and Malcolm was still a stranger to her.
“Will you save me one?” asked Second Wind.
The girl smiled at him, her cheeks reddening slightly. She nodded enthusiastically, and then walked after the man as he headed toward the town’s gardens.
More people, demons, and sprytes began to leave their houses, some of them carrying tools, some of them carrying laundry. The town appeared to be newly constructed with no infrastructure beyond the one road. It didn’t seem to have electricity, running water, or any other modern conveniences.
What is this place?
“Everyone is equal here,” said Second Wind. “Everything is shared. This is what the world could be, if more people would open their eyes.”
Malcolm shrugged.
“How is this any different from what Rain Dancer did?” asked Malcolm. “You built a commune. Am I supposed to be impressed?”
Second Wind’s expression darkened slightly.
“Use your imagination,” he said. “Picture living in a world where all people, humans, demons, and sprytes were on equal footing.”
“That would be great,” said Malcolm. “But people would still be people. What happens when there is a dispute here in your little town? You’re the one who settles it, right? But the only reason people listen to you is because you have the most power. It’s not like you’ve cracked the code to make a utopia.”
“That sort of thinking is why the old world needs to be broken down,” said Second Wind. “People can be good on their own, if given the chance. And so can sprytes and demons.”
Malcolm felt a headache coming on. He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled slowly.
“You think I’m crazy,” said Second Wind. “There’s a certain irony to that, given how much of our personality we share.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy,” said Malcolm. “But I do think you’re engaging in some serious wishful thinking.”
“Really?” asked Second Wind. “You’re still blinded by what the champions told you, then. Still operating under the assumption that every demon and spryte is a single outburst away from mass murder?”
This, coming from the ultimate mass murderer.
“What I think,” said Malcolm, “is that you have it backwards. Everything you talk about destroying, communities, governments, the ‘old world’, it was all designed with the purpose of keeping humans well behaved.”
“So you think the normal people will cause trouble, then?” asked Second Wind. “You think they’ll be the ones to worry about?”
“You’re missing my point,” said Malcolm. “We’re all ‘normal people’ now. You’ve proven that with this little town. You’re a normal person, Second Wind. And you are the one these people are most under threat from. You’re the one that everyone is afraid of, and for good reason.”
“They aren’t afraid of me!” snapped Second Wind. Several of the townspeople turned to look in his direction at the sound of his raised voice, but true to his words, none of them looked scared.
“You’re the only one here who gets to do whatever they want,” said Malcolm. “How is this more stable than what existed before? Sure, Savior was powerful, but the champions would have held him accountable if he’d attempted even a fraction of what you’ve done.”
“What I’ve done is built the foundation for a better world,” said Second Wind. “You of all people should be able to see that.”
Malcolm shook his head. Second Wind glowered at him and glanced around again. He seemed to be making an effort to keep himself calm.
“Look,” continued Second Wind. “Take a couple of hours and just… see what I’ve done here. Can you give me the benefit of the doubt for that long?”
Could Malcolm give him that? He wasn’t sure. What he was sure of, however, was that he didn’t want to fight in the middle of a town filled with innocents. He slowly nodded his head, and Second Wind let out a small sigh.
“Thank you,” said Second Wind. “I know how difficult this all must be for you. All that I ask is that you set any misgivings you might have about my methods aside and just look at the results.”
“I think the results of all that you’ve done go a lot further than this little forest town,” said Malcolm. He bit back another, more biting remark, and walked away from Second Wind.
CHAPTER 33
Malcolm’s copy made no move to follow him, though he suspected that if he tried to take flight, Second Wind would probably stop him. He walked along the town’s dirt road, looking at the various buildings and structures.
Though Olympus clearly hadn’t been constructed using advanced building methods, there was an elegant simplicity to the town. Malcolm realized that what he was looking at was a community built by superpowers.
The ground was unnaturally level, and most of the buildings were constructed on foundations made not of cement, but hardened magma, summoned from the depths of the Earth. Even the logs that composed the walls of the houses looked to fit into each other with an unusual amount of precision, as though the trees had been coaxed into growing in a shape conducive for building.
Malcolm made his way to the gardens, spotting the little spryte girl he’d seen before in the middle of a patch of strawberry plants. The berries were bigger than any he’d ever seen before, easily the size of his fists. The little girl’s face was smudged with red juice and black seeds, and she grinned as Malcolm’s eyes met hers.
“What’s your name?” asked the girl.
Malcolm hesitated for a moment before answering.
“It’s Malcolm,” he said. “What’s yours?”
“Chelsea.” She gave him a speculative frown. “That’s Zeus’s name too, you know. His real name.”
> “Is it?” Malcolm chuckled. “Well, I guess lots of people have the name Malcolm. It’s a pretty common name.”
“I forgot my name,” said Chelsea. “I knew it when I was little, but then I forgot it when my skin changed color.”
Her skin was pale green, almost the same color as her eyes. She reached down toward another strawberry plant, and all of the berries seemed to lean in the direction of her fingers.
“How do you know your name is Chelsea, then?” asked Malcolm, in a teasing voice. “What if it’s really Gertrude? Or Petunia!”
“It’s not!” giggled the girl. “My papa told me my name was Chelsea. He told me over and over again until I believed him. It wasn’t fun back then. I always had to hide.”
“Back before you came here,” said Malcolm. “It must have been very tough for you.”
Being a child spryte, back when the Champion Authority hunted monsters indiscriminately. I used to be a part of that, even though I never had to go after any little girls.
Malcolm felt uncertainty settling onto his shoulders, heavy and obnoxious, like water soaking into his clothes. He sighed and slowly shook his head. Chelsea seemed to notice his shift in mood.
“Do you want a strawberry?” she asked.
“I would love one,” said Malcolm.
She picked one of the massive berries and passed it to him. It took Malcolm several bites to eat it, and the juices dribbled onto his fingers.
“Did you like it?” asked Chelsea.
“It’s the tastiest thing I’ve eaten in a long time,” said Malcolm.
The weight of choices to come hung on his shoulders as he walked back through the town. The Champion Authority, for all its faults, had held to its convictions. Monsters were a black and white issue, and emotion never entered into the equation.
Of course, Savior used to issue pardons like it was going out of style.
It would never be that simple for Malcolm. He couldn’t see sprytes and demons in that kind of light. He smiled, realizing he was thinking about the issue without really taking the fact that he was one of them into account. Was he a monster, deserving of execution?
Former Champion (Vanderbrook Champions Book 5) Page 14
