This was it. FrostNight would come here, would drain me of everything that made me me, as it had nearly done before. Then it would go on to reshape the Multiverse.
My earlier apathy faded a bit at the thought. Yes, my world was dead, but there were an infinite number of other worlds. There were an infinite number of my para-incarnations yet to be discovered, and all of them had parents. I couldn’t save my mother and father, but mine weren’t the only ones out there.
And beyond that, what about my comrades, waiting on InterWorld Beta? I had told them I would be back with the Old Man. Who would they look to now that he was dead?
I suspected I knew the answer, but I didn’t like it any. They’d look to me, if I made it out of here alive.
Lady Indigo had said InterWorld would be the last, or one of the last. I assumed she meant the last thing left; I didn’t know for certain, but it seemed like an educated guess. Lord Dogknife had said they would “ascend.” What did that mean? FrostNight had to stop at some point, right? If it was going to reshape the Multiverse, there had to be a point where it would accomplish its goal and cease to be, right? Maybe if InterWorld went into a perpetual warp again, or something . . . maybe they could outrun it.
That was doubtful; Acacia had said she could run anywhere in the Multiverse, and she didn’t think there was anywhere that would be safe. If not even TimeWatch (and I had no idea where TimeWatch actually was, it just seemed likely that an organization existing for the sole purpose of protecting time would be pretty remote) would be safe, I couldn’t imagine InterWorld being able to outrun FrostNight.
Still, it was the only chance they had. Maybe if I could send Hue to them, tell them to warp . . . It was either that, or hope that TimeWatch would somehow come in and save the day.
As before, Hue was a dim presence in the back of my mind. He did that sometimes, seeming to sort of merge with me without giving me all the crazy vision-into-time-and-space stuff.
Hue, I thought, not sure if he’d be able to hear me at all. Hue, are you there?
I got the brief impression of a contracting pupil, or a deflating balloon, along with the connotation of fear.
I know, buddy. Me, too. I know you tried to warn me back there. You can go, okay? You can go where it might be safer, you just have to warn the others.
Not that I knew how he was going to warn them. Even I had trouble communicating with Hue, and I knew him better than any of the other Walkers.
“Sssssso sad . . . the Harker won’t speak. He dislikessss usss. . . .”
Lady Indigo’s voice drew my attention to her and Lord Dogknife. They were standing together at one of the pillars, watching me intently. They were watching me so intently that neither of them noticed the faint green glow sparking in the air behind them, like a lighthouse through a distant storm.
“‘Dislike’ is a pretty mild word for it,” I told her, feeling a smile curl at the corners of my mouth. “‘Hate’ would be closer. But you know what?”
She tilted her head to an angle that didn’t look possible, let alone comfortable.
“I don’t hate you nearly as much as he does.”
Her face registered confusion for a brief moment—then pain, as Avery’s circuitry blade cut through the air and sliced into one of the bones holding her up.
She screamed, staggering sideways as the limb buckled beneath her and the others shifted to compensate. She skittered around to face the dark-haired, violet-eyed boy, standing with sword at the ready.
“Hello, lovely,” he said. “I think we’re overdue for a conversation.”
She snarled, swiping at him with one of her limbs. It was long and razor sharp at the end, but Avery moved so fast he seemed to blur, slicing his sword out at the same time. Lord Dogknife moved as well, throwing out a hand in preparation for some kind of spell.
“Avery, watch out!” I called, at the same time a bolt of dark-looking energy was loosed from Lord Dogknife’s palm. Avery brought his sword up once again, deflecting whatever it had been, and then there was another green glow sparking through the air right in front of me.
“Hey, Joe,” Acacia whispered, appearing so close to me I felt her breath on my face. “Let’s get you out of here.”
I swallowed, suddenly unable to form words. Emotions and thoughts went rapidly through my mind. Relief first, relief that I wasn’t here alone anymore, that they had come to my rescue. Apathy again, because I wanted to tell her what had happened to my world but didn’t have the words, and finally anger. Anger, because she had said TimeWatch would help. She had made me let her go and she’d left me with the promise that she would do something to save my world, and she hadn’t.
“You’re a little late,” I said, unable to keep the edge from my voice.
She didn’t even glance up at me as she put both hands on the thick white chains that held me to the floor. “Not now, Joe.” The sounds of battle could be heard around us, as Avery continued to dodge Lady Indigo and deflect the magic from Lord Dogknife. “He can’t hold them off for long. We’ve got to get you out of here.”
“Why?” I watched her fingernails glow green on both hands, the little circuits pulsing with energy. “So we can all go back to InterWorld and pick up the pieces like some big, happy family?”
“Don’t do the bitter self-pity thing, Joe, it really doesn’t suit you.”
I glanced away, stung—in time to see Lord Dogknife, bleeding from a gash on his snout, turn and fire another bolt of energy toward us.
“Acacia!” Avery and I shouted out a warning at the same time, but the bolt crashed into her before she had time to move. She was knocked a few yards away from me, though she tucked and rolled to come up in a defensive crouch. Little lines of electricity crawled over her for a moment like the remnants of a static shock, and I remembered her using some kind of skin shield before. She seemed unhurt, which was good; it meant she was able to dodge the next thing Lord Dogknife sent at her, which looked like a flurry of bats with vapory, red bodies.