A Hero at the End of the World (28 page)

“I have a what?” Archie twisted around, trying to catch a glimpse of it. “Oh, fantastic. Sodding alternate universes.”

“How strange,” Sophie said, stepping behind Archie, who was struggling into his shirt. “Why would you have this Archie’s tattoo when we’re still wearing the clothes we had on when the Baahl was activated?”

“I don’t care,” Archie snapped. “What is it? Does it suit me?”

“Yeah, it’s not bad,” Ewan replied. “It’s a fish.”

“A fish?” Archie sputtered. He yanked on his shirt with more force than necessary, glowering.

Averting his gaze from Archie’s bare chest, Ewan glanced at Sophie—but she was looking out across the water with an intent expression on her face. Suddenly, her arm shot up. “Look,” she blurted, pointing, “it’s Oliver!”

On the opposite side of water from where they’d found the Baahl, Oliver was maneuvering a tiny rowboat. He, too, had removed his coat; the muscles of his arms bulged as he rowed toward them, his tie thrown over his shoulder.

“Permission to come aboard, captain?” Oliver called, waving.

Ewan glanced around for a moment before realizing Oliver was speaking to him. “Huh?”

“Never mind,” sighed Oliver.

As Oliver’s small craft bumped the side of their narrow boat, Sophie climbed up onto the roof of the cabin. Archie followed her, but he sat on the edge, his legs blocking access to the door.

“I was so worried,” Sophie said with feeling once Oliver was on the deck. “There are sea monsters in this universe. Archie nearly died.”

Archie did a double take. “What?”

Oliver’s face was grim. “I spotted one on my way here. It was the size of a submarine.” He seemed to suddenly notice the En Kaffe flag, and he frowned. “Is this... a café barge?”

“Coffee’s my destiny,” said Ewan flatly.

“Was that a joke?” Oliver asked, looking even more confused.

“I don’t know anymore,” Ewan replied.

“Right.” He turned, stretching his hand out past Archie to touch Sophie’s knee. “Were you and Ewan together again? I don’t know why we keep getting separated.”

“No, I was with Archie,” said Sophie. “We woke up on our yacht.”

Oliver blinked. “Excuse me?”

“She means our love nest,” Archie leered. He raised his free hand, which had a gold band on the ring finger that Ewan hadn’t noticed before, and jerked his head in Sophie’s general direction. “I seem to be married to this one.”

“Darling, how could you say that?” she asked sarcastically, showing off her own ring.

Oliver’s jaw clenched so tightly that Ewan could hear his teeth grind. But the sound paled in comparison to the horrible, sad feeling that went through Ewan, which he immediately shoved aside. It wasn’t any of his business whom Archie dated. Or married in alternate universes.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Sophie said to Oliver, rolling her eyes. “I’ve only known Archie for a day and I already know this relationship is a sham.”

“How dare you,” said Archie indignantly.

“Some universe you’ve brought us to,” Ewan muttered bitterly.

Scowling, Oliver snatched the Baahl out of Archie’s arms. “Please, Ewan, show me where on the evil disco ball each universe is labeled. So why don’t you get—what’s that?” Oliver said abruptly, looking out across the sea.

Ewan mentally counted to ten before turning. He fully expected to see another sea monster, but instead it was a hardwood ship cutting through the water, heading straight for them. It wasn’t particularly large, but it was impressive. It was an old ship that reminded Ewan of the Royal Navy men-ofwar he’d seen in paintings at the National Gallery, which they had been forced to visit on day trips when he’d been in school, cannons and all, its English flags waved in the wind.

A figure was standing at the bow. Ewan squinted, trying to make it out.

He jerked back when he recognized a small woman: Louise Gardener Hobbes. She was wearing a blue and white navy uniform, buttoned to the throat, its tails blowing behind her like two ribbons. Her hair was tucked under a tricorn hat.

“Bloody hell,” he exclaimed. “I think it’s your mum.”

Archie sighed. “Of course it is.”

The frigate slowed its course, gently turning until their boat was facing her side. It shifted too far for a moment before righting itself; Ewan caught the words
The Beisht Kione
on the back of the galley.

On the ship, Louise raised a hand.

Oliver blanched suddenly, nearly dropping the Baahl. The skin around his eyes was tight and his cheeks took on a sickly gray tone.

Sophie stretched a hand out toward him. “What’s wrong?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, clutching the ball to his chest. Droplets of sweat broke out on his forehead. “No,” he growled, staggering.

Ewan watched with dismay as both Oliver and the Baahl rose into the air, the force of Louise’s spell far stronger than Oliver’s full weight bearing down on the mechanism. Oliver’s legs kicked as he tried to hold on.

“Oliver!” Ewan shouted, but before he could reach him, Oliver shot forward toward Louise’s frigate.

As he sailed across the surface of the water, legs dangling, the head of a giant eel-like creature ascended out of the sea. Its long, yellow teeth, easily the length of a lamppost, closed around Oliver and the Baahl as its jaw snapped shut.

Ewan and Sophie screamed.

“This is
so much
worse than werewolves,” Archie shouted.

The monster sank back into the water. Ewan staggered back, an empty feeling spreading through him.

“Watch out,” Sophie yelled.

Ewan’s stomach dropped as high, turbulent waves from the sea monster’s fall violently rocked the small boat. It tipped nearly all the way over, water splashing over the side and soaking his jeans. He scrambled to hold onto something. On the roof, Sophie lost her grip; Archie reached for her but she disappeared into the sea.

Holding on tightly to the wall of the berth, Ewan squeezed his eyes shut.
Oliver
, he thought.

Chapter 28

J
ust as suddenly, the rocking halted. Ewan’s stomach stopped churning. The wall that he’d been gripping vanished, and he dropped to the ground, scraping his side on rocks and grit.

“Ow,” he said, his eyes sliding open.

Ewan was lying in the blackened remains of a building. Its walls were crumbling, and its floor had been reduced to rubble. The roof was gone: he was gazing up at a sky dark with clouds. When he carefully stood, still feeling unsteady, he saw that the front of the building had been blown off.

The corner building gave him a good view of a cross section of streets. The other redbrick shops were in the same state as the one he was in; some had broken signs swinging from their awnings, while others had been stripped bare of any sort of identifiers. Many had missing walls and collapsed roofs. The abandoned cars he could see from his vantage point inside the shop had been raided for parts, their paint scratched off and their frames rusted.

London had become a ghost town.

A voice behind him moaned. Startled, he turned. Underneath a half-fallen sign where the letters K, A, and E were still visible—coffee—were Sophie and Archie, both of whom were stirring back into consciousness. The Baahl was resting on a pile of debris between them.

Archie came to first. He pushed himself up on one hand. “I’m going to be sick,” he said pathetically. He did look a bit green. “W-where are we now?”

“I haven’t the foggiest,” Ewan replied. He put a hand to his forehead; he still felt disorientated, but he remembered the sea and the boat nearly tipping on its side. There had been something else, too. It was gnawing at him.

Suddenly, Sophie bolted upright, coughing and choking. She was soaking wet. Her brown hair flew in an arc as she whipped her head around, her eyes wide, like she was searching for something.

“Oliver?” she called, sounding frantic. “
Oliver
?”

Where
was
Oliver? Ewan wondered.

That was when he remembered: Oliver was gone, eaten by a sea monster.

Numbness spread through him from head to toe. His mind went completely blank. Everything seemed to slow around him, as though he were underwater: Sophie was saying something to him, but he couldn’t hear it; he could only watch her lips move.

But when she reached for the Baahl, a wave of sickness and fear went through him. His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist midair.

“Wait,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Do you—do you think that’s a good idea?”

Sophie stared at him as though he had lost it. “What?”

Ewan swallowed thickly. “We’ve been to a universe where the Gardener Hobbeses ruled the word, one where werewolves were taking over London, and one where the entire city was an ocean of sea monsters. What if the next universe is even worse?”

“I didn’t think of that,” Archie said, blanching.

“What of it?” Sophie spat. She broke free of Ewan’s grip. “If it’s worse, it’s worse.”

“What are the chances that the next one’s a nice universe full of rainbows and unicorns?” Archie asked, and Ewan found himself nodding vigorously.

Sophie’s voice went high and reedy. “We have to find Oliver,” she insisted.

“What if what happened to him happens to us?” Ewan demanded. “What if we—” He couldn’t even say it. “If we—”

Archie snatched up the Baahl before Sophie could get to it, protectively tucking it against his hip.

“I
will
hurt you,” said Sophie.

Without hesitation, Archie handed it back over to her.

She hugged it to her chest. For an instant, she looked lost, but then her face smoothed over with determination. Calmer, she replied, “I simply feel that we should do what we can to find Oliver. What if he’s injured and can’t come to us? Or he’s bleeding out and it takes us days to find him?”

Red-hot anger flared in Ewan. He clenched his hands into fists to stop himself from charging her—he wanted to break something, to hurt something, to scream. “We’re not going to find him,
because he’s dead
.”

Sophie flinched, the blood draining from her face.

Unbidden, the memories of the previous universe floated to the surface. Oliver sailing through the air... disappearing into the mouth of the beast... its teeth closing around him...

It hurt Ewan to breathe, like he had been punched in the gut. Black spots danced in his vision.

“Excuse me,” he managed.

He barged through the nearest door—not knowing where he was going, just needing to find air—which turned out to be the toilet. The face that looked back at him in the mirror was pale, almost as pasty as Archie’s. He pulled off his glasses to rub his eyes, and his reflection became a smear of white and black.

Leaning over the sink, he splashed cold water on his face; maybe because the toilet was the only room still intact, it seemed clean—as clean as London’s water could be, at any rate. The coolness helped a little, until Ewan had another flash of the monster rising up out of the sea to meet Oliver. He dropped his forehead against the cracked porcelain.

Stupid, brave Oliver
, he thought angrily, his eyes stinging.

The door swung open. Moments later, something touched the top of his head.

“Are you petting me?” he asked in disbelief, his head snapping up. His wet eyes met Archie’s in the mirror.

Archie pulled his hand back, looking guilty. “I’m trying to comfort you.”

Somewhere between the werewolves and the sea monsters, Ewan had forgotten that he was cross with Archie. He batted Archie’s hand away clumsily. “Well, you’re bad at it,” he snapped, sliding his glasses back on his damp face. “And don’t bloody touch me.”

“You
can’t
be angry with me,” Archie replied indignantly.

Ewan spun around, gripping the sink behind him. “Of course I’m angry. I’m bloody furious! I would be happy and free in Scotland if you hadn’t fallen for your mum’s tricks again—if you hadn’t gone to help her when Oliver wanted to put her away.”

And, he couldn’t help but think, it was because of Archie’s mother that Oliver was dead.

“Swear down, it’s almost as if you
wanted
to destroy the world,” he said.

“Why would I want to destroy the world?” Archie asked, frowning.

“Why did you leave me behind?” Ewan demanded.

Archie looked taken aback at his non sequitur. “When?”

“At your mum’s house. You left me to die.”

“Is that what you think?” A contemplative look flashed across Archie’s face. “Is that why you ran off to the ends of the Earth?”

“I left because I thought your mum was going to kill me,” Ewan sneered.

“That’s the same reason I did.”

Confused, Ewan asked, “You thought your mum was going to kill you?”

Archie squinted at him. “No, because I thought that if I didn’t draw her attention elsewhere,
you’d
die. Leading her away was the only way I could think of to save your life. And I didn’t come back to help her, just so you know, I came back to help
you
. I thought maybe I could—I’m not certain, really.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Get my mum’s evil mechanism and help you to make a deal with her so she’d leave you be, perhaps.”

He looked so miserable. “Why would you want to do that?” Ewan asked.

Blinking, Archie replied, “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Do you—” Ewan hesitated, not sure if he wanted the answer. “Do you feel sorry for me?”

“I never
once
felt sorry for you,” Archie replied vehemently. “I have—you know...” He trailed off, mumbling.

Ewan cocked his head to try to catch the rest of the words coming out of Archie’s mouth, but he couldn’t make out what he was saying. “No, I don’t know. What am I meant to know?”

“I—you—”

“Come on, man, out with it,” Ewan said, beginning to feel a little annoyed. “I haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re on about.”

“
Emotions
,” Archie cried, waving his arms.

Ewan’s eyebrows shot up. “What sort of emotions?”

“No, I mean—”

Archie surged forward and kissed Ewan. It was just a small peck on the lips, but Ewan’s entire face tingled. Before he could process what was happening, Archie stepped back. He looked both terrified and determined, as though he were about to go skydiving.