I rearranged the pillows, curled up, and fell asleep thinking of shadows detaching themselves from the bases of lampposts and swarming a crowd of people who screamed and fled.
My phone woke me out of a fitful sleep. I snatched it up, and my heart turned over in my chest when I saw Malcolm’s name. SAFE AND WELL LONG STORY HOME SOON.
I clutched the phone to my chest and breathed out a prayer of thanks. After typing out a reply, I lay back on the pillows and closed my eyes. Malcolm’s text and my long nap had cleared my head and left me wide awake. Malcolm would know what had happened in Toronto, why it had taken so long and why the invaders had been free to attack that reporter. I had no idea what the world would make of the man’s final words, but it couldn’t be anything good.
It seemed only minutes before I heard the back door open and close. I flew down the stairs and into Malcolm’s arms, holding him tightly enough he let out a gasp. “It’s fine,” he told me. “We stopped the attack. Not soon enough, but it didn’t wipe out Toronto.”
“What happened? I was watching the news, and they kept reporting on how the bioweapon was spreading, and the Wardens didn’t seem to even be there.”
“Come upstairs. I need to get out of these clothes.” He smelled terrible, like stale sweat and blood and the bitter tang of gunpowder residue. I followed him into our bathroom and leaned against the door frame as he undressed, too tense even to appreciate the sight.
“The initial attack in Mississauga was a feint,” he said as he turned on the shower. “There were so many invaders, we didn’t at first realize that the ones we were fighting hadn’t attacked any humans. Everywhere we went, the invaders stopped their attack as soon as we showed up. It took us time to recognize where the real attacks were happening and shut them down. By then, the destruction had spread as far as Toronto’s city limits, and the place was a disaster—enormous traffic jams, the Canadian Army all over the place, people fleeing on foot.”
He was quiet then, lathering up and tilting his head back to rinse his hair. I said, “Did you hear about the reporter who was killed on live TV? How he saw the invaders?”
“I did,” Malcolm said grimly. “I think the world has heard it by now. Thankfully, the speculation about his death is all entirely wrong. Though I don’t know how anyone would figure out from that recording that he was killed by invaders from another reality.”
“That’s what I hoped. That they’d think…I don’t know. Maybe that the bioweapon makes people delusional before they die.”
“I heard someone suggest that very thing.” Malcolm stepped out of the shower and toweled off. “But it might not matter. If the invaders continue to display such cunning tactics—”
“The Wardens aren’t giving up, are they?”
“No. But I imagine Lucia is formulating a possible plan in which she approaches the mundane governments of the world to tell them the truth and enlist their help.”
That struck me to the heart with fear. “That sounds desperate.”
“Desperate times, Helena. And I can’t say I disagree with the idea. Humans are dying, and if they don’t know the truth, they can’t defend themselves. As it’s clear we Wardens are doing such a damn poor job of defending them.”
I put my arms around him. “Don’t say that. You’re doing your best.”
“I am. But the factionalism is still rotting us at the core. I saw more cooperation tonight, but not enough.” He sighed and put his arms around me. “I’m exhausted. Let’s sleep, and hope tomorrow looks brighter. It certainly can’t be bleaker than tonight.”
I wished he hadn’t said that. It was the sort of statement that could inspire a heartless universe to prove it wrong.
I woke when Malcolm’s alarm went off about four hours later and shot upright, propelled by a dream that dissolved around me. All I remembered was the fire alarm going off inside Abernathy’s, something I was convinced was true for about twenty seconds until my rational brain told me it was just the alarm clock.
Malcolm slept undisturbed, and for a few minutes I thought about letting him sleep in. Surely there was nothing at Campbell Security so urgent that he had to be there right at nine o’clock? But then I remembered the disaster of the previous night and reluctantly shook him awake.
He woke abruptly, and I snatched my hand away, knowing from previous experience that he sometimes overreacted when he woke from a deep sleep. Blinking, he focused on me.
“The alarm went off,” I told him, “and I wasn’t sure if you were allowed to sleep in.”
“I’m not,” he said. “I have to meet with Lucia at eight.” He rolled out of bed. “You don’t have to get up.”
“I’m awake now, and hungry. I’ll make breakfast—” I remembered my injured hand and scowled. “Or not.”
Claude was in the kitchen eating cereal when I went downstairs. “I hope you do not mind that I took advantage of your hospitality,” he said with a smile.
“No, of course not. I’m glad you didn’t wait for me. Did you hear what happened last night?”
Claude shook his head. “Was it an attack?”
“The invaders hit Toronto. It was a disaster.” I quickly explained what had happened. I was just telling him about the reporter who’d been killed when Malcolm joined us. Claude’s expression grew grimmer the longer I spoke.
“The invaders grow bolder,” he said. “If we cannot find a way to attack them directly, they will overcome the world.”
“I know there are Wardens investigating the possibility of entering the invaders’ reality,” Malcolm said. He took a couple of bowls out of the cupboard. “But I am afraid their efforts won’t bear fruit soon enough.”
I retrieved a box of cereal from the pantry and a container of milk and sat opposite Claude. “And there are only two named Neutralities left.”
“There is a plan to regain the Well,” Malcolm said. “A desperate plan, which seems fitting. But the Well’s power might tip the scales in our favor.”
“I thought it was too corrupted to be used,” I said.
“Corrupted, yes, but too corrupted, no one knows,” Claude said. “Repairing the Well requires someone to enter it, and previous attempts have ended in fatalities. But Khalil al-Hussein is a clever man, and I would not be surprised if he had discovered a different path.”
The thought cheered me, though my rational brain knew how long a shot it was. “Could we—no, wishing the invaders out of existence is impossible, or they’d have done it before now.”
“Correct,” Claude said. “But wishing for a weapon that would interrupt their attack, or a device to allow us to penetrate their reality—those things are not impossible.”
I poured myself a bowl of cereal. “Or something that would seal the cracks? Now that the oracle has told us they exist?”
“That, too,” Claude said. “May I join you at Abernathy’s today? I will need access to the internet to follow up on my duties.”
“Sure. Does anyone know you survived?”
“I texted several people at the nearby nodes.” Claude’s expression went grim again. “Unfortunately, many died at the Athenaeum who were key to its operation. It means I have fewer people to notify, sadly.”