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.