A Hero at the End of the World (27 page)

“You’re supposed to run
away
from danger!” Ewan shouted, cupping his ice-cold hands around his mouth.

They disappeared into the fog. Ewan stood alone in the closed road, not sure what to do.
He
was certainly not heading off toward a sound like that—not when there were werewolves crawling all over London, with their fangs and their claws...

He hurried after them, hating himself.

He chased the outline of their forms as they dashed through the fog, the streets blurring together behind the wisps of low-hanging clouds. Not far from the corner they had been backed into, Archie was standing in front of a crater in the road, his hand raised as if warding off an attack. Three massive wolves, each one the size of a small bear, were collapsed around the crater—dead or merely stunned, it was difficult to tell.

Relief crashed into Ewan as the sight of Archie, who, once he noticed them, dropped his arms to his sides, a slightly dazed expression crossing his face. Ewan stepped up behind Oliver and Sophie, fighting the dual urges to see if he was all right and to punch him in the throat.

“What did I tell you about using magic?” Oliver yelled.

Ewan stared at Oliver in confusion before it hit him that the crater wasn’t there by accident: it was
Archie
who had conjured something strong enough to blow a hole in the road and single-handedly fend off a werewolf assault. Archie, who, as far as Ewan had witnessed, only used magic when he was too lazy to move.

A newfound appreciation stirred in him: as angry as he was, even he had to admit there was a certain something about an nice-looking bloke blowing things up.

“Terribly sorry, I must’ve forgotten about that when I was being
attacked by werewolves
,” Archie snapped, tossing his blond curls out of his eyes. He was breathing hard, as though
he
were the one who had just been rushing through the streets, and a trickle of sweat slid down his temple.

It was working for Ewan. Feeling his face and ears flush, he pushed his glasses up his nose. “You never told me you were this powerful,” he muttered.

“Oh, this? It’s nothing,” Archie replied, sniffing. He adjusted his shirtsleeves. “I did tell you that Zaubernegativum opens new doors.”

“It’s also going to kill all of us,” said Oliver, “but go on, ignore me.”

Sophie knelt beside one of the fallen werewolves. She pulled a biro out of her coat pocket and pulled the wolf’s lip up over its teeth. Even from where Ewan was standing, he could smell its rancid breath, and its canines were nearly as long as her forearm. He turned away, shuddering.

“Why do
you
have the Baahl?” Archie asked Oliver, looking bemused. “Wasn’t the entire point of this that my mother find a universe in which she was a supreme being?”

Oliver let the mechanism drift out of his hands. In the dense fog, it shone down on him like a halo. “I think activating it bonded it to me,” he replied.

“Which is probably part of why Louise needed to kill you before she turned it on,” Sophie called over her shoulder.

“Something’s odd about this place,” Oliver said.

“Could it be the werewolves?” Archie asked dryly.

Oliver shook his head. “No... well, yes, but that’s not it. I feel strange.”

“Sophie and I work together here,” said Ewan. “Do you think we’re taking the place of the us in this universe, or are they here, too, and we haven’t run into them yet?”

“I’ve no idea. That’s a good question, though.”

Oliver looked pointedly at Archie.

“Don’t look at me,” Archie countered. “How on earth would I know?”

“Because you—you know what, never mind,” Oliver replied, scowling.

Ewan swallowed thickly. “So what do we do now?”

“Yeah, what do we do now?” Archie repeated.

“We get back to our own universe,” Oliver replied. The Baahl lowered back into his hands, and he turned it over, revealing a circle of shattered squares. “Erm, once I figure out how to do that.”

Suddenly, Sophie gasped and fell back onto her hands. One of the werewolves had begun to stir, growling under its breath.

“Oliver,” she breathed, “if you know how to activate the Baahl, now’s the time to do it.”

“I don’t know how to,” Oliver replied, fumbling with the mechanism. He sounded as panicked as Ewan was beginning to feel as the wolf smacked its lips, its eyelids fluttering.

“Give it here,” Archie snapped, grabbing the Baahl right out of Oliver’s hands.

“Wait,” Ewan and Oliver shouted simultaneously.

Archie dropkicked the ball like they were playing rugby. It sailed in an arc before hitting the road with an audible
crack
and rolling away.

Oliver turned to Archie. “
You—
”

Chapter 27

T
his time, Ewan woke up alone on the floor. Even without looking, he could tell immediately that he was either in the wrong universe or far, far away from London: the air smelled salty, and the light coming through the windows seemed too bright and hot for London’s gray, damp autumn.

Head swimming, he rolled onto his knees and began to stand—nearly toppling over when he realized that it wasn’t his head, it was the
floor
that was rocking beneath him. He gripped the edge of the nearest wooden counter for support as he hoisted himself up.

He was holding onto a bar. Several stools were pulled up to it, a single-shot espresso machine and a small plate of biscuits (labeled 75p each) were to his right, and to his left was a row of ceramic mugs. Round tables were pushed against the length of the wall of the long, narrow room.
En Kaffe
was scrawled in his own handwriting on a freestanding chalkboard by the door.

It was another coffee shop.

“Now the universe is just taking the piss,” Ewan said to no one.

He walked carefully to the small door, the top of his head brushing the ceiling, and wrenched it open. After blinking the glaring sunlight out of his eyes, he found himself completely surrounded by miles and miles of murky brown water.

Thousands of barges, towboats, sailboats, and yachts were peacefully floating on the sea. Ewan himself appeared to be on a red and yellow narrow boat with a flag bearing the name
En Kaffe
waving from a pole jutting out of the deck. He shielded his eyes with his hand and squinted out over the water. He could make out several cruise ships in the far distance, teetering at the edge of the world.

It was warm out. Ewan pushed up the sleeves of his hoodie, not certain what his next move would be. Around him rose the sounds of seagulls, waves, and marine horns. Interestingly, the patches of bright green algae dotting the water’s surface seemed to be the same kind that infested London’s park ponds and fountains. Ewan stared at them for a moment, confused, and when he glanced back over his shoulder, he saw miles and miles of chimneys, steeples, and slanted rooftops poking out of the water like tiny islands.

He was in London. London was underwater.

“Ewan!”

He whipped his head around. Coming up behind him—or in front of him; he wasn’t entirely sure which side of the boat he was on—was a small, yellow lifeboat. Inside, Sophie and Archie were waving at him. They’d taken off their coats and were just in their jumpers; Sophie’s red scarf flapped behind her.

“At least we can count on there being no werewolves this time,” Ewan said, watching as Sophie steered her boat until it lightly bumped against his.

“Don’t jinx it,” she muttered, as she took his hand and boarded the deck. “They might have evolved to swim.”

“Well, now I’m terrified out of my mind,” said Archie.

There wasn’t much space on the tiny deck for three people; they were nearly shoulder to shoulder (or in Ewan’s case, chest to shoulder). Normally, Ewan would have been having an emotional crisis over being pressed up against Archie, who even after fighting werewolves smelled clean and masculine, the sun glinting off of his blond curls and making freckles stand out on his nose. Luckily, Sophie distracted him by painfully elbowing him in the gut and stepping on his feet.

Suddenly, she gasped, and pointed over the water, but not before stabbing Ewan with her elbow again. “Look!”

The Baahl was floating on the surface of the sea several yards away. The light reflected off of it like a mirror, and Ewan, feeling dim, wondered how he had missed it before.

Archie waved a hand, but it didn’t move an inch. A strange, fearful look passed over his face. “It’s not working.”

“What?” Sophie demanded. “What do you mean, it’s not working? Did you use the correct spell?”

Without waiting for an answer, she let out a short chant, but, just as it had with Archie, the Baahl remained where it was.

Sophie looked terribly confused.

“I think it only works with Oliver,” Ewan said.

She nodded vigorously. “Of course,” she said, but she still sounded shaken. “Does anyone know how to drive a boat?”

“Haven’t the foggiest, mate,” Ewan replied.

“I’m certified in sailing,” Archie offered.

“It’s a canal boat,” Ewan said. “I don’t think it has sails.”

The three of them silently watched the Baahl bob up and down with the waves. While Ewan and Archie stood there dumbly, Sophie ducked inside the cabin, searching for something long to fish it out with, like an oar or a net; Ewan, despite not knowing anything about boats except that they floated on water, assumed there must be various boat-y items stashed inside.

“Nothing,” she said from the doorway. “But—”

“Oh, fine,” Archie grumbled.

Muttering under his breath, he began stripping. Ewan stared in shock as he wrenched his jumper and shirt over his head, but he came back to life when Archie undid his belt and shoved down his trousers, pooling them around his ankles.

“What are you doing?” Ewan yelped, covering his eyes with his hand.

Archie froze, his jumper balled up in his hand. “I’m jumping in.”

“
What
?”

“We need to get it, and I’m not going in the water in these clothes,” Archie explained as he toed off his shoes and socks. “My mother may be evil, but she taught me to take care of my belongings.”

“Wait,” Sophie exclaimed, “you don’t really need to—”

Before they could stop him, he took a graceful leap off the deck and into the sea. He resurfaced a moment later, his wet hair falling into eyes. With a cheerful wave, he began swimming away from them.

Sophie held up a book. “I found the boat’s manual behind the door.”

As Archie’s breaststroke took him closer and closer to the Baahl, the tension began to drain out of Ewan’s shoulders. It seemed like everything was going smoothly. In a few minutes, they would have the Baahl back, and all they had to do was break a square or two to move on to the next universe, in search of home. It wouldn’t be like the last universe at all.

That was the plan, anyway, except that when Archie made it halfway between the boat and the mechanism, some kind of large creature’s scaled, iridescent back briefly breached the surface of the water. Seconds later, it dove back out of sight.

Sophie dropped the manual. It hit the deck with a dull thump.

“W-what was that?” Ewan demanded in horror. His mind reeled, not quite certain of what he’d just witnessed. “Was that a
sea monster
? What sort of universe is this?”

Sophie’s hand was clamped over her mouth. “Suddenly I miss the werewolves,” she said, her voice muffled.

“Got it,” Archie shouted, treading water. He held the Baahl up triumphantly, tossing water out of his eyes.

Ewan cupped his hands around his mouth. “Get back here, you nutter,” he bellowed.

Even from the boat, Ewan could see Archie glaring at him. He tucked the Baahl under his arm and began swimming back, though he wasn’t nearly as fast now as he had been before. Ewan’s heart thudded against his ribs.

“Can you put a shield round him or something?” Ewan asked Sophie. “Like you did before, with us?”

She hesitated. “I’ve never done one on someone moving,” she said cautiously, but she began to mutter a spell. He recognized the beginning of it—“
Ic fylste hine
”—but not the end, where he hoped she’d conveniently slid in the Old English word for sea monster, whatever that was.

Outwardly, nothing happened. The surface of the water was still except for the occasional wave from a distant boat. The seagulls had left, Ewan realized suddenly; it was too quiet, as though the animals knew something that they didn’t. Something pinched him, but it was only Sophie digging her nails into the soft flesh of his arm.

“Did it work?” Ewan asked.

“No,” she said quietly.

The closer Archie moved toward them, the more vivid Ewan’s visions became: something pulling him under the water, the sea filling red with his blood, the Baahl floating back to the surface. Next to him, Ewan could hear Sophie’s quickening breath, which didn’t make him feel any better.

Finally, Archie was back at the boat. He tossed the Baahl onto the deck first; it rolled around their feet before disappearing into the berth. Sophie swore loudly and filthily before diving after it. But Ewan’s main concern was Archie, whom he helped drag back onto the deck, dripping water everywhere.

With a smirk, Archie tossed his head like a dog, spraying brown water in Ewan’s eyes. When he could see again, he found that Archie had slipped back into his trousers. They were clinging to him obscenely. Rivulets of water ran down flat planes of his chest and stomach. Ewan struggled to keep his gaze above the neck, but that didn’t help either: beads of water dripped down the hard line of his jaw, and the way the water darkened his curls made his wide eyes seem even bluer.

Sophie offered Archie a towel that she had grabbed from below deck. “What?” he asked Ewan hesitantly, wiping his face.

Ewan was about to vehemently deny everything when Archie turned to pull his shirt off the side of the boat and a splash of color on his left shoulder blade grabbed Ewan’s attention. It was a Japanese-style gold and white koi fish on top of blue swirls, and it was slightly faded in parts, as though he’d had it a long time.

“Blimey, you have a tattoo,” Ewan said. He reached out to touch Archie’s back but dropped his hand before it could meet the skin. “It’s nice, I like it.”