This Broken Wondrous World (33 page)

“That was true when he met me,” I said. “But there is an emptiness inside me now. You made it.”

I plunged my robot arm into his chest and closed my fist around his heart. The thick gristle of vein and artery fought against me and I almost gagged.

“Please . . .” His voice was little more than a strangled breath through clenched teeth. “Please . . . mercy . . .”

But I slowly ripped out his heart.

I watched as life faded from his eyes and his heart slowly stopped beating in my fist. I stared down at him and I knew that no matter how justified it might seem, I would regret this moment for the rest of my life.

The heart fell from my hand onto the altar with a wet splat. Then I turned and walked out of the cathedral.

The fighting was over. The beast people, soldier or newly made from hostages, were all dead. People I cared about were still alive. I knew I should be happy about that.

“Boy!” yelled Claire. “Are you okay? Did you beat him?”

I beat him. But I was not okay. I would never be okay. To beat him I had allowed myself to become him. I had used people, cold and calculatingly. I had put them in grave danger. I had made them kill for me. And then when there was no one else to do it, I had done the killing myself. And for what? Moreau was right. I had done nothing except bring the world back to its natural broken state. Or perhaps even made it worse.

“Boy?” called Claire.

I couldn't face it. So I turned. Away from her. Away from them all. Away from the world.

And I just started walking.

The Long Way Home

I
STARED OUT
of my tiny little ice cave at the blinding wall of snow that blew past. It had been like this for days. The monotony was getting to me. No night, no people, no animals. Nothing but bright white snow and the howling wind.

This had been a mistake. Possibly my dumbest ever. Probably my last.

I'd come to the Arctic to find peace, just like my father had. I wasn't sure where I was exactly. Somewhere along the northern coast of Canada. I'd walked all the way from Denver. At first it had been tricky to avoid people, but the farther I went, the easier that got. For a while it had been good to walk. It cleared my head. I calmed down a bit. I started thinking back to all the choices I'd made. I tried to look at it all with a little more objectivity, to try to figure out if I had done right or not.

But no answers came to me. And no peace, either. All I felt was loneliness. I missed Claire and Sophie, Vi, Henri, my mom, all of them, really. Yet how could I face them after the terrible things I'd done? And now I'd abandoned them to this harsh world that would treat them even worse than it had before. How could I possibly go back after all that?

It turned out, though, that it didn't matter if I wanted to go
back or not. Because now it was impossible. As strong as my bionics had been initially, they were not as durable in cold weather as the rest of my body. My eye had been useless since the fight with Moreau. My arm failed next. During the long trek up, I had woken one morning to find that it was just dead weight hanging from my shoulder. Finally, sometime after that, my leg failed. At least it had locked in a fully extended position, so that I was able to pivot on it like a peg leg and continue north. But only for short distances. So I wasn't going to make it back to civilization, even if I wanted to.

Now I was holed up in this cave, more or less waiting to starve to death. I had no idea how many days I'd been here. The sun never set and the wind never stopped blowing. It almost felt as though I were stuck in time, doomed to repeat this moment of realization that what little chance of happiness I'd still had, I'd left back in Denver because I'd been too cowardly to face my own terrible deeds. Claire's voice still echoed in my mind, calling after me as I'd slowly walked away.

“Boy!”

This must be the part of starving to death where I begin to lose my mind
, I thought. It really did sound like she was calling my name.

“Boy!”

Actually, it sounded more like Sophie than Claire. I guess my subconscious wasn't super picky about details at this late stage in the dying game.

“Boy!”

I was starting to hallucinate now. Because it really looked like a small, hooded form was trudging through the blizzard toward me.

But the figure didn't vanish. It kept walking toward me.
Gradually, I became aware that it was muttering to itself in a voice that was unmistakably Sophie's. Finally, she stepped into my little cave, lifted the goggles, and pulled down the scarf that covered her mouth. Her nose and cheeks were a bright red and her eyes sparkled as she grinned down at me.

“I thought,” she said, “it was high time
I
had a turn at saving your life. Can't let Claire have all the fun. Fortunately, you continue to give us new and colorful opportunities in boyfriend saving. I do appreciate that you don't let it get monotonous.”

“S-S-S-Sophie?” I said, my voice weak and rough from lack of use.

She knelt down in front of me and gently kissed my dry, cracked lips.

“Are you about done here, then, love?” she asked.

“Uh . . . yeah,” I said.

“Good. 'Cause it's bloody cold. Let's go home.”

“Where's home?”

“Villa Diodati, of course. They're all waiting for you.”

“They who?” I asked.

She waved her hand vaguely. “You know. Everybody.” Then she pulled a walkie-talkie out of her coat pocket. “Holmes, come in.”

There was a
click
, then: “Holmes here. You find him yet?”

“Yeah. You'll need to bring the sled, though. He doesn't seem very mobile. And maybe a sandwich or something. He looks like a bloody supermodel.”

THE NEXT DAY
or so was a blur. I was on a sled, then a helicopter, then an airplane. I slept a lot. And when I wasn't sleeping I
was eating. I noticed that Holmes and Sophie took a lot of care to not have me in any public places. I wondered if monsters were now outlawed or something. If we'd have to go back into hiding, only this time without even the benefit of most people thinking we didn't exist.

But then as our private jet began its slow decent into Geneva, Holmes said to Sophie, “We'll have to land on the public strip and take him through the airport.”

“Do you think that's a good idea?” asked Sophie. She put her hand protectively on my arm. “So soon? He's barely recovered.”

“We can't avoid it forever,” said Holmes. “And I think a public return to his ancestral home would send a good message.”

“You're getting to be as bad as Ruthven,” said Sophie. “Everything's a bloody show.”

Holmes shrugged. “It's a tricky time.”

“What are you guys talking about?” I asked.

Sophie gave me an uncomfortable look. “A lot of things have happened while you were off finding yourself in the wilderness.”

“What kind of things?” I asked.

“You'll see. Just try to smile as much as you can. And, uh, don't freak out. Okay?”

Once the plane landed, Holmes turned to me. “Can you walk?”

“I think so,” I said. “But we'll have to go slow.”

“That's fine. It's perfect actually.”

“Perfect for what?”

“Them.”

She pointed out the window. A mass of people had gathered outside the plane. Reporters, people with video cameras, people with signs that said things like
HE'S ALIVE!
and
WE
BOY!
Possibly even stranger, it was a mix of humans and monsters. I saw elves, satyrs, and even an ogress.

“What is that?” I asked.

“Your fans,” said Sophie.

“My
what
?”

“You might as well tell him now,” said Holmes.

“No way. Let Vi tell him. She's the one who did it, after all.”

“Okay,
somebody
needs to tell me something or I'm going to have a panic attack,” I said.

Sophie pulled a smartphone out of her pocket. “Paging Ms. Vi,” she said.

Vi's avatar appeared on the screen. “How is he?” she asked, her face frowning with concern.

“See for yourself.” Sophie angled to phone to look at me.

“Hey, Boy! You look terrible!” said Vi.

“That's not what you're supposed to say, remember?” said Sophie.

“Oh, right. Hey, Boy! You
don't
look terrible!” Then more quietly, “Did that sound convincing?”

“Very,” I assured her. “It's good to see you.”

“So, Vi,” said Sophie. “Why don't you tell Boy what happened.”

“What happened?” asked Vi, a question mark appearing over her head. She was apparently getting more expressionistic.

“You know, with the broadcast.”

The question mark changed to an exclamation point. “Oh, right!” Then a large single drop of sweat appeared at her temple. “So, Boy. Please don't be mad at me. But I did something without your consent.”

“What did you do?”

“I broadcast you to the entire world.”

“Well, yeah, there in Lima.”

“No, I mean after that.”

“Wait, what? How much did you broadcast?”

“Pretty much all of it.”

“Everything we did from that initial broadcast until . . . when?”

“Until the cybernetic eye was smashed during your fight with Moreau. That was quite a cliff-hanger.”

“And
why
did you do this?”

“Well, viewer reaction online to the initial broadcast was mixed. People seemed to like you, but there were a lot of comments that you were too self-conscious. So I thought if I broadcast you without your knowledge, that would take care of it. And I was right!”

“But why did you broadcast it at all?”

“Because I love you, Boy. But there were people out there who didn't like you. Who didn't trust you. Who were even afraid of you. And it made me so sad. I knew if they just saw you as I see you, every day, trying to do the right thing, trying to take care of people, monsters
and
humans alike—I knew if they saw that, they couldn't help but love you as much as I do.”

“It worked, Boy,” said Holmes. “There has been a huge groundswell of public support for the monster community worldwide. Many governments, including the United States, are very nervous about a monster presence within their borders. And I think not without good reason. But because of you, they have to tread very carefully or risk severe public backlash.”

“Which is why,” said Sophie as she and Holmes helped me to my feet, “we need to smile pretty for the people out there, okay?”

I didn't really need Sophie's help to walk, but having her arm linked with mine made me feel a lot better about facing the people. The moment we hit the stairs down to the tarmac, there were cameras flashing and people calling out questions, trying
to get my attention.

Someone jammed a microphone in my face. “Boy! Where have you been all this time?”

“Uh . . . well, after what happened in Denver . . . It was pretty awful, and I guess I needed some time alone to think.”

“What finally brought you back?”

“Honestly? I missed my girlfriend.”

That got a laugh from the crowd.

“No more questions!” barked Holmes as she hustled us through the crowd and into a waiting car. Once we were inside, she patted me on the back. “That was perfect. You're a natural.”

“Thanks, I guess?” I really wasn't sure how I felt about being the monster poster boy. It seemed like a really precarious place to be. “But what happens when they get bored of me? I mean, that's inevitable, right?”

“Hopefully, we'll have some international laws regarding monster rights in place by that time.”

“And in the meantime, try to enjoy it!” Sophie patted my knee. “I know I am.”

“She even met the queen of England,” said La Perricholi from the front driver's seat. “Welcome back, Boy. Let's get you home.”

“Home,” I echoed. I wasn't even sure what that felt like anymore.