Why is she doing this? Does she feel like she has to?
“…Stop,” Malcolm managed to say. “Please. I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything.”
Chaste Widow didn’t stop. Malcolm guiltily let himself enjoy a few more seconds of the hot, stroking sensation before reaching out and taking her wrist.
“Stop,” he repeated.
“I’ve been forced to do this before,” whispered Chaste Widow. “This… and so much more. Just because I can’t kiss without killing doesn’t mean I can’t do… other things.”
“I’m not forcing you,” said Malcolm. “And I never would. Please, let’s both just go back to sleep.”
Chaste Widow disappeared under his blanket instead of listening. A second later, Malcolm felt a hot, wet tongue sliding circles over the tip of his erection with luxurious slowness.
“Oh…” moaned Malcolm.
“So many times, I didn’t have a choice,” she whispered. “Each time I thought… I’d be used to it, for the next time. But it doesn’t work like that. It just got worse and worse.”
“Hey…” said Malcolm. “You aren’t thinking clearly. I’m a friend. Not somebody to force you into doing anything.”
“It’s my choice!” snapped Chaste Widow. She gave his shaft another lick, as though to emphasize her point. “This time… I can choose you. Because you’ve been so kind to me. I can choose to share myself with you, and know that if you say yes, it’s out of kindness. And caring.”
She kissed his thighs, and then all along his hardness.
“Please…” whispered Chaste Widow. “Say yes. Let me do this for you.”
Malcolm reached his hand down to her and cupped her cheek. The way she spoke of her pain, of all that had happened to her, was heartbreaking to him. He wanted to say no out of principle, out of a sense of what he felt was best for her, and what he felt she probably needed.
Maybe it isn’t for me to decide what she needs.
He gave a slow nod, and then almost gasped with pleasure as her lips engulfed his erection. He pressed his head back against the pillow, and for the first time in months, let himself fall back into a cloud of erotic pleasure.
Chaste Widow kept going at an even pace, her mouth gliding with slow, sensual movements. The sensation stirred emotions in Malcolm that he hadn’t expected, remnants of his feelings for Rose and Tapestry. An echo of the sadness he’d felt when he’d first seen Chaste Widow as a slave.
She kept up with her lips and tongue until Malcolm was at his bursting point, and then climbed forward. Malcolm came very close to forgetting the nature of her power as she carefully worked herself onto his rod, finding the right angle and exhaling as she slid down.
For several minutes, the two of them were just a man and a woman. The dismal world outside was forgotten. Their injuries, the lack of food, rough conditions, it was all secondary to the gentle movements of their bodies and mutual erotic pleasure.
Chaste Widow shuddered and made a tiny, climactic noise only seconds before Malcolm found his own release. The two of them shared his mattress for the night, not out of any deep, loving connection, but simple affection and companionship. They didn’t have much, but a peaceful night wasn’t too much to ask for.
***
Or so Malcolm thought. It was deep into the night, only a few shades away from sunrise, when he heard the sound of movement coming from outside the hatch. He froze as he heard someone trying the handle, and then roughly knocking in an attempt to wake him up.
One of the gangs has found my hideout. Even if they don’t get in today, they will eventually…
Chaste Widow was tense on the mattress beside him. Malcolm was annoyed at the ideas percolating in his head. Perhaps they could lay a trap for whoever was outside, if he hid somewhere and she stayed in bed, naked and inviting? He pushed the plan aside immediately, knowing the toll it would take on the battered woman.
“Wind Runner!” The voice was muffled, but Malcolm still recognized it. He breathed a slow side of relief and set an encouraging hand on Chaste Widow’s shoulder.
“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s a friend.”
CHAPTER 6
Malcolm and Chaste Widow dressed, and then climbed up the ladder and out of the hatch. He wasn’t able to completely let go of his tension until he’d made it outside and seen the faces of Wax, Anna, and Greenthumb in the dim predawn light.
He couldn’t believe that they were still alive, and from the expressions on their faces, they couldn’t believe that he was, either. None of them rushed forward to pull him into a hug, though Malcolm sensed it was less out of desire, and more out of respect for the time they’d spent apart.
Six months in this new world is like a decade in the old one…
“You are sight for sore eyes,” said Wax. “Truly, Wind Runner. It’s a miracle that you’re still alive.”
Malcolm nodded slowly, only then examining the champions in closer detail. Wax was no longer the pudgy, bald man who would have looked at home in a cubicle or in the driver’s seat of a bus. He was muscular now, and he wore a black trench coat that hung in a manner suggesting it carried several pounds of weapons.
Greenthumb and Anna were standing close to each other, too close for Malcolm not to notice. Greenthumb was half leaning on his walking stick, and Anna had a bandage underneath her hair. They both looked worn, but still confident to carry out whatever their current mission entailed. Malcolm found his smile fading a little as he scanned over them a second time, his curiosity getting the better of him.
“I would have figured Tapestry to be more the kind of champion to show up on my doorstep in the middle of the night,” he said. “She’s not with you… is she?”
Wax frowned, and gave a small shake of his head. “We haven’t seen her since before the collapse. Sorry.”
The words cut deeper into Malcolm than he’d expected them to. He closed his eyes and massaged his temples, feeling like a fool for having pushed her away at the worst possible time. If he’d found the words for an apology, found a way to make her listen to him, he could have protected her and Melanie, kept them from heading off on their own.
“Wind Runner, don’t focus on what’s been lost,” said Wax. “The fact that you’re still in one piece is as close to a sign as we’re liable to get. The reports we’ve heard of Vanderbrook make it sound like a meat grinder, and Halter City is currently Multi’s main base of operations.”
Malcolm frowned at that. He hadn’t heard much of Multi since their last encounter with him. It had been a trap that he’d managed to lure Malcolm, Tapestry, and Rose into, and he’d taken the opportunity to reveal the truth to Rose in a way that triggered an episode in her.
“And elsewhere?” Malcolm asked. “Is there anywhere safe in the country, anymore? We don’t get much news here, outside of the occasional unsubstantiated rumor.”
Wax and Greenthumb shared a look.
“There aren’t many safe havens,” answered Greenthumb. “A few cities in California, and a handful in various midwestern states are still mostly intact. But threat of the demon Zeus keeps most of them from trying to establish themselves firmly.”
Malcolm winced at the mention of Second Wind. If any of the others noticed, they didn’t let it show.
“How much do you know about Zeus?” asked Malcolm.
Wax shrugged. “Probably no more than you do.”
“I… don’t necessarily think that’s the case.” Malcolm took a slow breath. “The three of you deserve to know the truth. All of it.”
From the expressions on their faces, Malcolm knew that they had no idea what he was about to tell him. Even Chaste Widow drew in closer, coming around to the other side so she could see his face as he spoke.
He started with the events from the last time “he” had seen them, just before he’d first split his life and shared it with Second Wind. Wax’s expression tightened when Malcolm explained his power mimicry and how he’d used it to borrow his power.
&n
bsp; He gave them a truncated version of his time as the Gifted Vigilante, purposely leaving out details relating to Rose, the other sprytes in the area, and Chaste Widow’s history. The important information all related to Second Wind, now known as Zeus, and he gave them that in full.
When he finished, all three of the champions were staring at him, eyes dark. Malcolm sighed and felt part of the weight on his shoulders slide free.
“I’m not sure how helpful any of this will be to you,” he said. “But I felt like you needed to know.”
“So, all of this… is because of you?” asked Anna. “If you hadn’t made a copy of yourself…”
“Millions of people would still be alive,” finished Malcolm. “The Champion Authority would still be strong enough to fight back against the monsters. Yes… It’s my fault.”
“It’s no more your fault than Multi turning to evil was mine,” said Wax. “Though I do fault you for absorbing my power without my consent. I’m surprised it even worked for you. I didn’t realize that the seed of it was still in me, given that I can’t use it, myself.”
“Copies can’t make their own copies,” said Malcolm. “Second Wind, or uh, Zeus, does have at least one limitation when it comes to how powerful he can be.”
Greenthumb had stayed silent during Malcolm’s tale. He tapped his walking stick on the ground, his face pensive.
“This only reinforces our reason for being here,” said Greenthumb. “You can still help us, Wind Runner. Even without your powers, you would be a useful ally. For example, could you guess at Zeus’s motive? The two of you shared a mind once, no?”
Malcolm scratched his head. He’d considered it many, many times before, turning over the actions of his copy and examining all the angles.
“He’s carrying a lot of pain,” said Malcolm. “Not just from my past, but from his present. And all of it… leads back to people and monsters abusing their abilities.”
“Is this revenge for him, then?” asked Greenthumb.
Malcolm shook his head.
“No,” he said. “I don’t think so. I think he’s trying to burn the world down, so that he can lead the way to build it back up in the shape he wants.”
In truth, Malcolm had no idea what Second Wind wanted. Trying to guess at the motives of a demon, even one that shared the better part of his memories, was an exercise in futility.
“Wind Runner…” Wax’s expression was serious, and he locked eyes with Malcolm. “Will you join with us? We’re recruiting everyone we can. With enough champions and armed people, we might stand a shot at taking on Zeus, and any other monster that threatens the world.”
Malcolm was already shaking his head before Wax had even finished speaking. It wasn’t a refusal based on doubt or fear. Rather, he felt as though his loyalty was still owed elsewhere.
Rose. And Tapestry. I can’t give up on finding them yet.
“I’d be of no help to you,” said Malcolm. “I’m powerless, remember?”
“So am I,” countered Wax.
Malcolm shrugged. “This isn’t a fight that ordinary people should be throwing themselves into. Honestly, I think you’d be better off putting your faith in the spaceship that’s on its way to rescue Savior than you would in my abilities.”
He’d meant the comment as a joke, but it was a clear from the champion’s expressions that they didn’t take it as one.
“The mission failed,” said Wax. “The ship’s crew stopped responding over the communications system.”
Malcolm frowned.
“How is that possible?” he asked.
Wax just shook his head. “One of them might have turned on the others. Or maybe there was a stowaway aboard the ship. A Multi who might not care that it was a one-way trip, once the crew was dead.”
“I doubt that,” said Malcolm. “It’s not like it’s easy to sneak aboard a spaceship.”
Wax didn’t say anything, and neither did Malcolm. It didn’t matter much why the mission had failed, just that it had. There was nothing left for any of them to put their faith into. No powerful champion to entrust the fate of humanity to. It was only them, and whoever they could recruit.
The thought made Malcolm all the more aware of how ragged the three champions looked. He doubted that Greenthumb was carrying the walking stick for show, and Anna seemed a little dazed. The bandage around her head suggested a recent head injury, perhaps one bad enough to affect her cognitively. And Wax… he was still Wax. Powerless, just like Malcolm. Not anyone capable of pulling off miracles.
What am I supposed to tell them? To give up? Would I, in their shoes?
“There’s nothing stopping you from helping us!” snapped Anna. “Why won’t you help? We need more people for this… It’s bigger than us.”
“I know,” said Malcolm. “And I’m sorry. There’s something else that I have to do, first.”
A few seconds of disappointed silence passed. Then, surprisingly, Chaste Widow stepped forward, moving between Malcolm and the champions.
“I’m gifted,” she said, without preamble. “If you’d have me, I’d join with you.”
She shot an apologetic look over her shoulder at Malcolm. He hated to admit it to himself, but it did hurt him a little to see her moving on so quickly. But it also strengthened his resolve in what he knew he had to do.
“You’re gifted?” asked Wax. “Why haven’t you gotten in touch with the champions before?”
“Wax…” said Anna. “We can ask her questions later. For now, we should take what we can get.”
Wax hesitated, but eventually nodded.
“We need to get going,” he said. “We’ll be in the area tonight, but then we’re heading out. If you change your mind, or discover anything that can help us, we’ll be camped by the wreckage of our old headquarters.”
“The Dome,” said Malcolm, remembering it fondly.
“Take care Wind Runner,” said Greenthumb.
The others nodded to him. Chaste Widow gave him a tight hug, pressing her cheek against his face briefly instead of kissing. And then they left, leaving him alone.
CHAPTER 7
Malcolm’s hideout smelled strange the next morning. It took him an embarrassingly long time to recognize it as the scent of a woman, the slightly musky mix of pheromones and traces of perfume.
He had no food left, so he contented himself by drinking water for the morning. He carried one of the jugs with him as he made his way out of his hideout and toward the forest where he’d left his traps set up.
One of Malcolm’s sneakers had been developing a hole for the past several weeks. He caught his foot wrong against a rock, and another stitch gave out, finally enlarging the gap enough to make walking awkward. He swore under his breath and hoped he could find some tape or a needle and thread to make the necessary repairs.
His traps had been destroyed. It only took him a single glance at them to know that it had been a malicious act, rather than random chance, or from an animal trying to escape. The twine had been stolen from all of them, and one of the logs had been stepped on and caved in.
Malcolm tried to keep his anger in check as he surveyed the damage. It meant that he wouldn’t have a regular source of food unless he could actively hunt. The main benefit to having the traps was that they’d been able to catch food even when Malcolm was tired and exhausted. Without them, he’d be fighting a losing battle.
He filled his jug with water from the river and drank until it was hard for him to tell if the pain in his stomach was from hunger or being overfilled with liquid. Then, he started off toward Vanderbrook, hoping that he’d stumble upon fortune in the trading square.
Greg was standing at his trading stall, setting out a variety of weapons and equipment for display. Malcolm caught his eye as he walked over, hoping that the man might have some basic work for him. Greg frowned when he saw him.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said. “Bennett’s gang has been coming through all morning, and they aren’t fans of yours.”
“I’ll have to take my chances. Speaking of which, is anyone looking for an extra hand for today?”
Greg slowly shook his head, sharing Malcolm’s disappointment.
“Sorry, man,” said Greg. “I doubt anyone here would want to risk inviting your trouble onto themselves.”
Malcolm thanked him for the heads up and started back through the crowd. He saw where Greg was coming from, and couldn’t fault him for it.
How long has trouble followed me for? It’s like my shadow, always there behind me, in some capacity or another.
A few men were sitting outside a building, passing a liquor bottle around between them. Malcolm overheard some of their conversation as he passed by.
“…saw her, too. A shadow spryte. Too wild for us to stick around to watch, though. Even though she was naked.”
Malcolm froze in mid-step. He approached the men tactlessly, dropping to a crouch next to where they were seated.
“Say that again,” he said. “The part about the shadow spryte.”
The man glared at him and opened his mouth. Before he could say anything, Malcolm reached out and snatched the bottle out of his hand. He held it off to the side, over the concrete, shaking it slightly in loose fingers.
“If you gents want to keep enjoying yourself today,” said Malcolm, “I suggest you give me the full story of what you were just talking about.”
He used his tone of voice to make it clear that he’d follow through with his threat, if he had to. One of the men told him everything he knew, which wasn’t much. He and a buddy had seen a shadow spryte in the outskirts of town, but it had taken off in a sphere of dark energy soon after. The man didn’t know in which direction.
Rose. Did you finally come back? Have you remembered?
Malcolm gave the men back their bottle. He resolved to restart his search, regardless of whether he was hungry, and whether he had a weapon to protect himself. He’d made it most of the way back toward his hideout when someone shouted out behind him.
Former Champion (Vanderbrook Champions Book 5) Page 3