Wind Runner: The Complete Collection

by Edmund Hughes

  “I’ll see what I can do,” said Tapestry.

  “Good. Meet me at our old base when you find them.”

  “I will.” Tapestry stared at him, her emotions showing through her serious and resolved expression. “Malcolm… I don’t know how they’ll react to what’s happened to you.”

  “Well, then we’ll be in the same boat,” he said, forcing his shoulders into a shrug. “I’m still trying to react to it, myself.”

  Tapestry nodded, still hesitating instead of getting into her car.

  “After this, I’m going to have to go back to my old life,” she said.

  Malcolm nodded, hearing the unspoken implication.

  She can’t bring a demon into her world. Even if it’s me.

  “Tapestry,” he said. “I understand.”

  He wondered if he truly did understand, or if he was just saying the words to assuage her guilt. Malcolm had loved Rose, knowing that she was a spryte. He’d risked everything for her, and never judged her for something that hadn’t been her choice. But was it fair for him to expect the same from Tapestry?

  “You should go,” said Malcolm. “Drive safe.”

  He took off into flight before she could say anything more, opting to use his wind manipulation for lift, rather than Savior’s more complicated powers.

  Despite his turbulent emotions, he was still able to find a deep pleasure in the feeling of the wind against his face. He wished all of life and all of the world could be that simple. But it wasn’t, and as much as he wanted to take his time in the air, he knew he needed to rush back to his hideout.

  Malcolm landed outside the warehouse and immediately knew something was wrong. There was someone waiting for him. He’d gone as fast as he physically could, and yet still, Second Wind must have beaten him there. He gritted his teeth and felt for Savior’s powers as he faced off against the shadowed figure in the corner of the warehouse.

  “…Malcolm.”

  Rose stepped forward, close enough for him to make out the details of her silhouette, and know without a doubt that it was her. It was her… and she’d said his name.

  “Rose…”

  For a moment, he stood where he was, unsure of whether to rush forward to her, or let her come to him. It was like encountering a baby deer that seemed unafraid of humans. He smiled at the notion of comparing Rose to, of all things, a baby deer.

  “You remember me?” Malcolm asked.

  “I do,” said Rose. “I remember just about everything. Including… Brenden. And… what happened between the two of you.”

  Malcolm felt himself tense up as he thought back to Rose’s former fiancé, who’d come to Vanderbrook intent on killing both her and himself. It was his way of getting retribution for the accidental death of their child at Rose’s hands.

  She didn’t mention her daughter, Hope. Maybe she doesn’t remember that. Or maybe it’s just too painful.

  “Are you okay?” asked Rose. “I didn’t mean to catch you off guard.”

  Malcolm chuckled, knowing that there was so much he needed to explain to her, in so little time.

  “There’s something you should know,” he said, slowly. He took a couple steps to the side, until his foot bumped into one of the little flashlights he kept in the warehouse in case of emergency. “I’ll explain how it happened when I have the time, I promise.”

  He picked up the flashlight and used it to illuminate his face. He closed his eyes, waiting for a gasp, a shocked cry, or a desperate denial. It never came. Instead, Rose walked over to him, her arms folded across her chest pensively.

  “Hmm…” she said. “Well, at least you’re blue instead of some weird color. Green would have made you look like a lizard.”

  “Rose…” He turned the flashlight off and glared at her, though the expression was useless in the dark.

  “Malcolm.” She brought her hand up to his cheek. “We have so much to talk about. Why don’t you invite me down into your cozy little hideout?”

  So much to talk about, and so little time…

  His heart twisted, and he hated himself and his situation for the necessity of the words he was about to say.

  “I don’t have time,” he said. “Second Wind is on his way here. Rose, I need you to go contact Shield Maiden and Fantasy. I need you to see if they’ll help me fight against him.”

  Rose didn’t say anything. Even in the dark, Malcolm could read the expression on her face. She was better at spotting his lies than Tapestry was, and perhaps that’s why things had gone so differently between them.

  “I’ll go,” said Rose, quietly. “But not without a kiss.”

  Her voice wavered as she spoke the words. Malcolm felt a part of his heart dying inside his chest. He stepped toward her, and in an instant, she was against him. He pressed his lips against hers, and for a moment, all was forgotten.

  It had been so long. Malcolm had almost forgotten what kissing her was like. Rose was full of so much passion and emotion, and her body melded against his as though it had been made to match it. They kissed over and over again, each one deepening. Rose’s tongue pressed into his mouth and he responded with his own.

  Malcolm took a slow breath as their lips finally parted. Rose leaned her face into the crook of his neck. He could feel hot tears against his neck, and suddenly the ache in his heart felt almost unbearable.

  “If we were different people,” whispered Rose, “in different circumstances. A different world. We’d still… love each other. Wouldn’t we?”

  “Rose…”

  Stop it. Please stop, Rose.

  “Malcolm,” she said. “Is this the last time I’m ever going to see you?”

  He clutched her to him, wishing he could keep her there and never let go. Why hadn’t she just accepted his lie? Why hadn’t she believed him, like Tapestry had? Did she mean to tear down his resolve, or was it just a side effect of the intensity of what she felt for him?

  “We’ll make it through this,” he lied. “And we’ll see each other again. I promise.”

  He heard her let out a stifled sob, and then the wall of her composure broke. She pressed her face into his shoulder and wept.

  “I don’t know how much time we have.” Malcolm forced his hands to push her back and away from him. “Go let Shield Maiden and Fantasy know that I need their help.”

  Rose nodded slowly. She sniffed and wiped at her eyes with the backs of her hands.

  “I’ll go,” she said. “I understand.”

  There was so much more that Malcolm had to say to her. But he knew that if he uttered even a single word more than he already had, his determination would break and buckle, like a sand castle washed away by a wave. He looked away from her, listening as her footsteps disappeared out of the warehouse, and only turned back when he was absolutely sure that she was gone.

  CHAPTER 31

  The first thing Malcolm did was to find a pair of gloves amongst the clutter of his lair. He was still wearing one of the astronaut jumpsuits he’d found aboard the spaceship, and with his hands covered, there was very little skin left exposed.

  It was a small thing, but it would keep Second Wind from being able to steal Malcolm’s powers. Or at least, that was what he hoped. He thought back to how he’d acquired Savior’s abilities and wondered if Second Wind’s power absorption was similarly overcharged.

  I’ll just have to be on guard.

  The basement hideout had become his home over the months. It was odd to consider that this might be the last time he’d ever see it. The thought also led him back to Tapestry and Rose, and how much it would hurt them if he died.

  The same was true for the pain it would cause him to lose them, and that was why he’d sent them away. Malcolm had a vague, nagging sensation that told him that Tapestry and Rose absolutely must not be there for the fight between him and Second Wind.

  He had time to spare, and found himself wishing he had some food in the hideout. A slow smile spread across Malcolm’s face as he thought about how ma
ny months he’d spent caring about little else, barely scraping by. It almost felt like that time belonged to someone else, a substitute who’d been treading water as best as they could in his absence.

  But now, he was back. Malcolm climbed up the ladder and waited just outside the warehouse, arms folded across his chest. He didn’t have to wait long.

  Second Wind appeared in the night sky like a bird of prey, circling overhead several times before dive-bombing toward the ground. Malcolm felt the wind as his copy dropped, making note of the fact that Second Wind still used his original power for flight.

  Malcolm reminded himself that there was no telling how powerful Second Wind had grown since he’d last seen him. He knew that Second Wind had Tapestry’s regenerative abilities, which alone would make him nearly impossible to kill through most traditional methods. And on top of regeneration, knowing his copy’s personality, and of course, his own personality, Malcolm was sure that Second Wind would have picked up at least a few other abilities in the time since.

  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. T
here 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.

  “Glen,” said Second Wind, nodding to the man. “Good to see you. We didn’t wake you, did we?”

  “Oh, heavens no,” said Glen. “That was Chelsea’s doing. She’s desperate to check on the strawberries. Says that she doesn’t want the Palmer twins to eat the ripe ones before she’s had her pick.”

  Second Wind smiled at the little spryte in Glen’s wake. She showed no fear of either of them, despite the fact that they were both demons, and Malcolm was still a stranger to her.

  “Will you save me one?” asked Second Wind.

  The girl smiled at him, her cheeks reddening slightly. She nodded enthusiastically, and then walked after the man as he headed toward the town’s gardens.

  More people, demons, and sprytes began to leave their houses, some of them carrying tools, some of them carrying laundry. The town appeared to be newly constructed with no infrastructure beyond the one road. It didn’t seem to have electricity, running water, or any other modern conveniences.