Were the Free Walkersâwith the best of intentionsâdestroying the very thing I was sworn to protect?
But who protected the Echoes? Walkers believed in obedience, diligence, and sacrificeâbut how much sacrifice was too much? âDo you believe in necessary evils?â
He squinted. âFooling people into thinking evil is necessary seems pretty evil. Not sure about the necessary part.â
âWhat about the greater good?â
âDepends on whose version of good weâre talking about. Everyoneâs the hero of their own story, arenât they?â
âNot me.â
He slipped an arm around my shoulders. âYou didnât know what you were doing.â
âOh, I knew.â My fingers on threads that split and sheared and unmade a world. âBut I didnât know what it meant.â
âWhy not?â
âBecause thatâs what I was told!â I chose the words with care. âThe people I . . . work for. They told us we were doing a service, we were helping people. And instead . . . it was exactly the opposite. Theyâve been lying to me my whole life.â
Fury broke through my shock and horror. No wonder the Consort wanted to eradicate the Free Walkers. The Consort heldsway over the Walkers by telling us we were heroes, telling us what we wanted to believe. If we thought otherwise, theyâd lose control of us, and of the multiverse. An unwelcome truth is the most effective weapon of all.
âYou canât give a kid a box of matches and not expect them to burn down the house,â he said. He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, hand lingering along my jaw. I closed my eyes and savored the sensation, though it wasnât my Simon. His fingers smelled of turpentine and pencil lead, but the touch was so familiar, even if the sound was wrong. I pressed my cheek into his palm and drew strength from it, the first bit Iâd had in days.
âI have to make it right.â
I hadnât known, but now I did. If I sat by and let the cleavings continue, I was as evil as the Consort.
âWeâll fix it,â he murmured, fingers weaving through my hair. âAnd then weâll be good.â
Weâll fix this, and weâll be good. My message to Doughnut Simon, echoing back across the multiverse to me.
My eyes flew open and I bolted upright. âSimon?â
âIâm right here,â he said, like I was a child waking from a nightmare. Maybe I was.
âCan I ask you a strange question?â
âYouâve cornered the market on strange questions,â he said. âOne more wonât hurt.â
âDo you dream about me?â
He rubbed the back of his neck, not meeting my eyes. âNot as much lately. Sometimes I think about what Iâd say if I saw youagain. Thought about giving you back thisââ He fished in his pocket, and I knew instinctively what he was going to draw out.
When he stretched out his hand, the pale yellow star Iâd folded for him rested in his palm. The breadcrumb Iâd needed. I reached for it, but his fingers curled protectively around it.
ââBut Iâm keeping it. It reminds me of you.â
âWhat else did you want to tell me?â I choked out. If I could send Simon a message through his Echoes, maybe he could send one to me.
He ducked his head. âThat Iâve missed you. That Iâll wait as long as you need. That you should go ahead and kiss me.â
I laughed despite myself. âIâm closer every day.â
He tucked the star away again, the Key World frequency chiming as he did, counteracting the dizziness that was starting to encroach on me. âYou should be closer now .â
He slid a hand around the nape of my neck, and I leaned in, pouring as much promise into the kiss as I could, the faintest hint of rosemary on his lips. Then I broke away, and he studied me again.
âI wonât see you again,
Learning to Kill: Stories