“Then we keep on, like you’ve always done.”
“No. It’s not like that anymore.” Wide eyes, that vulnerability that compels me while I wish he never had to feel it again. I clarify, “Now this is all I want. Time with you. I don’t want it to stop.”
He pulls me in for another kiss. “We’re not going to stop. Not until we find the one perfect reality, where everything aligns. It has to be out there.”
I try not to let it show, the way my heart sinks. “That’s what you’re gunning for?”
“Is that terrible? I want Shashi’s prediction to be true, of course I do. And she’s a cosmologist, she knows better than I ever could. I want all those things put back. For all those people, and especially for you. I can’t imagine what you’ve had to deal with.” He rolls over, cheek on my thigh, fiddling with a button on my shirt. “But there’s a part of me that hopes…”
His words are quiet. I prompt him with the movement of his hair away from his eyes.
“If we couldn’t put it back, and if we were stuck, and if it wasn’t anyone’s fault… and it was just the universe. Fate.” He laughs, the blush back in his cheeks. “I guess I’ve gone dark.” His face turns up a little to catch the drift of my fingers. “But that’s the thing. I am you. This is your brain. You are who I could have become at any time if another wrong thing happened in my life. For all we know, there’s a million of us who have destroyed a million universes each already, and I’m just a time bomb waiting to go off.”
The thought strikes me as almost comical, this utter sweetheart imagining he could go dark. “I don’t think that’s you.”
He catches my gaze. “Not a slayer?”
“Not you. You’re the guy who tried to condemn yourself for the rest of your life to buy your last world a few more hours.”
“And you’re the guy who wouldn’t let me go.”
“That’s right. Never again.”
“I won’t let you go either.” His hand reaches up for me, his eyes as earnest as I’ve ever seen them. “That means we have no choice. We slay worlds. And whatever comes, we face it together. Alright? Chaos all the way.”
“Chaos all the way.”
But the funny thing is, not once in my whole life have I ever felt so far from chaos as I do right now.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
BAD AUGUST
NOTHIN’ BUT A GOOD TIME
Two hours later, we’re back to complete chaos. But to be fair, facing down the possible end of the known and unknown universe with August Blackthorne is more fun than it has any right to be.
His friends returned an hour later with the news that we fuckedsomethings up. But not enough. We need more sex. Shashi was disconcertingly sharp-eyed when she suggested this, and while I’m not going to argue with her, I could use the tiniest bit of recovery time.
Also, we need to rob that cafe in case we’re stuck here longer than planned, so, it being dark early, we’ve all headed over there, stopping only briefly at a chemist where I stole some lube, because I just get the feeling we’re going to need it.
It’s easy every time I break into the cafe. A brick through the window, straight to the little lockbox, the key for which I stole this morning. In this reality, it’s weirdly stuffed full. Maybe they’re more of a cash society? I don’t even care. I swipe the lot.
They all came in with me, which is high-key ridiculous, but why not? It’s not like the Jon and Shashi and Amber and August of this world will survive long enough to suffer any repercussions if someone recognises us. And whatever wheelsthis group’s had keeping them sort of on track in their own world have well and truly fallen off. They seem to have gone full tilt into anarchy, even if it is only robbery. For now.
They all, way too excitedly, stumble out of the cafe with me, then we just about fall over each other when no one recognises the street we find ourselves on.
Well, no one except August and me.
A mass of higgledy-piggledy buildings rises up opposite us; the smell of unsavoury and foggy London fills our nostrils.
My arm shoots out for August, and his chest is pressed against mine in a heartbeat. “Are we back?”
He’s so excited. Barely able to pretend even for his wondering, panicking friends that this isn’t the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to either of us. I kiss him and confirm, yeah, we’ve slipped back into eighteen forty-four. Most likely. He tells everyone the puddle analogy, describing the amazing pub down the street that we can absolutely go and get a drink in.
As usual, I can’t resist August. “This watch should buy us a round or two.” And I can always steal another.
He takes my hand and leads me down the street, talking all the while about the first time we came here. Our first ‘date.’
