A Million Worlds with You
“You’re going to lose,” Conley continues, his voice quieter now. Deadly. I am finally hearing the snake beneath his skin. “You know your world doesn’t have a chance, not against this dimension and the Home Office united. Of course you won’t admit it. It hurts your pride just having to sit here and take this from me. You think I don’t understand how much you hate me? Do you really think you’re hiding it so well behind your little menu? Give up, Marguerite. You can’t win. All you can do is save yourself and yours. Is swallowing your pride really too much to do for the people you love?”
I think of the sacrifices I’ve made—the sacrifices Mom, Dad, Paul, and even my Theo have made—and I know that Wyatt Conley has no idea how much someone would do for the people they love. Like this silent, morose Theo at his side, he loves no one but himself.
“Let me think,” I say. “I have to think.”
“What is there to think about?” Conley’s voice rises enough for diners at other tables to glance at us, the rude Americans having a fight over lunch. He controls himself better as he adds, “You don’t get a better offer.”
I shrug. “The Home Office might give me one.”
Impatiently Wyatt Conley says, “I speak for both of the other two universes of Triad—”
“You think you do. But I’ve visited the Home Office for myself.” That gaudy, twisted megalopolis had choked off both earth and sky. “And if you think they’re huge fans of yours, wow, are you wrong.”
Theo lifts his head now. I’ve actually piqued his interest. Conley remains quiet for a few seconds before smirking. “Amateur-level theatrics? I thought you were smarter than that.”
“It’s not theatrics. It’s the absolute truth.” The one truly pleasant memory I have of the Home Office is of the moment when I learned this. “They think you go too far, and they intend to ‘rein you in’ pretty soon. And what was it your Home Office self called you? Hmmm . . . oh, yeah. He called you a ‘total asshole.’ That’s verbatim.”
The waitress approaches to take our orders, gets a good look at the facial expressions around the table, and then walks off. She’s smart.
“You’re making this up,” Conley says flatly.
“If you believed that, you’d be laughing at me now.” It’s safe to put down the menu and spear him with my gaze. “But you know I’m being completely honest. The three founders of Triad in the Home Office loathe you, and they’re counting down the days until they can put you in your place.”
Conley shoots back, “We have an alliance.”
“Three founders. One of them is another you who can’t stand you. The other two are my parents. Who love me—any version of me!—a whole lot more than they’ll ever care about you. Face it, Conley. If you want a deal, you’d better improve your offer. Because I know exactly where to go to find a better one.”
All of his studied casualness drops away. “They gave you that Firebird, didn’t they? I knew it! I knew they wouldn’t leave well enough alone!”
I hadn’t even thought about that as a cover story, and it’s better than anything I could’ve come up with. “Do you want to go back and reconsider your options?”
Conley pushes his chair back from the table. He’s always looked like an overgrown middle schooler, and now he’s acting like one. “I’m going to go back and have a few words with the Home Office. In the end, we need only one perfect traveler, and it doesn’t have to be you. If you have a preference for which dimension you’d like to die in, this is the time to speak up. All I can promise you at this point is that your home is going to go up in ash and smoke, and I’m going to enjoy watching it burn.”
No. Oh, no. I pushed him too far, and I’ve made him desperate. “Wait—I didn’t say you couldn’t make me a better offer—better than the Home Office—”
“Too late,” he says. “Beck, come with me.”
“I’m with you, boss.” Theo’s voice sounds oddly distant. “Got the keys in my hand already.”
“Please.” Tears are coming to my eyes. “Don’t, please!”
“So you finally learned to beg. I like the sound of that. But not enough to care.” With that, Conley stalks off.
I slump back in my chair as he and Theo go to the car, my vision blurring as I start to cry. Why did I do that? I was only supposed to be figuring out how much he knew, not pissing him off. It felt so good to tell him off for once—to use the truth against him—and now my big mouth may have condemned my entire dimension to death.
Would I die with it? If my spirit is in another dimension when my body is destroyed, do I perish or become some kind of . . . ghost?
At least my world knows how to defend itself. By now surely they’ve created the asymmetry that will protect them. Still, it takes time for that to work; Dad said so this morning. Have they had enough time? If Wyatt Conley moves against them now, can they possibly survive?
I wipe my face with the napkin, determined to find another landline phone and warn the other worlds of the multiverse what’s about to happen. The sports car’s engine roars to life—that would be Theo behind the wheel, revving it up. I guess even now, with the death of an entire dimension at hand, Theo loves his horsepower. With a squeal of brakes, the sports car pulls out of its parking space and starts coming around the circle.
But as the car takes the curve, it accelerates, moving so fast I gasp. It passes by me in a red blur, the loud engine not quite drowning out the worried murmurs of the other diners. When the road straightens at the end of the loop, Theo floors it, pushing the car to at least seventy miles per hour and probably more—
—and he doesn’t take the final curve.
He doesn’t even try.
I stare, open-mouthed, as Theo drives the car over the curb, sending it airborne for the split second before it crashes.
18
SCREAMS ERUPT FROM EVERYONE AROUND ME AS THE RED sports car smashes into the thick concrete column of the streetlights. The deafening slam of metal shifts into the hiss of a demolished engine, and through the thick smoke I can see the car almost torn in two.
How could Theo have crashed the car? I think, stunned, before the truth descends: