Billie pushed her tongue into her cheek, regarding Daud silently for a moment. Then she began to pace around the room. As Daud watched her, he took in more of the room—it was huge, some kind of dining room, but it was… deconstructed. The furniture was fixed to the floor, and parts of the floor were lifted at an angle.The walls were wood paneled, but along the far one, the paneling seemed to have slipped, revealing more of the metal superstructure beyond it. The ceiling there was lower, too—a great rectangular block seemed to have come partially down. There was a gap between it and the ceiling; Daud could see the gap led to another room, more furniture and expensive decor just visible. “We’re in the home of Kirin Jindosh,” said Billie, looking around, ignoring his question about the Knife. “Well, former home. The owner was an inventor, loyal to the Duke of Serkonos and his coup against the Empress, but someone—” here she let her lips curl upward, one part wry, one part sad “—a friend of mine, that is, changed his fortunes. Jindosh doesn’t live here anymore. Don’t worry, we’ll be safe.”
Daud grunted in acknowledgement and tried to pull himself up off the couch, but as soon as he put weight on his left hand, he felt a deep, cold sensation—not the burning of the Mark of the Outsider, but something deeper, something that wasn’t in itself pain as such, but a strange, creeping ache that immediately made him feel ill. Light-headed, he fell back and shook his head.
“What’s happening to me?”
Billie came over to him and crouched by his side. “I’m sorry, Daud. It’s my fault. You’re sick. In fact, you’re—” She stopped herself and shook her head. “It’s always my fault,” she said, her voice a whisper.
Daud sat up a little more, then waited for the room to stop spinning in his vision before he spoke. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on,” he said, “and I don’t understand what you’re talking about, but the Twin-bladed Knife—I need it. You have to give it to me.”
Billie stood back up. “I’m sorry, I can’t do that.”
“Billie, you have to. It’s important. I’ve been looking for it.”
“I know,” said Billie. “And I know what you plan to do with it. But I can’t give it to you. It’s not time. It doesn’t belong here, and neither do I.”
“What are you talking about?”
Billie sighed. “I mean I don’t belong here. I’ve come back, to try and fix everything, but it doesn’t work. I’ve tried and tried, but it always ends this way. No matter what I do.”
“Come back from where?”
“From the future—your future, anyway. About three years from now, give or take. Things aren’t good where I’m from, so I’ve come back to try and fix it. Except it doesn’t look like I can.”
Billie paused, her eye—her human eye—locked onto Daud’s. He stared at her, then flicked his gaze to the glowing red ember embedded in her right socket.
Finally, he spoke. “Is this something to do with the Outsider? Did he do this to you? Did he mark you, allow you to travel into the past somehow?”
Billie frowned. “You know I can’t tell you.”
“What does it matter? If nothing works, why not tell me everything? Do I succeed? Do I kill the Outsider?”
Billie said nothing. Daud sighed and sat back on the couch, one arm wrapped around his middle. It hurt to breathe, although it at least felt like he could get a proper lungful now. He still felt tired, more than he ever thought possible, but his head was clearing. Billie watched him, apparently content to keep her secrets, grateful perhaps that he wasn’t asking any more questions.
He had plenty, of course. But he believed her story. She was Billie Lurk. She had no reason to lie to him. Where the Outsider was concerned, anything was possible. She certainly looked older, and as for the eye, and the arm…
He closed his eyes and thought back to the fight inthe abandoned office. He remembered opening the door, seeing the Twin-bladed Knife on the floor, right by his boot. He remembered bending down, picking it up.
And he remembered the cold, and the pain.
He opened his eyes.
“It was the Knife, wasn’t it?”
Billie tilted her head.
“You said I’m sick,” said Daud. “But it’s worse than that, isn’t it? I can feel it.” Billie frowned at that and Daud chuckled. “I’m dying, aren’t I? It was the Knife. It did something to me when I picked it up.”
Billie paused, then nodded.
“All this time,” said Daud, “I’ve been looking for the Twin-bladed Knife, and even if I’d found it, I couldn’t have wielded it.” Billie watched him in silence. “I know,” he said. “You can’t tell me anything. You’re from my future.” He paused, narrowing his eyes. “You came to help me, only you’ve killed me, haven’t you? Because if you hadn’t come back with the Knife, I would never have touched it.” Daud laughed again, louder this time.
“I’m sorry,” said Billie. “It’s my fault and I can’t fix it. When I came back the first time, it crystalized this moment, making it part of history. Now, no matter what I do, no matter how many times I try, I can’t change it. I can’t.”
The pair locked eyes, then Billie looked away. Finally, Daud spoke. “I guess I’m going to have to get someone to help me with the mission. Someone I would trust with my life—or what there is left of it.”
Billie stood. “I wish I could show you the future,” she said. “I wish I could show you what happens. But I’ve tried that too.” She sighed. “Nothing can change what is happening—what will happen. Nothing. I’m sorry for what comes next, but don’t worry. We will meet again, very soon.
