Byrne pursed his lips, his thin mouth set at an angle. Cole imagined a nonexistent hand reaching up to scratch his chin, completing the pose.

“How were you supposed to stop something you never understood?” Byrne wondered aloud.

“By accident?” Cole offered.

Byrne smiled. “I suppose. Strange that Mollie came so close to stopping the invasion. I should’ve known she was no Drenard.”

Cole swallowed. Loudly. “What does being a Drenard have to do with anything? Or are you just trying to frustrate me before you kill me?”

Byrne shook his head. “That’s the problem with you Humans, always thinking we want you dead for the pure thrill of it.” He paused, his thin eyebrows coming down. “Nothing could be further from the truth.”

“Humans?” Cole studied the man’s face closely, looking for some major difference. “What are you?”

“We’re known in this area as the Bern, but we go by many names. We are everywhere. This is our universe, and it has been for many passings. You . . . you are one of us. Well, almost.” Byrne gazed up at the black shapes barely visible through the whizzing streaks of snow.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. How much time does my friend have—?”

“Time.” Byrne laughed, his voice oddly full and thick for so thin a frame. “Time does strange things here, that’s for sure. Take the mast behind us. When time meets it, each quanta of moment—the very constituent particles that move events along—they split in two and then split again. All those particles pass through the slits, propelling this magnificent collection of metal and men forward. Ingenious. Almost Bern-like to have been crafted by Humans. And for one such as myself, who the eons have made impatient, that makes this such a wonderful spot to rest. To usher events along.” He looked over at Cole. “If you wanted to live forever, you would just need to spend a few hours a day up here, letting time split around you, undoing the decay. Or, if you wanted to meet your end faster, in mere moments even, try your luck on the other side.” Byrne smiled.

“I don’t understand,” Cole said.

“Why don’t I tell you a story?”

“Is it more riddles? Are you going to kill me afterward?”

“It’s a simple story. And, no.”

“Good. To both.” Cole leaned back in his chair. He made a show of crossing his arms, defiant and mocking at once. “I hope it’s not a long one, then.”

Bern laughed in his deep, throaty way.

“In many ways, it’s the longest story,” he said. “But don’t worry. We have plenty of time.”

17

Molly groped in the darkness for Walter, but the hands that groped back weren’t his. They were too strong to be his. They wrapped around her, and she screamed at the top of her lungs, cut off when a hand clamped down on her mouth. She felt herself lifted off the ground, her back pressing up against someone’s broad chest.