It took only a moment for Anya to absorb Yuri on the floor, and George and Loidy still on the couch that was between her and Sylvia. "I gave Yuri two in the occipital," Sylvia said. Her silenced pistol remained level and steady on Anya. "It was the only way to be sure, besides hitting him with another plane."

"That gun only has eight shots," Anya said. "Just like Bondman's pistol. If you used four on Yuri and Rebecca and one each on the others, you only have one shot left."

"It's nine, actually," Sylvia said. "You can keep one in the chamber. It came in handy on the way here. I ran into Chloe. She was coming to bust Yuri. Now, as long as we're here, we might as well talk." Her eyes flicked toward the television. Onscreen, the villain was demonstrating his superweapon to Bondman and the princess. "Everyone laughs when the mad scientist tells the super spy his whole plan. The fact is, when you're the real villain, sometimes you just need to talk to someone who can understand, even if it's someone you have to kill. It makes things easier, actually."

"You already took everything that would have made this place worth saving," Anya said. "If I go back, you know I'm going to change everything."

"You're talking the way Oberst Watkins did," Sylvia said. "When his daughters begged him to accept the surrender, he swore he would level Berlint block by block before he made peace with murderers. He would have done it, if all we had done was trap those snot-nosed brats in their classrooms; I told them that before. But Donovan got him to stand down, because they had both felt what losing a child is like. It was the difference between kicking a man in the crotch and drilling a hole straight through his heart. You can tell yourself you have nothing left to lose, but you've got nothing left to fight for either. Even for that sick fock Marten, hating was just a reason to wait one more day to die. You just feel empty. I know."

Anya probed her mind. "But your family isn't gone," she said. "Not all of them."

"I didn't kill all your goblin spawn, either- yet," Sylvia said through clenched teeth. "Does that make you feel any better? No, they didn't all die, but the woman who loved them did, a long, long time ago. I used to see my little girl with my man without even closing my eyes. In 25 years, I haven't seen her face, even in my dreams."

"You said this world already happened, because you remembered it," Anya said. "You already knew it wasn't that simple."

"I remember coming and going," Sylvia said. "But you don't, isn't that right? That means only one of us can go back. For this place to exist, it has to be me."

"But you don't know if you can kill me," Anya said. "The me that came here might just go back anyway. Or Papa could find you back there with my dead body."

"Maybe," Sylvia said. "I'm used to taking chances." She shifted to steady the gun. "By the way, you know what they really worried about? That someone on our side would defend what Marten did. It would have made people like Watkins even angrier than if we'd been implicated directly. The only possible reaction from any sane and decent person had to be complete horror."

"You did that, all right," Anya said.

"The plan was as stupid as they were," Sylvia said. "But there were so many things they could never have dreamed of. Like Becky and Bill. The Hugarian Three-Legged Race. The airborne troops playing the Westalian farewell. Or you and George walking past your friends' bodies. It was like watching children find out Daddy's gun shoots real bullets."

She grimaced as a tear trickled down her cheek. "You made it work," she said. "You knew it. You were the Eden Girl. You were the symbol of innocence triumphing over horror. You made people weep for Eden kids, just because the worst of them was nice to you. And when you and Gloomy fell in love, you handed everyone the happy ending they already wanted. Can you really say you only married him because you needed someone to hold?"

"I suppose not," Anya said.

"So you see how it is," Sylvia said. "How it has to be. I can accept things as they are. If you go back, you're going to change things, even if you tell yourself you can't. I already made my choice. I saved the world once already, and I'm not letting a pink-haired goblin destroy it all over again."

"You wanted them to do it," Anya said.

"I knew they were going to do it," Sylvia said. "I realized, I just didn't give a fock anymore. That was when I knew I would never see my girl again."

"You wanted to get rid of Mama so you could have Papa!" Anya shouted. "You were willing to get rid of me! Did you get rid of Fiona, too?"

"Her?" Sylvia said. One side of her lip curled into a sneer. "Please." A more wistful smile came to her lips. "Actually… Remember Uncle Frankie? I called in a favor for him. I wasn't letting him show up at my wedding, let alone be best man…"

"This place isn't a happy ending!" Anya screamed. "It's a cardboard paradise built on blood and lies!"

"Peace always is," Sylvia said. She shifted again to steady her aim. "The only truth is love, but the truth about love is that you will always lose it. That's the last lesson I've been teaching you. If you do end up back there, I want you to remember every word I've said to you. I want you to remember what happens when you fock with me. Good-bye, Anya."

Sylvia smiled as her finger stroked the trigger. Then, suddenly, Georgie was between them. She fired, twice. "You can replace a clip before it's empty, you ass!" she screeched. Georgie toppled, to slam into her at the knees. Sylvia fell onto a glass coffee table, and through it. Anya seized a brass lamp as tall as she was. The cord pulled out of the wall as she swung. There was a distinctly moist crack as the base struck Sylvia's skull. The gun clattered to the floor.

Georgie pulled himself up on the arm of the couch. "Let her… think I was gone," he panted. Blood was already drying on his right temple. "Saved… you. Always… save… Anya."

Anya cradled the back of his head. "Of course you did," she said. "You're Mama's good boy. Just lie down and rest. I'll fix you up good as new." She gently lowered him to the floor. Then she rose and strode toward Sylvia. Glass crunched under foot. A shard tore through her right sandal, cutting deeply into her insole. She gave it no heed. Sylvia's eyes opened, just enough to focus as Anya raised the gun.

"I would love to leave you here," Anya said in a voice as cold and hard as ice. "You would be all alone. No Papa, no Georgie, not even Yuri. But then, I'm not sure how to get back myself. I can think of one thing I can try." She pressed the gun to Sylvia's forehead. With the other hand, she gripped her stepmother's wrist.

"You taught me a lesson, all right," Anya said. "You taught me that history is made by people who aren't afraid to make choices. Well, it's going to be my choice, not yours. I choose to save my friends, no matter what it costs. I choose a world where I don't have to cry." She tilted her head back. "Bond, if you can hear me, you have to send me all the way back. Back to that morning."

Sylvia raised her head. Slowly, a grin spread across her face. In a voice that was truly reptilian rather than human, she rasped, "Do it, dog focker."

Anya fired, twice.

In an apartment in Berlint, 6-year-old Anya Forger shot bolt upright as she awoke.

And in a high-end development a few dozen blocks away, a red-haired woman's eyes opened. Beside her, a large brown dog gave a curious growl. She slowly sat up, to survey a luxury flat as filthy and run-down as any hovel.

Then she screamed.