Twist fell silent again in the face of that idea. As impossible as it seemed, some part of him immediately believed her words to be true. This woman had been with him when he had taken his first breath. The moment the thought settled into his mind, he could almost feel it set down roots and instantly become a part of his own soul.
He hadn’t appeared out of thin air. He’d been born into a family, just like anyone else. It was what happened afterward that had changed his life so drastically. But for just a moment, at least, he had been a perfectly ordinary child in his grandmother’s arms.
“What about my father?” he asked weakly. “Was he French as well?”
Mama shook her head. “He came from Spain.”
“Spain?” Twist growled. “What the hell is he doing, being from bloody Spain? Good heavens. Not a single drop of my blood belongs to my queen!” He dropped his head in his hands, utterly exasperated.
Myra rubbed at his back soothingly while her worry tingled at the edges of his mind.
“We’re all totally sure that we’re talking about the right people, aren’t we?” Jonas asked.
“He can be no one but my grandson,” Mama responded, while Twist kept his eyes closed and his head in his hands. “I told you. I’ve seen his Sight before. It’s the same as yours.”
Twist lifted his head sharply, looking at her in new confusion.
“My Sight?” Jonas asked, his voice gone cold. “What the hell does my Sight have to do with any of this?”
Mama looked up at him silently for a long moment. “I know why they are both so different from other Sights. But I can’t tell you too much,” Mama said quickly as Jonas moved to ask another question. “Ignorance is one of the few things that have kept you both alive until now. I will not undo the sacrifices that it took to save you, just to satisfy your curiosity,” she added with certainty as solid as iron.
Twist heard the echo of Hala’s words—when the purple djinn had said those exact words to him in Zéphyrin’s submersible, somewhere under the Pacific Ocean—and began to feel the same hopeless frustration that had overcome him then.
“What I can tell you,” Mama went on, “is that it was inevitable that you two would find each other. But being together is only going to draw more attention. We must be more careful now,” she added thoughtfully. “They still want you dead.”
Myra’s hand tightened on Twist’s arm as her fear bubbled over his Sight. “Someone wants to kill you?” Myra asked Twist fearfully.
Twist, having nothing reassuring to say to her, could only pat at her hand gently.
“Can you at least tell us why the characters from children’s stories want to kill us?” Jonas asked coldly.
Mama gave a sigh at his choice of words. She paused, glancing into the darkness around them before leaning slightly closer and whispering: “Both of your Sights come from one soul,” she said, straightening up and speaking normally again. “But there are two sides that want to do you harm. One side wants their fellow back, safe and sound. The other side wants the source of your Sights destroyed completely. For either side to get what they want, you both have to die. It’s only the way that you die that can change the outcome.”
Myra raised a hand to cover the horror on her face. Twist wanted to tell her that it was all a load of nonsense, that fairies neither wanted his death nor existed at all, for that matter. But with all of the impossible things that he had seen thus far, his own certainty on the subject wasn’t as resolute as he wished it was. He hadn’t thought that dragons were real, either.
“Don’t fret, child,” Mama said to Myra gently. “They have both already survived quite a lot. We can keep them safe. But one thing we must never do is speak of any of this—or speak the name of the creatures who want their death—without proper protection.”
“We shouldn’t speak of what, exactly?” Myra asked urgently.
Twist and Jonas glanced to her.
“If we must be careful, then we must know what not to say,” Myra explained with new bravery.
“You know, it’s somehow rather ironic that the clockwork princess would be with you two,” Mama mentioned lightly. She then shook her head as if to clear it and looked directly to Twist. “You must never speak about your birth directly or my relation to you. Saying your true name, either of your parent’s names, or my true name, will get you attacked immediately. And I would also not speak too much about the way that your Sights are so alike.”
“What if no one’s listening?” Jonas asked wearily.
“They are always listening,” Mama said sternly. She then looked pointedly at Twist. “They have been listening for your name to be said for all but the first few days of your life.”
“It’s not ‘Twist’ then, I suppose,” Twist muttered.
Mama’s face twitched into a slight smile. “That’s actually sort of close, now that I think about it, but no.”
A new thought flashed across Twist’s mind like a wildfire, and he stared back at her in amazement. “Good God, you know my real name.”
“And I’ll never speak it,” she answered instantly.
Despite all of her claims of protection, Twist couldn’t keep the glare off of his face.
“Why does no one care about my name?” Jonas asked with a frown.
“They never learned yours,” Mama said with a sigh. “You were much easier to hide. After I’d seen his Sight,” she said with a gesture to Twist, “I knew that they would be after you, as well. I took steps to keep you hidden, immediately. I didn’t even want to let Howell take you away from us on that airship, but it had been so long that I thought you might be safe. I’m glad that I was right. But now that you two are together, we should do something to be certain that you will remain unknown.”
“Like what?” Jonas asked.
“You must still have the pocket watch,” Mama said to Twist.
For a moment, Twist considered asking what pocket watch she meant, just to try to glean a mere morsel of information from her answer. But then he remembered the symbol that was painted at the edge of the camp, and the fact that Kazan, Hala, and Zéphyrin had all said the exact same words in response to his previous attempts at denial. He gave a resigned sigh and pulled his watch out of his waistcoat pocket. He held it up in the firelight for Mama to see, with the engraved front facing her.
Mama’s face washed over with relief as she looked at the perfectly innocent, small, brass, handmade watch that had been in Twist’s possession for his entire life. Twist could still remember those few moments in his childhood when the other orphan boys had stolen it away to be cruel to him, and every time the headmaster had punished them severely and given the watch back to Twist. The watch had lain under his pillow or in his hand every night when he slept, for as long as he could remember. The first time he’d ever used his Sight to mend clockwork, it had been to mend this watch.
“Good,” Mama said with a smile. “That watch is clearly enough to protect you, or you wouldn’t be here now. But you have nothing,” Mama said to Jonas. “I’ll consult my books and try to find a way to give you a similarly powerful charm.”
“But wait—how does my watch protect me?” Twist asked, focusing to keep his disbelief off of his face. “It’s just a watch.”
“That watch was made for you by your father,” Mama answered gently. “He started working on it the moment they found out that they were going to have you. That intent on every piece, coupled with the magic of the charm that your mother put on it, creates the strongest magical protection you could ever have. As long as you have that watch, you will remain totally invisible and silent to those who would do you harm.”
Twist paused, remembering that every satyr he’d ever met had been utterly unable to see or hear him. Did they actually count as fairies, or did they only follow the same magical laws? And what about Storm? That strange, pink-eyed, white-haired little boy had also been unable to see or hear him until he’d created a contraption and taken a drop of Twist’s blood for a magical spell
that Aazzi had called subtle and strange.
Twist looked down at the familiar brass timepiece as it ticked on calmly in his hand. After all of the unexpected and alarming things that he had just been told about his own past, the only thing that still remained of his now-shattered sense of identity was the thought that this simple little pocket watch belonged to him. It had always been with him, and it had always been his. That it had been made specifically for him was the only new idea that felt at all comfortable.
The unearthly pale light of pre-dawn began to brighten the sky before Mama devised a way to offer Jonas the same protection that Twist apparently had in the fine engraving on the cover of his pocket watch. Most of the camp had settled down to rest long ago, but with a mind so full of new thoughts, Twist didn’t even try to sleep.
Myra remained awake as well, as did Luca, to help Mama with her odd magical arts. Being the subject of the matter, Jonas complained about his growing fatigue but soldiered on. He was brought to sit at a small table where Mama worked with tiny vials of strange substances and a small brass bowl. Luca carefully cleaned a metal contraption that looked somewhat like a pistol, with a long needle protruding out of the barrel.
“What’s this now?” Jonas asked, seeing the contraption. “You’re giving me a tattoo?”
Sitting nearby in one of the haphazardly placed chairs, Twist regarded the contraption with sharper interest. Myra was seated beside him, and she looked at it curiously as well.
“It’s the only way to be sure the mark will stay with you,” Mama explained, reading over an old leather-bound book. “I don’t have any item that is meant for you, the way that his watch was.”
Twist noticed a blackened singe on one side of the book and instantly remembered the book that Kazan had thrown into a fire. He was quietly thankful to see that the tome had survived.
“But what if I don’t want a tattoo?” Jonas asked sullenly.
“Afraid it’ll hurt?” Luca asked with a sneer.
“No,” Jonas muttered, crossing his arms. “I just don’t want people to think I’m yakuza.”
“They’d be very confused if you were,” Luca retorted, “considering you’re not Japanese.”
“Lots of pirates have tattoos,” Mama pointed out.
Jonas gave this some thought, with more obvious approval.
“Now,” Mama said, frowning at the page before looking back to Jonas. “Jonny, I need one more thing for this potion to work properly, but I’m not sure where to get it. I need you to tell me, with all honesty, who loves you more than any other.”
“What?” Jonas balked. “I haven’t a clue.”
“Think, Jonny,” Mama pressed. “The spell needs the blood of the one who loves you the most, the one who would give the most to protect you. Is that Arabel? She’s your twin. I would use my own, but you’re not my true blood, so I might not be the best choice.”
“All I’ve done for years is frustrate Ara silly,” Jonas said, shaking his head. He thought for a moment and then gave a laugh. “Where’s Vane when I need him?”
“Vane?” Luca asked, shocked. “You mean Quay’s daft kitsune?”
“Don’t ask,” Jonas said, shaking his head.
“Well…” Myra toned, drawing everyone’s attention. “I think that the person you want might be Twist.”
Twist and Jonas each gave her a surprised look.
“Well, you went into that vampire’s nest,” she said to Twist, “knowing that it could kill you, just so that Jonas wouldn’t be afraid to look at you. And you went halfway around the world, and were hardly yourself the whole time, when he was in outer space.” She gave a bashful smile and looked down to her hands. “I understand now—and it doesn’t bother me anymore—but I used to be a little bit jealous of how much you love him.”
Twist looked at Jonas somewhat hesitantly. Though he’d never considered how he felt, he couldn’t really deny Myra’s claims. After all they had been through together, the two of them had built a bond that was stronger than any Twist had ever known. Was that not a kind of love?
Jonas looked back at Twist, his face taking on a smirk. “Well, this isn’t awkward at all. Thanks, Myra.” He looked away and shook his head.
Myra pouted at Jonas. “I’m just trying to help.”
“Well, what do you think?” Mama asked Twist, smiling gently at him. “It’s parental love that is keeping your charm strong. Brotherly love can be just as strong. Do you think you fit the description?”
“I have no idea,” Twist said with a sigh. “But we have grown close. I can agree with that.”
“Well,” Mama said, consulting her book again, “since you already carry a charm, it might add more power to the spell, anyway. Let’s use you.” She then pulled a small knife out of a pocket and held it out to him.
Twist paused, looking at the naked blade. He suddenly remembered Aazzi once asking for his blood in the same way, for a spell to summon Myra to them when she, Idris, and Jeffery had all been captured by Rooks. Storm had asked for it too, claiming that a spell using Twist’s blood would let him see Twist through a contraption he’d made. The repetition of the experience didn’t seem to lessen the anxiety of it. Why his blood was such a hot commodity was beyond him.
“Right, come here,” Jonas said with a heavy sigh. He took the knife from Mama and looked to Twist, who obediently got to his feet and came closer. “Happy thoughts, Twist,” Jonas said, holding out a hand for Twist’s.
Twist smiled and shook his head. Whether or not there was actual love between them, the familiarity, camaraderie, and long history of unbroken trust was clear as day. He gave Jonas his hand and watched as his friend made a tiny slit in the edge of his finger, letting a few drops fall into the little brass bowl that Mama held out for him. The momentary pain was easily dismissed, and Twist then wrapped the offended finger in a strip of cotton that Mama handed him.
With a few muttered words and a little more stirring, the potion was pronounced complete. Next, Mama carefully drew the intended mark on the inside of Jonas’s left arm—just below the elbow—with the dark mixture and a fine brush. The needle of the tattooing device was wet with the potion as well before Luca took Jonas’s arm in one hand and the device in the other. He glanced up at Jonas’s face, though he didn’t manage to catch his gaze directly.
“You ready?”
“You know that I’ll kill you if you butcher me, right?” Jonas grumbled.
“Relax,” Luca said with a smile. “I won’t mar up your pretty skin too badly.”
As the needle began to bite into Jonas’s flesh, Twist felt his stomach turn uncomfortably. He got quietly to his feet and moved away, waiting for the procedure to finish.
The sun was rising before Twist and Jonas were finally exhausted enough to be able to sleep. They were allowed to use one of the many tents that littered the camp. It was round and squat, with a conical roof. Twist lay down on the thin mat that had been placed on the floor of the tent and looked up at the dark, thick fabric overhead. Jonas lay down on the other side of the smallish space, while Myra sat beside Twist, holding his hand.
“Are you sure that you’ll be able to sleep without my help now, dear?” Myra asked, her concern wafting into his Sight.
“I should be fine now,” Twist said.
“Well,” Myra said, seeming slightly disappointed, “I’ll stay close anyway. Just in case you need me.”
She smiled warmly to him and stroked the edge of his face, making him deeply wish he’d flat out lied and said that he still needed her. Though his pride reveled in the thought that he no longer needed aid, the rest of Twist didn’t want to give up his chance to enjoy the quiet comfort that she had given him every night, anymore than she did.
“My dear, I’m sure I shall always need your touch,” he said softly.
“I’m right here, by the way,” Jonas grumbled from the other side of the tent.
Twist glanced over to find that his back was turned to them, but he was apparently still wide aw
ake.
“Then go to sleep,” Myra said testily, though the smile never left her face.
The sound of a sigh came from Jonas, but nothing else.
Myra chuckled lightly to herself but moved to lie down close beside Twist. Twist rolled onto his side to face her and silently took her clockwork hand. She smiled at him and then seemed to take a deep breath, closing her jeweled eyes. Twist did the same and quietly wondered how long it might take him to fall asleep after all of the recent excitement. Not more than an instant later, he slipped easily into the cool silence of a dreamless sleep.
It felt like mere moments before he woke again, hearing Myra say his name. He blinked his eyes open in the dim light of the tent and found her sitting beside him again. He glanced around to find sunlight still fighting to push through the thick fabric, and Jonas already sitting up and stretching his back.
“How long have we been asleep?” he asked, pushing himself up to sit.
“Not long enough,” Jonas muttered, rubbing at an eye. “But Ara said it’s afternoon. Apparently, we’ll spoil our sleep tonight if we don’t get up now, or some such nonsense.”
“She is right,” Myra said gently.
Equally as reluctant as Jonas to rejoin the world, Twist straightened his clothes and put his hands through his hair, to make himself at least a little more presentable. Jonas gave a sudden hiss of pain, drawing Twist’s attention.
“Something the matter?” Twist asked him.
“No,” Jonas said unhappily. He had stood up and removed the thin bandage that wrapped his left arm to reveal the delicate, dark lines of the design now lying on his skin. It looked like a perfect twin to the mark on Twist’s watch.
“Is that painful?” Twist asked, noticing how reddened the skin around the tattoo appeared as he stepped closer.
“It’s just sore,” Jonas said with a sigh. “Bloody load of nonsense…”
“You don’t believe what Mama told us?” Twist asked.
Myra’s attention caught on Jonas as well as she listened intently for his response.
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