by Andy Gavin
Damn! My own thoughts betrayed me, homing in on this godforsaken night instead of a week earlier. Any minute, Ben Franklin will open the door for fake Yvaine, then Donnie, Stump, Carrot, and the fake me will storm in.
“We have to stop her — them — us,” I say, extracting myself from the bushes, which is easier said than done when you’re naked.
“She be a time-ghost,” Yvaine says. “She’ll do what I does the first time.”
We stand for a second, shivering. Shanghai was hot and humid, but here the air is just raw. We need clothes. Now!
“What if we jump Donnie and the crew?” I whisper. Having been there the first time, I know they’re focused on fake Yvaine at the door, not scanning the courtyard entrance for naked clones.
“I dinna think that’ll work,” she says, “but take this in case.” She presses something hard and metallic into my hand.
One of her knives, with the blade collapsed.
I give her a quick kiss and tiptoe towards where I know Donnie and my fake self are hiding. Walking outside in the buff is really… drafty. And so cold it hurts.
But we’re too late anyway. The church door opens. The invaders race across the fifteen feet and are inside before I’m halfway there. Yvaine and I race to the big door just in time to have it slam in our faces.
“Shit! Shit!” is all I can say.
“After you closed the door, what happened next?” Yvaine says. “I remembers Donnie hits Ben and I helps drag him out.”
Think, Charlie.
“The boy. I let that little apprentice boy out and he comes back with the mob. If we can stop him, Donnie won’t burn the building down.”
“You be foxy clever,” she says. “How we goin’ t’do that?”
There isn’t time to think about it, because the door cracks for a second and the apprentice slips out. He looks around, then sprints off.
He has shoes, but I’m faster. I tackle him just before he reaches the entrance to the street.
“But you just set me free!” he says when he catches a look at me. “And what ’appened to your clothes?”
I push the button that ejects Yvaine’s knife and press it to his neck. I can’t hurt him, but as Sophie said, he doesn’t know that.
“Are you goin’ t’cut me throat with a tobacco pipe?” he says, struggling.
Forgot normals don’t see Tick-Tock weapons for what they are.
He freezes and his eyes go wide when naked Yvaine pads over and crouches right in front of his face.
“Mother of God,” he says, given his view.
My hand over his mouth, we drag the boy into the bushes and I squat on his chest while Yvaine strips off his clothes. We use his own belt to hogtie him. One of his stockings goes in his mouth, the other around his head to make sure it stays there.
I end up with his pants and jacket — no shirt — and both too tight. Yvaine takes his knickers and blouse. His shoes are too small for me and Yvaine doesn’t want them.
“I’m real sorry about this,” I say as I cinch the buckle tight around his trussed, naked form.
“Someone needs find him top of the mornin’,” Yvaine says. “If this be fatal, time would’ve stopped us.”
I hope to hell she’s right.
“The building might not burn now,” I say, “but we still have to get Ben out.”
In her baggy white shirt, knee-length underpants, and knife belt, Yvaine looks like a very sexy pirate.
“The roof?” She glances up. “Carrot be up there soon.”
Another easier-said-than-done deal.
I find a spot where the courtyard wall is low and manage to pull myself up. When Yvaine jumps I grab her hand, but she almost drags us both off and I have to let go.
“Try again,” I say, letting more of my weight dangle over the far side to counterbalance.
Once we’re up, we walk along the wall until it adjoins the building. There’s construction scaffolding around one of the wing-like stone supports. We climb from deck to deck, but it’s slow going and my feet hurt. Yvaine follows right below me.
“If you’d taked us where you were s’posed to, I be holdin’ Billy by now.”
“I thought I was,” I say. “Guess time had something else on its mind.”
“So did you.”
We reach the small platform at the top of the scaffold. It’s separated from the roof proper by about eight feet and decked with loose boards laid across a wooden frame. I tug a plank free and, with Yvaine’s help, sling it across to the stone gutter to form a bridge to the church.
“I’ll go first.” I put a foot onto the four-inch-wide plank and glance down. The courtyard looks so far down a shiver of vertigo runs through me. “Fifty feet up, at least. Don’t look.”
“Better yet,” she says, “dinna fall.”
“This is more than a little crazy,” I say. “We’re both on cooldown too. You used yours in Philly, what, two or three days ago?”
I look straight ahead, hold my arms out to the side, and run across the board to the stone roof. Once there, I crouch down and turn to Yvaine.
She strides across likes it’s nothing. We clamber up onto the slate tiles and slither to the crest of the roof. There we find an almost flat path and a set of steps, making it easy to walk around.
If you don’t look down.
We make our way to the part of the church above the door. There’s a bit of a commotion below, so I drop to my belly. Yvaine does the same and we crawl over to the edge.
The crowd with the torches is in the courtyard, just like I remember the first time around.
“Damn,” I say, “did the apprentice get free?”
“I dinna see him.”
I scan the crowd. Their leader waves at the mob, then the church.
Our Tick-Tock nemesis, Rapier. We creep back from the edge.
“Bugger!” Yvaine says.
“How the hell did he know we’re here?” I say. “He’s putting things back on track. His wrong track.”
“I bets he an’ his clockwork mates be throwin’ a party later.”
My mind races. Could Dad be right? Is what we’re trying to do hopeless? I shake the thought out of my head. Dammit, the Tocks change stuff, so why can’t we?
“Must’ve been us tying that apprentice,” I say. “Rapier detected that little alteration.”
Yvaine groans. Her face is a pale blob of white against the dark roof tiles.
“Rescuin’ Ben be a mighty challenge if we can’t never change anythin’.”
I pat the knife handle shoved into my pants pocket.
“Temporal-metallics like Backstabber’s daggers are supposed to be indestructible. Maybe we can push one into Rapier’s guts and jam up his works.”
Yvaine rolls her eyes. “That make the whole lightnin’ an’ tiger plan sound easy peasy.”
Chapter Thirty-Three:
Rooftop
London, Spring, 1725
WE HEAR A FAMILIAR VOICE from the chimney near the back of the church.
“Carrot,” I whisper. “He’ll be up any minute. We ought to hide somewhere — let him, Stump, and Donnie go, then slink down and try to pull Ben up.”
“We can’t,” she says. “Dancer knows where Billy be.”
Good Lord. “And he’s going to tell us?”
“We needs make him,” she says.
Crap. She’s right, but the task seems impossible. Okay, okay, so’s rushing down the chimney, killing a Tick-Tock, and getting Ben Franklin back up and off the roof to safety.
“We can ask Carrot,” I say. “Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“Carrot!” Yvaine says when his sooty red head appears below the chimney grate. “D’you ken where Dancer hid Billy an’ Nancy?”
“How’d you birds get up ’ere?” he says.
“We snuck into the future, then traveled back in time,” I say.
“Good. Then you can help me with this.” He taps the copper mesh that forms a little tent over the stonework opening.
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I don’t know what Carrot thought I said, but the universe made sure he bought it.
I grab the metal grid and yank. It comes free easily, not being nailed down or anything, which makes sense — Carrot opened it himself in the original history. Yvaine offers her hand and we both pull him out.
“Much obliged,” he says. “And Sassy, what ’appened t’your dress?”
“Billy and Nancy.” Yvaine squeezes his hand. “Where they be?”
“Donnie didn’t never say. Why don’t you ask ’im when ’e come up?”
Carrot must have missed the whole mortal enemies memo.
“Never mind,” I say. “You should get out of here.” I point to the plank bridging the scaffold.
“Donnie wants you t’find us a safe place t’hide,” Yvaine says.
“But I ’as to wait for Stump.” Carrot pulls a thick coiled rope from his shirt and starts feeding it down the shaft. “I must needs pull ’im up. ’e can’t never climb with one ’and.”
Stump’s welfare may not be my first concern, but I do like Carrot. I want to get him out of here before he gets hurt or causes some change the Tick-Tocks might notice.
“We takes care of Stump,” Yvaine says. “Locate us a fine hidey-hole then meet us near that ’pothecary down the street.”
We all but push him out onto the plank. He drops onto his belly and slithers across like a millipede.
When we get back to the chimney, we hear a loud pop below and the tinkle of breaking glass.
“Must be Dancer blowin’ the crypt,” Yvaine says.
My heart sinks. Right now, fifty feet beneath us, that poor boy is dying again. It’s sad to think of all that suffering caught on auto-repeat.
Stump’s annoying cockney voice hollers from the chimney.
“Carrot, pull me up, you ruttin’ bastard!”
“Should we?” I whisper.
“We must needs surprise him. He likely ken where Billy be.”
Together, we drag on the rope. Stump might be short but he’s not light.
He complains from below, mostly about how he hates heights and cramped spaces, but we don’t answer, just haul. As he starts to emerge, I grab his arms and pull him the rest of the way out.
“What the ’ell!” he says.
Yvaine takes hold of the rope, which he’s tied under his arms, throws her weight against it, and runs down the tiles to the tiny lip at the edge of the roof.
Stump pops out of the chimney like a cork from a champagne bottle, spills onto the slippery slate, and — howling all the way — slides right down the roof and off the side.
“What’d you do?” I scream.
“Dinna worry about him,” she says. “Time be on his side.”
True enough. When I make my way down to join her, I find the rope snagged on a bit of stone and Stump dangling about three feet below the edge, his feet perched on a gargoyle head.
He’s blubbering. “Pull me up! Pull me up!”
“The mighty Stump be cryin’?” Yvaine says.
“Pull me up!”
“First you tells me where Donnie planted Billy an’ Nancy.”
“I dunno,” he says. “Dancer never telled me.”
“You can do better than that.” Yvaine lies down and jerks his chain, forcing his feet off the gargoyle so he swings freely.
He screams. He shrieks. He cries like a baby.
“Yvaine!” I put a hand on the rope to hold it steady.
“He’s not gonna die,” she says, “but Billy might.”
“Stump,” I call out. “Where’s Billy? I promise we’ll pull you up if you tell us.”
“I dunno!”
Yvaine goes to grab the rope again but I stop her, brace my feet on the lip, and strain to pull him up.
“What you be doing?” she says.
“He doesn’t know.”
She pouts but lets me haul Stump back onto the lip.
“That bitch be crazy,” he says when he rolls to safety, “but I owes you one.”
I pull two knives from his belt before he has a chance to recover.
“We don’t want to see anyone hurt,” I say. “Right, Yvaine?” She shrugs.
I cut the loop of rope around Stump’s torso and help him up the sloping roof until we reach a stone protrusion he can cling to.
“Well, look-see what we has here,” a new voice says from behind and above.
I turn to see a wigless, sooty Donnie perched on top of the chimney. Evidently, Carrot isn’t the only skinny guy who can climb.
“You two vermin stick in me craw worse than a cloud of flies on shit.”
“Dancer!” Yvaine screams. “Tell me where me baby is.”
“Right. I’ll do that very thing.” But Donnie isn’t even looking at her, he’s scanning the layout of the roof. Behind him the flames leap higher and higher.
“Just tell the whore,” Stump says. “Maybe then she lets us alone.”
He said he owed me one, but that’s just pathetic.
Donnie laughs.
Yvaine charges at him.
The whole building shakes. There’s a deafening roar as the front half of the roof collapses, a column of flame and cinders rising from the gap.
Donnie holds tight to the chimney.
Yvaine slips, falls, slides toward the edge.
I dive, catch her arm just as she goes over, and jam my feet against the lip.
While I’m trying to pull Yvaine back up, Donnie pads over to the plank.
“Carry on your family reunion in hell,” he says, kicking off his red shoes and putting a stockinged foot onto the wood.
“Dancer!” Stump calls out from his perch a few feet above. “What about me?”
Donnie sighs. “I’m always needing t’lend you a hand.” He pivots on the board and offers his arm in Stump’s direction. With the stolen bank notes protruding from his jacket like lace, he looks like a vaudeville dandy taking a bow.
“On me way!” Stump slides down the roof after him.
But he doesn’t have a tenth of Dancer’s grace. He flops onto the board and lashes it with his hand, but his weight tilts it to the side. As he flails with his stump, Donnie windmills his arms. The end of the plank slips off the roof, and both of them tumble toward the courtyard.
Yvaine gasps in my arms. “Billy!”
“We’ll find him.” I lean over, my head hammering. Bank notes flutter through the air. The mob below, which has been either watching the spectacle or beating at the flames, rushes towards a single still form lying on the stone pavers.
I can’t tell which of them it is — and why is there just one body?
“Looking for little ole’ me?” Donnie calls up. The agile prick is dangling underneath the very same gargoyle Stump half-perched on earlier. His feet scrabble at the wall and he tries to pull himself up, but the surface offers no purchase.
“Doesn’t look like you’ll be hanging around long,” I say.
Yvaine grabs hold of the rope attached to the chimney and drags it out of his reach.
“Tell me where Billy is or you be kissin’ dirt,” she says.
He grins. “My dear nug, pull me up and I’ll dock you extraordinary.”
Yvaine hawks a loogie onto his face.
His grin only grows bigger. “Still the cockish wench me loves.”
I’m not close enough to punch him in the face, so I snatch up a loose roof tile and hurl it. Yvaine gasps but a powerful gust of wind makes it miss by inches.
“I can still rile your new twang,” he says.
“If there be any decency in you,” Yvaine yells, “you’d send a babe back t’his mum.”
“Parrish raised me,” he says, “and look—”
The neck of the gargoyle shatters.
Donnie falls.
The roar of the fire drowns out the smack of his body against the hard ground.
Yvaine is sobbing.
“We’ll find Billy,” I say. “But we have to hurry. Ben needs us first.”
; She scrubs her eyes with her fists. We make our way back to the chimney.
I remember going with my mom to Arizona one summer — the temperature was 120 degrees, but the air blasting out of the church feels hotter. I haul up Stump’s rope, drop it down the shaft, then swing my feet in and tell Yvaine to follow me.
“That way if you slip, maybe I’ll break your fall.”
But falling isn’t the problem. In fact, the shaft is so narrow and rough that at times I find it hard to squeeze myself down. I have no idea how we’re going to cram Ben up here.
I cough and gasp at the hot sooty air. It doesn’t help that Yvaine’s dirty feet keep kicking me in the head.
The journey seems endless but probably doesn’t last more than three minutes. I’m pretty sure I leave a third of my skin behind as I crash down into the fireplace.
Roaring flames illuminate the church. Not ten feet away, I watch Yvaine’s and my time-ghosts kiss behind the anvil and vanish.
“Make room.” Real Yvaine kicks at my head and I scoot to the side.
The fake Tick-Tock stands for a moment on top of the anvil, just an ordinary-looking man in a blue suit.
“Tick-Tock time-ghost,” I say. He vanishes too — about twenty-six seconds after we did.
Yvaine drops into my arms, then scrambles over to Ben and slaps him hard across the face.
“Ben! Wake up.”
He shakes his head. He looks groggy.
We drag him back toward the chimney, which wakes him up some. But I’m not liking our odds. The ceiling above is a sea of rippling flame.
“Where am I?” Ben says.
About to burn to death, but I don’t say that. Instead, I grab the rope and tug on it to draw more slack. The damned line breaks.
Could things get any worse?
CHIME! A hole flashes in the air. Rapier jumps down onto the anvil, sword in hand.
Chapter Thirty-Four:
Paperwork
London, Spring, 1725
THE TICK-TOCK SAUNTERS TOWARD US, clacking his jaw and wagging his finger.