Machin rubbed his chin. “It may be too early to tell. We’ll frame the globe together. In the meantime, if you notice anything—different about the one you have chosen, do let me know.”
“Too early to tell what, Master Machin?”
But he didn’t get an answer. Machin had turned his back, already at work at the furnace.
Graham exhaled slowly and retreated to the cooler air in the adjoining room.
“The globe has cooled.”
Graham looked up from where he sat at the table. Machin stood before him with the hollow, oblong globe wedged in his hands. He nodded toward strips of metal laid out on the table—silver, brass, and a metal as dark as the tektite from which the globe was fashioned.
“Do you have a preference for the frame?” said Machin.
Graham trailed his fingertips across the various strips of metal, taking time to hold each up to the globe.
“I like the darkest material best,” he said.
“A curious choice.” Gently, Machin set the globe on the table, then untied a pouch from his belt. He shook its contents on the table next to the globe.
“Curious?” Graham quirked an eyebrow at his master, hoping for more explanation, but the old man was already absorbed in his work.
He stood by, feeling useless while Machin formed the base of the frame first, creating a circle upon which he cradled the glass globe.
“These,” he said, laying out additional strips of the dark metal, “will connect the base to the top of the lantern, right below the lid which we’ll use to cap the hollow end.”
Graham nodded, then scanned the table with his eyes. “Where is the lid?”
Machin smiled. He untied a second, larger pouch from his belt, from which he removed a lid, smooth and dark, fashioned out of metal identical to that he’d used for the base of the frame.
“You had this lid already?” said Graham. “How did you know which metal I’d choose for makin’ the frame?”
“When you told me your preference for the glass casing, I had a suspicion…”
Graham wrinkled his nose. “You could tell all that from which of the globes I chose?”
“All that and more.” Machin blew across the top of the lid. Thick shavings, more substantial than dust and clear as crystal, swirled in the air. “I’ll have another task for you soon, Graham Webb.”
He moved to set the lid upon the hollow end of the globe.
When there was nothing but a faint cushion of air between the lid and the globe, Machin’s hand hovered above the glass.
Graham waited patiently, but also eager to see what would happen next. But nothing happened. He frowned and looked up at his master.
Beads of sweat had formed across Machin’s forehead. There was a crease set deep between his bushy gray brows. His right hand shook. With a groan, he stilled his hand. The lid dropped, clinking off the glass, and landed on the table. It wobbled for a couple breaths, like the last few twirls of a top, before it stilled.
“Master Machin?”
The old man wiped his brow and exhaled. “This has never happened before.”
Graham worried at how his master’s voice had taken on an odd, shaky tone.
“Can I get you somethin’, Master Machin? Is there anythin’ I can do to help?”
“Not yet,” he said, still staring at the globe.
Suddenly, his mouth twisted into a dark grimace. He lifted the lid to the globe. His front teeth bit into his lower lip, and his cheeks puffed. With labored breath, he pressed the lid to the hollowed end. When the cushion of air between lid and globe refused to give in, he brought his opposite hand up, and pressed with both hands.
The globe hummed as it rattled back and forth.
“Graham,” huffed Machin. “Steady the globe. Place your hands around the glass.”
Graham did as he was told. Static created an itching in his fingertips, which only made him squeeze the globe harder, sending jolts of electric charge from his hands to his elbows.
“Steady, Graham. Keep it steady!”
He rested his elbows on the table and leaned with all his strength.
For the slightest fraction of a second, the globe seemed to bend to his will. It stopped humming and calmed until it was almost still. Graham’s eyes widened at how the tingling sensation moved out of his body the same way it had come in.
Machin caught his breath, and pressed. The cushion of air between lid and globe decreased by one half before it stopped, motionless, locked in time.
With a loud pop, the lid flew from Machin’s hand and shot at the ceiling, flying around and beyond the lanterns without chipping a single bit of glass.
His hands rose in the air as he fell backward, landing on his behind with a crack.
“Master Machin! Are you all right?”
Graham was at his side in a moment. He placed a hand on Machin’s head and shuddered at the way his master’s eyes had closed and jaw had slackened.
“What’s going on in here?” Gelsey entered the room, trailing her feather duster behind her. “I’ve never heard such a commotion before the pairing of you two—”
She paled.
“Goodness! Pull him up from the floor, Graham.”
Machin’s eyes snapped open.
“I am quite well,” he said, refusing Graham’s assistance to help him up. “Please, retrieve the lid. Then, there is something you must try for me.”
“Already? But you—” After a sharp look from Machin, Graham cleared his throat. “I mean, yes, sir.”
“See if you are able to place the lid on the globe.”
Graham stared at him as if he’d sprouted a second nose. He swallowed before answering. “Perhaps I made the wrong choice. The metal doesn’t have to match, does it? Maybe we could try a different lid.”
Machin shook his head. “I lost the lid because the globe resisted. I don’t think it was the lid that was the problem. I believe the globe was resisting me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I, my boy.”
“Well, that makes three of us.” Gelsey flung her arms in the air and bustled out of the room. “Goodness…”
When Gelsey was gone, Machin smiled. “Do not be afraid,” he told Graham. “You may not be able to fit the lid either, but you must try.”
Graham sighed. Tentatively, he stretched his fingers around the cap. Then lifted it to the top of the globe. He took a breath, and pressed.
At first, the metal and glass wobbled, repelling each other as they were forced together. Graham’s face and neck reddened with effort. He wished he was dressed in the rags he’d worn to his interview. He could feel each drop of perspiration that had spread across his neck soaking his neckband.
Then, with a sharp sucking sound, the cap adhered to the glass.
Graham squatted back onto a bench, panting. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve and looked up at Machin, who was smiling.
“Good work, Graham Webb.”
Machin smoothed a hand along and around the cap, where the metal met the glass.
His smile wavered. “The special task I had in mind for you may no longer be necessary.”
He lifted the cap from the globe with no trouble at all and murmured, “It’s cool to the touch. The lantern has failed to seal.”
Chapter 5
Evelyn
Evelyn squeezed her hands inside fleece-lined pockets, her arm linked with Joyce’s. She hadn’t wanted to admit to Carla that she was too old to dress up for Halloween; she wholly believed the opposite. Last year, she and Joyce had worn matching harlequin costumes, but they’d gotten lost or misplaced during the move. She didn’t want to ask Carla for money for a new wig, face paint, diamond-covered knee-highs, or a new dress, either.
A puffy jacket and a pair of jeans would have to do this year. No one would be able to see our costumes with a bunch of layers overtop, anyway. Sure enough, during their walk to the lake, they passed more than one princess wearing a coat over her gown, an
d earmuffs beneath her tiara.
The clapping of waves was barely audible through music and excited chatter, but it made Evelyn smile. Crisp air filled her nostrils and lungs. Partygoers were dressed in brightly colored costumes, glitz, and sparkle, casting a warm glow of cheer across the pier. The mimes looked cold, though, in black pants held up with suspenders draped over the shoulders of their black and white shirts. They shivered as they pretended to be stuck inside invisible boxes.
“They look like they’re trying to break out of ice cubes.” Evelyn laughed. At least they have gloves.
“Neil and Freddie would have loved this, especially the mimes.”
“Do you think they’re at least getting to go trick-or-treating?”
“I hope so. Tanner said he’d call the day after Halloween, so I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”
Evelyn acknowledged her sister with a grunt and looked out at the water. The waves reflected back a murky sky. Moonlight slipped in and out from behind clouds that blocked the stars. But on the pier, there was light everywhere, including jack-o’-lanterns lit with candles, and the twinkling of lanterns.
All except for one.
Evelyn sighed and shook her head.
“What?” Joyce followed Evelyn’s gaze up to the lantern that wasn’t lit. “Oh.”
“I know it’s not that big a deal, but it still annoys me.”
“I can tell.” Joyce unlocked their elbows and gave Evelyn a quick nudge. “Don’t let such a small thing ruin the party. Speaking of…want to get hot dogs and punch?”
“Not really. I think I’ll hang out here by the band, and let you brave the lines.” She winked.
“Okay. Are you sure you don’t want popcorn, funnel cake, or something? I’d like to bring something back for you.”
“Nah, thanks.”
“Suit yourself.” Joyce strode off, stomping her feet with little hip movements to the beat the drummer played in a perfectly timed solo.
Evelyn managed to stifle a laugh, but she couldn’t help grinning. She hoped the musicians hadn’t noticed her sister’s silliness. Curious, she took a good look at the drummer. Her eyes widened. Through a blur of drumstick tapping, he was smiling, and also watching Joyce walking away.
Snickering, Evelyn lowered her face and covered it with her palm.
Then, her fingertips began to tingle. Her shoulders stiffened.
Without removing her hand, Evelyn peered through her fingers. Her eyes flickered to the lantern that had glowed blue the night before. She was sure she’d felt its static in her fingertips. The sensation grew stronger as she stared at it. But nothing about it was out of the ordinary, except that it was unlit.
She wondered whether she was remembering what she’d felt the night before, or if it was happening again. She lowered her hand. The static spread from her fingertips, across her palm, prickling her skin until it felt as if her hands had both gone numb.
She removed her other hand from her pocket and rubbed both hands together. But they weren’t cold. If anything, she felt strangely warm. She shook her hands out, trying to get rid of the numbness. But it wouldn’t go away. She considered going after Joyce, to tell her what was happening.
As she turned to take a step in the direction her sister had gone, a sparkle of blue from above caught the corner of her eye. She twisted back around again, and sucked in a breath.
Tiny bolts of lightning, as long as her fingers and thin as wire, crackled along the base of the globe.
She glanced to her left and right to see if anyone else noticed the odd display of light coming from the otherwise unlit lantern. Not only did no one seem to notice it, but eyes and heads were turned in every other direction across the pier. The drummer’s eyes were closed even though he’d picked up speed, tremoring and building to a drumroll.
Evelyn’s heartbeat fired rapidly, along with the drum.
No one looked her way or noticed she was there.
Evelyn searched for a ladder—anything she could stand on—to reach the height of the lantern’s base. She wanted a closer look, and the pole on which the base rested was one and a half times her height.
She considered asking for help, but everyone around her seemed mesmerized by something else. The mimes, stuck inside their imaginary boxes, continued to shiver and frown. Partygoers laughed and danced, and ate popcorn and hot dogs. Children ran after each other, squealing with lips that were stained red with fruit punch.
You’d think there’d be a clown on stilts or something—
The drumbeat and music stopped.
A woman in a penguin costume stood at a podium set near the stage.
“Thank you, everyone, for joining us tonight! After a short break, the band will begin its last set.” She spoke with a warble that made Evelyn wonder whether she was taking her penguin costume a little too seriously. She even bowed with a whistle and a honk before descending the podium.
Evelyn snickered. She jogged the distance, hoping she could catch the woman before she went away. Maybe she could help. She reached the podium as the woman descended the last step of a rolling stepladder.
“Can I borrow this?” Evelyn asked, pointing.
She braced herself for a rejection followed by an apology. Or at least a request for an explanation. But the penguin-woman looked through her as if she wasn’t there.
Evelyn blinked. From farther away, she was certain she’d seen blonde curls sticking out all over from behind the woman’s beaked mask, which had looked like it had been made of painted cardboard. And there’d been a human hand wrapped around the microphone when the woman spoke.
But the person in front of her wore a much more lifelike costume. A black and gold beak was centered on a head thick with feathers that appeared so soft and real, Evelyn wanted to reach out and touch them.
“Ma’am? The stepladder—may I?”
The penguin-woman tilted her head back, lifted her wings, opened her beak, and honked.
Evelyn rubbed an eye as the woman waddled away.
That was weird. She looked at the rolling stepladder. Though, she didn’t exactly say no to me borrowing this.
Evelyn rolled the stepladder around vampires, wizards, ghouls, and more animals that were as large and lifelike as the penguin-woman.
She exhaled, catching her breath more out of fright than exhaustion, when she reached the lantern. After pressing the stepladder tightly against the dark metal pole, she locked it in place.
Her steps were steady, purposeful. When she reached the second to last step, her face was in line with the glass. She peered inside, expecting to see a bulb inside the lantern’s outer globe, which looked like a sphere someone had stretched until it was taller. But there was nothing inside.
“Maybe the bulb and globe are all one piece?” she whispered. “There should be a lightbulb or wires in there—”
Evelyn’s words caught in her throat as a faint blue light flickered inside the globe, forming and spreading into a ball. Then, the ball floated at the globe’s center.
She brushed her fingertips across the glass.
The blue light brightened.
A deafening pop made her turn her head to the left. The lantern next to her burned brighter, then changed from white to yellow to blue. Her hands flew to her ears, her head spinning left and right. All the lanterns along the row were changing color, in both directions, each one transforming with a pop and a puff of smoke.
Tilting her chin, Evelyn glimpsed the world beneath her. Everyone and everything had frozen in time. Feet had stopped, mid-step. Lips that had fallen open had failed to close. Hands and arms stayed suspended in the air, along with those of the mimes caught inside their ice cubes.
“Joyce!”
Evelyn’s breath returned to her in heavy gasps as she scanned the pier for her sister. With her fists tight around the handlebar of the stepladder, she twisted to where she noticed a hot dog stand, and the top of a head with golden blonde hair, but she wasn’t sure it was Joyce—she was too far away.
“Anybody?” she cried out. “For weeks I’ve been trying to tell you there’s something wrong with this light!”
But no one looked up. No one saw her. All seemed incapable of raising their eyes.
Blue light crackled from the base of the lantern and glided across the handlebar. Then, folded around Evelyn’s fingers; the light tugged at her hand. With a shriek, she tried to climb down the stepladder, but she couldn’t break free.
As the smoke from the lanterns cleared, the clouds that had obscured the starlight broke apart and vanished. Evelyn squinted at the spray of stars glittering the sky.
The moon brightened. A beam of moonlight stretched from the sky and joined the blue glow, intensifying the light until it shattered into a thousand sparkles.
Evelyn screamed.
The light that had pulled at her hand had spread and folded around her entire body, drawing the scream and the breath from her lungs until all sound faded.
All light dimmed.
Chapter 6
Graham
Graham sat at the table with his head resting in his palms, watching quietly while Machin set the metal strips in place. Four squared edges extended from the lantern’s base to where the lid once again plugged the hole at the top of the globe.
A thought nagged at him, one that had him worried. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Machin had said—something about a failed seal. And he was almost afraid to ask, in case it would confirm Machin’s disappointment in him. After a slow, steady breath, he looked over the lantern at his master. He couldn’t stand it anymore. He had to know.
“How important is it for there to be a seal?”
“It all depends on the lantern’s purpose and where it came from,” said Machin. “Prior apprentices chose globes that, when fitted with their lids, created a band of heat that formed an impenetrable seal. It was one of their tasks to figure out how to open it.”
Graham hung his head low. “I’ve disappointed you again. First with the globe, and now with the seal…or, rather, lack of seal.”
“There’s no cause for disappointment. You’ve surprised me. Your story is different, that’s all.”
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