Lantern

by Chess Desalls

  “No. Could you describe it to me…the outside of this lantern—the one I’m in? I can’t see all of it inside here.”

  He smiled, polishing the section of globe behind her as he spoke. “It’s a plain globe, made of Celestial Glass, taller than it is wide, but smooth and curved. The frame and cap are made of dark metal. Four strips of edging connect the base to the lid.”

  “Sounds a lot like the lantern at the lake,” she mused. “Since you’re Machin’s apprentice, does that mean you helped to make this lantern, here in Havenbrim?”

  “I wish I could say I did, but I didn’t, really. I only helped choose the materials—the globe and the color of the frame.”

  “But you assisted with the design?”

  “If you want to call it that, then yes.” He smiled again, dropping the cloth.

  Graham sat down with his elbow on the table, then tilted his head so his cheek rested on his fist. He admired the lines of her hair, and jaw, and hands, and how they swayed in and out of focus.

  “You say this lantern has a lid,” Evelyn said, pointing up. “Does that mean you can open the top?”

  Graham remembered the lid quite well, and the trouble it had caused. Machin hadn’t been able to set the lid on the globe. It had resisted. With some effort, Graham was able to get it to fit. And it had failed to seal.

  “It opens, yes,” he said softly, then swallowed. “Though, we haven’t tried removin’ the lid since you came along. I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

  “But what if the solution is that simple? All this talk about Halloween doesn’t make sense. Maybe if the globe were opened, I could step outside.”

  Graham stared at the lid, wondering if that would allow her to escape. He smiled, imagining Evelyn resting in his palm. Or, what if she turned into her physical form, with a human body? Something more than a flame. The whole of a person.

  His heart sped with the same feeling he’d had when he’d almost kissed the globe.

  He reached, letting his fingers fall onto the lid.

  Then pulled his hand away.

  Evelyn frowned. “What’s wrong? Why won’t you help me?”

  “I was tryin’ to,” he said, holding up his hand to the glass. Pink welts had already begun to bubble on his skin where he’d touched the space where the metal fit the glass.

  Evelyn pressed her hands to her mouth. “You’re burned! I’m so sorry.”

  “I wonder,” mused Graham. He touched a fingertip to the glass. It was warm but not fiery hot like the lid.

  He lifted the cloth he’d used to dust the lanterns. With the cloth’s protection, he handled the lid with no trouble. He tugged and twisted. The cloth warmed against his skin. Too warm. He shook it out, and tried again.

  Machin entered into the room. “Graham,” he said, his voice pained. “What are you doing?”

  “Evelyn had an idea, and it made perfect sense to me. Why not just open the lantern’s lid?”

  “Please, don’t!” Machin’s hands flew to his head, pulling at hair. “You don’t know what you’re doing, Graham Webb. You should have consulted me first. We wouldn’t want the light to blow out, accidentally.”

  Graham’s face paled. He exhaled.

  “I don’t think we’ll need to worry ’bout that, Master Machin.” His voice was wistful, but held a touch of pride.

  Slowly, his lips formed an awkward grin.

  “It seems this lantern has finally sealed.”

  Chapter 11

  Evelyn

  The sweet and heady aroma of cinnamon, ginger, and cloves hung in the air. Evelyn almost missed what it felt like to be hungry.

  She smiled as Graham swirled a cloth around the outside of her glass encasing. His brow of copper was furrowed. More than once, his breath left a cloud of condensation on the glass before it dissipated and disappeared.

  When he pulled back to view his work, his teeth were set together in a radiant smile. From where Evelyn stood, the glass didn’t look much different, but the results of Graham’s work made her feel cared for and brighter, somehow—and, she suspected, her light easier to see.

  Though, when she flickered to attract his attention, he rarely met her eyes. Sometimes he’d look in her general direction, and the corners of his lips would tighten. She couldn’t tell whether he was concerned or upset, but it was far from the reaction she’d expected, or wanted.

  She sighed and looked away, wondering whether she’d only imagined his interest in her.

  I don’t know if I’ve become a chore for Graham, or a puzzle he’s being forced to solve. Maybe both.

  “The cakes are ready to wrap, Graham!” Gelsey’s voice chimed from the kitchen. “Would you be a dear and bring Evelyn here?”

  Evelyn wobbled as Graham lifted her globe, her flame bouncing with each step taken into the next room. Gently, he set her on a table one and a half times larger than the workshop table, next to stacks of fig cakes and gingerbread. Despite the dreariness of her thoughts, the cheerful confections made her smile.

  She had plenty of questions about Halloween and Havenbrim, but no one noticed when she flickered or tapped the glass. Gelsey barely glanced at her, and when she did her gaze didn’t focus on Evelyn’s face or eyes. Evelyn frowned.

  Graham said something about me fading in and out, changing back and forth between myself and an ordinary flame. Could that be the problem?

  She searched the table for the ram’s horn, but couldn’t find it among the stacks of sweets and piles of ribbons. And, she wasn’t sure how to tell them to press it to the glass—that she had something to say.

  Gelsey shook out a piece of ribbon and began wrapping it around a fig cake. The ribbon was fancier than Evelyn expected, with designs woven along the edges with golden thread. They resembled long, thin tapestries.

  “Do you think she can see us?” murmured Gelsey.

  Graham shrugged. “Can’t tell whether she’s there or not. I haven’t seen her face all mornin’. Thought she would’a liked this—seein’ us decoratin’ the cakes for Halloween.”

  “I do like this—everything except the part where you can’t hear me,” Evelyn yelled. She flickered and wavered. “Maybe if you’d look more closely you’d be able to see me!”

  While they continued talking about her as if she wasn’t there, Evelyn could feel herself getting more and more agitated. Her face grew hot. The disappointed tone in their voices made her blood boil.

  Though, right now, I probably don’t have blood, either!

  She released a low, guttural growl, which only made her angrier when it didn’t attract anyone’s attention, because she knew no one could hear her.

  LOOK. AT. ME. Gelsey! Graham, I’m right—

  Words caught in Evelyn’s throat, and thoughts stilled in her mind. The burning in her face spread, engulfing her chest and middle. Filled with so much heat and energy, her light expanded until there was nowhere else to move. Though she was certain all Graham and Gelsey would see was a rolling ball of flame, she felt the sensation of her fingertips, and toes, and the top of her head pressing the glass, in different directions, all at the same time.

  Her fury blazed, then burst in an explosion of blue light.

  The globe filled with a sulfurous stench.

  Evelyn retched and gagged, not realizing the rotten egg smell was coming from her.

  Until she heard others coughing, and someone calling her name.

  The moon was a full and heavy globe in the sky. Its light shone white, bursting from its center to its outer borders, with silver beams blossoming all around it.

  Evelyn pressed her tiny palms against the glass and peered across the room, out a window that hadn’t been shuttered for the night. She was feeling timid and slightly embarrassed for having lost her cool, but at least she was getting more attention.

  She hadn’t known about the nose clamps worn while lighting the torches underground because no one had ever taken her there. So it came as a surprise when Gelsey’s and Graham’s clamped noses p
ressed to the glass. No one had said anything further about it.

  She looked up at Graham, and flickered. When he smiled at her, she motioned for him to come closer.

  “I’m almost finished with the preparations,” he said. “We’ll soon be ready for Halloween night.”

  Evelyn’s eyes widened when he sat down. His head and shoulders blocked part of the moon; the remaining light cast a halo around his head. He pressed the ram’s horn to the glass and waited for Evelyn to speak.

  “Is that really your moon out there, through the window?”

  Graham twisted around to look outside, then chuckled. “Yes. Doesn’t the moon come out at night where you’re from, too?”

  “Of course it does. Only, it’s different. I’ve never seen our moon shine so bright. Yours has rays like sunlight.”

  Graham’s lower lip pressed forward. “I suppose they’re like rays of sunlight, but they’re not. They’re moonbeams, rays of moonlight, I guess.”

  Evelyn’s brow furrowed. Moonbeams. She’d heard the term before, but hadn’t thought about what it really meant. The last time she’d seen something she’d call a moonbeam was right before the blue light from the unlit lantern at Lake Erie pulled her inside.

  She frowned.

  “Are you all right?” Graham winced. “I mean, besides the obvious.”

  Shrugging, Evelyn sighed. She twisted around at the sound of footsteps.

  “Graham Webb,” said Machin, reaching the table. His face bore a childlike expression. Among other things she’d overheard when no one was paying attention, and probably didn’t realize she was listening, she’d learned that Halloween was Machin’s favorite holiday. She figured that was why he looked like one of her younger brothers anticipating the contents of his stocking on Christmas morning.

  “I’d asked you to choose a few of the lanterns for us to take outside on the porch for Halloween night. Which have you chosen?”

  Graham blinked at the ceiling, then raised his hand and pointed to three lanterns that hung in a row, all with round globes blazing with white light.

  Machin’s face fell, and his lips pulled into a serious frown. “No, Graham Webb. We cannot take those lanterns outside, especially not tonight.”

  “I thought that’s what you wanted me to do.”

  “I was hoping you’d understand by now,” said Machin, shaking his head. “I expected you to choose three of the candle lanterns from the shelving on the wall.”

  Graham hung his head. A pink tinge crept into his cheeks and neck.

  Evelyn felt terrible for him.

  Machin closed the windows’ shutters and dragged the stool over to the shelves, muttering to himself the entire time. He pressed a hand to his chin and murmured, loudly and distinctly enough for everyone to hear, “Any of these would have been appropriate. They’re the same as those given to the shopkeeper to sell in town.”

  He returned to the table with three lanterns, each fitted with a single candle.

  “These are the lanterns we will light and place outside with the fig cakes and gingerbread,” he said.

  Sighing, he lifted two lanterns by their handles and hobbled to the door.

  “Follow me. Bring Evelyn’s globe, along with the other candle lantern,” he instructed, his voice tight.

  The door banged shut behind him.

  “I’m a fool,” Graham whispered. “I’m sure Master Machin thinks so.”

  “No,” soothed Evelyn. “How could you have known what he wanted? Everything about him is mysterious and weird.”

  He glanced up. “Some days I wonder what all this is about. And if it does anyone any good.” Then, with a sigh, he carried the candle lantern and Evelyn outside.

  Evelyn watched from the porch’s wooden planks as Graham and Machin lit the candle lanterns and hung them on hooks. It wasn’t long before Gelsey joined them outside, her arms filled with an enormous basket of cakes wrapped with ribbon.

  “May those in need find this special treat,” she said, setting the basket near the edge of the porch.

  Graham nodded. The somberness of his expression reminded Evelyn that at one time Graham had been one of the poor and hungry of Havenbrim who would go from house to house to collect cakes such as these.

  From her spot on the porch’s floor, she only caught glimpses of the moon. But each beam was as brilliant as those she saw from inside the cottage.

  Evelyn turned around to where the globe sat against the wall, next to the cottage door. Her light was a reflection in the glass positioned against the darkness.

  She sighed. I’m fading faster, now.

  Her flame continued to blaze blue, but at times she only saw the outline of a body or the shape of her head. If she tried hard enough while stretching out her arms, she could form a couple of blobs that stuck out from each side of the flame. When she caught a rare glimpse of the features of her face, she cringed at the fear in her rounded eyes.

  “Perhaps we should go inside,” said Gelsey. “I expect anybody waiting for these treats won’t want an audience.”

  “I never ventured this far across the forest—not on Halloween night,” Graham said, his voice thick. “Do you think we’ll have visitors from Havenbrim or another village nearby?” he said, eyeing the large basket of cakes.

  Gelsey sucked in a breath and placed her hands on her hips. “You know, I’ve never thought to ask. And I’ve never seen anyone, either. But the basket is always empty the next morning, so someone’s been out there taking them.”

  The copper brows above Graham’s eyes rose. “That’s good to hear,” he said.

  Gelsey nodded. “Well, goodnight, everyone.”

  After a long look at Machin, who stood with his hands clasped behind his back, staring at the moon, Gelsey left the porch and entered the cottage.

  When she was gone, Machin turned his head. “Do you remember all I’ve said about moonlight, Graham Webb?”

  Graham scratched his head. “Well, no. I mean, I reckon I remember some of it. But prob’ly not all.”

  “Before you follow me inside, you ought to give Evelyn a closer look at our moon in Havenbrim.”

  Graham sucked in a breath. Evelyn wondered whether they were thinking the same thing—that Machin had heard them talking earlier that evening, about the moonbeams.

  Not waiting for Graham to answer, and perhaps not expecting one, Machin turned for the door. Before opening it, he bent down.

  “Goodnight, Evelyn,” he whispered. Then, he winked.

  Chapter 12

  Evelyn

  It was quieter on the porch without Machin and Gelsey.

  Evelyn said nothing, knowing Graham couldn’t hear her anyway. He’d left the ram’s horn inside.

  “Moonlight,” murmured Graham. “Light and life? I don’t know why he’s makin’ this so hard on me. Though, I guess it’s only fair. I didn’t have to pass a test to get the ’prenticeship. I suppose I shouldn’t be complainin’ about bein’ tested now.”

  Crossing his arms, he leaned back against the door. “The moon is a beauty tonight, Evelyn. Machin’s prob’ly right that you’d like to see it.”

  Evelyn smiled as he lifted the globe from the ground and walked to the edge of the porch, next to the basket of cakes.

  A moonbeam not dissimilar from the one she’d seen at Lake Erie reached out to her—silver and bright with tiny beads of light glittering at the edges.

  If that’s what pulled me inside, maybe that’s what could get me out.

  She reached for the moonbeam, hoping Graham would notice how she’d forced all her light to one side. When that didn’t work, she flickered, trying to point in the direction of the moonbeam. Nothing.

  She felt herself puff up with agitation, and her flame being stretched and pulled.

  “Oh no.” Graham coughed. “You’re not goin’ to turn into a ball of gas again, are you? What is it? I’ll go get the ram’s horn, and you can tell me what you want.”

  Evelyn laughed. That’s exactly what I planned
on doing unless you paid attention. She bounced happily inside the globe while he retrieved the horn.

  “Remember earlier when I was talking about Havenbrim’s moon and how it looks like it has rays like the sun?” she said.

  “Yes, why?”

  “I think that’s important—why Machin told you to give me a closer look.”

  Graham’s face crumpled, confused.

  “I saw a moonbeam like those before,” she said, pointing, though she wasn’t sure whether he could see her arms or not. “I think that has something to do with how I got here. And how I get out.”

  “Do you think that moonbeam will take you home?” Graham said, his lips quirking into a frown.

  “I don’t know. I thought his plan was to return me to physical form. Either way, if it’s what Machin wants, and he expects you to do it anyway, isn’t it worth a try?”

  “All right,” he sighed.

  Evelyn didn’t detect doubt in his voice; but there was a touch of worry, and also sadness. She couldn’t imagine why he didn’t want to help her. Maybe he doubts me? Does he think I’m making up the story of how I got here? She shook her head. How could he possibly doubt me when he’s the one working for the strangest man ever?

  “I want you to know that whatever happens, I hope you’re happy, Evelyn.”

  Her flame wobbled as he lifted the globe, up toward the light of the moon.

  “Though, if you leave,” he whispered, “I prob’ly won’t be happy ’bout it.”

  Oh. Could the problem be that Graham will miss me if I go home?

  Another moonbeam stretched across the sky. Evelyn smiled at it, opening arms no one could see. I’ll miss him, too, but I can’t stay here forever.

  She caught the moonbeam, letting the ray of moonlight mix with her own blue light.

  The beam multiplied, converging and separating, until the globe was bursting with the brilliance of a sky full of stars.

  Bye, Graham.

  A strong, icy breeze blew and whistled across the porch. One by one, each of the candle lanterns burned out.

  “Evelyn?” Graham’s voice sounded far away. “Ugh, not again.”