Time Weaver
Heart of Cogs
The Time Collector Series
Book One
Jacinta Maree
© 2017
Edited by Gwendolyn Nix
Cover Design by Shawn T. King
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Worldwide Rights
Created in the United States of America
Published by Ragnarok Publications | www.ragnarokpub.com
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To mum and dad,
Even without magic, you help make my wishes come true.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
About the Author
Time Weaver
Heart of Cogs
Chapter One:
I have a clock for a heart…
And the man who put it there tried to take it out.
Living life with a bronze ticker has taught me one valuable lesson. Time is precious. I realize this a little too late now that I face my death. The very thing that was put into my chest to save me is destined to be my undoing. To have time will save the lives of many. To buy time, I must be sacrificed. I must die for him, for everyone, to be free.
“He’s here for you again, Elizabeth.”
Tightness gripped her, reeling Elizabeth backwards. As with each visit, the clock in her head started its count down. Don’t let it be today. Please, not today. With a gulp, she peered out the window where, from their second-storey drop, she could see Arthur Beaumont step out of his car. Anxiety bubbled. Oh, please, not today. Arthur Beaumont lurked around the corridors of her school just as often as her nightmares. It became so frequent she didn’t know which one was the reality. At this moment, it didn’t matter. He was here.
Elizabeth feigned a laugh. “Impossible. He can’t be here for me. My bidding isn’t until next week.”
The girl gave her a one-shouldered shrug. “Looks like you’ll be getting that rope necklace sooner than you thought.” She turned and walked off with the rest of the girls in tow.
Elizabeth pulled back from the window in fear of Arthur looking up and spotting her, suddenly plagued by the thought of her hanging, neck cracked, from the ceiling. Belonging to the Academy of underprivileged ladies had saved her from the streets and brothels, but had perhaps also delivered her to a far worse evil. An evil called Arthur Beaumont.
“What are you doing standing about?” A shrill voice came up from behind. One of the teachers swiped Elizabeth across the back of the head. Elizabeth fumbled with her mop and bucket. “Get back to work.”
“Sorry, mistress.” Sweat teased Elizabeth’s hair, sleeking white loose strands to the curve of her neck. The clock kept ticking down, always aware that her life could change at any devastating moment. She hoisted the bucket higher and fleeted down the hall. In a week, she would turn eighteen, and as school policies dictated, she would be sold to one of the noble houses. A personal maid, a thing, a piece of property, to a wealthy household.
Being trained for a life of servitude swelled her ankles, burnt her fingers, and pulled her muscles to exhaustion. But she would never complain as the alternative was a reality best ignored. The Beaumonts were the power among the nobles, and it was seen as improper to buy anything the Beaumonts wanted. So, if Arthur wanted her, he was going to get her. End of story.
Elizabeth disappeared down the corridors with her fellow students, becoming a single blotch of pale blue among the sea of identical dresses. From behind, a hand spun her around. She should’ve known it was him the moment he touched her. His hot hands were always sweaty.
“Why is it every time I see you, you seem to only get uglier?” A smirk curdled his mouth. Arthur Beaumont, a boy dressed in his father’s wealth, chuckled without any hint of joy. He always said such things. Called her ugly. Worthless. Unwanted. Behind her back, she could hear the hallways emptying, the rest of the girls sheltering behind closed doors.
In her surprise, Elizabeth’s voice trembled. “You’re not allowed up here, this area is off limits.”
“Don’t be stupid.” He waved his hand to shut her up. “Those rules don’t apply to me.”
She locked her jaw down, dropping her face of expression. “Very well. I have chores. Excuse me.”
As she turned to leave, Arthur snatched her arm, swinging her back around and shoved her against the wall. He leant closer in a manner he thought was exciting, pressing his chest against her shoulder and barricading her between his two arms.
“I won’t be long. They won’t even notice you’re missing. Still looks like no one has even bothered to try and match my bid. Who knew you were going to be so cheap.”
Forget the chiming, her world felt as though it was imploding. The school halls felt as narrow as his grip, as close as his lingering breath. It took everything in her control not to jump out the window. “A lot can happen in seven days.”
His eyebrow arched. “It’ll be the shortest week of your life.” He inched in closer and Elizabeth clenched the bucket to her chest. He grinned at her trembling grip. “When you’re with me, you’ll forget all about your pathetic life in this poor excuse of an institution.”
“Mr. Beaumont?” His driver’s voice called from down the hall. “Sir? You’re required back at the manor.”
Arthur’s voice growled, “Can’t you see I’m busy?” Irritated, he pushed off the wall and smacked the bucket out of Elizabeth’s hands. It hit the ground with a rattle, emptying soapy spuds across his shoes. “Argh! You clumsy bitch.” He slapped her. “I’m going to send the cleaners bill to the academy. Make sure you work double to pay for it.” He tore the broom from her and threw it across the hall. “Fetch, you dog.”
She didn’t move toward it. She didn’t dare.
“Sir?” The driver called again.
Arthur stared her down. She didn’t meet his gaze. Eventually, he stepped forward and whispered, “I’ll break you soon enough.” And left. Elizabeth waited for the sound of his shoes to disappear before slumping into t
he spilled water. A timid body stepped out from behind the corner, feeling it now safe to reveal herself.
“Elli? Oh my God, are you okay?” The girl knelt down and checked Elizabeth’s stinging cheek.
“I’m okay, Sara.” She pulled Sara’s hand away. “I think I was just a bit overwhelmed.”
Using her apron, Sara soaked up the dirty water and wringed it back into the bucket. She lingered before speaking, “What are you going to do?”
“I won’t let him purchase me,” Elizabeth said with more confidence then she felt.
“You won’t have a choice.”
“I still have time. Doctor Wicker could be coming back any day now. He’ll buy me. I know for sure.” Her fingers stiffened, and as she glanced down she noticed they were trembling. She clasped her hands together, but the sinking feeling remained.
Sara turned her head away, trying to hide her concern. Or her doubt. She then dug into her pocket, fetching out a small vial no larger than her thumb. “If the doctor doesn’t make it back, then take this.” Elizabeth recognized it immediately. Not two months ago, Susan Wand drank something similar when sold to a brothel. Her body flailed beneath the poison, liquefying her insides until she vomited up red. It was not a pretty death, nor a fast one. Sara had not seen what Elizabeth saw, or she may not have offered the drink so easily.
Elizabeth shielded the vial and ushered it back. “No, I can’t. I’ll never do that to my mother.”
“Death is a far kinder option than life with Arthur Beaumont. If he buys you, you’ll be dead either way. You can choose to end it on your terms. Please, just keep it for when he comes for you.” She pushed the vial back before standing up. She offered her arm out. “No more of this grim business, let’s go eat.”
Elizabeth grinned weakly, accepting the extended arm.
The Academy was a large brown building, dotted with open blue window panels and a large chrome chimney opening and snapping shut like a boiled kettle cap. But, among the vast, growing population overfilling the city, the academy was no larger than a pin head on a map. Heavy pollution darkened the skies over the industrial area, an area known as the Pitts. Vulgar folk stuck together in gangs, the fumes sunken into the cobble bricks, shadowing the streets with thick smoke and grime. Beneath the Pitts the sewerage collected, the churning of the pipes right beneath the cracked roads kept a steady hum through the night. In the summer the smell was horrendous. During the day, the streets were filled with beggars, pubs, the homeless and small gatherings of thieves. Small dwellings were smashed together on stumpy stilts, barely an inch off the ground and away from the slushing of sewage pools below the concrete roads. During storms, the drains would overflow and all the residents would sandbag their front doors in fear of leakage.
A few stretches away from the Pitts were the docks. Among the docks, large ships pressed up against the wooden piers while the overhead long necked cranes, churning and clicking in their awkward movements, hauled pallets off ships. The smell of salt and fish scented the air, dirtying clothes and sticking to skin like sweat. The sea level moved in breaths, but when the tide was too low, the larger boats extended large chrome legs that untucked themselves from the bottom of the boat’s belly. The thick, chicken shape stilts extended down to the ocean floor, standing the boats up and keeping them level with the boardwalk.
With sweet rolls in hand, Elizabeth and Sara planted themselves down at the docks, legs swinging effortlessly over the piers. Loud, rolling drums from the overhead airship caught Elizabeth’s attention, followed by the ripple of excitement heading up the streets. Elizabeth, licking her fingers clean, glanced over her shoulder and up toward the Golden City. The updraft pulled the large balloons away from her, turning them into specks.
“What’s all that about?” Sara also twisted around, tearing the bun in half.
Air balloons as fat as houses rained confetti below. Faint music from trumpets and amplified piano rose among the chatter. The larger towers of the inner capital were choppy and clustered together, becoming spikes planes had to dodge around carefully. As the parading air balloon disappeared, she heard the soft announcement of the doctor’s return. The doctor. Hope slapped Elizabeth fast. She dropped her bun as she scrambled to stand.
“What? Elizabeth? Where are you going?”
“Sara, he’s back! He’s back!” She kicked off into a run, leaving Sara no choice but to follow.
Both girls leapt onto the tailgate of the passing tram following the direct tracks toward the main Capital. The only way to breathe from the over-packed tram was to stick their heads out of the side windows.
“How do you know it’s him?” Sara bent over the bar, trying to catch her breath.
“The colors.” Elizabeth reached out and opened her palm, catching the raining confetti “They are dark blue. That’s the color of the Wickers.”
Doctor Wicker, like most of the noble families, had a color as well as a symbol to represent his family history. His family name was the feather-tailed quill often pairing dark blue and pearl white together. In the golden city, where the descendants of nobles lived behind giant golden gates, there were no fishy smells or men sleeping on the streets doused in beer and vomit; up there, it was perfect. It was called the Divin Cadeau. The Divine Gift.
Elizabeth tilted her head back, swarmed by an old warm rush while looking upon the golden gates. It was filled with incredible mansions, most housing their own stables and pitches, where prestigious stores boasted rare jewels, the most desirable gowns, and finest cuisines. The best of everything was up there.
The tram followed the throat of the main roads into the golden estate, where on either side of the highway were large statutes of legendary war heroes and leaders holding national flags held above their heads. The giants were washed in gold, their shadows casting long silhouettes over the rest of the settling city. Only in the roughest of winds did the large flags move.
“We can’t stay for long.” Sara tapped her on the shoulder. “Twenty minutes, then we have to leave.”
Elizabeth’s face glowed as she smiled, obviously not listening. “You know, the first time I met Doctor Wicker was almost fifteen years ago, on the day the soldiers returned from war.”
“Yes, you’ve told me many times before.” Sara laughed.
Elizabeth closed her hand into a fist, gently pressing the confetti in her palm. “Last time they celebrated, it was red paper they dropped from the skies.”
There had been red triangle flags too, flapping like loose tongues along ribbon wire that were tied from posts to balconies all around the city walls. The red flags were beautiful as they waved from above, a vibrant dash of color bold enough to wash away the ugliness from the polluted waters below. When they fell from their strings, they littered the floor like puddles of blood.
Elizabeth and her family had stood in line against the side of the road, held back by wooden barriers. The elite fleet paraded up the centre parting, where the nobles and returning heroes sat at the back of their open vehicles and waved to the people with large but tired smiles. Her father, Michael, hoisted three year-old Elizabeth up and sat her on his shoulders where she could see out across the crowds and up the hill to the peak where Governor Beaumont and his family lived. Her older sister and brother were tall enough to fight for their own space among the bystanders, and her mother, Ana, kept her arm hooked in Michael’s grip.
Driving in from behind the governor’s coach were the second highest nobles; the Wellingtons, who were the treasury; the Keller’s, honoured ambassadors; and thirdly, Doctor Wicker, a highly proclaimed doctor and highest ranked man in his entire profession. His clientele limited only to the rich and famous. His youth only made his title more impressive. His luxury lifestyle and cold politeness pinned him as the most sought after bachelor in the entire state. Elizabeth could have sworn she even caught her mother’s eyebrow perk when the doctor drove past, subtly waving like the rest of them.
“He saved my life, you know. If he hadn’t been there fift
een years ago, I would’ve died on the pavement,” Elizabeth exhaled. The memory was foggy, disjointed with time, but all she knew for sure was that Doctor Wicker had rescued her the first time her heart gave out.
From that part of her life, all she could remember was the strangulation of her tightening chest. The pain had soon made her quiet as it tore through her body and washed her in blue. The surrounding adults formed a circle of surprised gasps as she went rigid. When the blurs all mixed together, she wasn’t sure who scooped her up, but he was strong and smelt of cigar smoke. He waved something underneath her nose that let out a strong stench of eucalyptus oil. The scent immediately calmed her. Next thing she knew, she was looking up at the dark shadow of Doctor Wicker as he pressed a cold stethoscope against her skin.
Sara quickly jabbed her with her elbow, jolting Elizabeth out of her reminiscing. “We’re here. Let’s hurry.”
With the rest of the crowd, they climbed off the tram and rushed to the growing mob lining the roadside. Against the barriers, Elizabeth and Sara pressed forward, disorientated by the crowds cheering behind. Unlike the parade fifteen years ago, none of the elite waved to the people from their vehicles. Not even Doctor Wicker stretched his hand outside the tinted window. He drove past without so much as a glance, his distinct automobile keeping at a fast and constant pace.
“He’s there,” Elizabeth whispered, just as the large clock ticked over, signalling twelve long gongs. Lunch hour was over.
“Come on, Elizabeth, you can see him after.” Sara pulled on her arm. Elizabeth ducked under the bar and ran out onto the road. She got two steps in when an arm yanked her back, pushing her back against the gate.
“Stay behind the lines!” The guard held her against the barrier. Despite it, she kept smiling, noticing the car press on the brake lights and linger for a moment. Though it was hard to tell, she could see Doctor Wicker’s shadow shift as he looked at her over his shoulder from the back seat.
Chapter Two:
Time Weaver Page 1