Firestarter

by Tara Sim

  “And Daphne?”

  Akash looked down.

  “She still hasn’t forgiven you. Hell, I’m not even sure if I’ve forgiven you yet.”

  “I know. I …” Akash wrung his hands together between his knees. “I should have helped you. I should have done something to prevent you from getting hurt. I’m sorry, Danny. I mean that.”

  Danny sighed. Really, who was he to judge him? Akash had done what he thought was right. More than that, what he was doing now—agreeing to help Zavier so he could stay close to Meena and Daphne—was exactly what Danny was doing for Colton.

  “I forgive you,” he finally said.

  A relieved grin broke across Akash’s face, smoothing the worried divot between his brows.

  Danny glanced out the window. The sky was tinged pink, just past dawn. “So, what now? You’ve dropped the water already.”

  “The power in that water will last a day or so,” Zavier said, cutting in. “According to Ed, there’ve been more guards around the square, but I suspect security will return to normal when there’s no further disturbance.”

  “Just a bunch of pranksters,” Edmund said cheerily. “That’s all they’ll think we are.”

  The memory of Colton’s words, begging him to stop this, tightened his chest. But what could he do?

  With Edmund as their escort, they walked to the girls’ apartment. Akash fidgeted with his goggles, and it was only then that Danny realized he’d put a lot of thought into his appearance. His hair was combed, his clothes freshly laundered. Danny couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him.

  Liddy opened the door, eyes twinkling when she saw Akash. “You have a visitor,” she called into the apartment.

  Meena’s dark eyes widened at the sight of her brother. “Akash!” She started forward, then paused. After a small shake of her head, she hugged him tightly, his body sinking into her embrace. They exchanged a few words in Hindi before she took a step back. He gently touched the burn on her cheek. His eyes darted to Daphne, who stood by the door with her arms crossed. Not angry, but wary.

  “Miss Richards,” Akash greeted her. “How are they treating you?”

  “Barring the electric shock incident, it’s been all sunshine and roses,” she said. Danny rolled his eyes.

  “I need to get back to Z,” Edmund said. “Can you and Astrid look after these four?”

  But Astrid refused to come along.

  “She’s pining for Prema,” Liddy said, ducking as a knife embedded itself in the door above her head.

  Their destination was the church, where Danny could hopefully keep an eye on the clock. As they crossed the square, Danny noticed a couple of policemen, but they didn’t look particularly worried. He felt the water, though—that sharp, intense power he’d first noticed in Khurja.

  The Gothic church rose tall and imposing, topped by two black spires. The others seemed impressed, the wistful look on Meena’s face reminding him that she’d probably gone a long time without an idol to bow to. Much to Danny’s annoyance, there were a couple of buildings between the church and the square, which limited his view of the clock.

  Inside, the pews were lined perfectly between high molded gables. The organ above their heads was black and gold, much like the astronomical clock across the square. The columns ended in elegant black structures framing gilded figures of biblical myth, and above the altar posed a triumphant angel.

  Devout churchgoers sat in the pews, quietly praying in search of something they didn’t understand. An answer, maybe, to some unspoken question. Danny thought back to the tarot cards and each enigmatic image: the Magician, the Tower, the Hanged Man.

  He looked up and saw a sculpted portrayal of a man above a tomb. The name sounded vaguely familiar: Tycho Brahe.

  “He was an astronomer,” Liddy said at his shoulder. “Did you know the poor bloke lost part of his nose in a duel? Not over a woman or anything exciting like that. A mathematical formula, of all things.”

  Danny almost smiled. “Must have been quite the formula.”

  “It says touching his right cheek helps get rid of toothaches.” She pressed two fingertips to Tycho’s cheek. “Not that I have one, but maybe it’ll prevent one down the road.”

  “Good idea.” Danny shook himself. Their interaction had felt almost normal; he was letting his guard down. Ignoring her confused look, he continued walking through the church.

  Spotting Daphne and Akash in a small niche, Danny hid behind one of the columns. Daphne’s arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her blue eyes cold and hard. Akash’s hands were buried deep within his pockets.

  “I said I was sorry. And yes, I told Danny. He’s forgiven me.”

  “Bully for Danny.”

  “I don’t know what else you want from me,” Akash whispered. “I would do anything for you. If I could go back to that moment and tell Danny what would happen, I would. But I was frozen. I could do nothing. I feel shame for that every day.”

  Daphne looked down. They stayed wrapped in silence for a moment, neither of them moving. Eventually, she sighed softly.

  “I want to forgive you. I want to forget that most of this even happened. But … I can’t.”

  “Why not?” It wasn’t a demand. It was a fragile, broken whisper, and it seemed to hit Daphne like an arrow, making her hunch her shoulders.

  “You did everything you thought was right,” she said. “And I can’t blame you for that. But I … I’m not sure I can trust you again. Matthias was my mentor, back in the Union, but he convinced me to do something out of my blind trust for him, something that ended up harming a lot of people. He abused that trust. I can’t handle that again. I can’t.”

  Akash almost reached out to her, then thought better of it and dropped his hand.

  “I miss London,” she said softly. “I miss my home. I miss my mother, and … and having a predictable life. A stable life.” Daphne pressed the heel of her hand to her eye, her lashes glittering with unshed tears. “Everything is changing, and I can’t stop it. It started when Matthias betrayed me—maybe it even started when my own mother tried to hurt me, so that she wouldn’t be the only one hurting. I don’t know. But it seems that everyone turns on me eventually.”

  “I won’t.”

  “You have.”

  Akash flinched, unable to hide from the truth of that simple statement. “What can I do to prove that I’m not that person anymore?” he asked. “What would earn back your trust?”

  “I don’t know, Akash. I just … Everything is happening at once, and I can’t stand it. I need time.” She turned to walk away, but paused. “Thank you. For before.”

  As Daphne wandered off to another corner of the church, Danny caught a glimpse of Meena, who’d witnessed the whole thing. She shared a look with Danny, then went to comfort her brother.

  Danny thought of Colton turning him away, the painful longing and frustration in his expression. Had some pivotal trust between them been severed?

  There was more to grief than words and promises. Time, after all, could not mend everything.

  Zavier returned to the boys’ apartment with Edmund and Felix after the others had eaten.

  “When are you going to do it?” Danny asked.

  Zavier spared him a glance before turning back to his new purchases. “That’s no longer your concern. You’re not coming this time. Too much of a liability.”

  Danny clenched his hands into fists. “I won’t run again.”

  “I think that’s the fifth time you’ve made that promise,” Edmund said.

  Danny grabbed Zavier by the arm. It was the metal one, solid and cold beneath his grip. “I’m coming. You can’t keep me locked in this bloody room any longer.”

  Zavier regarded him coolly. Finally, he nodded. “I thought you might be stubborn about it. Fine, you can come.”

  “And me,” Daphne said.

  “Me also,” Meena added.

  “Meena, no,” Akash argued. “You might be hurt or caught.”


  “That is a risk,” Zavier agreed. “Ed, why don’t you make everyone some tea? Then we can all sit and plan it out.”

  The room was crammed with uneasy energy. Akash kept glancing at Daphne and Meena. Both looked just as stubborn as Danny felt. He had to go back to that clock. He had to see that spirit again and—what? Convince it to attack Zavier? Plead with it to back down? Which would Colton want most?

  The tea Edmund made was hot and tart, but Danny eagerly drank it anyway. It should have woken him up, but every minute he felt drowsier and drowsier. By the time he was down to the dregs, he could barely keep his eyes open.

  Oh, hell.

  “You bastard,” he hissed, trying to rise from the bed. Daphne was already slumping toward the headboard, her blond hair falling across the pillow. Meena’s head drooped as the cup slipped from her fingers.

  Zavier took the cup from Danny’s heavy hands. “No need to worry. By the time you wake up, it’ll be over.”

  He pushed Danny back onto the bed. Danny struggled, but it was useless; sleep sang its siren song, pulling him under. He briefly caught Akash’s worried question before his head rolled against Daphne’s and he surrendered completely.

  As Danny’s consciousness floated back toward the surface, his first thought was to look out the window. It was the heavy dark of midnight, with little moonlight to relieve the oppressive blackness.

  His eyes snapped open. Zavier. The Orloj clock.

  He’d been sleeping against Daphne, who was also beginning to stir. Danny pushed himself up and accidentally elbowed her in the stomach. She grunted.

  “What—?” Her voice was scratchy and slurred. “Danny?”

  “I’m going to kill him,” he growled. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

  He nearly fell off the bed, steadying himself against the other one, where Akash sat next to Meena’s sleeping body. Akash jumped up to help.

  “Lie back down,” he said, but Danny pushed him away.

  “You bloody—let them—”

  “I didn’t know the tea was drugged! They told me that I could keep you three safe if I watched over you.”

  Meena groaned, pushing up on her elbows. “What time is it?” she asked in sleepy Hindi.

  Danny lunged toward the door, stumbling and cursing, his vision swimming dangerously.

  “Danny, wait!” Daphne called.

  “What is going on?” Meena asked.

  Out on the street, the cold night air helped sober him. He shook his head and hurried to the square where the power kept pulsing, writhing, skipping beats like an irregular heartbeat. His own heart pounded in tempo, one-two-three, one-two-three.

  Someone called his name, but he kept running; or, tried to run as he glanced off the sides of buildings. He could see the glow of the astronomical clock ahead, and the shadows of people fighting below. Edmund and Felix were taking on three or four policemen on their own. There was no sign of Zavier.

  Suddenly, the power pulsed hard. Danny nearly fell to his knees, and the cog in his pocket shivered. Looking up, he choked on a gasp.

  The black and gold spirit stood between the two windows where the apostles made their hourly appearance, its feet balanced on the sills. Its golden eyes blazed with hatred, its ebony hands clutching the metallic rope Zavier had used to climb the clock faces.

  And there he was, dangling under the XII—Zavier, with the rope around his neck, legs flailing as his hands scrabbled at his throat.

  The Hanged Man.

  Danny ran for the clock, hand diving into his pocket. Without thinking—without quite understanding what he was doing—he dug the cog’s spokes into his wrist, his blood flowing over the metal.

  Reaching the tower, he slammed the bloody cog against the lowest clock face.

  The world was sucked away in a scream. He hurtled into a dark unknown, zooming over a bridge of stars. They brushed against his fingers, hot dust and blazing light, the stuff of dreams and the end of the world. The giant weight of a planet caught his side, red and swirling, a distant blue moon, the roar of the sun behind him, endless black.

  The spirit shrieked above him, causing the tower, the ground, the very air to vibrate with electric power. Danny gasped as he returned to his body, keeping the cog pressed against the face. The surge of power jumped over his skin, under his skin, making his teeth ache and his heart nearly explode from its force.

  Zavier dropped to the ground in a heap. Coughing and wheezing, he tugged the rope from his neck as Edmund and Felix were beaten back by guards, who’d seemed to take no notice of the struggle nearby.

  Then the Orloj spirit was right before him. Danny snatched the cog away just before it grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off the ground. He choked and scratched at the spirit’s hand, but it was like attacking stone. The spirit’s golden-amber eyes bored straight into him, its black lips curled back, baring its teeth.

  Zavier slammed into the spirit’s legs. The spirit dropped Danny and turned to attack, but something stole its attention. It looked up at the clock, where the bell began to announce the next hour.

  “The bomb!” Felix yelled. “It’s set to go off at one!”

  The clock was just about to toll one o’clock.

  The spirit shrieked again and disappeared into its tower. Zavier collapsed. Danny pushed to his feet as the others raced from the square.

  “Get up!” he yelled, tugging on Zavier’s arm. “Hurry!”

  The windows opened. The apostles began their familiar path.

  Danny pulled a half-conscious Zavier from the ground, groaning as his body protested. The bells kept ringing, the windows beginning to close. Danny pushed Zavier as hard as he could toward the square as the tower struck one.

  The street erupted into shards of glass.

  Colton went through a cycle of caretakers while the others were gone. Currently he was being watched by Charlotte. He couldn’t complain; she was kind and didn’t treat him like a prisoner. And she let him into the plant nursery where she liked to spend her time.

  He brushed his fingers over verdant leaves and thought about the garden behind his house. His mother would hum to herself as she planted new vegetables, or insist his sister Abigail sit near the hedgerows for some fresh air.

  Colton leaned over a plant with wide leaves. “This one smells nice,” he said.

  Charlotte looked up from pruning. “That’s basil. We use it in the kitchens.” She took a deep breath. “I love the smell of this place. It’s so soothing.”

  He knew her husband, Felix, had gone to Prague with the others. Though she maintained her smile, he could see the small lines at the corners of her eyes, the first hair-thin cracks of worry. He had often seen them on his mother’s face during the worst of Abigail’s sickness.

  What had happened to his sister, or his parents? What had happened to Castor? Colton couldn’t remember much after his death, just a few flashes of memory from his long life as a spirit. It seemed the longer he lived in this state, the harder it was to hold on to the distant past. It felt nearly impossible to imagine a future. He existed only now, in the present.

  “You’re not a clock mechanic, are you?” he asked.

  “I am not. But Felix, he knows his way around explosives.” She frowned slightly. “He was a grenadier in the Austrian army. He knew Zavier’s uncle, before he passed. Felix owed him a favor and Zavier called it in.”

  “Why did you come with him?”

  A small laugh escaped her. “I have my uses, too. Felix was a grenadier, but I was a surgeon, and they needed someone with my skills. Besides, it’s not that simple to leave behind the one you love.”

  Colton bowed his head, focusing on the sounds of Charlotte pruning behind him. Though he was mired in the present, he still felt the insistent tug of the future wrapped in the scents of his past. He was blurred at the edges, boy and spirit and love and loathing.

  An alarm blared overhead. Charlotte gasped and dropped her shears. As the alarm cut off, Ivor’s voice crackled out o
f the speakers.

  “Landing party returned. Requesting emergency medical assistance.”

  Charlotte went pale. “Felix,” she whispered, hurrying to the door.

  Colton followed close behind, thankful for the strength from Dae’s new cog holder. Charlotte wove through the corridors toward the hangar. The landing party was stumbling off the plane; a few other crewmembers crowded around, eager to help. Prema rushed forward to embrace Astrid when she stepped into the hall.

  Edmund and Felix limped out with Zavier supported between them. They all looked battered, but Zavier had received the brunt of whatever had attacked them; his face was scratched, his throat bruised, and there were bloody splatters over his right side.

  Jo hurried to support him, Sally on her heels. “What happened?” she demanded.

  Zavier tried to speak, but all he could manage was a weak gasping sound. Charlotte quickly checked his pulse, muttering to Ed to carry him to the infirmary. She threw her arms around her husband, letting out a relieved sob into his shoulder.

  Daphne and Meena followed after them. They didn’t look hurt, but their expressions quashed the small relief that had begun to form inside him. The two of them were speckled with blood, but it didn’t look to be their own. Colton soon saw why.

  Akash ducked out of the hangar, Danny barely conscious in his arms. Danny was deathly pale, a shocking contrast to the bright blood that oozed from his left shoulder. He was jerking and fighting for breath, eyes open but glassy. Someone had tied a scarf around his shoulder, but that did little to stop the blood. Red seeped onto the floor, over Akash’s boots, dripping from Danny’s fingers.

  “Mein Gott.” Charlotte gestured them to follow her. “We have to be quick, he’s already in shock.”

  Their actions and words were hazy, distorted, muted. Colton stood frozen as they rushed past, leaving nothing but a trail of blood behind. The smell was metallic, powerful. He could remember being drenched in it, could feel it leaving his own body as that terrible magic claimed him. His own gasps like Danny’s, those desperate gulps for life.

  His body hummed. His vision darkened. Danny’s blood, pooled on the ground, sang to him. He stared at it until someone tugged at his hand.