Firestarter

by Tara Sim

  “Come on, Colton,” Daphne whispered. She led him down the corridor, Meena on his other side. They were silent, lost in their own private, if less violent, shock.

  Crew members crowded the infirmary door. Liddy shooed them away so that Daphne, Meena, and Colton could pass.

  Zavier was laid out on a bed, half-awake. Sally held his hand as Prema examined him, hissing to herself about the state of the bruises circling his throat. Jo stood at the foot of his bed, eyes darting between her nephew and the boy a couple of beds down.

  That other boy had Colton’s full attention. Charlotte had torn his shirt and tourniquet away, revealing a bloody torso already marred with a bullet wound. The new wound, a couple inches higher, was a jagged rent of flesh so deep Colton could see a hint of bone. The sheets and mattress were already soaked red.

  Danny was still now, his eyes closed. He didn’t even appear to be breathing. His head was tilted away to one side, revealing the pale slope of his bloodstained jaw, the vulnerable expanse of his throat.

  Daphne made a small noise of pain. Colton realized he was squeezing her hand too tight and let go.

  “He’ll be all right,” she said, but her voice was fragile.

  “What happened?” Jo asked again.

  Edmund took a deep, shaky breath. “We were trying the fix the explosives inside the tower, but police came as we were leaving. Someone must have seen us slip inside. As we were trying to get away, the—the clock spirit attacked us. It grabbed Zavier and tried to … hang him.”

  Prema inhaled sharply.

  “Danny was running toward the clock. We’d put them under so they wouldn’t get underfoot, but I guess the dose wasn’t strong enough.” Edmund’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Danny did something, I didn’t see what, but then the spirit was attacking him. The explosives were set to go off at one o’clock, and when it turned one, Danny grabbed Z and shoved him out of the way. The glass still got him, though. He was right in the middle of the blast.”

  Meena whimpered and put a hand to her cheek, where the burn mark was. Akash stood off to the side, dazed and bloody, but at his sister’s distress he put an arm around her shoulders.

  “He saved me.” It took a second to realize that Zavier had spoken, his voice low and hoarse. He painfully turned his head toward Danny, gray eyes half-open. “He didn’t have to. He could have left me there to die.”

  “Shows how little you know him,” Daphne replied coldly.

  “Charlotte,” Jo asked, “will he make it?”

  The surgeon was concentrating, her arms stained to the wrists with Danny’s precious blood. She’d wrapped the wound as best she could—the bleeding had slowed some—and now she pushed the syringe Felix handed her into Danny’s vein. “Time will tell,” she murmured. “He needs rest. He may go into shock again, but we’ll have to see.”

  Now realizing how crowded the infirmary had become, Charlotte shooed the observers out. Edmund gave Danny one last look, squeezed Zavier’s arm, and left the room. Meena tugged a still-dazed Akash to his feet. Daphne watched him, her eyebrows set in a worried frown.

  “He was right behind Danny,” she told Colton. “He pulled him out of the debris and carried him all the way back to the ship.” She sighed deeply. “Colton? Speak to me. Please.”

  He met her eyes, but couldn’t think of anything to say. Jo and Sally remained by Zavier’s side, even though Prema assured them he’d be fine. Felix left to get Charlotte hot water and more bandages.

  The infirmary was far from empty, but as Colton turned, it was just Danny and him. His limbs felt frozen, but somehow he made it to Danny’s bedside. He could still smell the tang of blood, so bitter compared to the earthiness of the basil. The blood felt … sharp. Magnetic. It called to him, as though it had come from his own body.

  He touched the side of Danny’s face, but he remained still. And cold.

  Felix returned with a bowl of water and some cloths. Charlotte wet one of the cloths, but when she moved to wipe the blood from Danny’s skin, Colton grabbed the rag away in a dizzying onrush of anger.

  “I’ll do it.”

  She nodded and left him to it.

  “She’s trying to help, Colton,” Daphne scolded.

  He knew that. He’d apologize later. Right now, there was only Danny. He dabbed at his chest, wiping away the offending blood. Danny didn’t even stir.

  “He feels dead,” Colton whispered.

  “He isn’t dead. And he won’t die. You know he’s too stubborn for that.”

  Colton wrung the cloth over the bowl, turning the water from clear to crimson. His hands buzzed and the cogs on his back gently vibrated. If Daphne noticed he was glowing brighter, she didn’t comment on it.

  When he was finished, he pulled off Danny’s boots, careful not to jostle his body too much, then covered him with the blankets Felix had brought. Danny still felt cold to the touch.

  “Danny,” Colton called softly, brushing the hair from Danny’s forehead. “Danny, please wake up. It’s me. It’s Colton. Please, open your eyes …”

  But he didn’t stir. Colton couldn’t even feel his heartbeat, it was so faint. He sobbed quietly, tearlessly, and rested his forehead against Danny’s. He called Danny’s name over and over, hoping if he heard it enough times, he would remember to wake up—remember who he was leaving behind.

  He didn’t know how long they stayed in the infirmary. Time meant nothing to him anymore. Visitors came and left. Charlotte made regular checkups.

  One of those visitors was Zavier. He still looked wrung-through, the bruises on his neck a wreath of purple and black. Sally helped him stand, her thin arm around her brother’s waist for balance.

  He looked at Danny with something like regret. He caught Colton’s eye.

  “I owe him my life,” Zavier said, voice still raspy.

  “And yet he sacrificed his own for yours.”

  “He shouldn’t have.” Zavier took a deep breath and winced. “Look after him. You’re free to do what you want on this ship. Just … make sure he lives.”

  Colton eyed him, suspicious, but Zavier actually seemed sincere. Zavier let Sally lead him out of the infirmary, and when he was gone, Colton turned back to Danny. He’d hoped to hear some sort of sarcastic reply behind him—“Careful Zavier, don’t want to let on that you actually have a heart”—but Danny hadn’t even twitched.

  Eventually, minutes or hours or days later, Charlotte said that Danny could be moved back to his bedroom.

  “His body is responsive,” Charlotte said as she tested Danny’s reflexes, poking each fingertip with a needle. “And it seems like he wants to wake up. The risk of going into shock again is over, I think.”

  “I’ll look after him,” Colton said.

  So he took residence in the room they’d given Danny. It was such an impersonal room, but at least it smelled like him. Colton sat in a chair beside the bed, staring at Danny’s chest, willing him to breathe deeper, pump blood faster. All the things Colton couldn’t do.

  Danny woke the next day while Charlotte was performing one of her checkups.

  “Gott sei dank! Can you hear me, Danny?”

  His green eyes were distant underneath heavy eyelids, but he nodded slightly.

  “Follow my finger.” She moved it left then right. “Very good. Do you know where you are?”

  He looked around, stiffening when he saw Colton. His lips parted, but he said nothing.

  Colton was similarly frozen. He’d imagined all he’d do when Danny woke up: hug him, kiss him, make him promise to never leave his side again. But all he could manage was to sit and stare back.

  “Danny?” Charlotte gently prompted.

  Danny blinked and turned back to her. “We’re on the ship.” He tried to move, but cried out sharply.

  “You have a bad tear on your shoulder. You need to rest a few days more before you’ll be back on your feet.” She hesitated, plucking at a wrinkle in his sheets. “They say you saved Zavier in the explosion. Tha
t was very brave of you.”

  Danny closed his eyes with a grimace. Charlotte smiled and touched his forehead.

  “Sweet boy. Go back to sleep; you’ll heal faster.” She nodded to Colton and left.

  A strained silence filled the room. Colton waited for Danny to look at him again, but his eyes remained shut.

  There was a tear beyond the one in Danny’s shoulder, and they both felt how deep it went.

  Colton stood. He couldn’t be here right now, not when his mind was so crowded with warring thoughts. Danny finally looked at him, helpless and tired. He was so pale, but his eyes were still that beautiful bright green.

  Without thinking, Colton grabbed Danny’s hand, relieved to find it warm. He lifted it to his mouth, kissing the center of his palm. Danny moved his hand to stroke Colton’s cheek, and he leaned into the touch for just a moment before turning to the door.

  He needed to think.

  He needed to strike a deal with Zavier.

  Thinking ended up taking a lot longer than Colton had anticipated. He’d spent an eternity in his tower doing nothing but thinking. This was different, though; this was thinking that would lead to an inevitable end, not thinking of things that had already been.

  Since Zavier had given him full access to the ship, he holed himself up in a wing no one used. He was still angry with everyone, angry with himself. There was no way he could have controlled what had happened to him; he had died and then lived a second life. A lesser life. A life he couldn’t in good conscience give to Danny, to whom he wanted to give the world.

  It didn’t seem fair.

  But with Zavier’s plan, he wouldn’t even have that option. He would be abandoning Danny, just as he’d abandoned Castor.

  God, Castor. That needed thinking about, too.

  Finally, he left his dark solitude to seek out Zavier. He found him in his office, sitting at his desk and staring blankly at a book.

  Zavier looked up when Colton entered. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his hair didn’t look as neat as it usually did. He seemed deflated. Drained.

  “We were wondering if you’d jumped ship,” Zavier said. “Danny’s been asking for you, but no one knew where to find you.”

  “I needed some time to myself.” Colton sat in the chair before Zavier’s desk, not bothering to wait for permission. “And to figure out what sort of deal to make with you.”

  Zavier’s eyebrows lifted, and his eyes flashed with a hint of his old energy. “A deal?”

  “Let me make one thing very clear. You dragged Danny into your plans and forced him to do what you asked. And he did it, because you held the winning piece—me. But when you were in danger and about to die, he saved you. He put you before himself. Even before me.” Briefly he thought of Danny turning away from him in the Queen’s camp to save the viceroy, the decision that had led them all here. “He didn’t have to, but he did. And he very nearly died because of it. You may still have your winning piece, but you owe him, and me.”

  Zavier listened, head cocked to one side. When Colton was finished, he took a deep breath. “I don’t understand why he did it either, to be honest. But … you’re right. I owe him my life and more.”

  “Then will you listen to my offer?”

  “Yes.”

  “No more tower attacks.”

  Zavier sat very still, frowning at his desk. “Do you plan on giving me the answer I’m looking for, then? The secret you and Danny are keeping from me?”

  “No.”

  “Then what the hell do you expect me to do?” He slammed his metal hand down. “We’re going to free Aetas, whether you like it or not. We’re already looking for ways to keep you and your tower safe so that you and Danny can stay together. What more do you want?”

  “I want the spirits to have a peaceful death. Oceana said … She said if he’s freed, we would all be able to sleep. It sounds a lot better than being ended by fire and smoke.”

  “Sleep?” Zavier sat back. “An odd choice of words. What does it mean?”

  “I don’t know,” he lied.

  Zavier took a minute to think it over. “The spirit of the Prague tower …” He carefully touched his neck, still mottled with impressive bruises. “It didn’t act like you did. It was … more. Too powerful for its own good.”

  “It doesn’t matter now, does it? That spirit is dead.”

  Zavier sighed. “Yes.”

  “The authorities will be looking for this airship, after all the damage you’ve caused. So why not stop all this and let me help you in a different way? A less violent one?”

  That caught Zavier’s interest. “How?”

  “The Builders.” Colton had heard whispers of them after their attack on the Prometheus. If they were rebuilding towers, that could only mean one thing.

  He closed his eyes against the memories.

  “Colton?” Zavier stood and walked around the desk, leaning against the corner. “What are you suggesting?”

  “Instead of destroying the towers, spy on the Builders. Figure out what they’re doing, and where, and why.”

  “And find out how they’re rebuilding the towers,” Zavier finished slowly. “Which might lead to the information I need to free Aetas. And you’d be willing to help?” Zavier asked, skeptical.

  “Yes, if you agree to stop demolishing towers. And if you promise not to involve Danny again.”

  Zavier nodded. “Deal.”

  Colton didn’t smile. He didn’t feel relieved. He’d actually done very little, and he was damned either way.

  “One more thing,” Colton said, standing. Zavier was taller than him, but he still managed to look the young man straight in the eye. This wasn’t usual for him, this coldness and calculation. He didn’t know who he was anymore.

  But he did know one thing: he had to protect Danny at any cost.

  “You won’t lay a hand on him again,” Colton said softly. “The power I have, that you’re so afraid of? If you put Danny in danger again, or so much as touch him, I’ll make you sorry.”

  Zavier watched him unflinchingly, and Colton was afraid his words hadn’t had the effect he’d hoped for. Then he noticed that Zavier’s eyes were pinched; he hid it well, but he was unnerved.

  “I don’t plan on putting Danny in danger again.”

  “Good.” Colton turned toward the door, but Zavier had more to say.

  “We had reports about you. You seemed docile. Innocent. We didn’t expect you to fight back.”

  Colton hesitated with his hand on the doorknob. He thought about the boy he’d been, soft-spoken and easily awed, and of the loneliness of his tower. How people were constantly trying to take away the things that mattered most to him.

  “I’m not just Colton anymore,” he said. “I am also Evaline, and Ben, and every clock spirit in the world. I speak and fight for them, because they can’t.”

  He opened the door and glanced back over his shoulder. “I am also Danny Hart. Everything you do to one, you do to the other. Remember that.”

  When he reached Danny’s room, Colton was confused to see Danny sitting on the side of his bed with Charlotte hovering over him. His shirt was off, as were his bandages, revealing the sinister slant of his new wound. The skin around it was red and angry, the wound itself puffy. By contrast, the rest of Danny’s skin was milk-pale.

  They looked up when Colton entered. Danny’s eyes flashed with fear.

  “Good, you’re here.” Charlotte beckoned Colton inside. “You’ll need to support his weight.”

  “Support his weight? For what?”

  She held up a long, curved needle. It looked like a fishhook.

  “I’ll have to suture his wound,” she explained. “We have to be sure the flesh knits.”

  Danny’s breathing sounded strained, his back muscles tense. “How … How many sutures?”

  Charlotte examined his wound again. “Maybe thirty?”

  He let out a shaky breath. “I only needed four, here.” He touched the scar on
his chin.

  “I’m sorry, but it must be done.”

  Colton watched as she prepared the sutures, his head cocked to one side. He noticed Danny looking at him, and he straightened his neck.

  “All right,” she said, touching the side of Danny’s face. “This will be uncomfortable.”

  Danny closed his eyes as she started threading the hooked needle through his flesh. He gripped the edge of the bed with white knuckles.

  Colton moved to his side and grabbed his hand. Danny looked up, startled, but squeezed tightly as a sound of pain hummed in his throat. Colton unthinkingly smoothed his fingers through Danny’s hair, a gesture familiar to them both. A little of the tension drained from Danny’s body.

  He moved his hand down Danny’s back, pressing his palm to skin. It was so warm. He traced lines and circles over his spine and shoulder blades, and Danny sighed at his touch.

  “All done,” Charlotte said after she snipped the thread and tied a tight bandage around his shoulder. “Thank you, Colton. Danny, how do you feel?”

  “Bloody awful.”

  “It’ll be better in a few days.” She began to collect her equipment. “You should wash up, as long as you make sure not to get those stitches wet.”

  “I’ll take him,” Colton said, startling everyone, including himself.

  “I’ll leave you in his capable hands, then.”

  After she left, neither of them moved for a while. Colton realized he still had his hand pressed to Danny’s back.

  “Can you stand?” he asked.

  Danny gained his feet but wobbled, and plopped back down to the bed moaning and rubbing his head. “No.”

  Colton almost cocked his head again, but stopped himself. “Come here.”

  “What—? Hey!”

  Colton was pleased to find his new strength allowed him to lift Danny from the bed, one arm under his legs, another behind his back. Danny squirmed, but gasped when the motion tugged his wound.

  “P-Put me down,” he said, eyes wild.

  “You need to bathe, and you can’t walk. What else do you expect me to do?”