Jared shrugged. “It looks like a price tag. Can you read it?”
Awkwardly, Tori bent to grasp the paper. “There’s no price, but there is a message.”
“How strange. What does it say?”
Tori perused the message silently, frowning with confusion before she read it aloud. “Being whole is more than recovering a lost appendage. The switch is in front, below the knee. I wish you the best, Machin.”
Chapter 15
Jared’s dark eyes crinkled at the edges as he laughed. His fingers slid across the prosthetic, stopping when he found a piece of metal, barely visible, that stuck out exactly where Machin said it would be. Jared tapped the switch toward him.
An electronic purr and the grinding of wheels resounded from inside the prosthetic. Jared’s eyes widened. His hands fell to his sides. Slowly, gently, as if a thought traveled from his brain, along his nerves, and attached to the muscles of a real leg, the prosthetic straightened and lowered to the ground.
“It works,” Tori squeaked, flinging herself toward him. “You have your leg—the one you’ve always wanted.”
Jared caught her in his arms. A flicker of pain passed his face, sending the muscles of his face twitching, before he set his jaw. He lifted Tori from the ground and turned, stiffly testing out the strength of his new leg. A long sigh followed. His lips settled into a quirked grin as he set her back down. “Nice costume, dear lollipop princess.”
Tori’s cheeks flamed. In the flurry of happenings since returning from trick-or-treating with Kimmy, she’d forgotten that she was still wearing her flouncy dress and a wig that looked less like hair and more like cotton candy. “Oh—I—this is my Halloween costume I wore to take Kimmy trick-or-treating.”
“I know. You look lovely both ways. I might even prefer the slippers to your hiking boots.”
“Wait. How did you know I was a lollipop princess?”
“You talked to yourself while getting ready,” he answered, amused by her horrified expression. Wincing, he added, “And also the night before in your sleep.”
Tori flushed, extra grateful she’d thought to cover the lantern with a quilt. “You heard me...”
“Yes.” His head leaned in until their noses touched.
Tori’s grandmother cleared her throat. Jared and Tori looked her way, both grimacing at the pallor of her skin.
“Are you okay, Grandma?” Dumb question. She must be as freaked out as I am by all this. Not to mention embarrassed.
“Yes—yes, I’m fine.” She took a moment to collect herself. Her cheeks regained their color as she held out a hand. “Pardon my manners earlier, Jared. My name is Alice. Welcome.”
“Thank you.” Jared accepted her hand in a warm shake. Before he could absorb what was happening, his arms were filled with half the contents of the tray of caramel apples.
“You must be starving, young man. Thirsty too! Come inside. I doubt we’ll be receiving any more visitors tonight.” She huffed quietly. “Thank goodness.”
Tori followed her grandmother and Jared inside the house, watching as he took in the cavernous home and its festive, spooky decorations.
“Follow me into the kitchen, young man. That will give Tori time to clean herself up before the hot chocolate’s ready.”
Tori gaped as if the old lady had sprouted butterfly wings. Instead of arguing, she took direction from her grandmother’s hands that were frantically shooing her away. Two steps at a time, she ran upstairs to change out of her costume and drag a brush through the sweaty, matted hair trapped beneath her wig.
While sipping hot chocolate, Tori stared at Jared as if worried he’d disappear if she looked away too long. She smoothed and unsmoothed the napkin that sat on her lap over her nicest pair of jeans. Inspired by Jared’s semiformal button-up shirt and pants, she’d also pulled on a sweater and a sparkly pair of earrings.
“We’ll need to settle this before your parents return home, which I expect will be soon,” said her grandmother, eyeing a mantle clock set over the fireplace. Turning to Jared, she added, “You’re a minor, so of course, we’ll have to sort out your documentation and schooling; but you’re welcome to stay. You need a home. I have plenty of room here and would be lying if I said I couldn’t use the extra help.” She shrugged. “I don’t know what I’m saving up for anyway.”
“You’re too kind, Mrs. Hale. I’d happily accept the position, especially if it means I’ll get to see Tori again.”
“Yes, well, to ensure that will be possible, it’s probably best if we were to leave out the part about you having been inside the lantern, along with the bending of the light or whatever you told me was happening out there. My visits with my grandchildren are infrequent enough as it is.” Her cheeks sagged as she frowned. “I end up traveling to my son’s home more than anyone comes here to visit me.”
Jared grinned at Tori. “When I introduce myself to your parents, I’ll speak the truth: that we met on Halloween night here at your grandmother’s house.”
“Yeah, but only officially.” She raised her palms. “That’s fine, though. I don’t want to bring up the subject of my nightly visits outside. But won’t you miss Havenbrim at all? Don’t you want to finish your apprenticeship with Machin?”
Jared and Tori’s grandmother shared a knowing glance. “While you were upstairs, I explained to Mrs. Hale that I never belonged to Havenbrim,” he said. “I never fit in there. Machin offered me something more than an apprenticeship. He gave me an extraordinary gift, and not just a leg. He gave me new friends. A new home. A whole new life. Thank you, Tori.”
“Thank me for what? I didn’t do anything except for stumble across you in the woods.”
“If you hadn’t found me, I might have missed my chance at this new life. You believed in me; you brought me to awareness. Before you, I was nothing but a memory trapped inside the light. You opened a passageway out of the darkness.”
Tori gazed at an empty mug as she let Jared’s words sink in. A tender smile played across her lips. “Well, if you put it that way—” She tilted her head up. “You’re welcome.”
Hordes of butterflies inside her stomach flittered wildly at the look Jared gave her in return.
A knock at the door dampened the moment.
“They’re here.” Tori’s grandmother shot up out of her seat. “Stay calm. We’ve discussed the matter. We have a plan. Everything will be wonderful.”
Wow, nervous much? Tori shook her head in disbelief. She’d never seen her grandmother so much on edge. Her heart softened, knowing how important it was for her grandmother to get to spend time with her and Kimmy.
“Tori?”
She looked up, straight into Jared’s deep brown eyes. “Yes?”
“What will they think of me?”
“They have no reason to distrust you, and I’m sure Grandma will give you a glowing review. Here they come now.”
“Carl, Megan, this is Jared—the young man I was telling you about that Tori met tonight. I invited him in from the cold. He’s looking for work; and since he’s a long way from home, I thought he could stay here for the night.”
Tori’s father sized up Jared with his eyes, and to Tori’s relief, gave him the same quirky grin that he’d give Adam or any other boy Tori knew from school. “Good to meet you, Jared.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Nice manners, kid, but Carl’s fine by me.”
“Yes, nice to meet you, Jared.” Tori’s mother smiled. “How was trick-or-treating tonight, hon?”
“Great. Kimmy was awesome. We came back exhausted.”
“Speaking of exhausted—” Tori’s grandmother sat down, appearing as if all the life had been drained from her. “I’d like to hear how dinner went with the Thompsons before I fall asleep here in the kitchen. Tori, be a dear and show Jared the library, the computers, or whatever interests today’s youth.” Her eyes glittered. “You might like to watch a scary movie.”
Tori pecked her grandmother on the cheek, grateful f
or the escape.
Chapter 16
Unsure whether Jared had ever seen a movie, given some of his oddly archaic behavior, she went with her grandmother’s first suggestion and showed him the library. He stepped lightly across the carpet, his head tilted back, marveling at all the books that lined the walls.
“All this belongs to Mrs. Hale?”
“Yep, and knowing my grandma she’s probably read most of the books in here. She spent a lot of time studying and was a nurse at one time.” Tori flashed a smile. “Her career’s what inspired me to use the stethoscope to hear you talking to me inside the lantern.”
“That idea was a stroke of genius. You and your grandmother are alike. Do you think she’ll let me use this library if I stay here with her?”
Tori’s mouth opened and closed. “I thought you’d already decided—before I came back downstairs from changing.”
“It’s a wonderful opportunity, and I’d be a fool to say no, but what I really want is to stay with you.” He stepped closer and traced his knuckles across her cheekbone.
Tori gulped. “I’d love to be able to see you every day, but my parents would never allow it. We can chat on the phone, but as far as seeing each other in person, the best we’ll get are visits. And that’s assuming my parents don’t find it weird that Grandma’s new employee will be staying with us.” Sensing his disappointment, Tori added, “I’m sure Grandma will work something out to convince them you’re also a travel companion. They’ll probably be excited about that—Dad especially worries about her traveling alone. But, still, that doesn’t give us a lot of time together. We won’t see each other every day, not yet. I have to finish school—”
Jared looked at her, his eyes thoughtful. “Your parents won’t hire me?”
“Oh, no. They can’t—our house isn’t anything like this. Grandma’s situation is...special.” She elbowed him gently. “Besides, you might need to spend some time getting used to Charlottesville, Virginia. I’ll bet there are many things you’ll find different from Havenbrim, Llum.”
“That makes sense; it wouldn’t hurt for us to get to know each other over time as I get acquainted with my new life.” He pulled out one of the high-backed chairs and sat down.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, thank you. I’m still getting used to standing on this new leg. My muscles never ached inside the lantern.”
Tori pulled up a chair next to him. She sat down a little too quickly; her knee bumped the metal prosthetic. “Sorry,” she murmured self-consciously.
“No need to worry. I didn’t feel it.”
“Really?” She reached out a fist to tap the outline of the leg through his clothing. The solid metal made a clicking sound against her knuckles.
Jared clasped her hand in his. “Bumping the metal casing from the outside feels like nothing. But I can sense the gears inside and the sensation of a foot resting on the floor. This, too, will take some getting used to.”
Tori stared at the hand that held hers. The tug of unanswered questions niggled at the back of her mind. “Can you tell me something about when you were inside the lantern?”
“Yes, I remember most of the time I was there. What would you like to know?”
“What happened to you that night I came to visit and the lantern wasn’t lit? Not the first time, but the night when a heart was drawn in the condensation.”
“That was a difficult night,” he said, squeezing her hand. “But you made it better. I was depressed, worried I’d never escape the glass prison. I blamed Machin, I blamed Moretta, I blamed myself... I came close to blaming you for finding me, for making me aware of feelings and life. You introduced me to a life I desperately wanted to join, to be a part of. I needed to find a way to out—to find you, in case you never came back. And yet you came back.”
“You knew I was there?”
“Yes, I felt you were near, but I was too weary. I’d lost too much hope.”
“Is that why the lantern was unlit?”
Jared’s eyes filled, tortured with pain. “I felt your hands on the globe and the pain in your voice when you called to me, but I couldn’t do anything about it. The best I could do was draw you that heart.”
Tori smoothed a loose curl from his forehead, something she’d been wanting to do since she sat down. “You felt all that? Do you remember me taking the lantern back to my room that night?”
“I remember every moment you were near. I couldn’t always see you, but I knew you were there.”
Tori flinched, remembering what he’d overheard from inside her room—her mumbling to herself and to the lantern. It would take a while before she would shake the embarrassment of that. “What happened when I came back to my room to get you? The lantern held an ordinary flame. Was that still you?”
“Yes. You’d returned again; I was feeling better, but I guess I wasn’t all there yet.” He puckered his brow, looking unsure whether he’d explained himself correctly.
Tori lifted her chin. “What was it about the moonlight tonight? Why was it needed to bend inside the glass? How did that set you free?”
“It was a feeling, a guess. Machin taught me that moonlight is light bent from the sun. I didn’t fully understand it then; but the feeling grew stronger when you hung me outside from your grandmother’s porch. The moonlight reminded me of the light Machin used to open the lanterns, of the brightness trapped inside. I didn’t understand it then, but I do now. An explanation would take time, months of studying combined principles of metallurgy and refraction, the bending of light. Thank you for trusting me. You and Machin— Both of you saved my life.”
He pressed his palm to her cheek, smoothing away remaining traces of confusion and doubt. Tori thought of the tiny hand inside the lantern, fingers stretching wide to match the touch of her fingertip. Here, his hands were larger than hers, warm and real. His fingers interlaced with hers as their lips pressed together in a kiss.
Epilogue
Machin sat in a workshop, crowded with gears, goggles, and glassware brimming with froth and steam. Lanterns hung from the ceiling, their dazzling beams cutting through the shadows. Large lanterns, small ones, and some made of paper, cluttered tables and shelves. Dust covered the spaces between the globes.
“All have brightened, but will none burn out tonight?” Machin coughed out the scratches in his voice as he puttered about the room, pressing an eye to the lanterns, one by one.
Startled by a flickering behind him, he turned around. His wrinkled lips smoothed into a grin as he walked toward a lantern whose light began to dim. The light faded from inside an exact copy of a lantern that hung near a plantation in a faraway place known as Virginia. But not too far away; his methods had revealed strong connections between life and light.
“Ah, ripe and ready to move on.” He mopped his forehead with a moth-eaten rag. Bulging eyes blinked behind a pair of goggles as he focused on the lantern. “I’m sad to see you go, Jared. You were one of my favorites.”
Machin smiled to himself and watched as the light faded and wavered one last time before dissipating completely.
Chapter 1
Serah stood on a porch. Her foot tapped a floor plank wrapped in roots and weeds. A doorplate swung from the cottage door, hung diagonally to the side by a rusted nail. Serah examined her fingertips before brushing nettles from her dress, a sheath patched with sackcloth and rags. Twisting her head to the side, she pressed a finger to an empty nail hole and slid the plate upward.
She half-breathed, half-read the words at the top of the plate: “Master Machin.” Additional titles beneath the name appeared and reappeared faster than she could sound them out. Apolune Archivist blinked and faded, followed by Celestial Mechanic and Tektite Glazier.
“I’ve never seen occupations like these.” Serah took a long look at the door, then knocked.
A light flickered above the doorplate.
Serah stepped backward and blinked. The light shone through glass so dark she hadn’t reali
zed the door had a window. “Hello?” she called out. She pressed her ear to the door. Certain she hadn’t missed a voice or footsteps, she knocked again.
The light above the doorplate flickered and burned out.
“Well, if I’m not wanted, Master Machin, Mister—” Serah glanced at the doorplate to borrow one of the haughty titles for her rant. But they were no longer there. The titles and the master’s name had disappeared. “But I just saw—”
Frowning, Serah tilted the plate to take a closer look. New words formed across the brass:
What is your name?
She coughed. “Serah Kettel.” Glancing up at the glass—still dark—she added, “I’m here for the interview.”
Serah, do come in.
Breathless, she placed a hand on the doorknob and twisted. The plate swung freely as she pushed the door open and peered into darkness.
Before her eyes could adjust, they were dazzled by row after row of lanterns hung from the ceiling and walls. Lanterns that surpassed the height of grandfather clocks. Lanterns that could be swallowed by the palm of a hand. Their bulbs—spherical, cubical, and teardrops of glass—were all rimmed in dark metals.
Serah’s stomach flip-flopped. “Hello?” she croaked, provoking a stir in the shadows.
An old man sitting at a table looked up and raised his hands. As he lowered his palms, the lanterns’ glow dimmed. A wrinkling above his chin stretched into a smile. “Serah Kettel,” he said.
The girl opened and closed her mouth. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Kettel.” The man placed a finger to his lips, then grasped at a pair of goggles that covered the greater part of his face. He bent forward. “Serah Kettel.”
“Sir?”
With a flick of his wrist, the lanterns brightened again. Objects in the room that were previously indistinguishable appeared beneath the light, as did the dust. Serah fought the itchiness that wrinkled her nose.
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