by Tara Sim
Danny’s father poured himself some form of alcohol and knocked it back in one gulp. Exhaling loudly, he turned back to face Colton. “You’re the spirit of Enfield. The one my son … You and he …”
If Colton were human, he would have blushed. “Yes.”
“He’s not here. He’s gone to India.”
“I know. That’s why I’m here, talking to you. I thought maybe you could come back to Enfield with me.”
Christopher rubbed his face. “This is too much.”
Maybe coming here had been a mistake after all. Colton felt that sense of disconnection again. More than that, he felt ashamed, and wasn’t sure why. The emotion was new, and it unsettled him. He didn’t like it at all.
“Where’s Mrs. Hart?” he asked in a small voice. Maybe she would understand.
“Work,” Christopher mumbled. “She’ll be here soon enough.” He swallowed hard. “I can’t focus right now. I have to think. I’m sorry, but I have to think.”
Colton nodded, though he didn’t understand. Christopher walked past him, then stopped. It made Colton very uncomfortable, standing so close to Danny’s father.
“That’s his coat, isn’t it?”
Again, Colton nodded, trying to shrink inside its shelter. It smelled of Danny, and that was the only thing that had kept him going today. Christopher swayed again, then left the kitchen.
Colton sat on one of the chairs to wait. He wanted to take off Danny’s coat, but at the same time, he wasn’t eager to shed its comfort. Hugging the satchel bag to his chest, he closed his eyes.
If he were human, he would have cried. He wondered if doing that ever made humans feel better.
Leila screamed when she found a clock spirit in her kitchen half an hour later.
Christopher hurried downstairs as she stood there gasping, one bony hand pressed to her chest.
“Oh my God,” she sputtered. “Colton! What on earth—?”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Leila, are you all right?”
“Yes, I—I’m fine. Just a shock. What’s going on?”
“It’s not about Danny,” Colton said at once, not wanting to repeat the same mistake he’d made with Christopher.
“Oh … good.” She still sounded confused. Christopher took her bag and led her to the table before he began to fix some tea. Leila just stared at Colton, who tried not to fidget under her gaze.
“Enfield is Stopped,” Christopher said from the stove. “His tower was attacked.”
“Attacked?” Her head whipped around. “By whom?”
Christopher glanced at Colton. “Do you know?”
“No. I saw an airship above Enfield, and it dropped something onto my tower.” He touched his side. The ache had dulled the farther he’d walked from Enfield, but it was still there, lingering. “The tower would have fallen, but I Stopped the town before it did.”
“Oh, you poor thing.” Leila touched Colton’s shoulder. Finding it tangible enough, she gave him a hug. Colton, startled, returned it. It was different from the hugs Danny gave him; those were comfortable, close, sacred. This was something else, something foreign yet reassuring.
Christopher seemed more relaxed when he handed Leila her tea. “Are you sure you didn’t see a name on the airship?”
“Not that I recall. And I would know. Danny taught me to read.”
Christopher’s eyebrows rose, and Leila hid a shaky smile behind her teacup. Colton wondered why humans had such complex reactions to the things he said.
“Well, news will probably get out tomorrow, or soon after.” Christopher sighed. “And Danny’s in India, on a much bigger assignment. They wouldn’t send him all the way back.”
“You don’t think so?” Leila asked, sounding hopeful at the prospect.
“The Lead will find someone else. Probably me.” Christopher drummed his fingers against the tabletop. “The office is closed now. Maybe we should wait until morning.”
“For what?” Colton asked.
“I’m going to bring you to the Lead. Whomever he assigns can go with you to Enfield and help repair your tower. The authorities need to be alerted as well.”
Leila glanced nervously at the kitchen clock. “Can it wait until morning?”
“It’ll have to. A few hours won’t change anything. Not like that airship can do any more damage, if Enfield’s already Stopped.”
“But what about the other towns?” Colton asked. “Or London?”
“London’s had a sky watch ever since the Seven Years’ War.” At Colton’s blank look, Christopher explained, “That’s when France tried to attack the clock tower from above. Soldiers will be on the lookout for strange airships.”
Leila got up to cook dinner, but since Colton did not eat, he asked if there was somewhere he could go and rest. He would need all his strength for the following day. Mainly, he just wanted to be by himself, and the thought of his tower broken and crumbling made the ache in his side grow worse.
“You can use Danny’s bedroom upstairs,” Leila offered. “Will you need anything during the night?”
“I have everything I need right here.” He lifted Danny’s bag, and the cogs inside rattled. “But thank you.”
He was on his way out of the kitchen when Christopher cleared his throat. Colton turned back, wary. But the man didn’t look angry. He looked … sheepish.
“I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier, Colton. You gave me a scare. I know this is quite the mess right now, but I promise I’ll help in any way I can.” Leila, blinking back tears, put her hand on top of her husband’s.
“That’s all right. I know I frightened you. I’m sorry.” He glanced at Leila, who gave him an encouraging nod. “Thank you, Mr. Hart.”
Danny’s father waved the words away. “Call me Christopher.”
Colton sat on Danny’s bed. He remembered this place, too. He had been weak without his central cog to help him, drifting in and out of consciousness. Now, with his cogs and Big Ben nearby, Colton felt five times as strong—but it still wasn’t enough. He bitterly examined his translucent hands.
The house was quiet. He could hear the occasional clink of plates from downstairs, and the distant rumbling of autos, but that was all.
Weary, he spread out on the bed and put his head on the pillow. It smelled so much like Danny that Colton let out a painful groan. Clock spirits did not breathe, but they could sense smells if they were close enough, in the same way their ears could hear. He hugged the pillow closer, burying his face in the fabric.
Time normally passed so quickly for him, but now it trudged torturously on. A few months ago, a little girl in Enfield had been trying to cross the muddy road after a solid week of rain. The mud had sucked so hard onto the soles of her boots that one had popped off as she staggered forward without it. Colton was that boot. Time forced him to stand still.
Colton hugged the pillow tighter and wondered what would happen if he left London. Left England. Followed Danny.
He thought of Leila at the kitchen table, putting her hand on Christopher’s. A new shade of hurt slipped into the spectrum of his newfound emotions. Colton might not feel what a normal boy could, but he could still feel Danny’s hand, warm and strong in his own. He could still feel Danny’s lips against his own. He knew what it was to miss those things, and the loss was deep and cutting, the weight of absence heavier than anything he’d ever held.
By midnight, the house was dark and silent. Colton was wracked with pain.
He sat up and put a hand to his side. Reaching down with the other, he took his central cog from Danny’s bag and pressed it to his body. It had little effect.
Still so many hours to go.
Around two o’clock, he crept out of Danny’s room. He toured the house on silent feet, barely disturbing the air. He ran his fingers over the spines of the books downstairs, and picked up different kitchen utensils, wondering what they were for.
Back upstairs, he turned on the
lamp in Danny’s room and looked through his things; he had to distract himself somehow. In the drawers Colton found old drawings and lecture notes in Danny’s slanted, blotchy handwriting. Danny liked to give his g’s and y’s long stems.
There were letters in the drawers, some yellowed with age. A few were from an uncle in Scotland. One was dated ten years ago, from a grandmother. Danny had never spoken about his relatives before. Were they dead? Colton decided he would find a sensitive way of asking later.
He found drawings of Cassie, of clocks, of classmates—mostly boys—and then found small sketches of himself. Colton standing by the window, Colton sitting on a box, Colton and Danny on the scaffolding above the clock face. The smile that spread across his face felt like an unexpected gift.
A wad of paper had been stuffed into the bottom drawer. He pulled it out and smoothed it flat. He read the message written there, but it was not in Danny’s hand.
Do not think this is finished.
You know something.
We’ll be watching.
Colton froze, his smile dissolving. This did not sound normal. This sounded like … a threat.
He looked around, but for what, he wasn’t sure. The words were sinister enough that he half-expected someone to materialize from the shadows and make a grab for him.
Someone had sent this to Danny.
Someone had attacked Enfield—where Danny lived.
Danny was in trouble.
Colton hesitated outside Danny’s parents’ bedroom door. He had one hand raised to knock, the other still clutching the note. It was six in the morning, and he didn’t know when they normally woke. Danny often didn’t roll out of bed until eight. Sometimes, he even slept until noon.
He lowered his hand. As soon as he had read the note, his first thought was that Danny needed help. Then, that his parents ought to know about it. But in the ensuing hours he’d waited for a polite time to wake them, his mind had been busy thinking of the different outcomes.
If he told Danny’s father, the man would likely leave Colton with another mechanic who might bring him back to Enfield. He’d be trapped in his tower again, unable to get news.
Christopher was already wary of him. He would insist Colton go back while he tried to protect his son from this new threat.
If he didn’t tell Christopher …
Colton retreated to Danny’s room and decided to think some more. This was a conflict of what humans called morals. Colton knew the basics: killing was bad; adultery was bad; hurting someone was bad. But keeping information away from concerned parents?
By the time he heard Leila and Christopher go downstairs, he knew what he had to do.
He cautiously descended the stairs and peeked into the kitchen. They were drinking tea, and waved him inside. The atmosphere was much lighter than it had been before, but there was still an awkward twinge when he walked in.
“Did you have a good night?” Leila asked. Colton nodded. “I would offer you breakfast, but …”
“Thank you, anyway.”
Christopher looked Colton up and down, scrutinizing his outfit. “I think it would be best if you changed into some of Danny’s things. You’re of a size, so they should fit. We want you to blend in as much as possible on the way to the office.”
Colton hesitated, touching the note in his trouser pocket. But after a moment, all he said was, “I’ll look for some.”
He decided he wouldn’t make a very good human.
Upstairs, he silently asked Danny’s forgiveness as he rifled through his clothes. He picked out black trousers, a white shirt, and a black waistcoat. When he asked if these were decent enough, Christopher said they would do the trick.
“There’s a washroom down the hall. You can use the mirror.”
On the stairs, Colton saw Christopher kiss his wife goodbye before she left for work. His mind was in guilty knots as he heard their quiet murmuring until the front door closed.
Colton undressed in front of the body-length mirror in the washroom. He examined his reflection curiously, tilting his head to one side. Devoid of clothes, he looked like any other boy. He touched his arms, his chest, his lower stomach, his thighs.
He touched his navel, thinking of Danny’s surprise when he’d seen it. He had touched Danny’s navel, too; an inverted little hole that made Danny jerk when he’d kissed it. Colton did not jerk when he touched his own. Strange.
Another strange thing: his right side was red and ropy, like a scar that was still tender. He realized it mirrored the damage to his tower.
He couldn’t do anything about it.
Dressing slowly, he began to piece together a new Colton. Christopher was right: the clothes fit him well. When he was finished, he stared at this confusing hybrid of Danny and Colton and couldn’t make heads or tails of it. He brushed his hair, feeling weak.
Coming out of the washroom, he bumped right into Christopher.
“Well, look at you.”
“I did. In the mirror.”
Christopher smiled. “It means you look nice. The style suits you.”
“Oh. Thank you.” Guilt flared inside him, and Colton touched the pocket where he’d hidden the note. In his other pocket was the picture of Danny.
I’ll tell him soon. I promise.
The journey to the office was even better than his walk yesterday. For one thing, they were in an auto, which meant he could stare out the window all he wanted without risking distraction or attention. Christopher said he normally took an omnibus, but with Danny gone, the auto was his to use.
“It’s only been a day, but I miss him like hell,” Christopher said, almost to himself.
Colton sat back in his seat. “I miss him, too.” Christopher glanced at him, but neither said a word until they pulled up beside a large, gray building.
Time pulled at him, called his name. It danced across his skin like lightning, and in its threads was woven the essence of London, garlands of stone and smoke and steam. He got out of the auto and looked for Big Ben. The tower stood across the street, tall, proud, and golden. Colton waved, once again marveling at the strength it emanated.
Christopher led him through broad doors into a wide marble atrium. Colton gawked at the columns and the large chandelier above, dripping crystal amid intricate carvings on the ceiling. There was nothing near this grand in Enfield.
“Colton,” Christopher called, already halfway up the stairs. Colton unwillingly followed, leaving the beautiful atrium behind.
They walked up the flight of curving stairs, passing people left and right. Colton kept his head down, but couldn’t help peeking up every so often. So many mechanics in one place. He wondered if he would recognize any of them.
As it turned out, he did. A tall boy walked out of a hallway and noticed Christopher. Brandon’s dark eyes went from him to Colton, perhaps expecting to see Danny. When Colton raised his head, Brandon’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth, but Colton put a finger to his lips.
Later.
When they reached the Lead Mechanic’s office, Colton was all nerves again. Christopher spoke to a woman sitting across the hall from the Lead’s door.
“I’m sorry, but he’s busy,” the woman kept saying.
“This is urgent.”
“Do you want to make an appointment?”
“No, I need to see him right bloody now!”
“Sir—”
“Just tell him Christopher Hart is here. Please.”
The woman, frowning, walked to the Lead’s door and cracked it open. “Sir, Christopher Hart is here to see you. I told him you’re busy, but—” She paused. “Yes, sir. You can see him,” she told Christopher with a disapproving sniff.
On the other side of the door, Colton finally saw the man Danny spoke of so often. The man who would cast Danny out of Enfield if he learned about their relationship. He was squat with a round belly and a broad, care-lined face. It looked as if he had taken hair from the top of his head and pasted it above his upper lip.
“You already know?”
“Just heard an hour ago. We’re trying to keep it from the public for as long as we can, but it’s only a matter of time.” He flinched at his poor joke. “Of course, your son would have been the first one we called, but the lad’s likely in Agra by now. I was going to ring you instead.” The Lead paused. “But I’m a bit baffled as to how you know about Enfield.”
Christopher had the same look Danny got when he was trying to figure out how to explain something, a slight channel between his eyebrows as he pressed his lips together. In the end, he must have decided that no words were necessary, and gestured to Colton instead.
The Lead had barely spared him a glance when they’d walked in, but now he had the man’s full attention. Colton took off his cap and held it between his hands.
“Hello, sir,” Colton said. “My name is Colton. Danny Hart is my mechanic.”
The Lead blinked. He looked at the satchel filled with cogs, then back up at Colton.
“Good Lord,” he said at last, the color draining from his face.
Christopher told Colton to sit down and tell the Lead about the attack, and then, when the spirit was finished, he explained their options. By the time they were done, the Lead looked positively bloodless.
“We need others to help rebuild the Enfield tower, when it falls,” Christopher said. “Because as soon as Colton starts time again, it will fall, and Enfield will Stop again. If we can get the building crew inside the town while it’s falling, we can attempt to get Enfield to some level of functionality in the interim.”
The Lead was shaking his head. “I’m not sure if that will work.”
“We have to try.”
“Christopher, listen. If we do restore Colton back to Enfield and time resumes, what if there’s another attack? No other towns have been affected. Just Enfield.”
“What do you propose we do, then?”
The Lead studied Colton. “We’ll first have to find out who attacked Enfield, and why. Once we apprehend those responsible, Enfield should be safe to start again. If we can start it. But when the tower falls …”