by Chris Cooper
They reached the corner of the square, and the shrill screech of Anna’s whistle continued. Oliver looked up into the lantern room and saw Anna standing, whistle to her lips but staring off into the distance. When she turned and saw them reach the square, she disappeared from the window.
“What’s that girl on about?” Aymes asked, clearly annoyed.
They rushed as fast as they could with the heavy wooden cart until they reached the side door. By the time the Clockmaker let them inside, Anna had already reached the workroom.
“Want to tell us what that was all about?” Oliver asked.
“Izzy’s house is burning,” she said, out of breath.
Oliver’s heart dropped.
They raced through the workroom, and Anna grabbed Izzy and Asher from the meeting hall, then the six of them rushed upstairs to the lantern room.
“What’s going on?” Izzy asked.
Oliver caught a flicker from the top of the hill across the field.
The others rushed to the broken window, bracing themselves against the cold.
Flames shot up from the yellow-sided Victorian at the top of the hill. Fire ripped through the turret—Izzy’s studio—and smoke drifted over the field in spiraling black plumes.
“I can’t believe it.” Oliver choked back tears.
Izzy said nothing but stood with a hand cupped over her mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“We have to go back. They’ll burn the entire town. The Collector is sending a message,” Oliver said.
Aymes looked out at the burning house. “Smells like a trap to me. He is trying to draw you back.”
“What are we going to do?” Oliver asked.
“We?” Aymes asked.
Oliver turned around just in time to see Gideon jab Aymes on the back of the shoulder.
“We helped you, and now it’s time for you to fulfill your end of the bargain,” Oliver said, fists clenched.
Aymes smirked. “We will set our own trap, then.”
Chapter Nine
The group returned to the workroom and gathered around one of the wooden tables. Izzy sat at the end of a bench, bent over with head in hands while Anna comforted her.
“Izzy, I’m so sorry,” she said.
“Just stuff,” Izzy replied.
“What?”
Izzy sat up and wiped her eyes. “No one was hurt, and we can replace everything in that house. I’m just glad we got out while we could.”
“How many are we up against?” Aymes asked.
“Just one, I think, and whatever he’s got hidden on that train,” Oliver replied.
“Train?” Aymes asked.
“The train parked at Christchurch station.”
“What is a train?” Aymes asked.
Oliver’s mouth hung open as he contemplated how to explain. “A large metal cart that travels around on tracks.”
Aymes met him with a blank stare. “One man and his cart? That’s it?”
Oliver looked down at the table, somewhat embarrassed.
“If he’s waiting for you at the top of the hill, take your weapon and shoot him,” Aymes added casually.
“It’s not that simple. He wouldn’t let me bring my weapon on the train, and he’s starting the fire with his hands somehow. He’s got to be an Unnatural.”
“An Unnatural?” Aymes asked.
“He’s using magic, like Simon and the Witch.”
Aymes’s face went pale.
“We can draw him into Briarwood and let the blood seekers take care of him,” the Clockmaker said as if the solution was obvious. “We’ll solve two problems at once. If the blood seekers can’t do it, at least we’ll be rid of some.”
“How are we going to do that?” Oliver asked.
The Clockmaker stood from the table and crossed to one of his workbenches. He brought over a shiny metal ball and handed it to Oliver with a winding key. The ball was the same as the one Aymes and Gideon had used to distract the blood seekers when Oliver crossed into Briarwood.
The device was composed of several curved metal plates that covered an intricate clockwork core.
“Wind it,” the Clockmaker said.
Oliver inserted the key into a hole in the middle of one of the plates and twisted. The gears shifted inside, and the plates tightened around them.
“Now press a panel and cover your ears.”
Oliver did so and set the orb onto the table next to them. With a subtle ticking, the device sat for a few seconds before a shrill ring filled the air.
“Draws them like a charm,” the Clockmaker said, shouting over the ringing.
“Like an alarm clock,” Oliver said. “What are they called?”
“Clangers,” the Clockmaker replied. “Take one in your pocket and drop it once you reach the square on your way back.”
Oliver picked up one of the metal orbs and stuffed it into a coat pocket, leaving an obvious lump.
“You don’t think this is a little suspicious?”
Aymes laughed. “Show him the new contraption—the beetle-looking creature.”
The Clockmaker tapped his fingers together in excitement. “Yes, this occasion would be perfect to test it!” He walked to a workbench at the back of the room and motioned Oliver and Asher to join him.
“I have so much time to tinker now the shop is no more. We know the blood seekers will run to the clangers, but they quickly lose interest once they find them.”
He pulled some cloth off a larch lump in the middle of the table.
“I’ve tried a few different versions, but this one seems the most promising,” he said. “I’ve made a small fleet.”
After a few seconds, Oliver realized the mishmash of gears, cogs, and metal made up a clockwork spider of sorts. Like the clanger, it had a winding mechanism in the center, but this device had long spindly metal legs.
The Clockmaker picked up the contraption and pulled another metal key from his pocket. After a few cranks, he set the device on the floor and flipped a brass switch on its back.
The legs of the mechanical arachnid began to move, and the Clockmaker set the device on the floor. The creature skittered across the stone, much faster than Oliver had expected. The spider climbed over the uneven stones until it reached the wall.
“What’s its purpose?” Oliver asked.
The Clockmaker crossed the room, picked up the device, then returned to the table. He flicked the brass switch, and when the spider’s legs stopped, he placed it on the table. He pulled a clanger from the workbench then snapped it onto the creature's back.
“It’s capable of traveling much farther than one can throw. Keeps the seeker on the move. We let one of these loose and have it run away from the square and into the woods behind the hall. This will give you enough time to cross the briars.”
“How long do they last?” Oliver asked.
“A few minutes.”
“But how do we draw the Collector to Briarwood?”
Both Gideon and Aymes looked at Asher.
“Taunt him with what he most desires,” Aymes replied.
“I can do it,” Asher said. “Considering all of this is because of me, the least I can do is help.”
“No. Absolutely no way,” Oliver replied.
Asher scowled. “I should have a say in this too. If others are risking their lives to protect me, I ought to help.”
Oliver looked down at the table and remembered his conversation with Anna before his drive to the train station. “You’re right. I’m sorry. But if you go to him, he has no reason to come to Briarwood. He’ll take you and leave. If we get him back here, we can stop him. I can convince him to come—I know it.”
Asher’s expression softened. “All right. But if this doesn’t work, I am going to the train, and I’m not asking first.”
“We don't have time for debate. Do you want to wait until your entire town is scorched?” Aymes asked.
“Just promise me you’ll have my back,” Oliver said.
&nbs
p; “If the spiders don’t bring the blood seekers, I’ll be ready with an arrow,” Aymes replied. “I may be able to hit him from the tower.”
Upstairs, Aymes scanned the town square for blood seekers, and once the coast was clear, he dropped a piece of fabric to signal those in the workroom. Oliver stepped through the side door of the building and out into the snow.
Gideon followed Oliver closely, positioning himself in a vacant storefront on the other side of the square.
The place was eerily silent, aside from the crunch of snow underneath his boots. Oliver pulled his coat tighter but had left his weapons behind. He wanted the Collector to think he was making a serious offer, and weapons might complicate the situation.
As he reached the edge of the woods, he stood for a moment and watched the house blazing at the top of the hill. His life in Christchurch flashed before his eyes, and the only thing keeping him together was the knowledge that everyone who lived in that house was safely tucked away in the Briarwood town hall. As he crossed the field and climbed the hill to Izzy’s, black smoke swirled overhead as flames hissed and crackled, roaring from Izzy’s studio window as they turned her life’s work to ash. His initial sadness was replaced by rage at the senseless destruction and death the Collector had brought upon the town.
The Collector had dusted off an old lawn chair from the back porch and posted himself just a few feet from the house, looking down the hill as Oliver approached. He’d propped his feet on an old tree stump. His right sleeve was rolled up to his elbow, and his arm was bright red and burned. His nonchalance—sitting peacefully while the house burned and crumbled behind him—made Oliver furious.
Cold wind whipped against Oliver’s back while the heat from the fire beat against his chest. Oliver tried to step toward the Collector, but the man was perched impossibly close to the blaze. Embers hissed as they hit the snow, leaving specks in the white like poisonous raindrops.
“I assumed a little bonfire might pull you out of hiding,” the man said. “I thought we had a deal—deliver Asher by dawn, and I’d be on my way. Dawn has come and gone, my friend.” He gestured for Oliver to take off his coat once more.
“You didn’t have to do this.” Oliver unzipped his coat and dropped it in the snow, showing he was hiding no weapons.
“Have to, no—I thoroughly enjoyed it, though. You’re lucky I decided to spare the rest of the town, for now. Where is the boy?”
Oliver stood silent, overcome with a mix of rage and grief.
“Not very smart, are you?” the Collector asked. “If you don’t tell me, I will destroy this pathetic excuse for a town and burn down every house until I find him.”
“And you’ll still come up empty-handed.” Oliver swallowed hard. “But I’ll take you to him if you spare the town.”
The Collector perked up. “I hoped this might change your tune, but color me surprised. So where is he?”
Oliver pointed to the woods. “Just on the other side. In Simon’s town.”
The Collector grinned. “I’d always hoped I’d get to see it. Thought the man was crazy at first, promising eternal life for a second chance at his. If one of my associates hadn’t met him in the clink—”
Oliver clenched a fist. “Spare me the story. Do you want Asher or not?” He picked up his coat and slipped his arms through the sleeves.
“All right—no need for an attitude,” the Collector replied. “Lead the way.”
As Oliver led the Collector through the snow, the man’s idle chatter scraped Oliver’s ears like nails on a chalkboard. He wanted to turn and strangle him for taking away Izzy’s home and everything she’d worked so hard for. Oliver found solace in the thought that the blood seekers awaited them on the other side of the briars.
They stepped through the broken brambles, and when they reached the square, the Collector’s eyes traced the dilapidated buildings and charred town hall. “This is the ‘kingdom’ Simon referred to? It’s a pile of rubble.”
A flash of shiny metal caught Oliver’s eye at the edge of the square as a clockwork spider skittered around the corner of the hall. Another came from the door of the Clockmaker’s shop.
“What the hell are those?” The Collector looked down at one of the strange objects, unsure of what to make of it.
The spider let out a shrill ring as it passed midway through the square.
The Collector backed away as the second device triggered, and he turned toward the woods as the creature passed.
Oliver ran, sprinting through the deep snow to the door on the other side of the hall. After he pounded on the door a few times, the Clockmaker pulled it open and let him inside.
Izzy and Anna were waiting nearby and rushed over as he entered.
“Are you all right?” Izzy asked.
“It worked,” Oliver replied.
They had an obscured view of the square through the thin workroom windows.
The Collector gripped one of the writhing creatures. “What kind of game is this? You think these toys will help you?”
He slammed the spider onto the ground, and pieces of the device broke loose although the clanger continued to ring.
“Where did you go?” the Collector shouted. “You’re just prolonging the inevitable! Bring me the boy with the magic blood!”
He twisted around in search of Oliver.
“What are you playing at?” he shouted. “If I have to track you down, I will make you regret it!”
As the Collector walked toward the hall, Oliver heard a shout from the far end of town, in the distance behind the dilapidated Clockmaker’s shop where Gideon was hiding. The Collector must have heard it, too, because he jerked around and stepped toward that side of the square.
“Don’t play with me.”
The noise had drawn the attention of several blood seekers, who emerged from behind a row of houses. Eventually, they squeezed between the clothing shop and the Clockmaker’s shop, next to it.
“Bad night out on the town? Go on a bit of a bender, did ya?” he asked the first blood seeker who rounded the corner, caked in dried blood and barefoot in the snow, with four others following.
“Is this a joke?”
The blood seekers hobbled toward him, fanning out as they approached.
“I assure you, I’m not the man you want to mess with!”
This is it, Oliver thought. They’ll rip him to pieces.
One blood seeker stumbled forward.
“Guess my suit’s ruined anyway,” the Collector said, pulling something from his pants pocket—the same lighter he’d fiddled with earlier.
As the seeker lunged, the Collector flicked the flint wheel in his left hand and held the flame to the palm of his right. Fire burst from his palm, catching the unsuspecting blood seeker square in the face. He stopped short and screamed, trying to put the fire out with his hands.
The others moved in, and the Collector waved his hand across their paths, catching each of them in a fan of flames.
When the burst died, five blood seekers lay on the ground, snow hissing around them as their bodies burned. The Collector screamed in agony as he tried to pat out the fire running up his right arm.
“Anybody else?” His shouting had become raspy and wild.
The Collector’s arm was bright red, and his suit had burned to the shoulder. The more fire he created, it appeared, the more he himself suffered. His head turned in the direction of the shiny metal bauble that had brought the mob over to the Clockmaker’s shop.
He knows where Gideon is hiding.
As the Collector lifted his hand to send another explosive fireball, an arrow struck the Collector through the shin, and he screamed in agony. Before Aymes could fire a second shot from the tower, the Collector sent a burst toward him and limped behind the base of the destroyed statue in the square.
“I don’t have time for this!” He stumbled as he pulled the arrow from his calf. He removed a vial from his pocket and grunted as he pressed the dropper into his open wound.
/> Asher’s blood. Although Simon had destroyed one of the large fish tanks of Asher’s blood in an attempt to bring himself back from the dead, the other had gone missing, along with the specimen jars from The Parlor’s display.
Once he’d drained the vial, leaving no more for his burn wounds, the Collector raised his arm as though preparing to send another burst of fire toward Aymes in the tower, but screams from another nearby blood seeker distracted him.
“Midnight!” he yelled. “I may not be able to get to you or the boy in that fortress of yours, but Christchurch has nowhere to hide. You have until midnight to come to the train station, or I burn the entire town and everyone in it to the ground.”
The Collector sent another burst of flame toward the tower, giving him just enough cover to limp toward the tree line. Somehow, Aymes fired off another shot, but the arrow fell short and disappeared in the snow.
Two blood seekers approached from the corner of the square, but by the time they reached the tree line, the Collector had already crossed into the field.
As the seekers searched for the source of the commotion, Gideon appeared from the doorway of the Clockmaker’s shop. He raised his broadsword and sneaked up on them, striking the first seeker in the back, then the other in the chest as he turned around. Then Gideon crossed the square to the town hall.
“Are you all right?” Oliver asked as Gideon entered the workroom.
Gideon nodded and wiped his forehead.
Aymes barreled into the workroom a few minutes later. “I can’t believe I missed the shot. That damned tower is just too tall.”
“You tried,” Oliver replied. “The Collector said we had till midnight before he burns the town. He’ll be able to destroy all of Christchurch within a few minutes with that kind of power.”
“He might be able to destroy the old shops on the square, but fire means nothing to giant slabs of stone,” the Clockmaker said.
“Huh?”
“You could bring your townspeople to Briarwood. Keep them in the town hall—right here. They’ll be safe behind these walls.”
“Are you mad?” Aymes asked. “Bring the entire town here? Who knows how many blood seekers are still out there? We’d be lucky if we got anyone through the woods without being slaughtered.”
