“That’s no reason not to love you,” Myra said, seeming confused. “You’re wonderful.”
Twist laughed before he could stop himself. “Thank you, my dear. I’m very glad that you think so. But it didn’t matter, really, that I stayed in the orphanage. By the time I was old enough to leave, I’d gotten very good at repairing clockwork, and I found an apprenticeship easily. When the shop owner—who was old when I met him—eventually died, he had no children or other apprentice and so left his business to me. That made it very easy for me to maintain a comfortable livelihood until I left it all behind and came away adventuring with you.”
“But,” Myra began again, still seeming confused, “didn’t any of your family ever come back for you? I can’t believe that they would just abandon you.”
Her words struck that deeply buried place in Twist’s heart, which he had carefully locked away. With a well-practiced reflex, he swept the thought away once again.
“They’re all dead. They must be,” he said, partly to himself and partly to her. The words didn’t come out as casually as he’d intended and sounded hollow in his ears.
“Oh yes,” Myra said, her fright tingling over Twist’s Sight as she nodded quickly. “I’m sure that must be it. I’m sorry…” she added anxiously, clearly concerned that her words had hurt him.
“Please, stop apologizing,” Twist responded, smiling to her as comfortingly as he could. “Really, these things are all old and half forgotten. I’m not upset,” he declared, forcing the lid back down on the subtle, ancient, toxic emotions that now churned in the depths of himself.
“Are you sure?” she asked, peering into his eyes hesitantly. “You never told me any of this before. I won’t ask again, if you don’t want to talk about it. I’ll understand.”
Twist took a breath to settle himself completely and then reached out to stroke the edge of her cool copper face—the way she so often had done to him. Myra moved into the touch almost absently, clearly comforted by it. Twist gave her the very best smile he could muster.
“A husband shouldn’t have secrets from his wife,” he said, careful to let the words form smoothly. Myra smiled instantly at the sound of their future titles, her emotions blooming brightly. “I never meant to keep my past from you. I just, honestly, never thought to mention it before. That’s all.”
He watched Myra relax, as if intentionally choosing to believe him. She nodded and moved closer, wrapping him in her chilly arms and nuzzling her nose at his throat. Twist let out a silent breath of relief as he held her close. He focused on the comfort of her embrace and finally managed to deaden the shadowed, feral things that prowled under the surface of his mind.
“Well, none of that matters now,” she said, pulling back just enough to smile at him.
While she spoke, her clockwork form vanished from Twist’s eye, replaced by the cool, soft, pale flesh of her ghostly true form. Her jewel eyes turned to dark, endless, childlike ones, and her long hair turned soft and black under Twist’s touch, while her emotions evaporated from his now fully distracted Sight.
“We both have family now,” Myra went on. “We have each other.”
Every shadow vanished from Twist’s thoughts in the face of her simple and yet deeply profound statement. For a moment, he was stunned by the perfect delight of it, and when his senses returned, he didn’t even try to resist the sudden urge to kiss her for it.
Twist felt very cold and wasn’t sure why. The world was white. There was soft snow covering the forest around him, making it hard to tell where anything was as he wandered forward. The tall trees all around him seemed to be made of reflective silver, and he was never sure exactly where they stood, as if they were scampering around in the snow when he wasn’t looking. Confused and completely disoriented, Twist continued on in hopes of finding some sort of path out of the forest.
A soft, bell-like tinkling sound seemed to come from everywhere at once, and Twist’s feet were starting to go numb. He looked down to find his feet bare as he walked through the soft snow and was alarmed to see that there were no impressions of footprints behind him. He took one experimental step forward and watched as his footprint vanished into the soft snow instantly. He took another step, and then another, slowly, mesmerized by the odd way that the snow erased his passage.
“Twist?” A voice gasped from close behind him.
Twist spun to find a familiar face in an unfamiliar guise. The creature had the face of Storm, the ten-year-old boy who had other people’s dreams, complete with his snowy-white hair and brilliant pink eyes. But while the boy looked mostly like himself above the waist—wearing a long, silken, white tunic that glistened oddly in the dim light—his legs were covered in thick white fur and shaped like the hindquarters of a goat, hooves and all. There was also a small, white beard hanging from the tip of the chin, and Twist spotted two short, pointed horns protruding from the top of Storm’s head, half-hidden in his hair.
“Why do you look like a satyr?” Twist asked.
“Where the hell is your watch, Twist?” Storm asked, looking frightened.
“My watch?” Twist asked, startled. His hands reached for his waistcoat pocket, but he wasn’t wearing a waistcoat. He was dressed in his loose, pocketless sleeping clothes. “Oh, I put it under my pillow before I…” Twist paused, looking about him with new understanding. “This is a dream, isn’t it?” he asked the satyr that looked like Storm.
Storm gave an aggravated sigh, looking at him unhappily. “Yes, Twist. This is a dream. But if you had your watch, I would never be able to find you. You have to wake up and find it, fast! You’re not safe here!”
“Not safe from what?” Twist asked, smiling at the absurdity of this conversation.
Storm glared at him and opened his mouth to reply but paused when a distant sound wafted to them from afar. The sound struck Twist distinctly as a wild animal’s howl. Fright tingled up Twist’s spine as he began to hear the sound of heavy, galloping footfalls in the distance behind him.
“Run!” Storm shouted at him. “It’s the dragon!”
Twist needed no incentive. He turned and fled as quickly as he was able, with numb feet and no idea where he was going. Storm ran the other way, toward the advancing beast. Twist’s heart pounded in his chest as he clambered up a staircase-like embankment, into more open forest, and continued on as he heard the pounding footfalls draw closer and closer, no matter how he ran.
A hand suddenly closed on his wrist, pulling him to a stop. Twist called out in terror as he stumbled and fell to the snowy ground. A thick, freezing fog enveloped the world just as quickly, nearly blinding him. A second hand took hold of him tightly, and Twist snapped his eyes shut. He couldn’t bring himself to look on the face of the beast that would devour him.
“Open your eyes!” an odd, echoing voice called to him, from very near and very far at once.
So this evil dragon wanted to frighten him before it killed him, did it? Twist couldn’t give it the satisfaction of that. He would look on it without showing a moment of fear. Defiant rage opened Twist’s eyes finally, and he was startled as his vision revealed a dark, blurred world. The fog was gone, the trees and snow had vanished, but Twist understood that it was his vision that was blurry and not the world itself.
“Good, that’s it,” the voice said again, very close now. Twist blinked his vision clear to see Jonas kneeling over him, holding his arms as if he’d been shaking him. “Twist, are you all right?” Jonas asked, his eyes yellow with worry but his voice measured and calm.
Twist’s fear and anger gave way to utter confusion as he glanced around, while his vision began to clear. He seemed to be on the open deck of the Vimana, lying on his back in the same position he had felt himself fall into in the snowy forest. But hadn’t he gone to sleep in his bed, with Myra at his side?
“How did I get here?” Twist asked Jonas in a hollow voice.
“You were sleepwalking,” Jonas said gently, helping him to sit up on the wooden boards. Twist looke
d back to find that his friend’s eyes had taken on a purple hue. He kept his own eyes open, letting Jonas look at him, and felt the grounding weight of Jonas’s Sight against his own. “Do you remember what you were dreaming about?” Jonas asked him.
“Something about snow,” Twist muttered, struggling to remember as the images from his dream began to evaporate. “I think I was in a forest of some kind.”
“Was there anyone with you?” Jonas asked, his tone going cold.
Twist followed his meaning easily. The last time Kazan had appeared in Twist’s dreams, the dragon had killed Jonas right in front of him. Even seeing that Jonas was actually alive and perfectly unharmed right now, Twist still shuddered at the memory of that awful dream.
Twist shook his head. “I was being chased by something, but I never saw it. But it wasn’t just that. I think I saw Storm, too.”
“Storm?” Jonas asked, surprised. “Kima’s weird little boy?”
“Yes, but—” Twist’s mind stuck on Jonas’s description of Storm. It seemed strange to think of the boy in terms of his mother first. “He looked like a satyr,” Twist went on. “I think he was trying to protect me from…you know…”
“How do you feel now?” Jonas asked, reaching up to test the temperature of Twist’s brow with the backs of his fingers.
“I think I’m all right,” Twist said, feeling his rapidly beating heart begin to calm. His breath wasn’t very short, and he didn’t feel sick or like he was shaking. “Thank you for waking me,” he said, offering Jonas a weak smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever walked in my sleep before.”
“We’ll have to lock your door from now on,” Jonas said, seeming to relax a bit now as well.
It was then that Twist noticed that Jonas was in his sleeping clothes, his hair was a mess, and he looked rather tired and out of sorts. Guilt at waking him over such silly nonsense began to grow in the pit of Twist’s stomach.
“Jonas! He’s not below!” Myra’s voice called frantically from the stairway.
“I’ve found him!” Jonas called back to her.
Twist looked around Jonas to see Myra running closer with a horrified expression. “Twist! Oh, darling, I’m so sorry,” she moaned, dropping to her knees and taking him into her arms.
Jonas let him go without hesitation, still kneeling close beside them. In the absence of Jonas’s touch, Myra’s fear and bitter misery flooded into Twist’s Sight. He was lost for a moment, frighted and confused; her emotions felt unreasonably extreme.
“Why?” Twist managed to ask Myra. “What are you sorry for?”
Myra pulled back to look at him pitifully. “I fell asleep. I’m so sorry…” She raised a clockwork hand to her brow, looking as if she were about to cry.
“No, no,” Twist said instantly, forcing himself to smile sweetly despite his fear for her. “You shouldn’t be sorry. It’s not your fault. It’s not fair that you should have to stay awake, watching, all night long just for my sake.”
Myra shook her head. “Until this is all over, I will do all I can to help you. And thank you,” she said, turning to Jonas sheepishly. Twist felt a hot flash of frustration in her emotions, mingled with obvious shame. “I was so frightened when I woke up and he wasn’t there.”
“It’s no trouble, poppet,” Jonas responded with a smile, patting at her arm.
Myra forced a smile, but her frustration didn’t ebb. She looked back to Twist, her jewel eyes unreadable to him. Even with her feeling pulsing into his Sight, Twist found himself utterly at a loss to understand her. Jonas, meanwhile, didn’t seem to notice anything amiss.
“I’m very sorry I frightened you,” Twist offered, in hopes of calming Myra’s heart.
Myra smiled more warmly at this, but the expression still looked thin on her. “It’s not your fault, darling,” she said gently. “You were attacked.” Her smile vanished. “Because I wasn’t watching…” she muttered softly.
“Seriously, both of you stop apologizing,” Jonas said with a light smile.
Twist and Myra looked to him sheepishly.
“You’re both so polite that we could be here all day,” Jonas explained with only mild annoyance apparent in his otherwise friendly tone. “We’re all sorry. It’s no one’s fault. Now let’s move on, shall we?”
Myra seemed to sigh, but Twist felt her emotions loosen slightly in his Sight. Twist watched his friends helplessly as they both continued to not complain about their rude awakenings. They had each taken on the burden of caring for him, without any hesitation or shadow of regret, as if it were their duty. Seeing their unwavering devotion was staggering to him, no matter how often he saw it. He realized almost instantly, as well, that he would do exactly the same for either of them, if things were reversed.
When Jonas announced that it was only two hours before the time when they would usually wake up normally and suggested that the three of them freshen up and go out in search of a stiff drink and a reasonable breakfast, Twist didn’t refuse. Myra seemed to like the idea as well, and they each returned to their cabins, promising to meet on the deck again in a few minutes’ time.
While Twist buttoned up his shirt, Myra buffed her metal arms with a cotton cloth and stared absently into space. She already wore the long tunic and gathered trousers of her purple sari, but the long, translucent sash still sat folded on the dressing table. The silence in the room felt thick and heavy. Twist noticed the troubled look on her face and couldn’t bear to remain silent a moment longer.
“Darling?” he asked her gently, stepping closer.
Myra started, looking to him swiftly. “Yes?”
Twist tried to make his smile a bit warmer. “Are you all right, my dear?”
Myra stared back at him for a moment, her eyes filling with thoughts, but then she forced a smile and started buffing her other arm. “It’s nothing.”
Twist tried not to let his frustration show on his face. He considered reaching out to touch her, to get a glimpse of her emotions, but then remembered what had happened when he’d woken from his nightmare. He’d had a full view of her heart but still could make no sense of her mind. He struggled to come up with some ploy to get her to speak, but Myra suddenly gave a sigh and tossed the cotton rag at the dressing table in her own frustration.
“I hate this,” she declared, her tone remarkably sharp. “I hate things I can’t just fix.”
Twist was silent, confused by what it was that needed fixing.
“All I can do,” Myra went on, her bitter gaze locked on the dressing table, “is push your dreams away. I can’t make the monster stop. And when I get tired…” Her words faded as sorrow spread over her face. She looked to Twist miserably. “I just wish I could do more to help you.”
Twist stared back at her, bewildered. It seemed ridiculous that his having a nightmare could cause her so much grief. Certainly, were their situations reversed, Twist would be distressed as well. But to this extent?
“But you help me all the time,” Twist mentioned.
“I know…” Myra grumbled, clearly not at all calmed. She turned away from him and reached for the wide sash of her sari. “But with this damn beast attacking you all of the time, it’s like trying to fight that sandstorm outside. All one can do is hide and distract oneself until it’s over.” Her words grew bitter and biting as she looped the long, wide, purple fabric around herself and tugged it irritably into place.
“The gypsies should be able to make the beast leave me alone,” Twist offered. “We just have to be patient until we get to them.”
Myra stopped tugging at her sari and turned to him, her expression suddenly dismayed. “Oh, I’m sorry, dear!” she said, reaching for him. Myra wrapped him in her arms, holding him close while her misery poured into his Sight. “I don’t mean to complain so much. You have enough to worry about as it is, without me adding trouble to your life.”
Twist was once again stunned into silence at her strange interpretation of his words. Myra pulled back to look at him, and her face took on
a smile that seemed to warm her own heart. She stroked the edge of his face as her smile grew more sincere.
“After all,” she said, her tone suddenly confident and playful, “as your wife, it shall be my job to make your life a happy one. And I intend to take my job very seriously,” she added before leaning closer to kiss his cheek.
Twist smiled back to her, but his concern began to build. As pleasant as it might be to have someone in his life who spent great care to give him happiness, Twist couldn’t get past the simple fact that it seemed extremely unfair. After all, Twist was happy just to be with her. Myra didn’t need to do anything more than stand at his side. She certainly didn’t need to trouble herself over Twist’s feelings.
Myra didn’t seem to notice his hidden thoughts, as she turned away from him to tend to her wire hair, beginning to braid it down her back. Twist watched her carefully but now saw no sign of unhappiness in her. Rather than threaten her apparently fragile mood, Twist continued to dress and make himself ready for the day as well.
Finally, Twist reached down to snatch his pocket watch out from under his pillow. A bit of fluff was caught in the fine engraving on the cover—an image of a sun, surrounded by geometric symbols and shapes—so Twist brushed it off before he hooked the chain into his button hole and slipped the watch into his waistcoat pocket.
A sudden, sharp vibration sounded from Myra’s direction.
“Oh!” she gasped, reaching for the pendant watch that hung over her heart by a long chain. She smiled as she opened the cage over the watch face and then flicked the latch once again, and a deep blue light poured out of the little watch to light her face. “Skye?” she asked the watch happily.
“This is Rook central command, calling the civilian, Myra,” a voice said from within the watch. “Will you accept a call from the A.R.S.E?”
Twist couldn’t catch his snigger in time but managed to muffle his laughter as he silently chided himself for finding humor in something so juvenile.
“I’m sorry, who is calling?” Myra asked her watch, not seeming to catch the joke at all.
Family Page 4
