Timekeeper

by Tara Sim

  They drove in silence. Danny stared at his lap and wondered if there was a way everyone could win—a situation, however implausible, in which everyone he loved could have a happy ending just like in Colton’s fairy tales.

  “Here we are.” Cassie parked the auto a short distance from a sectioned-off plot of land, blocked from prying eyes by tall canvas dividers. Beyond those dividers lay the rubble of the tower.

  A few miles away, Danny could see the ominous gray dome of his father’s prison.

  “You’re the best mechanic in your class,” Cassie said. “Maybe something here will help you understand. Maybe it’ll help save Colton from the same fate.” Her hand slowly found Danny’s and squeezed. “I don’t want you to be wracked with guilt like Matthias is. Like I am.”

  It’s too late for that, Cass.

  Danny closed his eyes for a moment. He didn’t want to see the wreckage, the ruined dream he’d shared with his mother. But he had no choice. The attacks wouldn’t stop unless someone figured out what was causing them.

  He opened his eyes and nodded. They slipped out of the auto.

  Danny and Cassie lurked behind the bonnet, surveying the site where a few guards were patrolling.

  “I think I can get us through with my mechanic’s badge,” Danny said. “Want to give it a go?”

  When they approached an opening in the canvas, a guard with lips like a fish stopped them. “Hold on there. No one gets through without identification.”

  Danny showed his badge. “I’m a mechanic.”

  The guard scowled. “’Course you are, and I’m a ballerina.” He pointed sternly at the auto. “Out.”

  “You don’t believe me?” Danny shoved the badge in the guard’s face again. “I’m a bloody mechanic. It says so right here.”

  It was his age again. The guard had taken one look and dismissed them as children.

  The man pursed his thick lips in irritation. Cassie plucked Danny’s sleeve and they turned back toward her auto.

  “What, you’re just going to give up after driving all the way here?” Danny demanded.

  “No, I have an idea.”

  He didn’t like the look in her eyes. “Cassandra …”

  “Daniel.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “You’ll see, my chuckaboo. Wait here.”

  She hopped into the auto and started the engine. With a wink at him, she sped off. Toward the barricade.

  “Cass!”

  The auto hit the edge of a canvas divider and dragged it several feet, creating a wide opening. Guards shouted and ran after Cassie as she drove in circles. Danny caught a glimpse of her face and laughed. She was enjoying the hell out of this.

  Before anyone could see him, he ducked through the gap.

  When he laid eyes on what was left of the tower, his breath caught. He wasn’t prepared for the reality of the tower’s destruction that now spread before him.

  Rubble was everywhere. The base of the tower was intact, but stood sadly empty, the rest of the structure lying in jagged pieces like a neglected puzzle. He walked through the debris, kicking up mortar dust that stung his eyes.

  “God,” he whispered as he sank to his knees. He touched a loose brick and shivered. What if this had been Colton’s tower? Pressing the back of a hand against his mouth, Danny closed his eyes and fought the rising panic within him.

  When he’d composed himself, he pawed through the rubble searching for something helpful. Wooden beams jutted up from the base, broken and skeletal. Shards of metal glinted in the sun. Danny found a small gear and picked it up.

  A sensation rippled up his arm, there and gone too quickly to process. It was almost like how the air warped when he touched Colton, subtle but powerful. In this case, it was barely detectable. The air smelled sharp and metallic, the scent before a lightning storm. His scalp prickled.

  Had the tower worked, then?

  He remembered when he’d accidentally cut his thumb in Colton’s tower. He thought about Lucas in this tower, a gear slicing into his chest, spilling his blood. His own blood seeping onto the floor of the Shere tower, time flickering around him.

  Danny dropped the gear.

  What does it mean?

  “All right, you’ve had your fun.” A guard grabbed his elbow and dragged him out of the enclosure. Fish Lips had a hand wrapped around Cassie’s arm outside.

  “Hand over your identification without fuss,” Fish Lips growled. “We’ll be informing your parents about this little adventure of yours.” Cassie groaned.

  “Be thankful we’re not hauling you off to the jailhouse,” Danny’s guard said. “We see you here again, you’ll have more than the Lead Mechanic to answer to.”

  Cassie met Danny’s eyes and shrugged in apology.

  But he had found something, even if that something only meant more questions.

  Danny used the mechanics’ library to hide from the world and think. The room was dim and crowded with shelves, perfect for secreting himself away. He found a table in a chilly corner and barricaded it with books. Books he’d already read, books he’d studied for classes, books he hadn’t even touched yet.

  He scoured them all, fingertip edging down the pages, but he found nothing useful. Nothing about what he had felt at the Maldon ruins or what had happened when he nicked his thumb in Enfield. There was a list of Stopped towns and cities around the world: Sorell, Yangzhou, Kaplice. None of it explained how to free them.

  There was one book, written by clock enthusiast Phoebe Archer, that he pored over the most. She had written about Aetas, detailing the fall of the Gaian gods from modern religion, and how he had been killed by his own creator. How the clock towers had produced not only time, but an increasing demand for technology, feeding into a long and prosperous Industrial Revolution. She described the clock towers being tied to the composition of the human physique. Maybe she meant the spirits. Maybe she meant something else.

  No closer to an answer, Danny closed the book with a loud thud.

  There were no protesters when he left the office and boarded an omnibus. There had been no demonstrating at all, in fact, since the fall of the new Maldon tower. Now that they’d gotten what they wanted, maybe there was nothing left for them to do. Maybe they were scared to come back and face the wrath of the mechanics.

  When Danny got off the bus a little ways from his house, something compelled him to look across the street just as his mother disembarked her own omnibus.

  He ducked behind a letter box. He had no idea why; he would see her at home. Yet the thought of meeting her in the street was odd to him.

  Part of him, a stupid, childlike part, still yearned for his mother. The old Leila—not this new, hollow one. A Leila who thought her son could do no wrong. Who had once made him feel safe. In another life, he could have gone to her about Colton. He could have confided in her how each senseless bombing set off an earthquake in his chest.

  But that Leila had long ago disappeared.

  Danny watched as she spoke with a friend at the curb. Her lips turned up in a smile, deepening the lines around her mouth. Danny had forced enough of his own smiles to recognize one when he saw it. The other woman put a hand on Leila’s arm before turning away.

  Leila stood there a moment longer, her hat crookedly perched on her head. The sight of it pained him. His hand twitched, longing to jog across the street and straighten it for her.

  She heaved a sigh and slouched forward, pulling a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbing her eyes as her shoulders jerked in a quiet sob.

  Go to her, Danny told himself. But he couldn’t move.

  Sniffing, his mother turned to trudge the rest of the way home. She slowed when she noticed the confectionery shop, disappearing inside and emerging a few minutes later with a small wrapped parcel.

  Danny waited a moment before following at a slower pace. At home, a lamp in the kitchen had been lit, but a creak upstairs told him she was already in her bedroom.

  In the kitc
hen, a square of gingerbread wrapped in cloth sat waiting on the table.

  “You can’t eat all of it,” his mother scolded from the past, even as he had grabbed for it with the small greedy hands of a child. “Save some for after supper.”

  But then she would turn from cooking and find his face sticky with crumbs and the gingerbread completely gone, and she’d laugh helplessly.

  The echo of laughter faded until the kitchen was silent and cold. He touched the edges of the cloth.

  Nothing was ever simple.

  Danny climbed the stairs with the gingerbread, unable to eat it yet. At his mother’s door, he hesitated, then lifted a hand and quietly knocked.

  Leila opened the door, looking as surprised as he felt. “Danny. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Uh …” He cleared his throat. “How was your day, Mum?”

  “Oh. The usual sort of nonsense.” She paused. “Lottie is still dull as a pickle. Mr. Howard had a shouting match with the secretary.” Leila shrugged. It was his own shrug, sharp and quick.

  Danny knew she wouldn’t say more. Wouldn’t talk about the long periods of drowning silence, or the weight she had lost. He nodded absently. “Good. Um, thank you. For …” He lifted the gingerbread.

  She smiled, a small thing, but this time it wasn’t forced. It was softer. More like the old Leila.

  “You’re welcome.” She lifted her hand, perhaps unthinkingly, and paused again. When she reached out and swept the hair off his forehead, it was almost as if a ghost was carrying out the action. “Get to bed. You look exhausted.”

  He would never have his mother back the way she used to be. But the old Leila was still somewhere in this house, held in the cracks and the foundation.

  The Lead had reprimanded Danny for visiting the ruined Maldon tower a few days before. He’d issued no punishment this time, on account of Danny’s “personal interest” in the tower. His reprimand, however, was followed by uncomfortable questions about Danny’s health, a punishment in and of itself. Danny had said whatever was necessary to get out of the Lead’s office as quickly as possible.

  Then there was Cassie, who used every meeting as an opportunity to demand more information about Colton. She said an explanation was the least Danny could offer, after the constable had stopped by and her mother had given her the tongue-lashing of a lifetime.

  Desperate for a reprieve, Danny sighed in relief when he found another Enfield job in Daphne’s folder. The gear chain needed to be checked and the clock face needed cleaning. Danny all but flew to the town.

  When he arrived at the tower, Colton was standing at the window. Spotting Danny, he raised the sash and leaned out.

  There was no one on the street or on the village green behind him. Overcome by sudden giddiness, Danny struck a gallant pose. “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your fair hair!”

  Colton grinned and shook his bright blond locks. “Too short for that, I’m afraid. You’ll have to use the door.”

  “That’s not very romantic.”

  Danny hurried inside and bounded up the stairs, eager to be with Colton before Brandon arrived. He had brought a book of Norse mythology and wanted to take his mind off of everything that had happened, if only for an hour.

  Unfortunately, Brandon was waiting in the pendulum room. Danny stopped short.

  “’Lo,” said Brandon. “We’ll wind it first, yeah?”

  “Uh, sure.”

  They got right down to business, and Danny’s heart weighed heavy again with disappointment. Brandon was abnormally chatty as they worked. He had been kinder to Danny since Lucas’s death, or perhaps he had simply become used to Danny’s oddness.

  Cleaning the clock face was the longest and hardest process, something the maintenance crew hated doing. Danny couldn’t blame them; the height never got any easier. Thankfully, he had something to distract him: every time he looked up, he caught sight of golden hair as Colton waved.

  Tired but satisfied, Danny and Brandon pulled themselves back inside the tower. Brandon stretched his arms with a satisfied groan. “What’re you doing after this?”

  Danny looked up from rolling down his shirtsleeves. “I thought I’d—”

  “Stay up here like a hermit? Come to the pub with me. You owe me five drinks, remember?”

  Danny tried to think of a good excuse to stay behind, but Brandon had already shrugged on his coat. Danny looked around and saw Colton standing near the door, frowning.

  “I’m not sure …”

  “I won’t bite your head off,” Brandon said. “Come on.” He turned to walk down the stairs.

  Danny grabbed his coat, hesitated, and spotted Colton close by. His nearly-invisible eyebrows were set at a gloomy angle, his mouth turned down in disappointment. Danny gave him a helpless look, whispered, “Sorry,” and descended after Brandon.

  His feet thumped heavily on each stair. Brandon snorted at his expression. “Don’t look too put out.”

  “Sorry. I was just thinking about something.”

  “And what would that be?”

  Danny didn’t want to bring up the Maldon tower or Lucas, so he settled for one of his lesser fears at the moment. “My mother interviewed for a job a couple of weeks ago …”

  They walked to the pub, hands in their pockets and heads bent against the wind. It was growing dark already, the clouds on the horizon stained pink. When they opened the door, lively noise escaped and sucked them inside.

  The townsfolk roared with approval at their presence, beckoning the pair to join them. They sat at a small table near the back and were plied with drunken praise and well-wishes until a tall woman pushed past the worshippers to take Danny’s and Brandon’s orders.

  Danny sat passing his beer mug from hand to hand, legs fidgeting under the table. He wanted to see Colton before he left for home, but if he got in too late, his mother would worry.

  “So you don’t want your mum to run off,” Brandon said.

  “I’m just not sure I want to live alone.”

  “And you don’t want to move with her?”

  “God, no. I never want to leave London. It’s my home. It’s—well, it’s London.”

  Brandon nodded. “I’d never leave London if I could help it. Got my brother and sisters, though, so I don’t have to worry about that.” He took a sip. “I’m sorry, mate. About your father and all that. Lost my own dad some time back.” Brandon took out his tiger’s eye marble and began to roll it between his fingers. “Not in Maldon, though. The white plague.”

  Many in the city had died of consumption, the illness stripping flesh from bones as their bodies wasted away. He could only imagine what Brandon must have gone through as his father lay coughing away his life.

  “Don’t have much of him now, save for a box of his old things. I found this in there a month after he died.” He showed off the black and amber marble. “I used to play marbles with him all the time. I snatched it before the younger ones could take it.”

  Danny lowered his eyes, feeling a twinge of guilt for having nicked it earlier. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  He knew what would come next. Brandon would say Danny was lucky his father was still alive, just unreachable. Others had said the same, not knowing the words landed like knives.

  But Brandon only sighed and shook his head. “Damn shame.”

  They sat in easy silence until Danny asked about Brandon’s family. Brandon was more than glad to list them off, from his older brother who flew airships for the military to his youngest sister who was barely out of nappies. Whom he liked best, whom he liked least, and why he would fight to the death for them either way. Danny was both fascinated and jealous. If he had a brother or sister to share the house with, his mother leaving wouldn’t have been so painful.

  If only Colton could leave his tower.

  The conversation shifted from high to low places, from amusing stories to sad ones. When Danny finally looked at his timepiece, he groaned.

  “It’s nearly eleven! I need to h
ead home.”

  Brandon checked his own timepiece. “Ah, look at that.”

  “Er …”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m a little confused,” Danny confessed. “About why you did this tonight.”

  “How long has it been since you’ve made a night of it?”

  Danny didn’t answer, but it was as good as an admission. Brandon shook his head.

  “I was the same after my dad passed. Wouldn’t let myself have fun, or talk to my friends. You can’t let it take over your life. Your dad wouldn’t want that, I’m sure.”

  Why were others always telling him what his father would or would not want?

  Still, Danny knew Brandon had a point. He fiddled with his timepiece before pocketing it. “I suppose I do need to get out more.”

  “Sure do. Elsewise you’ll end up making enemies left and right. Give others a chance, yeah?”

  Danny wondered if this had been Brandon’s idea of making Danny feel better. “I reckon I should. Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me; you bought the drinks.” Brandon scraped his chair legs back to stand. “Until next time.”

  They parted at the door. The streets were dark and quiet. Danny shivered; the pub had been warm, but out here the icy finger of winter stroked down his spine.

  As he headed for the clock tower, a hand touched his arm.

  “Danny, is it?”

  It was the young man who had danced with him on St. Andrew’s Day. Harland. His teeth shone like pearls in the moonlight. Danny returned the smile, still a little woozy.

  “What are you doing out so late?”

  “I was having a pint.”

  “Want to take a walk and clear your head? Looks like you need it.”

  Danny wanted to go to the tower, but Brandon’s words about giving people a chance were still busy in his head, so he agreed. They started down the road and around the corner, toward the shops. Danny didn’t come this way often, and he let Harland direct their feet.

  “The whole town admires you, you know,” Harland said suddenly. Danny nearly tripped.