by Tara Sim
“I doubt that, what with all the problems the tower’s had.”
“They admire your dedication. You come here just to make sure the clock’s running. No other mechanic would do that.”
Danny was sure they wouldn’t be nearly as impressed if they knew his real reasons, but before he could say anything Harland took his arm. He led Danny behind a shop, where an awning shadowed the ground from moonlight.
“What’s the real reason you come here so often?” he asked.
Danny opened his mouth, shocked. Had he caught on? Did he know about Colton?
“I just want to fix the clock,” Danny said feebly.
Harland leaned in closer. “I think there’s another reason.”
Danny’s heart was pounding. He felt sick. Harland knew. He would tell someone, and then Danny would be exiled, and—
“It’s to see me, isn’t it?”
Neither said a word for a moment. Then Danny snorted, and tried to cover it up with a cough. “I think you have the wrong idea.”
“Why else would you come?” Harland demanded. “I see the looks you give me.” He stroked the side of Danny’s face with slow, steady fingers.
Their faces were very close, now. “I …”
“Yes?”
But Danny couldn’t speak, and in the silence his mouth was covered by Harland’s. He inhaled through his nose, remembering the way Barnaby had kissed him, soft and uncertain. Harland was a boy who knew what he was about.
He pressed Danny against the wall. Danny made a muffled noise, surprising himself. It felt nice, the chill replaced with welcome warmth. Danny closed his eyes, forgetting where he was.
The thunderous clang of tower bells struck the air.
Breaking open the night.
Danny’s eyes flew open. He tried to squirm out of his hold, but Harland was determined. Danny grunted in annoyance as Harland parted his lips with an insistent tongue.
He did the only thing he could think of: he bit down.
Harland yelped and backed away, stumbling from the shadows into the moonlight. He touched his tongue to see if he was bleeding, then glared at Danny.
“What was that for?”
Danny fought for air. “You’ve got the wrong idea.”
“You were just kissing me.”
“That was a mistake.”
“What, don’t like blokes?”
“No, I—I have someone else.”
“Then why did you lead me on just now?”
“I didn’t. You assumed.”
They stared at each other. Then Harland stood straighter, pulled on his shirt, and ran a hand through his hair. “So it is the clock,” he muttered. “You’re in love with that old thing.”
“Don’t talk about it that way,” Danny snapped, then bit his lips.
Harland’s eyes widened. “I was joking. Are you in love with the clock?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ve heard about Maldon.” Danny flinched. “Can’t blame me for wondering.”
“I work a lot. I need to distract myself from other things, so I work a lot. That’s all it is.”
Danny held his breath in the new silence. Finally, Harland looked down.
“Fine. Forget this happened.”
Danny watched him walk away. He didn’t know what to feel: embarrassment, anger, or regret.
You’ve heard about Maldon.
Danny walked back to his auto. He stared at Colton Tower and thought he could see someone in one of the small windows. Danny wanted to go to him, and at the same time, he wanted to drive away as fast as he could.
His lips still warm from Harland’s kiss, he got in his auto and drove back to London.
Danny didn’t know what to expect when he drove to Enfield two days later. He hadn’t been able to think of anything besides Colton, Lucas, and the destroyed Maldon tower—unless that thing happened to be Harland.
He didn’t want Harland. That wasn’t the issue. But with that small interaction, Danny had once again been reminded of his stupidity. A relationship with a clock spirit was dangerous. What did he think would happen? That he could live his life with a spirit for a lover and never tell anyone? What sort of life would that be?
Matthias’s life, he answered grimly. And look how that turned out.
Danny sighed and parked the auto. The town was quiet today. Hardly anyone was outside.
When Colton laughed, the tower was bright and hummed with power. Now it felt cold and barren. Danny shivered as he climbed the stairs, dread deepening with each foot’s landing. By the time he reached the clock room, he had prepared himself for the worst.
“Colton?”
He took off his coat and turned. Colton sat on a box, staring at him, bereft of his normal smile. For the first time that Danny could remember, Colton’s face was perfectly blank. It scared him.
“What are you doing here?” Colton asked. His voice was flat.
Danny fiddled with the chain of his timepiece. “What do you mean? Of course I came.”
Colton glanced at the clock face. “The tower doesn’t need repairing.”
The chill in the room intensified. Danny was sure he wasn’t imagining it. “Don’t you want me here?”
“Is that the only reason you came?”
Danny took a few steps forward. He didn’t like the distance between their bodies. “No. I wanted to see you. Did you …” Heat crawled across his face, almost painful against the cold room. “Did you, um, see what happened with Harland?”
Colton’s eyes hardened. The tick of the clock grew louder.
“That didn’t mean anything. He had the wrong idea. I don’t come to Enfield to be with Harland, I come here to be with you.”
“But you said—” Colton clenched his jaw and his fists. “You still kissed him. I saw you. You liked it, too.”
Guilt hooked Danny’s navel and pulled. “All right, maybe I did, but I’d had a few drinks and—”
“You kissed him and said you don’t care about the clock tower.”
“What?” Danny almost wanted to laugh. “That wasn’t what I—”
Colton winked out of view. He winked back so close that Danny could see the hurt in his eyes. Danny made an effort not to take a step back.
“Tell me the truth,” Colton demanded. “Would you rather be with him? Another human?”
“No! It’s not like that at all.”
“Then why don’t you kiss me like that?”
Danny gaped at him, silently adding this to the list of things he had never expected to happen: being confronted by a jealous clock spirit. “I wasn’t sure how.”
Colton’s eyes shifted, but his face was unyielding. He appeared to think something over, then nodded to himself and came closer. “I’ve seen it enough times.” Colton grabbed Danny’s vest and pulled him in.
The kiss thrilled him, but in a terrifying way. Colton pressed Danny in closer and closer until he thought he would break. Part of him wanted the breaking, the snap and pain of it, the surrender. Danny couldn’t get any words around Colton’s lips. He pushed back, and they lost their balance and fell to the floor.
Colton pressed him down with his hips and something exploded through Danny’s body, dangerous and burning. They had never kissed this way before—greedy, demanding, rough.
He liked it.
Colton’s fingers slid over Danny’s bare stomach even as his tongue slid into his mouth. Danny shuddered and gripped his arms hard enough to leave bruises, if Colton had a normal body. He knew this should stop, but another part of him was entranced, asking, What next? What’s he going to do?
Danny wanted to find out.
It didn’t feel like it had with Harland. That kiss had been disposable, there and gone like melting snow. This was a sunburn. Lingering. Scorching.
Colton’s fingers slipped into his trousers.
He arched his head back and Colton kissed a path down the exposed slope of his throat, nipped the beating pathway of
his pulse. He couldn’t think. Nothing in the world existed except for Colton’s mouth and his hand. God, his hand. A word left his mouth in a whisper—“please,” maybe, or Colton’s name. Colton answered by fusing their lips back together.
Danny’s lungs screamed, but he didn’t dare stop. He traced the hard lines of Colton’s collarbones, the smooth plane of his neck. He buried his hand in the spirit’s hair and sighed against his mouth. He would gladly give him all his air, if only that’s what it took to breathe life into him.
Time compressed around them. It lay against his skin, then sent a jolt deep into his chest. Not its usual, gentle hold, but a jagged pain like teeth being pulled.
Danny winced and looked out of the corner of his eye. The hands of the clock were zooming around the face, the light outside dimming rapidly.
With Herculean effort he wrenched his mouth away.
“STOP!”
Colton looked at the clock face in horror. He crawled off of Danny and sat on the dusty floorboard, holding his head in his hands, eyes closed tight. Danny sat up and watched him, breaths coming in short gasps.
Slowly, gradually, the clock hands stopped. They quivered in indecision, then began to move backward, the light outside brightening from night to late afternoon. The tick tocks resumed once the hands found their rightful place earlier in the day.
They sat unmoving on the floor, too afraid to speak. Danny slowly put himself back together, his lips swollen. He could feel his pulse in them. Could feel his pulse everywhere, even in the churn of the clockwork below.
The silence was loud and oppressive. He stood on weak legs and grabbed his coat.
“This can’t go on,” he said, his voice wavering.
Colton didn’t look up, didn’t move. Danny turned and made for the stairs.
A small crowd headed by the mayor had formed outside the tower, demanding to know what had gone wrong. Their day had suddenly turned into night, time slipping by with frightening speed. Danny apologized and told them something had happened to the pendulum while he was straightening up. But it was all right now, really. His mistake. They patted his back and nervously said that he would learn; no harm was done.
You’re wrong, he wanted to tell them.
Too shocked to drive, he turned for the pub. The other patrons left Danny alone when they realized he was in a bad mood. He guzzled two pints, barely pausing for air. Then he laid his head on his arms.
It was mad to have these feelings for a clock spirit. Seeing this new side to Colton, this startling jealousy, confirmed there was no going back on his emotions now. Just as Matthias had been ensnared by the spirit in Maldon, so too was Danny caught by Colton. And if anything should happen to Danny—if he left—Colton might do something they would all regret.
But he promised. He loves the town too much.
If only Danny could talk to the spirit of Maldon, and ask how one prevented grief.
Danny finally mustered up his courage to return to the tower. By then dusk had naturally faded into early night, and the wind was freezing. He stood in the road and sighed, watching his breath become vapor, like he had turned into a steam-driven machine. He caught motion out of the corner of his eye and turned his head.
Colton stood behind the hedge, looking at him.
Surprise jolted Danny from his stupor. He didn’t feel himself move when the spirit beckoned him over. Colton’s skin and hair glowed faintly in the moonlight. He gave Danny a tiny, tired smile.
“What are you doing out here?” Danny demanded, shock quickly making way for fear. “I thought you couldn’t leave your tower.”
Colton shook his head. “I can leave, but not for too long. The farther away from my clockwork I am, the weaker I get.”
Looking more closely, Danny realized that Colton seemed to be drooping ever so slightly, his voice a little slower and strained at the edges.
“How long have you been out here?”
“Not long.” Danny should have known not to ask. Days felt like hours to the spirit.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Danny scolded, but gently. “I don’t want you doing anything that will harm you.”
“I’m not harming myself.” At Danny’s look, Colton sheepishly averted his gaze. “Not now, anyway.” He took Danny’s hand and the air warped around them. “Come on.”
They walked along the hedge, down the lane to the church garden. Danny saw the shadow of Aetas’s shrine, the god’s hands lifted in either offering or forgiveness. The honeysuckle’s white petals seemed to reflect Colton’s faint glow, a glow that was getting weaker by the minute.
“Colton …”
“Don’t worry, I’m fine.” He faced Danny, his expression grim. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that. When I saw that other boy kissing you, I felt this horrible …” He pressed a hand to his chest. “I don’t know what humans call it.”
“Jealousy.”
“Yes, that’s it. And I didn’t want to feel it. But then I was so angry. Not at you, or at him. Just angry. For this.” He gestured toward the clock tower. “Angry that I have to stay here, and that you have to go. That I ruin time whenever I’m happy or sad. That I can’t control what I feel to begin with. Clocks aren’t supposed to feel, Danny. They’re just objects.”
Danny thought of the newly destroyed Maldon tower. Was that the difference, then? Clocks needed spirits to live, or else they were just objects.
Colton reached into Danny’s pocket and drew out his timepiece. He opened it and watched the second hand tick around the face. “Look at it. It’s lifeless. So why am I like this?”
Danny wrapped his hand around Colton’s. Together they closed the timepiece with a soft click. “Clocks aren’t lifeless, Colton. They are life. Time makes things grow, and it makes them die. Time moves everything forward.”
“But that’s just it,” Colton whispered. “Someday, you’ll be gone. You should be with that other boy. You’ll both age, while I …” He lowered his eyes. “Why do I have to be this way? I want …” He trailed off, and Danny thought of the last time he had said it. It doesn’t matter what I want.
“I want to be normal,” Colton said instead.
Danny stood at a loss, unsure what to say. He glanced at the shrine, at the form of the god Colton had descended from.
He pocketed his timepiece and swept back a lock of Colton’s hair, touching the side of his face. Colton pressed his cheek into Danny’s hand, hungry for contact.
“Can I tell you a secret?” Danny asked. Colton nodded. “I don’t want you to be normal.”
The spirit frowned. “Why?”
“Because that’s why I liked you in the first place. You’re not normal. There’s only one of you in the whole world. There’s a spirit of a boy, who is also the spirit of a clock, and his name is Colton.” He swept his thumb over Colton’s cheek. “And he’s mine.”
Slowly, the spirit smiled. There was too much left unsaid, so they didn’t say anything.
Eventually, Colton took Danny’s hand and laid something on his palm.
“I wanted to give this to you.”
Danny held it up to his eyes. It was a tiny cog, about the size of a sixpence. The spokes were caked in grime, the metal rusting.
“I found this the other day in some crevice. Another mechanic removed it a long time before you came, so don’t worry, I’m not missing any parts. He just forgot to pick it up when he replaced it with a new one.” Colton smiled again when Danny looked up from the cog. “I thought you might like to have it.”
Much like touching Colton, holding the cog gave him the feeling that time was aware of his existence. The sensation felt so familiar, so comforting, that he wondered why people feared its passing. He took Colton’s hand in his free one, strengthening that feeling until he was convinced that so long as they stood there, between the hedge and the night-blooming flowers, time would be kind and allow them to stay this way for as long as they desired.
The dirigible wasn’t as crowded as a publ
ic transport airship, but Daphne still felt claustrophobic. She kept twirling a long strand of hair around her finger—around and around and around—and then letting it unravel like a skein of yarn. She had seated herself in a pocket of the dirigible’s gondola, the only passenger in the small cabin.
Daphne had always been fascinated by airships, but that wasn’t why she rode one today. She had an assignment all the way in Dover. Things had been a little off at the clock tower. There were mechanics in the field who could pop over and have a look, but London was the clock mechanic hub of southeast England, and the Lead preferred to send his mechanics to investigate disturbances.
Strangely, though she’d been assigned to Enfield, she hadn’t received any assignments there. Maybe Danny Hart had already done all the necessary work. She thought again about his eyes, green and desperate and so, so sad. Saying no to him had been hard, but she’d had no choice.
And she couldn’t help thinking that there was something off about him. Something secretive that kept her guard up.
The loud whirring of the engine was strangely soothing, and being hundreds of feet from the ground relaxed her. She looked out the window at the low-hanging clouds. The dirigible started venting gas in preparation for descent and the clouds drew closer and closer until the ship passed right through them, like a submarine sinking into a cottony sea.
Once out of the clouds, she could see Dover below. It was a small town at the very edge of the country, right where land met sea. Beyond the sheer white cliffs of the shore lay the Strait of Dover, and beyond that, France.
The dirigible would land just outside the town and an auto would drive her to the tower. This was a one-day job; Daphne disliked overnight assignments. The London office usually made sure their mechanics didn’t need to be away longer than absolutely necessary, just in case something happened in the field.
She thought about Lucas and shuddered.
The whir of the dirigible grew louder as it landed. Steam belched from the engine and the ground crew ran about in preparation below. When the ship came within a dozen feet of the ground, the engine sputtered and came to a stop as the gas did the rest. The ship slowly drifted down, where the crew grabbed hold of its mooring ropes to secure it to the mast. Daphne collected her bag and slung it over her shoulder.
