Firestarter

by Tara Sim

  Edmund had been lurking by the door, and now interrupted. “We need more information. Z, tell them.”

  “Tell us what?” Prema asked.

  “We have a lead.” Zavier smiled briefly, but it was cold. “Builders have been seen in Austria. Near Dürnstein.”

  “There’s an impressive clock tower there,” Edmund added. “They might be setting up a preemptive attack in case we head that way, or maybe they’re studying it.”

  “Whatever their motive, I agree we need more information.” Zavier pointed the pen at Colton. “Speak to the Dürnstein spirit and report back with what they say.”

  Colton nodded once and left the office. Daphne was waiting outside, nervously tapping her fingers on her thighs. She straightened when she saw him.

  “How’s Danny?” he asked before she could ask about the mission.

  She sighed. “Feverish. Charlotte is looking at him now.” Daphne hesitated. “He’s been asking for you.”

  He looked down the hall to his left. Toward Danny’s room.

  “I’ve been given another assignment,” he said. “Austria, this time.”

  She made an aggravated noise, but whether it was toward Zavier’s assignment or Colton leaving, he couldn’t be sure. “What do I tell Danny when he wakes up and asks for you again?”

  “Tell him …” The words wouldn’t come; there were too many he wanted to voice, and too many that refused to be spoken. “Tell him I’ll be back soon.”

  Akash flew them to the outer edges of Dürnstein once the Prometheus was close enough. They stayed well back from the river, unwilling to expose themselves in such a small town, especially one overrun by Builders.

  As in Khurja, Zavier chose the landing party to best blend into their surroundings. Felix, a native Austrian, had been asked to go, but Charlotte had made the point that he’d been through enough on the Prague mission. Instead, Akash stayed by the Silver Hawk as Colton, Edmund, and Liddy strolled into town, which was situated by a wide, dark river and cradled on its other side by craggy, tree-covered hills. Across the river were vast fields of what Colton thought might be grapevines.

  Even from a distance, he could see the clock tower rising over the small, quaint buildings dotting the river’s edge.

  “It’s blue,” he said in surprise.

  “All the better to stand out.” Edmund touched the metallic rod at his belt, looking uneasy. “Remember, look like you belong here. Anyone gives us so much as a sideways glance, we’ll need to pop out.”

  “Zavier said to gather as much information as we can before that,” Liddy reminded him.

  “We will, don’t get your knickers in a bunch.”

  Zavier had wanted to come on the mission himself, but Jo had put her foot down, claiming he needed time to recover. It seemed there was at least one person who could give Zavier orders.

  Colton liked the look of the town. High above the brown-shingled roofs he could see a crumbling ruin perched on a hill, a remnant of the past.

  “That’s the old castle,” Edmund said, following his gaze. “Odd, isn’t it? Such a tiny place having its own castle.”

  Colton imagined Enfield with its own castle. He ached at the thought of his town, and worried about the state he’d left it in.

  All these months will feel like a second to them, he thought sadly. All this life they’re missing …

  It started to rain lightly as they entered the town proper. The streets were narrow, the buildings pressing in on them from every side. They followed the river down a dirt path, ducking behind a pink building with a clear view of the clock tower.

  From far away it was impressive, but up close, it was astounding. It was sculpted with grand flourishes and molding, the light blue exterior trimmed in white. There were two sets of clock faces: a small black one halfway up, and a larger, more elaborate one at the top, white with golden numerals and hands, surrounded on either side by carvings and sculptures of men he didn’t recognize. The building was topped with a large cross.

  Other statues decorated the tower, gray and weathered. A few cherubs frolicked around the courtyard, their small legs dangling over the railing or hanging onto the platforms where the statues stood.

  “It’s beautiful,” Colton said. He was immensely glad Zavier had agreed to not destroy this one.

  “It is a gawker,” Edmund agreed. “But those two bleeders are marring the scene a bit. Think they’re Builders?”

  Two men—flesh, not stone—stood in the tower’s courtyard. They wore jumpsuits a few shades darker than the tower, along with wide belts and tall boots. One of them carried a gun.

  “They look like they’re waiting for someone to come out,” Liddy said. “More of them inside, probably.”

  “Damn.” Edmund leaned against the building and raked his wet hair back. “Guess we’ll have to wait.”

  Colton looked at the tower again, taking in all its details and carvings and potential footholds.

  “Oy, what’re you doing?” Liddy whispered sharply as Colton darted forward.

  “You want information on the Builders, don’t you?”

  The others shared a look. “Colton,” Liddy began, but Edmund held up a hand to stop her.

  “Let him go.” He nodded toward the tower. “Just be careful, all right? And make sure you aren’t seen.”

  “I won’t be.”

  Colton moved around the buildings, following the river, eyes always on the tower. Beneath each of the clock faces were dark windows he could easily fit through.

  When he reached the base of the tower, he peered around the corner. The two Builders were still waiting, looking bored. One of them poked at a cherub with his gun and said something that made the other laugh.

  Colton found his first handhold and pushed himself up, reveling in the lightness of his body, the surety of knowing exactly where he planned to go. He’d climbed around his own tower so often that the movements were easy, familiar. The only tricky part was not being seen.

  No alarm was raised, so he continued ascending. His hair and clothes were damp from the rain, and his hands slipped more than once. When he got to the window, the wind picked up, and he clung harder to the small ledge just under it.

  He carefully crouched on the ledge and pressed his face to the dark glass. He thought he could make out the shape of two people looking up at the softly glowing clock faces. Colton tensed, but they didn’t appear to notice him. After a few minutes, they moved toward the stairs.

  Once they were gone, he opened the window as quietly as he could. He hopped soundlessly down and crept toward the darkened staircase.

  “How did you make the other one come out?” asked a man below.

  “You have to threaten it somehow,” replied a woman with a deep voice. “It might just be shy. No matter—as soon as the tower’s torn down, we’ll get a new one.”

  “Will those children come running when we do?”

  “I’m still waiting for my contact to confirm, but I believe so. Until then, we’ll continue the work in Prague and see what we come up with.”

  “About that … The citizens are resisting our rebuilding efforts.”

  The woman didn’t say anything for some time. “We’ll have to delay the mission here so that I may pay the city a visit, then,” she said at last. “And show how their beloved clockmaker pales in comparison to what we can provide them.” The sound of a door opening and closing echoed up the stairs.

  The back of Colton’s neck prickled, and he whirled around. A middle-aged man stood across the room, staring inquisitively at him. His skin was pale, almost blue, but his hair was silver and his eyes were amber. He wore a simple homespun shirt and dark trousers.

  “What are you doing here?” the man demanded. Like in Khurja, Colton understood him, though the spirit’s words were heavily accented.

  “I came to say hello,” Colton said slowly, “and to ask what you know about those people who just left.”

  The spirit scowled. “If you are with them, get o
ut of my tower.”

  “No, I’m not with them. I’m like you. Can’t you can feel that?”

  The man examined him, eyes trailing up and down his body. “Strange.”

  “Yes, it is, isn’t it?” Colton swept the wet hair from his forehead. “What did they want?”

  The spirit raised his eyes to the clock faces. “They wanted to speak to me, but I didn’t reveal myself, not even when one drew blood.”

  Dread pooled inside him. So they did know.

  “It felt … wrong,” the spirit whispered. “The blood.”

  Colton thought back to Danny’s blood in the Prometheus’s hallway, the buzzing warning of it. “What did they want to speak to you about?”

  “They asked if I had dreams, and what they were about.”

  “And do you? Have dreams?”

  “Sometimes.” The spirit looked up again, sad. “I dream about a family. A little girl who sits on my shoulders. And I dream of leaves and vines.”

  Colton thought of the vineyards across the river. “If those people come back, you can’t tell them anything. These are our secrets. They want to do something to your tower, and we can’t let them.”

  The spirit’s eyes flashed. “I will protect my tower.”

  “Good.” Colton hesitated, not wanting to ask, but still needing to know. “Are there any bad dreams? Anything with—with time or … or violence?”

  The spirit’s thick eyebrows drew together. “No,” he said eventually. “Not that I can remember. Except … I did dream, once, of an axe. And pain.”

  Colton shuddered. “Thank you.”

  He wondered if he ought to go back down the way he’d come, but decided enough time had passed since the Builders left. He crept down the stairs, past the swinging pendulum, to the door. Opening it a crack, he cautiously looked for signs of the Builders, but they were all gone.

  The rain had created puddles in the courtyard. Crossing it, he looked back up, marveling at the beauty of the tower. His own tower seemed so ugly by comparison, especially with the damage it had sustained.

  Touching his right side, he started down the path when his neck prickled again. He turned back slowly, wondering if the spirit had recalled something more, but received a worse shock: one of the Builders was standing in the middle of the road.

  Staring straight at him.

  Damn.

  Colton took off running. The Builder shouted and gave chase, boots kicking up mud and water. Colton dove around the corner of the building where he’d left Edmund and Liddy.

  “They saw me,” he said.

  Edmund cursed as he and Liddy ran behind him. “Now what?” Liddy called.

  “Colton, you wait for the Builder at the end of the street. Liddy, come here.” Edmund pulled her into a tiny alley.

  Colton wanted to protest, but the Builder rounded the corner and grinned. “Nowhere to run now,” he said, advancing on Colton. “I have some questions for you.”

  Before he could come any closer, Edmund and Liddy jumped out from the alley and grabbed him. The man struggled, but Edmund was bigger and forced him to his knees on the wet cobblestone while Liddy quickly tied his arms together with metallic rope.

  Edmund dragged the man to the nearest building and pushed him up against it. The man sat in a dirty puddle, coughing and sputtering.

  “Now,” Edmund said, taking out his taser, “you’ll be answering some of our questions.”

  The man bared his teeth. He looked young, maybe in his twenties, with thin brown hair and hazel eyes.

  “You think you can get me to say anything?” His accent was English.

  Liddy pulled out a gun. Cocking back the hammer, she pointed it at him with a sweet smile. The man’s eyes widened. “Go ahead, stay silent for all we care.”

  “No,” Colton said, grabbing the gun from her. “No wounding or killing.” Liddy scowled.

  But the man was looking at him now. His mouth sagged open. “Wait,” he whispered. “Wait, you can’t be …”

  Edmund glanced at Colton, suddenly uneasy. “You recognize him?”

  “No, but I know what he is. A clock spirit. But how can you be here, outside your tower?” He looked past them, to the blue and white tower. “And your accent …”

  “Never mind that.” Edmund kicked the man’s boot. “Who are the Builders?”

  The man’s gaze lingered on Colton. “Not too hard to figure that out, eh? We heard the Indian clock towers were falling, so some of the dignitaries from England and the continent funded us to rebuild them.”

  “But you’re not part of the Mechanics Union?”

  “Do we look like we’re from the sodding Union?”

  Liddy wrinkled her nose. “So you’re nothing but a bunch of tower fanatics.”

  “We like tradition.”

  “What you built in Khurja wasn’t a clock tower.” Colton curled his hands into fists. “It’s a monstrosity.”

  The man shrugged. “I’d beg to differ. It’s simple, sure, but it’s efficient, and that’s what matters.”

  “How was the tower made?” Edmund asked, but the man ignored him, blinking against the rain.

  “Who’s your leader?” Liddy tried.

  “You haven’t been doing your research, have you? Not too hard to find what you’re after if you ask the right people.” Liddy pulled out a second, smaller gun and drew back the hammer. The man sighed. “Her name is Phoebe Archer. She’s the one who got us our backing. After what you did in Prague, she’s been in a right state. That clock was one of a kind, and you went and blew it up.” He clucked his tongue. “She’s one for punishment, Miss Archer is.”

  Edmund brandished the taser at him. “Answer my question. How exactly was the new tower in Khurja built?”

  “Why not ask him?” The man grinned at Colton.

  “Hey, there!”

  The other Builders had found them. The man laughed as Colton and the others bolted for the town’s outskirts.

  “Damn it, damn it, damn it!” Edmund looked over his shoulder. “Little gormless—”

  “Not now, Ed!” Liddy pointed to the Silver Hawk. “Let’s get the hell out of here first, yeah?”

  Akash had already fired up the plane’s engine. As they climbed inside, Builders fired at the hull.

  “Stop shooting at my plane!” Akash yelled as he pushed forward. The Silver Hawk rattled over the bumpy ground before climbing awkwardly into the sky. “Bloody Brits.”

  “Oy,” Liddy said.

  Edmund spun Colton around, gripping his shoulders. “What did he mean back there? Do you know how the towers are made? How yours was made?”

  Colton shook his head, speechless.

  “You know something. The sooner you tell Zavier, the sooner this can end.”

  “Has he found a way to save my tower?” he shot back. “When he figures that out, then this can end.”

  No one said anything more. Once onboard the Prometheus, they marched Colton to Zavier’s office.

  He was surprisingly receptive to the news. “At least now we know the leader’s name,” Zavier said. “Phoebe Archer. I swear I’ve heard her name before.”

  “She also said something about a contact who might be tracking us,” Colton said.

  Zavier’s eyebrows furrowed. “I bet she has many of those. In any case, we’ll have to lie low until we figure out a strategy.”

  Colton had bought them a little more time, at least. He would have to make the most of it while he still could.

  Colton opened the door without knocking. Danny was sitting on the edge of the bed, an old, battered book open on his lap. He was dressed, his left arm in a sling.

  Danny looked up and froze. The green of his eyes deepened, his lips parted. His dark hair was a mess, as usual. Colton wanted to run his hands through it. Make it even messier. He wanted to trace those lips with his own, make Danny sigh his name.

  They stared at each other for a long time. Colton could see the pulse in Danny’s neck, fast and strong. The way his eyeli
ds lowered slightly in understanding.

  Slowly, Colton closed the door behind him.

  If anyone noticed that Colton now stayed in Danny’s room, no one said anything about it. There were a few raised eyebrows and smirks, but Danny was too lost in his stupor to care, feeling—for the first time in months—happy.

  Colton had put so much distance between them he’d been afraid that everything they’d built would just end. Colton had confessed, that first night, that he’d also been afraid, but now there was some time to figure things out.

  And time for other things, too.

  Danny had watched, mesmerized, as Colton closed the door that night before crossing the room. He’d come in so confidently, so grave and intense, it had stolen Danny’s breath. Colton had cupped Danny’s face in his hands, their eyes meeting in a moment that shattered and remade him.

  Then Colton had kissed him, hard and full of need. The book had slid off of Danny’s lap, toppling to the floor; he hadn’t even noticed. He’d been too busy pulling Colton closer, feeling as much of him as he could, pain and ecstasy digging shallow trenches within him, filling him with light.

  They’d fallen back onto the bed. Colton had climbed over him, kissing every square inch of skin, nipping the racing pulse at his neck. Danny whispered his name, murmured it against his lips, arched his hips against his. Colton had gently removed the sling and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. He’d kissed the wound, counting every stitch with his tongue. Had kissed down his sternum, his stomach, lower.

  Danny sat dazed and embarrassed in the mess hall the next morning. He hardly came here, but Colton had urged him to come.

  “I want them to see us together,” Colton had said. “The more they understand us, see us together, the more guilty they’ll feel.”

  “When did you become so calculating?”

  “Oh, I’ve always been calculating. Don’t you remember when we first met?”

  Danny smiled, finding the memory of Colton pretending to be his assistant funny now, though he’d been beyond flustered at the time.

  They held hands beneath the table as Danny picked at his breakfast, sneaking glances at Colton that were returned with secretive smiles.