by Tara Sim
“And let’s not forget these are gods,” Edmund added. “I reckon they’re not exactly the chummy sort.”
“It’ll be too dangerous,” Felix agreed.
“Then he should go. By himself.”
Akash stood in the doorway. His eyes were bloodshot, as though he hadn’t slept in days. His flight suit was wrinkled, his hair mussed. His dark eyes were fixed on Zavier, stabbing through him.
“He put my sister in danger,” Akash said. “He doesn’t deserve protection.”
Daphne took a step forward. “Akash—”
“This happened because of you.” Akash pointed a shaking finger at Zavier, who stood frozen to the spot. “She died because you took her. Because you forced her—and me—to play your game. You British are all the same, making people work for you, getting their hands bloody so yours can remain spotless. Wouldn’t want those polished boots of yours to get dirty, right?”
Zavier exhaled slowly. “You’re right. It is my fault. But I plan to make this right. Hopefully, by freeing Aetas—”
“Make it right? It’s too late for that!”
Daphne caught Akash’s arm as he made for Zavier. “Wait! I know you’re upset. I know you’re grieving. But instead of blaming him, we can make sure no one else needs to die.”
She turned back to Zavier. “I’m going with you. To see Aetas.”
Zavier looked her over. “Why?”
It wasn’t a dismissal, like he’d given the others. “I have nothing more to lose. I want to go with you, to end all of this. I don’t want anyone else to suffer. If that means helping you free Aetas, then that’s what we’ll do.”
“No,” Akash said loudly. “I’m not letting you go with him. He’ll have you killed to save his own sorry skin.”
“I plan on no such thing,” Zavier said coldly. “Akash, I’m sorry about Meena. But this isn’t only about her. This is about the world. About time itself.”
Akash grabbed Daphne’s arm. “I’m not letting you go alone with him. I’m coming.”
“Akash—”
“I can’t lose you, too,” he whispered. His gaze was desperate, fierce. It made her insides writhe and catch fire. He radiated a raw sort of power, as bright as it would be short-lived—a rage fueled by loss. A wick on its way to burning out.
She placed her hand against his cheek, his jaw rough with stubble. “You won’t lose me. I’m not going anywhere without you.”
Edmund shifted. “If they’re going, I—”
“No,” Zavier said, cutting off all further protests. “I need the rest of you here in London to stop Archer. We’ll draw up a plan and monitor the city.”
Edmund and the others nodded reluctantly.
“Now, I was thinking—” Noise crackled from somewhere in the room. “Ed?”
“Oh.” Edmund pulled the radio from his hip. “Hello? Danny?”
More static. The group listened as a voice came through, crackling but recognizable.
“Not Danny. It’s Colton.”
“I was just going to give you two a nudge. We’re drawing up plans for the Builder showdown. What say I come get you? Surely you have some ideas for bashing heads?”
“I think that’ll have to wait.” Even through the static, Daphne heard the worry lacing Colton’s words.
“Why, what’s happened?”
“Danny left this morning to find Brandon, but he hasn’t come back, and now his parents are worried and won’t let me leave. I can’t even see into his mind.” The static nearly ate Colton’s next words. “I think he’s in trouble.”
It wasn’t the cold that woke him, or the hard stone at his back. It was the yelling.
DANNY.
He started awake, his head pounding. Danny moaned.
“What?” he slurred, moving his head. “Colton?”
Danny! Where are you?
“Uh …” He tried opening his eyes, but it made his head hurt worse. “God. Ow.”
Are you hurt? Who hurt you?
“I don’t … Just give me a minute.”
Danny touched the bump on his head. Wincing, he struggled to keep his eyes open as he took in his surroundings. Vague memories came in flashes: men muttering, a police car, struggling against handcuffs, blacking out. A large stone fortress.
“Oh, no,” he muttered.
The room they’d left him in—he had to be honest, it was a cell—was old. Old discolored stone crumbling in the corners, an old bed with a rusting frame shoved to one side, old stale air with a horrible draft. Danny pressed his palm against his cold nose, trying to warm it. His entire body was shivering.
“I think I know where I am,” he said to the dripping walls.
“Oy, settle down in there. Who you talking to?”
Danny forced himself to his elbows. He peered at the steel bars that separated him from a dank, stone hallway flickering with torchlight. A man clad in a constable’s uniform with his helmet slanted to one side stood watch, twirling a baton in boredom.
“Can’t a bloke talk to himself once in a while?” Danny asked.
“An unhinged one, I s’pose. And judging from the reports, you’re a little more than unhinged.”
Who is that? Why is he saying you’re unhinged?
“Just some fool with second-rate insults.”
The guard banged his baton against the bars. “Stuff it, you!”
Danny lay back down with a soft laugh. It wouldn’t do him any good to argue with his captors; he knew that from experience.
I think I’m in the Tower of London, he thought to Colton.
What? You mean the prison?
No, it’s a merry place full of flowers and rainbows. Yes, of course it’s the prison.
Irritation leaked through the bond. I radioed Zavier because I couldn’t find you. I need to tell him where you are.
Colton, wait—
There was a small severing, like Colton had slammed a door between their minds. Danny sighed and closed his eyes again. His head was killing him.
The Tower of London. If he lived through this, he would have quite a few stories to tell at parties.
He rolled onto his hands and knees, fighting off the roaring in his ears.
“Cold in here,” he told the guard, who scowled in reply.
“There’s a blanket on the bed.”
Danny reached out to touch it. “It’s damp.”
“Well, that’s all you get.”
Danny tried to stand, but his legs collapsed beneath him. He leaned his weight against the bed frame instead. “Do I get to plead my case?”
“The Chief Inspector is on his way from Scotland Yard as we speak. Until then, shut your bleeding mouth.”
“Do you really think an eighteen-year-old clock mechanic could orchestrate a terrorist attack and assassination?”
“I think there’s things you know you’re not saying.”
Fair enough.
Danny rubbed his head, then combed his hair down with his fingers. “You had people watching outside my parents’ house, didn’t you?”
“Who knows, mayhap mum and dad’ll be joining you down here.”
Panic jabbed at him, but Danny kept his face neutral. “You just want more people to practice your insults on, don’t you?”
Colton, he thought, trying to reopen their connection, make sure no one sees you. Police might be watching the house.
They’re already here. Danny took in a hazy image of dark wood and the smell of dust. I’m hiding in the attic while they question your parents. The men are threatening to arrest them for hiding you.
Danny cursed.
The guard looked entirely too smug for Danny’s liking. “You know this place is haunted, right?” Danny said. “I bet the ghost of Anne Boleyn is floating around here somewhere, looking for revenge …” He suddenly pointed to a spot over the man’s shoulder. “Watch out!”
The guard whirled around, baton raised. Danny snorted.
“You little shit,” the man growled. “Careful, or I
’ll bash your head in!”
“You’ll do no such thing.”
Danny craned his neck, trying to locate the owner of the new voice. A portly man appeared before the bars, throwing the guard a less-than-impressed look. The constable snapped to attention.
“Sir! I was merely trying to intimidate the prisoner.”
“And doing a rather poor job, by the sound of it,” the new man observed. Judging by his sharp outfit and the badge at his breast, this was the Chief Inspector.
The police want to search the house, Colton thought at him.
Hide. They can’t know you’re there.
“So.” The Chief Inspector wrapped a hand around one of the bars, examining Danny with more curiosity than suspicion. His jowls spilled out of his high, stiff collar, and his head was bald save for the thin hair at the sides, which tapered into wiry muttonchops. “You’re the one who supposedly Stopped Enfield, fled to India, joined the rebels there, and took part in the destruction of several well-known clock towers. Not much to look at, that’s for certain.”
How did they know about his connection to the towers? He thought about all the people who might have seen his face in Lyallpur and Prague.
Then another terrible question sank its claws into him. Were the London police tied to the Builders somehow?
Danny, the police are coming up to the attic.
He tried to arrange his features into an expression of implacable calm. “The Tower’s a bit much, don’t you think? Downright melodramatic, actually. Who’s going to show up next? The Queen?”
“Her Majesty is otherwise engaged,” the Inspector drawled. “Trust me, she would very much like that you be sentenced with a proper punishment.”
“I haven’t done anything,” Danny said. Colton?
I hid in a box. They didn’t see me. Your father’s yelling at them to leave. He sent Danny a memory of his power on the Builders’ ship, the one he could unleash now, if he chose to.
No, don’t. Just make sure the police leave. Then wait for Zavier.
“We’ll be the ones to decide if you’re guilty or not,” the Inspector said. “And as for who’s to show up … Well, why don’t you come with us and see?”
The nasty smile on the Inspector’s face turned Danny’s stomach. The guard unlocked the cell door, which opened with a shriek of metal on metal, then snapped handcuffs around Danny’s wrists. He was forced to his feet and out into the hall. He stumbled into the wall.
“What’s the matter? Not gentle enough?” the guard simpered, poking his baton into Danny’s back. “Get on with you.”
Torches flickered in their sconces as the group traveled down the narrow halls, Danny flanked on either side. He had always wondered what the inside of the Tower looked like, but hadn’t expected just how dreary it really was. The walls were thick and dark; Danny couldn’t help feeling that they might swallow him into the earth.
They passed a couple of walls with graffiti carved into the stonework—prisoners’ names, coats of arms, and a large circle with intersecting lines connecting to smaller circles around the perimeter. It almost looked like a clock face.
Colton, what’s happening?
There was a pause that stoked Danny’s worry until the clock spirit’s voice filled his mind. They’re gone. But they threatened to bring your father in for questioning. They warned your parents not to run. What’s going on? Why are you underground?
They’re leading me somewhere to interrogate me. I think they have a higher officer waiting.
Don’t worry, we’ll get you out. Just be patient.
Like he could do anything else.
The Inspector stopped before a wooden door studded with iron nails. Nodding to the guard to open the door, the Inspector gave Danny another of those nasty smiles.
“After you, Mr. Hart.”
Danny narrowed his eyes and walked into the room, head held high. Whoever was waiting, he could face them. He’d faced Zavier and Archer; what was one more antagonist?
But it wasn’t an unfriendly face that greeted him in the small stone room. A man stood from the table, his mustache bristling with excitement.
“Daniel!”
“Sir,” he said, too stunned to manage anything more. The Lead hurried forward and drew him inside.
“I told them this was all a mistake, that you couldn’t have been involved in any of this willingly, but they simply won’t listen. We’ll get you a lawyer, and—”
“That won’t be necessary,” the Inspector said. “Not for this particular conversation, anyway.”
It was only then that Danny noticed another man in the room, who had remained seated on the other side of the table. His brown hair had grown long and hung in unwashed locks on either side of his gaunt face. His blue eyes, once bright and intelligent, had dulled, but still flashed in recognition as they landed on Danny.
Matthias smiled grimly. “Hello, Danny Boy.”
Danny’s blood turned to ice. He stepped back and nearly trod on the Inspector’s foot.
“You—What the hell are you doing here?”
“Why, I thought you were friends,” the Inspector said with false brightness. “After all, you share a penchant for terrorism.”
“I’m nothing like that bastard,” Danny growled. “He betrayed me and my family. He lied to me for years and nearly killed me!”
Danny, what’s going on? Why are you with Matthias?
I’m about to find out.
“We’ll sort through all that in a moment.” The Inspector gestured for Danny and the Lead to sit.
Reluctantly, Danny settled into the chair. The Lead sat on his right, glowering at the Inspector and the guard at the door. Matthias watched Danny. Prison hadn’t been kind to the man. His jaw was dark with stubble, there was gray in his brown hair, and his face had grown sharp. His clothes were gray rough-spun garb, and when he shifted in his chair Danny heard the clink of chains.
Matthias had once been strong, indomitable. In the eyes of a younger Danny, he’d been a hero—the model clock mechanic. All that had changed when Danny had learned the truth: that Matthias was harboring Evaline, the clock spirit of Maldon, trapping both the town and Danny’s father within it.
Matthias had planned to kill Colton so that Evaline could make his tower her new home. When Danny had stopped him, he’d discovered how his blood could control time. But that day, he’d lost as much as he had won. He had lost a mentor and a friend. A second father.
“You’ve grown again,” Matthias said, his voice rough. “You’re barely a boy anymore.”
“Shut up. Don’t talk to me.”
The Inspector tsked as he sat at the head of the table. “None of that, now. We need you both to shed a little light on our current situation.”
“He isn’t involved in this,” Danny snapped.
“We’ll see. Is it true you planted bombs in clock towers a year and a half ago?” the Inspector asked Matthias, who nodded with a small sigh. “And you kept the clock spirit of Maldon at your place of residence?” Another nod. “And you stole the central piece of clockwork from Enfield’s tower?” Matthias almost rolled his eyes before giving another nod.
“We’ve already been through all this,” the Lead cut in. “Yes, Matthias committed those crimes. And this young man stopped him from making a terrible mistake. He saved Enfield. He lives in Enfield, for God’s sake! Why would he want to Stop it?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out.” The Inspector turned back to Matthias. “You’ve known Mr. Hart for quite some time. Do you have any inkling of what his motive may have been?”
Matthias hesitated, and Danny felt his stomach drop; Matthias knew about Colton. He could easily out him right here, in front of the Lead and Chief Inspector.
“There is no motive, because I didn’t do it,” Danny said quickly. “But I can tell you why Enfield is Stopped and who’s responsible.”
The Inspector linked his hands together on the tabletop. “I’m listening.”
“There’s an airship controlled by Indian rebels called the Kalki. They were trying to start another rebellion in India, but their plans failed. They tried to assassinate Viceroy Lytton, but botched the attempt.” Danny struggled at his shirt, hands clumsy above the fetters around his wrists, and ripped off the top button to pull the collar down far enough to reveal the bullet wound. “They shot me instead—while I was trying to save him.
“And as for Enfield, the rebels were targeting the factory, the one that produces guns for the soldiers in India. Stopping the town meant that no more guns could be made.”
Everyone was staring at him, the Lead with horror, the Inspector with interest, Matthias with remorse.
“And just how did you come by all this information?” the Inspector finally asked.
“Because I met some of those Indian rebels and tried to stop them. Because I was kidnapped by an arse who wanted to help their cause as cover for his own.”
“The towers?” the Inspector guessed.
“Yes. I was kidnapped in Meerut and forced to help him. I only just escaped. Can you blame me for wanting to go home?”
The Inspector snorted and sat back in his chair. “This is all very convenient, Mr. Hart. Do I really need to point out that you’ve been involved in both plots to demolish towers?”
“I wasn’t part of his plot!” Danny waved his hands in Matthias’s direction with a rattle of his shackles. “I stopped him!”
“Maybe. But I can’t ignore the fact that you were at the very heart of this man’s scheme to take out Enfield.”
“I think your take on matters is the convenient thing here, Inspector,” the Lead remarked. “You’ve read the reports. Daniel had nothing to do with the Enfield affair, short of putting an end to it.”
“Then let me ask one more thing.” The Inspector leaned forward again, staring intently at Danny. “How did time keep running in those Indian cities with the towers little more than rubble?”
The silence could have smothered someone. Danny tried to meet the Inspector’s eyes, but found the act difficult.
“I don’t know,” he finally said. “It just did.”
The man smirked and turned to Matthias. “And you? Why didn’t you use this method while you were running amok?”
