by Tara Sim
But if he installed the cog, and kept time locked firmly around Enfield with his blood-enhanced power, he could wait out Aetas. The god’s power would pass Enfield, and Colton could then release the barrier, keeping the town in his own bubble of time. He could stay here forever, in the last tower-run town in the world.
He thought of all he had seen, the freedom of leaving Enfield and adventuring to foreign lands. The excitement of standing by Danny’s side. Feeling normal. Being equal. Remembering the human boy he’d once been.
Castor had always spoken of traveling, of taking Colton to see new sights. He wouldn’t want this for him: trapped in a tower, unable to enjoy life the way he once had. But he also didn’t want Danny to think he’d failed, to be left alone. He’d promised he would do whatever it took.
Colton knelt before his clockwork, the gears and chains eerily still. He hesitated until another wave swept through the barrier. He needed to make a decision.
He reinstalled his central cog.
For a terrifying moment, the barrier disappeared and the tower wobbled. Colton flung his hands out on either side of him, as if he could physically hold up the tower walls through sheer will. His new power—Danny’s blood, Harland’s blood—blasted out of him. He felt it again, that amazing rush of strength, the ability to control time down to the barest fraction of a second.
Laughing in delight, Colton pressed the power further. It enveloped Enfield in a barrier of gold. For the first time in months, the people moved normally, spoke normally, cheered as their imprisonment ended.
This was another type of imprisonment, but one they had chosen. One they were willing to preserve.
Once again, Colton tried opening his connection with Danny, wanting him to see that their plan had worked. But something was wrong. In the distance, London wavered. Time skewed over the city. He sensed it here in Enfield, and felt it as Danny felt it, wrong and sick and threatening to collapse.
Colton needed to make another decision.
He spread the power out farther, farther, pushing the energy out as far as he possibly could. He shook and clenched his jaw as he touched London’s time, trying to connect to Big Ben. Gold merged into the gray, tendrils running over the chaos of the city.
Finally they overlapped, Enfield’s time connected to London’s. Colton stretched his power out, steadying London’s time, but still it wasn’t enough. Something else must have been happening, something in the London tower.
Something was happening to Danny.
Danny ducked his head as shards of glass sprayed out in all directions. A sliver cut his cheek, but he could barely feel it.
A Builder was thrown from the clock face and screamed as he plummeted toward Parliament’s roof. His scream ended when he was skewered on one of the spires.
Danny held tight to the rope. The spirit of Big Ben stood on the lip of the clock dial, above the Latin inscription that was also tattooed on his arm. As the spirit caught Danny’s eye, he knew that Big Ben had been the one to throw the Builder to his death.
Although he kept flickering, Big Ben knelt down and hoisted Danny through the broken clock face.
“You’re just in time, mechanic,” the clock spirit said. His amber eyes were fearsome, his golden beard bristling.
“Yes, you are just in time, Mr. Hart.”
Danny turned at the sound of that hated voice. Archer stood on the other side of the room, illuminated by the glow coming through the opposite clock face. Her hands were clasped behind her back, her posture relaxed. At her feet sat Sally, bound and gagged, tears streaming down her face. Sally’s gray eyes locked onto Danny and she shook her head.
“Let her go,” Danny demanded, but Archer only laughed.
“Come to take her place, have you?”
“Yes. Let her go, and take me instead.”
“I’m afraid I’m not in the mood to negotiate, Mr. Hart. We’re already well underway with our renovations.”
Big Ben lunged forward, fists clenched, but flickered again and dropped to one knee with a hiss of pain. A familiar sensation crawled up Danny’s arms; he looked out the gaping clock face to confirm his fears. Time had shuddered to a halt. A gray barrier had replaced London’s red skies.
A Builder ran up the stone steps, clutching the tower’s central cog in his arms. “I have it!”
Big Ben clutched his chest and groaned. Time threads were spread throughout the clock room in a golden, messy web, all attached to Big Ben’s body.
“Don’t just stand there, destroy it,” Archer drawled.
“You can’t do that!” Danny yelled as the Builder fell to his knees, retrieving a chisel and hammer from his pack.
“On the contrary, we can.” She unstrapped something from Sally’s back: another central cog. “This will belong to the new London tower. Nice and shiny, isn’t it? We had some lovely data from Colton’s cog to work with.”
“Stop them,” Big Ben growled, flickering at an alarming rate.
Danny hesitated. Outside, the sounds of fighting had entered a chaotic loop, the same shots being fired over and over, the same screams escaping throats. An explosion across the square burst up in a deadly flower of heat and fire before shrinking back into a bud. Time was out of control. Repeating.
Then something trickled through, something familiar and golden and warm. Danny looked north. Toward Enfield.
“Colton,” he whispered.
I don’t know how long I can hold it.
The gray barrier was streaked with veins of gold. Time moved, but oddly, jerkily.
Danny had to move.
He drew the gas canister from his pocket and hurled it at the center of the room. It burst in a noxious cloud that made three of the Builders choke and stagger back. Archer cursed, covering her mouth with a sleeve. The Builder still holding Big Ben’s cog did the same.
Eyes watering, Danny moved toward one of the downed Builders, pressing his arm to his nose as he held his breath. He fumbled at the man’s belt and found the device he was looking for. He stood and faced Archer. Pressing the button, the needles sprang out, crackling with electricity.
Danny risked lowering his arm from his nose. “Your people killed my mother. You killed Meena, and Lalita, and Dae, and probably other mechanics we don’t even know about.” He brandished the needles at her. “I’m here to make sure no one else suffers the same fate.”
Archer lowered her arm with a smirk. He didn’t know why until he felt arms seize him from behind.
White-hot rage filled him again. Danny stabbed backwards, jabbing the needles into the Builder’s face. The man screamed and fell back, jerking on the floor. Danny pulled the needles out with a sickening squelch and ran at Archer. Her eyes widened right before he knocked into her.
But she was strong. Before he could sink the needles into her chest, she grabbed his wrist and squeezed until he dropped the device. He butted his head against hers, fumbling with his other hand to reclaim his only weapon. She nearly had him pinned when he seized the device and shoved the needles into her side.
Her scream echoed across the clock room, reverberating against the opal glass of the clock faces. Danny was lunging at Sally to undo the rope around her hands when Archer caught his hair and dragged him away. He grunted and squirmed, but it only worsened the burning pain along his skull.
“You little brat,” Archer gasped. She flung him to the floor and rammed a boot into his stomach, winding him. She yanked the needles out of her side with a suppressed groan. “I’ve changed my mind. I’d like to negotiate after all.”
Time skittered around them. A crack sounded across the room, followed by Big Ben’s cry of pain. Danny tried to crawl to the spirit, but Archer gave him a swift kick to the ribs.
“How close, Michael?” she called.
“Almost done, ma’am!”
While Danny curled into a ball on the floor, Archer retrieved the new cog and came back to stand over him, all sweet smiles again.
“Well, Mr. Hart, I’d hoped this youn
g girl’s brother would show up, but I can deal with him later. Perhaps I’ll make him the new Enfield clock spirit, hmm?”
Danny glared up at her. “I won’t let you do this.”
“It’s a bit too late for that, lad.”
She knelt by his head and yanked his hair again, forcing his neck into an arch. Archer lifted her hand, firelight glinting off the knife she gripped.
Danny closed his eyes, expecting her to slit his throat. But the blade descended, sharp and searing, into his shoulder, reopening the wound wider and seeping fresh blood onto the tower floor. Danny screamed.
“Ohhh, that hurts, doesn’t it?” Archer crooned above him. “Let’s see what happens when we spill more.”
She lifted the knife again, its tip dripping with his blood.
The Magician. You are on the path to something momentous. It will show you how much power you possess.
Remember that you’re far from powerless.
Danny delved deep into his power, focusing on the wet warmth of his blood as it oozed onto the clock tower floor. He sensed the time threads there, static and shivering, and grasped at them furiously.
The knife began its descent—then stopped. Archer’s grin dropped as she stared at her frozen hand in bewilderment.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, her eyes wide. “How are you doing this?”
Danny used all his strength to hold onto the time threads keeping the knife in place. “Ben!” he yelled through gritted teeth.
One second Archer was there, and the next she wasn’t. Through a haze of pain, Danny turned his head and saw Big Ben, flickering, using all his remaining strength to lift Archer into the air above his head.
“Put me down!” she screeched. “Put me down right now!”
“If you say so,” Big Ben grunted before he threw her through the broken clock face. Her scream faded as she fell, until Danny imagined her body hitting the ground far below, crumpling into a bag of broken bones.
Another wave of distorted time rippled through the room and Big Ben threw his head back with a yell. He flickered once, twice, then faded entirely.
Time scattered, seconds spilling like grain. The Builder holding the hammer and chisel gaped at the open clock face, Big Ben’s central cog lying in pieces before him. Everything compressed around them, through them, as searing as the knife.
Sobbing with desperation, Danny dropped the knife and fumbled for his gun. He shot the Builder in the chest. The man slumped against the clock face behind him, leaving a crimson smear on the glass. The shadows of the clock’s hands were spinning frantically. Danny watched as they stopped, quivered, and switched directions.
Archer smirked at him.
He was climbing the rope.
The Builder fell and hit the spire.
Edmund died.
His mother coughed blood.
He blinked and found himself back in the clock room. Sally was crying, looking at him in terror. To the north he felt Colton, struggling to maintain his grip on London’s time. To the south, he felt the boiling rage of the sea.
Aetas.
He realized he was mumbling something over and over:
“I have to.”
It came out as gasps, as pained wheezes. Forcing himself to stand, he took the new central cog Archer had prepared and limped to the broken clock face, his left arm hanging useless at his side, trailing blood in his wake.
Danny stared out at London. The people swarmed like insects below him, fighting for survival. Somewhere down there were his father, Cassie, his mother’s body. Somewhere out there was Colton, fighting for him. Risking everything for him.
He had to.
Cradling the cog in his uninjured arm, Danny leaned forward and dripped his blood onto its untarnished surface.
Everything rushed in at once.
Danny screamed.
Yet he was no longer Danny. Nor was he Big Ben.
He was Time.
Sunlight slanted through the clock face and stained the floorboards. Colton watched the dust motes dance lazily in the beam, bored. Everyone was bored today. The entirety of Enfield was bored.
But he was due for a maintenance check; he had long since memorized the schedule. It was said the Lead Mechanic in London, a woman by the name of Archer—descended from a long line of Lead Mechanics named Archer—demanded the strictest of schedules for her workers. Colton was never really sure why. His memory was fuzzy. He couldn’t remember that far back.
Sure enough, an hour later a sleek auto came rolling up the street. A young man stepped out and took something from his pocket. Colton had seen others using them before: strange, bright devices called mobiles that allowed people to speak to others who were far away. The young man yawned and checked something on the device, then pocketed it again and headed for the tower.
Colton made himself disappear when the young man came to the clock room. He was tall and lanky, with dark hair and light eyes. The mechanic sniffed and looked around, probably gauging how much work was required and how little he could get away with.
Something about him was familiar. Curious, Colton waited until the young man’s back was turned to reappear. When the young man turned around again, he started.
“Holy hell! Where did you come from?”
Colton shrugged.
“Hold on …” The young man looked him over. Up close, Colton saw his eyes were blue. That disappointed him. He’d thought they were green.
“You’re the clock spirit, aren’t you?” the mechanic whispered.
Colton smiled.
“I know we’re not allowed to speak with you, but … you’re the second one I’ve ever seen. The spirits are usually so shy. What made you come out to say hello?”
Colton thought about it, cocking his head to one side. “You remind me of someone.”
“I do?” The mechanic scratched at his head, making a mess of his hair. The image pulled at Colton’s memory even more. “Can’t imagine who.”
“I … don’t remember.” He wished he could. “You said I’m the second spirit you’ve seen. Who was the first?”
The mechanic grinned. “Big Ben! You know what’s funny, though, is that he isn’t even all that big. He’s about as tall as I am, and just as thin. You’d think a name like that would be meant for a bigger bloke, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” Colton murmured. “I would think so.”
Danny climbed the last of the stairs and rested the package containing the new Roman numeral II on the floor. Out of breath—it had been a while since he’d climbed so many stairs—he took off his coat and examined the clock face before him.
Just as they said: a missing two o’clock. Shuddering, Danny wondered who could possibly do something like this to a clock tower. Was it a prank? An accident? He touched the scar on his chin and hoped this wasn’t a prelude to anything like what he’d recently experienced. One tower bombing was enough to last him a lifetime.
He thought he heard something and turned, but no one was there. Frowning, Danny prepared for the installation of the numeral. The apprentice never showed up. Typical. Then again, it was probably better that he work alone, considering how nervous he was.
Everything was a mess: the scaffolding, the installation, the way he dropped one of his tools to the ground below. He groaned and prayed for it to end. He used to love the clock towers. He used to love doing this work. But now, all he wanted to do was run far, far away.
By the time he was finished, he was sweaty and useless. His arms shook and his head was pounding. And to make matters worse, he kept feeling eyes on him. Not just the ones of the Enfield citizens below, but somewhere above him, too.
He left the tower, barely stopping to accept the mayor’s thanks. He just wanted to go home and lie down. Before he got into his father’s old auto, he looked back up at the clock face he’d just repaired, feeling a certain amount of pride.
Movement caught his eye at the window. He thought he saw a face, but when he blinked, it disappeared.<
br />
“Losing my bloody mind,” he mumbled as he slid into the driver’s seat. No matter; he was never coming to Enfield again.
The time servants were huddled in the back of the church, waiting for news, waiting for something. Colton felt Castor trembling beside him and pressed their shoulders together.
“What do you think they’re going to do?” Colton whispered.
“I don’t know. Damn it, I’m scared. I’ve never been this scared before.”
“Calm down. We’ll find a way out of this.”
The man in the green coat returned at sunset, followed by the mayor’s aide. Henry Archer walked up and down the line of time servants, eyeing each one critically.
“You all hold the power to connect to time. Some might even say the power to control time.” Colton heard Beele’s sharp intake of breath. “This power is pivotal to us all, now. If time runs rampant, it’ll only be a matter of days until we destroy ourselves.” Suddenly, time warped and Archer was an old man—a skeleton wrapped in a leathery wrapper of skin. Some of the children yelped.
Then Archer was himself again, slightly off-kilter. He shook his head to clear it before continuing on. “I only need one of you to put our plan into motion. Does anyone volunteer?” None of the time servants moved. No one made a sound. “It’ll be much easier with a volunteer.”
Castor stirred, but Colton nudged him hard with his elbow. Their eyes met, and Colton shook his head. Castor bit his lip.
“Lucius,” Archer drawled, “you know these people well. Tell me, which do you think is the best choice?”
The mayor’s aide shrank back, shaking his head. “I-I’m sorry, but I—No. I’m sorry.”
Archer gave a dramatic sigh. “I suppose I’ll have to choose myself.” He went down the line again, his eyes skimming over the smallest of the children and the oldest of the seasoned time servants before falling on those in between. Everyone dropped their eyes, trying to disappear into themselves.
Only Colton defiantly met Archer’s gaze. The man stopped before him, his upper lip curling. Then he went on down the line, sighed again, and walked over to a guard to whisper in his ear.
