She scoffed. “You think he’ll let me join the Guild after all this? He hates me. He wants me dead.”
“Trust me, Miss Wade,” said Lyndon. “You are worth more to him alive and employed by the Guild than you are dead, and you forget . . .” He smiled. “I am the vice-chancellor. I can guarantee your position within the University. With your natural ability, the Guild will take notice.”
“They think I am a traitor.”
“We can clear the charges against you.”
“Just like that?”
Lyndon nodded.
“Think about it, Petra,” said Emmerich. “You’ll be a student at the University. You can build machines more marvelous than you ever dreamed. It’s what you’ve always wanted.”
“And you?” she asked, her heartbeat quickening. “I heard what your father said—if you mean to follow his plan, then you’ll be in Paris, won’t you?”
Emmerich glanced at Lyndon. “She could come with me.”
“No,” said Lyndon. “If she decides to help, she’ll have to stay with me. Only I can guarantee her safety. Away from the Guild, I cannot give her my protection as vice-chancellor.”
“I could protect her,” said Emmerich. “She’d be safe with me.”
“No,” she said, the sound of her voice surprising her. “I’ll stay.”
Emmerich frowned at her. “Petra—”
“This is my home,” she said, strengthening her resolve against him. The feel of his fingers laced in hers only made the decision worse. She closed her eyes, hoping he would understand. “This is my city, and I am a Chroniker. I won’t abandon who I am for fear of what your father might do. I have a chance to make a difference here. I’m not going to run away.”
He stared at her, his copper-brown eyes glistening. “If that is what you want, then I am with you.” He gently squeezed her hands, but she sensed his sadness. She almost wished he would beg her to reconsider, but he didn’t. He smiled his sad smile, and her heart shattered.
Lyndon cleared his throat. “I will take care of Julian.” He nodded to Emmerich. “Thank you, my boy, for trusting me. And you, Petra.”
She nodded, still clinging to Emmerich’s arm.
“We have a long road ahead of us,” continued Lyndon. “But I do believe that this is the best course for us now.” He nodded grimly. “Now I must be going, before Julian does anything rash. I will make certain that you both have my protection in the days to come. Godspeed to you both.”
PETRA STOOD IN Emmerich’s arms, breathing in his familiar metallic scent. The last two weeks had passed too quickly, not nearly enough time to savor their last days together. Too soon, it seemed, they stood here on the pier, moments away from his departure. The sound of the ocean waves crashing against the rocky shore taunted her, waves that would soon take her Emmerich away. She worried she might never see him again, that his father’s plans would keep them forever apart, and the possibility ripped her heart to pieces. She might never have his arms around her again, never feel his lips against hers or run her fingers through his hair, never see his smile or that little dimple in his cheek, never hold his hand or feel his heart beating beneath her fingertips. Tears ran down her cheeks despite all her efforts to keep from crying.
“Everything will be all right,” he said, lifting her chin. “I can send you letters and phone you from time to time. Before you know it, I’ll be back.” He smiled, but she could see the strain it caused him. “Stay close to Lyndon, and my father can do no harm to you. He needs you to see his plans through. Don’t forget that.” He rested his hand on her cheek, slipping his fingers into her hair. “Be a good girl. Attend your classes and do your homework. And build the most fantastic machines your beautiful mind can imagine.”
She tried to smile, but the muscles in her face did not want to obey. “I don’t want you to go,” she whispered, her chest constricting painfully at the thought of being without him.
“You know I must. I have a part to play in this, as do you.”
Petra sighed. “I know.”
He smiled sadly and brushed the hair out of her eyes. “I have something for you, before I go.” He retrieved a flat, square box from his pocket and placed it in her hand. He closed her fingers around the small package. “Open it after I’m gone.”
The ferry herald called for all passengers to board. This was goodbye.
“I will see you soon,” he said.
Petra memorized the moment—Emmerich’s soft chocolate hair blowing in the wind off the deep blue-green sea. Enormous white clouds floated through the sky, and seagulls flew over the cresting waves, nesting on the ships and docks. Dozens of passengers boarded the ferry, lugging trunks and bags and waving to those left behind. Emmerich studied her, his eyes full of sadness. He smiled, but only halfheartedly. Already, a line grew in his forehead, and his brows furrowed.
She didn’t want to say goodbye, not yet.
“I’ll be all right,” she said, her heart breaking.
“I know you will.”
Before she could contradict herself, he pulled her hard against him and pressed his lips to hers. The warmth of his breath, the feel of his lips, his hands in her hair. If only time would stop and let them stay like this forever.
When they parted, she was crying again.
“I love you, Petra. Even hundreds of miles away, I’ll still love you.”
She sniffled. “And I you,” she whispered.
The herald called a second time.
“I have to go,” said Emmerich.
With one last look, he walked away, not daring to say goodbye. Petra squeezed her eyes shut, tears streaming down her cheeks as she held the tiny box against her chest. She did not want to see him go. Inhaling a deep breath, she forced herself to open her eyes, to fill her sight with him, not knowing when she would see him again.
He took a few steps farther toward the ferry and then looked back, running a hand through his hair as his eyes met hers. She raised her hand and waved, the permanence of the farewell aching within her chest.
“Goodbye, Emmerich,” she whispered.
He returned the wave, smiling sadly, and then he turned and boarded the ferry, lost among the other passengers. The ferry left the harbor, slowly shrinking into a black dot on the horizon.
Long after all the other well-wishers had left, Petra still remained. She drifted from the pier to the shore, listening to the waves crash against the rocks, trying to cling to the sound of his voice, the feel of his hand in hers, the blazing fire behind his intense copper-brown eyes, and all the while she cried, all the tears she had tried to hold back falling in steady streams down her cheeks.
Not until the sun began to set did she finally open the box Emmerich had given her. Lifting the lid, she found a folded piece of paper and a small, familiar brass triangle. First, she read the letter.
Dearest Petra,
Wind the gear between its wings.
All my love,
Emmerich
Then she slipped the letter into her pocket, next to her mother’s journal, and carefully nudged the tiny metal object. At her touch, the delicate machine split in half, the triangle transforming into a slender body between two intricately designed wings. Antennae curled out from one end of its body and its wings fluttered. With utmost care, she placed the brass butterfly in her palm and ran her finger along its back, winding the minute gear between its wings.
A brassy ticking sang within, and the tiny, mechanical insect flapped its delicate wings and took to the air, circling Petra in a flicker of ticking brass parts before perching again on her outstretched hand. She felt her heart lift, the beauty of the machine embodying everything Emmerich had wished to create. Despite everything, she couldn’t help but smile. He had finally managed to build something more beautiful than its living counterpart—and he had made it for her.
> Glossary of Terms
Watch and Mechanical Terms
Arbor: Axle or spindle on which something revolves.
Balance wheel: Part of a mechanical watch movement that oscillates, regulating timekeeping.
Barrel: Drum that contains the mainspring of a watch.
Bearings: Machine part that reduces friction between rotating and stationary parts.
Cam: Disk or cylinder with an irregular, curved surface, mounted on a rotating shaft, used to transform rotary motion into linear motion.
Case: Metal housing for the parts of a watch.
Gear train: In clockwork, the system of gears that transmit power from the mainspring to the rest of the watch. In machinery, a mechanical system formed by mounting gears on a frame so the teeth of the gears engage, designed to ensure that the gears roll on each other without slipping, providing a smooth transmission of rotation from one gear to the next.
Linkage: Assembly of rods for transmitting motion, usually in the same plane or in parallel planes.
Mainspring: Coiled spring that provides the power to drive a mechanical movement.
Mechanical movement: Movement based on a mainspring wound by hand; when wound, it slowly unwinds the spring in an even motion.
Movement: Inner mechanism of a watch that keeps time and moves the watch’s hand.
Pawl: Device used to prevent a toothed wheel (ratchet) from rotating backward, or a device that stops, locks, or releases a mechanism.
Pinion: Small gear or spindle engaging with a large gear.
Ratchet wheel: Mechanical device used to permit motion in one direction only.Spindles: Rod or pin serving as an axis that revolves or on which something revolves.
Winding Stem: Mechanism on the side or top of the watch case used to wind the mainspring; a winding crown.
Other Terms
Automaton: Moving mechanical device made in imitation of a human being.
Blowlamp: (British) Fuel-burning tool used for applying heat and flame, usually for metalworking; a blowtorch.
Electromagnetics: Also known as classical electrodynamics, the branch of physics that deals with the interactions of electric, magnetic, and mechanical phenomena.
Hydraulic: Operated by, moved by, or employing water or other liquids in motion. The science that deals with the laws governing water or other liquids in motion and their applications in engineering.
Paraffin: (British) Colorless, flammable, oily liquid used as fuel; kerosene.
Phonograph: Early sound-reproducing machine that used cylinders to record as well as reproduce sound.
Schematics: Diagram, plan, or drawing.
Spanner: (British) A wrench.
Telegraphy: System of telecommunications involving any process providing reproduction at a distance of written, printed, or pictorial matter, without the physical exchange of an object bearing the message.
Acknowledgments
THIS NOVEL COULD not exist if not for the encouragement and support of so many wonderful people, so a round of thanks is in order.
First, to Darby Karchut, for encouraging me to dive headfirst into a world that was much bigger than I ever imagined, and for giving me the confidence to keep writing Petra’s story, despite all my fears and doubts. You are the reason I dared to write this book in the first place. Petra owes her life to you, though she may not realize it. Thank you.
A massive thank you to everyone who supported me and my writing in one way or another. To those of you who bought and read the book. To my original beta readers: Marcus, Kristina, Shandi, Marieke, Anassa, and Jay. To my friends, family, and teachers who believed in me and didn’t let me give up. To the people I have met along the way. To the readers and fans who have become my closest friends because of the words I wrote. To Gabriel, Daniel, Rachel, Anthony, and Eric. Your enthusiasm knows no bounds.
To my editor Kelly, and the rest of the team at Harper Voyager, for taking a chance.
To Jaime, for always being there for me when I needed you.
And finally, to my husband, who knew I was a writer and married me anyway.
About the Author
BROOKE JOHNSON is a stay-at-home mom and tea-loving writer. As the jack-of-all-trades bard of the family, she journeys through life with her husband, daughter, and dog. She currently resides in northwest Arkansas but hopes to one day live somewhere more mountainous. Follow her on Twitter @brookenomicon.
www.brooke-johnson.com
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Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
THE BRASS GIANT. Copyright © 2015 by Brooke Johnson. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition MAY 2015 ISBN: 9780062387165
Print Edition ISBN: 9780062387172
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