“Yeah.” I gave Ash a quick smile to ease the worry on his face, and turned to Puck again. “I’m fine—but you’re bleeding, Puck!”
“What, this?” Puck grinned. “It’s just a scratch.” His grin turned into a grimace as I sat him down on a rock and started tearing off his sleeve. His arm was a mess, blood everywhere, and I could see the four nasty claw marks that ran from his elbow to wrist. I winced in sympathy.
“Ash, I’m going to need some of that salve you brought,” I muttered, dabbing away the blood. When he didn’t move, I turned on him, narrowing my eyes. “All right, I’m tired of this. I know you two don’t get along, but you need to figure something out or we’re never going to make it out of here alive.”
I received a rather cold stare, but he opened his bag and dug out the jar, handing it to me stiffly. Puck settled back on the rock, grinning as I bent over his arm.
“You’re good at this, princess,” he purred, shooting Ash a smug grin over my shoulder. “Been watching ice-boy, or are you just a natural caretaker? I could get used to—ow!”
He glared as I tied off the bandage with a jerk.
“Don’t push your luck,” I warned him, and he gave me a huge, doe-eyed look full of innocence. It was the first glimpse of the old Puck I’d seen in a long time, and it made me smile.
As I was gathering the medical supplies, Grimalkin appeared again, wrinkling his nose at the dead cats. “Barbarians,” he sniffed, leaping down from the rock, giving the bodies a wide berth as he trotted up. “Human, you might want to know that there are certainly other creatures that will be attracted by the commotion. I would advise you to hurry.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE CLOCKMAKER
We reached the Fomorian city just as the sun was going down.
Mag Tuiredh was enormous. Not just sprawling, but huge. As in I-feel-like-I’ve-been shrunk-to-the-size-of-a-mouse huge. Like Jack-in-the-Beanstalk huge. Everything was giant-size: doorways were twenty feet tall, streets were wide enough to drive a plane through, and steps were my height. Whomever the Fomorians were, I hoped that they were really gone as Ash said.
The city was ancient; I could feel it as we made our way through the mossy ruins, which towered like broken giants overhead. The original buildings were made of rough stone, but the Iron Realm’s corruption was everywhere. Broken street lamps popped up at odd intervals, grown right out of the ground and flickering erratically. Cables and computer wires snaked up walls, spread across the streets, and coiled around everything, as if trying to choke the life from the old city. In the distance, near the center of Mag Tuiredh, black smokestacks loomed over everything, belching smog into the hazy sky.
“So, where do we find this Clockmaker?” Puck asked as we walked through a square filled with strange metallic trees. The trees were in full bloom, not with flowers or fruit, but with lightbulbs that glowed with eerie brightness. A fountain in the middle of the square bubbled a thick, shiny black liquid that might’ve been oil.
Grimalkin looked back at us, eyes shining in the gloom. “The most obvious place possible,” he said, and turned his gaze skyward.
Over the tops of the buildings, rising up toward the clouds like a dark needle, a giant clock tower peered down on the city with a face like a numbered moon.
“Oh.” Puck craned his neck back, staring at the huge timepiece. “Well, that’s…ironic.” He scratched the back of his head and frowned. “I hope the Clockmaker is still awake. He probably doesn’t get a lot of visitors after nine p.m.”
Something about that statement put me on edge, even more so when I looked at Ash, who was staring at the clock in growing horror. “It shouldn’t be here,” he murmured, shaking his head. “How is it even working? Time doesn’t exist in the Nevernever, but that thing is recording the passing of it, keeping track. With every second it records, the Nevernever gets older.”
I remembered the way my watch stopped on my first trip to Faery, and looked at Grim in alarm. “Is that true?”
The cat blinked. “I am not an expert on the Iron Realm, human. Even I cannot give you the answers to everything.” Raising a hind leg, he scratched inside an ear, then contemplated his back toes. “But, remember this—nothing lives forever. Even the Nevernever has an age, though no one can remember what it is. That clock is not recording anything new.”
“It should be destroyed,” Ash muttered, still glaring at it.
“I would refrain from angering its keeper until we secure his help.” Grimalkin stood, stretched, then suddenly went rigid. Ears twitching, he stood motionless for a moment, listening for something beyond the circle of trees. The hair slowly rose along his back, and I gulped, knowing he was seconds away from disappearing.
“Grim?”
The cat’s ears flattened. “They are all around us,” he hissed, just before he vanished.