“London’s had a sky watch ever since the Seven Years’ War.” At Colton’s blank look, Christopher explained, “That’s when France tried to attack the clock tower from above. Soldiers will be on the lookout for strange airships.”
Leila got up to cook dinner, but since Colton did not eat, he asked if there was somewhere he could go and rest. He would need all his strength for the following day. Mainly, he just wanted to be by himself, and the thought of his tower broken and crumbling made the ache in his side grow worse.
“You can use Danny’s bedroom upstairs,” Leila offered. “Will you need anything during the night?”
“I have everything I need right here.” He lifted Danny’s bag, and the cogs inside rattled. “But thank you.”
He was on his way out of the kitchen when Christopher cleared his throat. Colton turned back, wary. But the man didn’t look angry. He looked … sheepish.
“I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier, Colton. You gave me a scare. I know this is quite the mess right now, but I promise I’ll help in any way I can.” Leila, blinking back tears, put her hand on top of her husband’s.
“That’s all right. I know I frightened you. I’m sorry.” He glanced at Leila, who gave him an encouraging nod. “Thank you, Mr. Hart.”
Danny’s father waved the words away. “Call me Christopher.”
Colton sat on Danny’s bed. He remembered this place, too. He had been weak without his central cog to help him, drifting in and out of consciousness. Now, with his cogs and Big Ben nearby, Colton felt five times as strong—but it still wasn’t enough. He bitterly examined his translucent hands.
The house was quiet. He could hear the occasional clink of plates from downstairs, and the distant rumbling of autos, but that was all.
Weary, he spread out on the bed and put his head on the pillow. It smelled so much like Danny that Colton let out a painful groan. Clock spirits did not breathe, but they could sense smells if they were close enough, in the same way their ears could hear. He hugged the pillow closer, burying his face in the fabric.
Time normally passed so quickly for him, but now it trudged torturously on. A few months ago, a little girl in Enfield had been trying to cross the muddy road after a solid week of rain. The mud had sucked so hard onto the soles of her boots that one had popped off as she staggered forward without it. Colton was that boot. Time forced him to stand still.
Colton hugged the pillow tighter and wondered what would happen if he left London. Left England. Followed Danny.
He thought of Leila at the kitchen table, putting her hand on Christopher’s. A new shade of hurt slipped into the spectrum of his newfound emotions. Colton might not feel what a normal boy could, but he could still feel Danny’s hand, warm and strong in his own. He could still feel Danny’s lips against his own. He knew what it was to miss those things, and the loss was deep and cutting, the weight of absence heavier than anything he’d ever held.
By midnight, the house was dark and silent. Colton was wracked with pain.
He sat up and put a hand to his side. Reaching down with the other, he took his central cog from Danny’s bag and pressed it to his body. It had little effect.
Still so many hours to go.
Around two o’clock, he crept out of Danny’s room. He toured the house on silent feet, barely disturbing the air. He ran his fingers over the spines of the books downstairs, and picked up different kitchen utensils, wondering what they were for.
Back upstairs, he turned on the lamp in Danny’s room and looked through his things; he had to distract himself somehow. In the drawers Colton found old drawings and lecture notes in Danny’s slanted, blotchy handwriting. Danny liked to give his g’s and y’s long stems.
There were letters in the drawers, some yellowed with age. A few were from an uncle in Scotland. One was dated ten years ago, from a grandmother. Danny had never spoken about his relatives before. Were they dead? Colton decided he would find a sensitive way of asking later.
He found drawings of Cassie, of clocks, of classmates—mostly boys—and then found small sketches of himself. Colton standing by the window, Colton sitting on a box, Colton and Danny on the scaffolding above the clock face. The smile that spread across his face felt like an unexpected gift.
A wad of paper had been stuffed into the bottom drawer. He pulled it out and smoothed it flat. He read the message written there, but it was not in Danny’s hand.
Do not think this is finished.
You know something.
We’ll be watching.
Colton froze, his smile dissolving. This did not sound normal. This sounded like … a threat.
He looked around, but for what, he wasn’t sure. The words were sinister enough that he half-expected someone to materialize from the shadows and make a grab for him.
Someone had sent this to Danny.
Someone had attacked Enfield—where Danny lived.
Danny was in trouble.
Colton hesitated outside Danny’s parents’ bedroom door. He had one hand raised to knock, the other still clutching the note. It was six in the morning, and he didn’t know when they normally woke. Danny often didn’t roll out of bed until eight. Sometimes, he even slept until noon.
He lowered his hand. As soon as he had read the note, his first thought was that Danny needed help. Then, that his parents ought to know about it. But in the ensuing hours he’d waited for a polite time to wake them, his mind had been busy thinking of the different outcomes.
If he told Danny’s father, the man would likely leave Colton with another mechanic who might bring him back to Enfield. He’d be trapped in his tower again, unable to get news.
Christopher was already wary of him. He would insist Colton go back while he tried to protect his son from this new threat.
If he didn’t tell Christopher …
Colton retreated to Danny’s room and decided to think some more. This was a conflict of what humans called morals. Colton knew the basics: killing was bad; adultery was bad; hurting someone was bad. But keeping information away from concerned parents?
By the time he heard Leila and Christopher go downstairs, he knew what he had to do.
He cautiously descended the stairs and peeked into the kitchen. They were drinking tea, and waved him inside. The atmosphere was much lighter than it had been before, but there was still an awkward twinge when he walked in.
“Did you have a good night?” Leila asked. Colton nodded. “I would offer you breakfast, but …”
“Thank you, anyway.”
Christopher looked Colton up and down, scrutinizing his outfit. “I think it would be best if you changed into some of Danny’s things. You’re of a size, so they should fit. We want you to blend in as much as possible on the way to the office.”
Colton hesitated, touching the note in his trouser pocket. But after a moment, all he said was, “I’ll look for some.”
He decided he wouldn’t make a very good human.
Upstairs, he silently asked Danny’s forgiveness as he rifled through his clothes. He picked out black trousers, a white shirt, and a black waistcoat. When he asked if these were decent enough, Christopher said they would do the trick.