“You won’t take them?”
“I don’t trust pills. I’ve watched my mother swallow too many to be comfortable with the notion.”
He scuffed his boot lightly against the marble floor. “I’m sorry.”
“No matter.” She tucked the pills away in her pocket. “One day, I’ll get her out of there.” When Danny gave her a sympathetic look, she shrugged. “Don’t bother pitying me, Danny. Your situation was far worse than mine.”
He’d secretly longed to hear those words all throughout his father’s absence. Now, they offended him. “Of course it wasn’t. How do you reckon that?”
“At least my father is dead and I know he can’t come back. You had to live without knowing one way or the other. I couldn’t have borne it.” She paused, then shook her head. “No, all that hope would have killed me.”
Danny stared at the river again, at the women stretching their wet, dyed sheets out to dry on the rocks. “Speaking of your father … I noticed you haven’t told them. About you.”
Daphne tensed. “Why would I?”
The reason seemed obvious to him, but then again, Daphne didn’t tend to say anything about it in England. It made sense that she wouldn’t say anything in India. Still, he watched her out of the corner of his eye, taking in the longing on her face as she watched the women working below.
“Are you two all right?” Akash had sidled up to them. Meena was still busy fawning over the inner dome.
“We’re fine,” Daphne said. “Thank you. You and Meena have been so kind to us.”
Akash smiled and scratched the back of his head. That wide, goofy smile was one Danny recognized; Colton usually grinned like that before he said something absurd, like Your eyes are so green or I like watching your lips when you talk. Danny had noticed Akash’s little glances, the excuses to hand Daphne something so that their fingers would touch.
“You’re very welcome. I believe Meena wanted to show you the mosque as well.”
He led Daphne toward said mosque. Danny was about to follow when he heard a metallic sound. He glanced at the marble railing and jerked back. A fat, black spider was perched there.
Though something didn’t seem right about it. The spider was too precise. The eyes glowed faintly.
Mechanical spider.
“The bleeding hell is that?” he asked out loud. The others were too far away to hear. He considered calling them over, but before he could, the mechanical spider scuttled back under the railing, out of sight.
Hours later, Danny was still thinking about the spider as they rattled back to the cantonment. He knew the British had brought machines to India, but the creature seemed too advanced even for London.
As soon as they climbed out of the auto, Lieutenant Crosby descended on them. “Major Dryden wants to see you three immediately.”
You three meaning the clock mechanics. Akash shrugged and loped toward the mess, leaving the mechanics to follow Crosby.
When they walked into the meeting room, Dryden nearly pounced on them in his excitement. “We received a cable not too long ago from the north and the south. Intel has been hard at work.”
“Regarding what, sir?” asked Daphne.
“We received word of suspicious activity around the clock towers in both Meerut and Lucknow. You’ve been sniffing at the tracks so far. Now it’s time to dart for the fox.”
There were many books in Danny’s house, and it took Colton nearly an hour of deliberation until he picked one at random. The pages rustled pleasantly as Colton turned them for several long minutes, enamored with the sound they made, before going back to actually read the words on those pages.
He had been with the Harts for two weeks. Though his presence had initially sparked tension, Danny’s parents had grown accustomed to him. Colton, however, still felt wildly out of place, a thistle in a field of poppies.
It didn’t help that Christopher, though pleasant, put him on edge. He could practically read the man’s thoughts, from his puzzlement about Colton’s relationship with Danny to his worry over Enfield’s tower.
Colton stared down at the words without reading them. He didn’t even know what book he was holding. His mind was still in Enfield, focused on another story.
On Prometheus, the Titan who stole fire for the humans. Zeus, angry, wanting the humans to die off, chaining Prometheus to that rock, leaving him to suffer until …
Until what? There was an ending to the story, but he must not have heard it. Even when he had read the myth in his tower, his eyes had skimmed over the conclusion, as if it were of no importance. He’d been too focused on the first part, trying to jog his memory.
Colton didn’t forget the events that had happened over the past several years, yet too much time had slid by for him to remember the beginning. It seemed ironic now that all he had was the first part of a story with no conclusion.
He closed his eyes and imagined it. Bearded Prometheus, Zeus hefting a lightning bolt in one hand, the bloodstained rock.
Something flickered across his mind and he jerked in pain. Moaning slightly, he rubbed his side where the red, twisted scar lay. It hurt on and off, pulling him north. His tower wanted him to return.
But he couldn’t. Not yet.
There was still no new information about the attack. Scouts had gone as far as the continent to search for answers, but without a proper description of the airship—Colton had only seen its underside—there was little chance of finding it.
There was news, however, about Danny, though it was nothing substantial. They’d received a message—Christopher called it a cable—that Danny had reached Agra. Since then, Colton had waited every day for another cable, but none was forthcoming.
The mechanics would say if Danny was in trouble, he kept telling himself. They wouldn’t keep that from his parents.
And yet, here he was, hiding evidence in his pocket.
Colton started guiltily when the front door opened. Christopher made a beeline toward him, clutching a bulky bag.
“’Lo, Colton. I’ve got the new model here.”
Colton set the book aside. His central cog rested next to him on the tattered couch, and it brightened slightly as Christopher entered the back room.
Whenever Christopher explained what he and the smiths were working on, Colton struggled to follow. From what he could gather, they wanted to use the same method of making clockwork pieces to make a cog holder for him. The metal of the harness, acting as a conductor of Colton’s power, would strengthen the power of the cog. So far the first two attempts had failed, and Colton remained translucent.
Christopher took the holder out of the bag. It was sleeker than the previous model, made of a bronze metal that crisscrossed at the back and leather straps attached to the front. The sides were curved so that Colton’s cog could fit snugly inside, rather than rattle around as it had in the first square-shaped holder.