“I’ve likely already read it, then. Sorry. Thought I’d picked something different this time.”
“That’s all right.” The spirit shifted so that he was leaning forward on his hands, putting his face an inch away from Danny’s. He stayed there a moment, watching Danny’s expression as if searching for an answer to a question he wouldn’t voice. Danny flushed under the scrutiny until he met those gleaming amber eyes across the tiny gulf between their bodies. The sunlight against Colton’s skin was another sort of kiss, hugging his body and showing off the miracle of him.
It felt like it had always been this way, just the two of them and this light.
Colton closed the gap, kissing him firmly on the mouth. Danny’s stomach leapt as time shivered around them. He could feel every tick of the clock as if it had replaced the heart in his chest, the steady rhythm that kept them alive. If there was a way to kiss Colton forever, he wished he knew how to find it.
Eventually Colton pulled away, but he kept a hand on Danny’s cheek. His thumb gently traced the scar on his chin. “Do you think you’ll have to go?”
“I don’t know,” Danny whispered. “But if I do, I want to be prepared.”
Colton nodded to the other books. “What do they say, then? Tell me about India.”
Danny dragged out a book and opened it to a random page. He’d read this one the previous night and been surprised by how little he actually knew. He’d had no idea how complex everything was in India, least of all the religions: Hinduism, Sikhism, Islam, Jainism, and plenty more aside from those. And then there were all the different castes. It made his head spin.
“I read about the Mughals who came to India in the sixteenth century,” Danny said, automatically searching the book for pictures, since Colton liked those best. He found one of a mustachioed emperor sitting upon a gilded dais amid columns and brocaded pillows. “The Mughals were invaders, and there was quite a bit of fighting done in their name. But they unified different societies and taught them how to rule themselves. They created new trade routes and standardized currency.”
Danny thumbed through the book until the dates grew closer to present day. “I suppose Britain wanted to do the same. They rather made a mess of it, though. There was a big fuss about the East India Company.”
Danny turned to a drawing of uniformed British soldiers on the plains of India, armed with bayonets. “There was a row in 1857, just before I was born. People here call it the Mutiny. Indian soldiers attacked the Company to try to claim their freedom, but they lost. After that, rule was passed from the Company to the Queen. I heard they’re going to announce her as Empress of India at New Year’s.”
He flipped through pages of bloodshed with a grimace. What England had done to India seemed truly unfair, like someone breaking into your house to suddenly declare it belonged to them. But then his eyes caught a particular word, one he knew very well.
Colton was about to turn the page when Danny grabbed his hand. “Wait! They mention Enfield.”
“They do? Where?”
Danny stabbed a finger at the middle of the page. They leaned in at the same time and knocked heads. Danny barely noticed.
“‘The Enfield rifles were produced at the Royal Small Arms Factory in Enfield, England,’” Danny read quickly, “‘and shipped to the soldiers in India. They were the newest model, and easily the best at the time, but had one major design flaw: their cartridges.
“‘The sepoys’—those are Indian soldiers,” he explained to Colton, “‘were asked to bite off the paper cartridges of the Enfield rifles, but the cartridges were greased with animal fat. The Hindus and Muslims refused to handle the rifles, as the use of beef and pork fat was against each group’s respective religious observances. This disagreement has been credited as the final straw that triggered the onset of the rebellion.’”
Stunned, Danny leaned back against the wall. “I didn’t know rifles were manufactured here,” he said. “You knew, didn’t you?”
“Was I supposed to tell you?”
Danny shook his head. “No. I just … didn’t know. No one talks about it.”
It was a strange coincidence, the only tenuous connection between his world and India. It seemed almost sinister in design.
Colton’s hand returned to his knee, a solid weight. “You could ask to take a look. Maybe you’ll learn something.”
Though the prospect of being near so many guns was unappealing, Colton’s curiosity infected him. “I think I will.”
The factory was a long, red building in the marshy reaches of Enfield Lock, a small island of sorts that sat on the River Lee. Water wheels disturbed the river’s surface as they slowly turned, powering the machinery inside. Danny eyed the building’s reflection in the water, lips pressed together.
He wasn’t quite sure why he had agreed to do this. It wasn’t as if he would learn anything more than how a gun was assembled. Still, the tenuous connection between Enfield and India had shaken him, and he couldn’t help but want to see it with his own eyes.
Colton, at his side, looked around with genuine interest. Danny had tried to keep him in his tower, but more and more Colton wanted to venture out and explore. When he did, he usually grew weak, the faint golden glow around him fading. Sometimes, Danny even had to carry him back to the tower.
“We shouldn’t stay long,” Danny warned Jane as she led them to the factory gates. She had volunteered to show them around, much to Danny’s surprise; he had expected more hemming and hawing.
She smiled over her shoulder at them. “The quick tour, then. Let’s start here.” She stopped, gesturing to the large building where ribbons of smoke rose from chimneys. “As you can see, the factory is perfectly situated, drawing power from the river while allowing barges traveling downriver to transport the finished goods to London.”
“Wonderful,” Danny muttered under his breath, thinking of all those deadly guns floating innocuously down the Lee.
They passed through the gate. Danny could smell the smoke now, the acrid flavor of saltpeter crouched on the back of his tongue.
Colton was too busy taking in their guide to notice. “You look nice today, Jane,” Colton said with a winning smile, eyeing her small lilac hat, which matched the shade of her bodice exactly.
She half-turned with a pleased flush. “Thank you, Colton.”
Danny glanced sidelong at Colton, who raised his eyebrows as if to ask what? Danny knew he had no business growling at him about it; not just because Colton couldn’t distinguish flirtation from being nice, but because of that unfortunate run-in with an Enfield boy named Harland several months before.