They settled in to discuss the plan of action. Danny could barely concentrate, and his explanation was filled with pauses. He turned to his tools and quickly looked around.
There he was: standing so that New Brandon couldn’t see him, wearing his white billowy shirt and tight trousers. The boy met Danny’s eyes and smiled, his mouth a mischievous curl. In a blink he was gone again.
“Losing my mind,” Danny muttered. “Losing my damn mind.”
Thankfully, the repair could be done without having to use the scaffolding. The clock room allowed them access to the clock face, gleaming yellow and white as the sun slanted through. The floorboards had been stripped of color after decades of sun exposure, but the light turned the dust motes floating through the air into specks of gold.
Danny and New Brandon—Real Brandon?—each donned goggles before preparing the sharp-smelling cleaning solution. They wiped the length of the fissure with it, making sure there were no small pieces of glass residue, and waited for the surface to dry. Then Danny sealed the crack with strong resin, which was specially formulated to mimic the glass.
He felt the strange boy’s gaze the entire time, resting like a hand upon his back.
Once they’d sanded the resin and chipped the extra away, Danny told the apprentice to watch as he set his hands upon the crack. He closed his eyes and felt the fibers there, intact, but with a line through them that threatened their delicate system. Danny erased it until there was only the thinnest hairbreadth remaining. He sealed the rest of the gap by taking tiny amounts of each thread and pinching them together until time rolled like an air current through the fibers.
He opened his eyes and saw the crack was healed. The apprentice whistled appreciatively as Danny stepped back.
“Nice work, mechanic.”
“Uh, thank you. If you would help me clean up?”
With nothing left for him to do, Real Brandon prepared to leave. He hesitated by the stairs.
“You won’t tell the office about the mix-up, will you? About them sending payment for the other jobs?” At Danny’s silence, Brandon turned fully toward him. “I normally wouldn’t ask. But my family—”
“I won’t say anything.”
“It’s just that I’ve five siblings,” Real Brandon said in a rush. “They need new clothes, and—”
“Don’t worry, I won’t mention it.”
The apprentice had taken something out of his pocket: a tiger’s eye marble, a sphere of dark amber with a black slit running down the middle. He fiddled with it, but not nervously, as Danny tended to fiddle with his timepiece. Rather, he rolled the marble around in his fingers as though he was in the practice of doing it often.
“You sure, mate?”
“Yes, I’m sure. You’re free to go.” He watched as the apprentice galloped down the stairs, eager to be away before Danny changed his mind.
Danny sat on a box near the clock face and listened to the ticking at his back. He took out his timepiece and checked the time, pocketed it, forgot the time, and checked again.
When he looked up, the blond boy was standing before him.
Danny swallowed. He looked like an average boy Danny’s age. But there was something about him—something that had been there from the start—that was more than average, like the evasive unknown between the time fibers Danny reached for in the darkness.
It couldn’t be true. He didn’t want it to be true. But the threads of the story kept unraveling, wanting him to find the truth hidden inside. The question emerged before he could stop himself.
“You’re the clock spirit, aren’t you?”
The boy didn’t respond, but smiled with a glimmer in his amber eyes.
“No. No, that can’t right. That’s not …” Danny stared at him, at a loss. The boy stared back. “Possible.”
Anything is possible, his father had said.
“God,” Danny breathed. “I didn’t think—I mean, when you’ve never seen one before—Do you really live here? You’re actually the …?”
The spirit cocked his head to one side. The scar on his cheek had gone, sealed like the crack on the clock face.
“Silly question, of course you are.” Danny was trying to remain calm, but every second only heightened his amazement. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You thought I was your apprentice. I wanted to help.”
“Yes, but, you weren’t. And I looked like an idiot.” Danny groaned and rested his forehead on his palms.
The spirit sat on the box beside him. “I should have told you earlier. I’m sorry.”
Danny dropped his hands and looked up. This close, the spirit’s eyes were mesmerizing, almost as striking at the glint of the opal glass behind them.
“What’s your real name?” Danny whispered.
“Colton.”
Of course. The name of the tower.
“Another silly question. God, I’m thick.” He rubbed his eyes. “Why didn’t you show yourself to Brandon? The real Brandon?”
Colton linked his hands together between his knees. “I’ve never revealed myself to anyone.”
“And yet here you are. With me. Why?”