Danny’s shoulders slumped. “You’re not.”
“I am. I shouldn’t have done it.” The spirit looked up from under his eyelashes. “I’d thought, because I …” Colton touched his lips. “That maybe you didn’t want to.”
Danny flushed. He was getting very tired of that reaction. “No, no. It’s not …” He sighed. “There’s a part of the story I haven’t told you.”
They sat on boxes as Danny told Colton about Matthias. About how the clock spirit had destroyed herself.
Colton almost seemed to grow paler as he listened. “I didn’t know,” he said. “Honestly, I didn’t know. Did I do a bad thing? I thought, because the fairy tales said it was nice, that kissing you would be nice, too.”
Danny’s chest tightened. The spirit could have been old enough to be his great-grandfather ten times down, but Colton’s ignorance reminded him how little he knew of the outside world. His realm was Enfield. He could never leave, never experience the things that people were free to have—were lucky to have. A prisoner locked inside a tower.
“What you did wasn’t bad,” Danny said. “It’s just not normal between a spirit and a person. I was surprised. I don’t want Enfield to become another Maldon.”
Colton lowered his eyes. “I won’t harm myself again. I just wanted to thank you because you’ve been so kind. I’m sorry.”
Again came the flood of guilt, strong and painful, crashing down Danny’s walls. What could he do? What would anyone else do?
He stood and held out his hand, which Colton took without hesitation. Again he felt time bend around them, stretching the moment into eternity. Colton’s eyelashes were long, his lips pink. He looked so human that for one moment, Danny could pretend to forget what he truly was.
He brushed his fingers against Colton’s collarbone, and the spirit closed his eyes. Danny wondered how much Colton could feel. How much he understood. If the answers were hidden behind some unmarked door.
Danny decided to open that door. He leaned forward and kissed him.
The clock chimed five. It sounded almost celebratory as they stood there, hands clasped between them like the meeting of continents. Colton’s mouth was soft and warm, sunlight on silk. Danny was swallowing light. It dived down inside of him until he imagined it bursting out of every pore.
When he pulled back, he was light-headed and breathless. “You know, before I met you, I’d never kissed a clock spirit.”
Colton smiled. “First time for everything.”
Worried that Colton would somehow forget his promise, Danny made sure to return to Enfield two days later. The tower was still standing and the clock running smoothly, much to his relief. Inside, Colton was waiting.
“What does a clock do to pass the time?” Danny asked.
“Time usually goes very quickly for me. I know it’s been two days since you were last here, but to me, it feels like a few hours.”
“A few hours?” Danny shook his head. It was odd to be here and not have something to do, but he’d brought his tools anyway. He set them down. “Sometimes I wish time passed that way for me.”
“You don’t want that,” Colton said, suddenly grave. “You’re a human. Life goes by too quickly for you. If time went fast, you’d be gone sooner.”
Danny cleared his throat. He suspected Colton had no idea about what humans actually felt about death. “I guess you have a point. How old are you, anyway?”
Colton tilted his head to one side, amber eyes distant. “I don’t remember. I feel as if I’ve always been here.” An auto rumbled down the street, and Colton pointed at it through the window. “I remember not knowing what those were.”
Suddenly Danny’s seventeen worldly years seemed of little importance, long as they had been for him.
They stood for a while regarding each other, uncertain what to do next. Danny had always come to Enfield with a purpose, but now that he’d come merely to see Colton, things were rapidly turning awkward. What did one talk about with a clock? None of his classes had ever covered that particular topic.
You shouldn’t even be here, he thought with a rush of nervous energy. Someone’s going to start wondering why you come so often. The Lead’s going to find out. It’ll be Maldon all over again, it’ll be—
He started when Colton touched his chin.
“There’s a scratch here,” Colton said.
“A—? Oh, no, that’s a scar.” He rubbed a finger over the raised line in his skin. “People get scars when things hurt them.”
Alarm flickered in Colton’s eyes. “You were hurt? How?”
“Something cut me open.”
Colton frowned at it distastefully, like it was Danny’s chin’s fault for the blemish. “When will it go away?”
“I couldn’t tell you. Some scars never fade.”
Colton glanced at the clock face, and Danny read his thoughts. His scratches had been healed with resin and buffing. It didn’t make sense to Colton why Danny’s skin would be any different from his own.
The spirit stared at Danny’s chin again. Colton touched his thumb to the scar, following the slant of it.