A stocky ginger girl sidled up next to the young man. “We’ve submitted a petition to stop the building of the new Maldon tower.”
Danny scoffed. “Good luck with that. The tower’s practically finished.” Each word was a splinter drawn painfully from his skin. And I couldn’t help at all.
The tall man flipped the end of Danny’s scarf at him. “Then maybe we’ll find another way.”
The way he said it sent a slimy feeling down to Danny’s stomach. It didn’t help that the ginger girl was smirking like she knew a secret he didn’t. The glint in their eyes, the hunger of the small crowd at their backs, made him take a step back. He bumped into one of the anti-protesters, who grabbed his shoulders. “Leave the mechanics alone!” the woman yelled. “They aren’t doing anything harmful.”
“They protect the towers,” a man at her side agreed, “which protects everyone.”
“Protect?” The ginger girl snorted. “Dictating time is protecting?”
“We don’t dictate anything,” Danny snapped, shrugging away from the woman’s clutches. He could feel everyone’s tense breath around him, see the vapor leaving their mouths. “We don’t control time. We fix it.”
“If time ran free,” the tall young man countered, “there would be no need to fix it in the first place.”
The anti-protesters laughed.
“Time can’t run free!”
“With Aetas dead, how do you expect to accomplish that?”
“Yeah, he went and got his head chopped off and fed to a shark.”
“What? I thought he was turned mortal and drowned.”
“That’s nonsense. Aetas never existed.”
“He did, but his throat was slit and his blood leaked into the sea—”
“And that’s why it’s so salty,” Danny mumbled to himself, momentarily transported back to his father’s story, to a simpler time. He shook his head. “Listen. You can bicker all you want, but leave the mechanics and the towers out of it. You harm them, you harm everyone else.”
“They’re the ones harming people!” The anti-protesters jabbed accusing fingers at the opposing crowd. “Who knows what they’ll do? Maybe they’re the ones responsible for Maldon in the first place!”
An icy hand squeezed Danny’s heart. “I don’t think—”
“Maldon wouldn’t have even happened without the bleeding towers!” the protesters yelled back.
“Please—” Danny tried, but it was no use. The crowds came at each other, pushing and clutching with fists cocked back, nails ready to gouge. Danny was jostled between them, shoved this way and that until a fist connected with his rib cage. He grunted and doubled over, but that just made him an easier target for someone to bash a knee into his chest.
He would have fallen had he not caught himself on the arm of the tall young man. Danny yanked his scarf from his neck, nearly choking him. “You bastard,” he yelled over the commotion. “Look what you started!”
Other mechanics streamed out of the entrance to break up the fight. Danny thought he heard a constable’s whistle in the distance. But the young man seemed unfazed. He even gave Danny a cheery wink.
“Don’t think this is finished,” he said. “This is just the beginning.”
“Beginning?” An elbow rammed into Danny’s side. “The beginning of what?”
The elbow knocked into him again and sent him sprawling, scarf clenched in one fist. Someone stepped on his legs. He tried to get to his knees, but all around him was chaos. Screams. The wild heat of the fight.
Then another noise broke through the fray: the rev of an engine. Shouts turned to yelps as a chrome-plated motorbike pulled up in a screeching arc, causing protesters to scatter. Atop the motorbike sat Daphne.
“Get on!” she ordered. Danny scrambled to his feet and threw a leg over the back of the seat.
“I don’t have a hel—” He gasped as Daphne throttled the engine and they sped off. He wrapped his arms around her middle and held on tight, eyes pinched closed as the world flew by all around them. Autos honked and a horse shrieked in surprise as they zigzagged through traffic.
The ends of Daphne’s blonde hair thrashed in the wind and stung his face. He opened his eyes for a moment and saw his own pale reflection in the back of her black helmet.
“Where are we going?” he yelled over the roar of the motorbike. He gasped again when they took a sharp turn and his grip on her tightened.
“I can’t breathe,” she growled.
“Sorry.” He unwillingly loosened his arms.
Finally, they began to slow down. She took an easier turn into a quiet street and parked by the curb. Even when she killed the engine, Danny’s body continued to vibrate.
“You can let go now,” she said.
“What? Oh.” He snatched his arms back. “Sorry.”
She pulled the helmet off. Her hairline was slick with sweat. “First time on a motorbike?”
“How could you tell?” He tried to get off the seat, but his sore legs wouldn’t cooperate and he ended up nearly falling on his backside. Daphne looked on, unimpressed.