“Ah—no,” Danny said, perhaps a little too loudly. “I’ve only forgotten my keys, and my mother’s out. I suppose I’ll have to wait for her.”
Danny settled down on the front step, feigning boredom. The woman stared at him a moment longer, then tugged the little boy along. Danny waited until they entered the park, then jumped to his feet and squeezed into the little alley at the side of the house.
Idiot, he told himself. The police are going to come and haul you off at this rate.
He found a rubbish bin in the alley and dragged it over to a small, square window. As he climbed onto the bin, it wobbled alarmingly under his weight. He pressed his hands against the wall with a moan of dread. Wishing he had an insect’s ability to stick to walls, he reached up and banged on the windowsill with the heel of his hand. It took a while, accompanied by some pained curses, but eventually the window eased up enough for him to wiggle his fingers through.
Danny pushed the sash open. Hoisting himself up, he almost fell onto the bin, and scrambled to use whatever strength he had to maneuver his way through. He toppled forward into a tiled washroom, nearly smashing his head against a corner of the sink.
“Danny Hart, you are not made for burgling.” He stood, wincing, and stepped into the blue-painted hallway.
“Evaline?” he called, softly at first, then louder. He wandered into the still-messy sitting room and paused, taking in the destruction. The room was filled with the echoes of smashed glass and the sounds of his own rage.
Danny backed away and checked the kitchen, then eyed the stairs uneasily. The plots of detective novels passed through his mind, ones in which the detective thinks he’s close to a clue and gets bludgeoned for his trouble. But though he took the stairs slowly, fist raised to strike a potential adversary, nothing happened. He lingered on the landing just to be sure, then peeked into the rooms. No one was here.
“Evaline?” he called again. He thought he heard a muted thumping from outside. Then he realized the sound was coming from right above him, through the ceiling.
He looked frantically for a way to get to the attic, racing back and forth along the landing until he noticed a cord. Tugging with all his might, the stairs descended with a drawn-out creak and a small cloud of dust.
He hurried up the stairs. The attic was a spacious upper room that Matthias used as storage space, judging from the boxes and bags flung haphazardly about. But there were new additions: a pallet on the floor, some books, a lamp, and a clock spirit.
“What are you doing up here?” Danny demanded as Evaline hurried toward him. “Where’s Matthias?”
Her face fell. “Danny, I’m sorry. He’s going to do something terrible. You have to stop him before it’s too late.”
Something beat low and dark in his chest. “It’s already too late. Where’s your cog?” She grabbed it from underneath the pallet. “Good. Come on, I need to get you away from here.”
“But Matthias—”
“There’s a clock spirit who needs your help. Will you come with me or not?”
She looked lost, pale fingers curled between the spokes of her cog. Still, she nodded and followed him down the stairs. She disappeared into what he guessed was her bedroom and returned wearing a green dress. Her cog was in a satchel at her waist.
“He’s done it, then,” she said when she met Danny’s gaze. He nodded, and she set her jaw. “Take me to this spirit.”
The auto shuddered but accelerated quickly over the frosted pavement. Cassie’s new holster dug into Danny’s shoulder. At his side, Evaline’s hands were folded protectively over the satchel in her lap.
“Why on earth did he lock you in the attic?” Danny asked. “I thought he loved you.”
She gave him a tiny smile, as if to say that he had a lot left to learn. “I told him what you’d said, and how I wanted to return to Maldon. He … didn’t take it well. When I asked why he kept the truth from me, he said he didn’t want to upset me with the news.
“He knew it was wrong, he admitted it himself, but the thought of being abandoned—” Her voice cracked, and Danny squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. “He said he couldn’t live through that again. He couldn’t survive being left alone a second time.
“I said I understood more than anyone, but that it wasn’t an excuse, and I would return to Maldon. Matthias wouldn’t have it.” Her voice lowered. “He forced me into the attic. I begged him to stop, but he wouldn’t listen. He told me not to worry, that his plan would work somehow.”
“Plan?”
“He’s told me about a faulty clock tower in Enfield. I thought the spirit had abandoned its tower, like I did mine. Maybe to transfer to the new tower being built. That’s how he made it seem. But that isn’t true, is it?”