Clock Work (4 page)

7.

Their hands were zip-tied behind their backs and they were guided into the back of a van. Three goblins guarded them, while another drove. The rest followed in a car along with Reed.

The reptilian eyes ignored her, but never left Aran, staring with a mix of caution and animosity. No one spoke. They drove for a few minutes. When the van stopped and the door was opened, Parker saw they were at Aran's apartment, where she'd woken that morning. Reed appeared.

"You, come," he said, pointing to Aran. Parker was left alone as Aran was dragged out of the vehicle and inside. It made her nervous, to be left alone with the creatures. Her arm ached where she'd been bitten the night before. She should have left the city tonight. She wouldn't escape twice.

But they ignored her. And it wasn't long before Aran was returned. Parker guessed he'd handed over the object Reed wanted—the clock she'd repaired.
Why did Reed want this?
The question gnawed at her.

The van door was slammed shut and again they drove. This trip was longer, or felt longer.

An old part of the city. Weak light glowed from gas lamps. Parker stumbled across the cobblestone street, one of the thugs pulling her by the elbow, his inhuman face hidden under a hood. She looked at Aran. He appeared calm, as if things were going exactly as he expected. She wished she could steal a moment with him and hear what he was thinking.

They were herded toward an alley sealed with a set of rusted metal doors. Reed unlocked them with a key. The darkness
on the other side was so dense and complete that it felt like stepping into space. Or a void between two dimensions.
Don't let your imagination make this any weirder than it already is,
Parker warned herself.

Several flashlights clicked on. The light was barely enough to guide them forward.

Up ahead, a door groaned as it was opened. There was light on the other side, actual light. Parker was ushered into humidity and the smell of mold. The room was round, with no corners. Benches padded with rat-chewed cushions lined the walls, which were black underneath the tatters of ancient wallpaper. Some palace of decadence, left to rot.

The light inside this corpse of a room came from a series of lamps that varied in size but all followed the same basic design: metal legs supporting a kind of cradle that held several luminescent stones. Like coals, only much brighter.

Reed walked to the room's center, where a circular staircase led to the floor below. Parker felt a tug on her arm, and one of the goblins led her down the steps.

The air grew thicker and hotter as they descended. When they reached the bottom, they stood and waited for the others. More of the strange lamps with glowing stones provided light. They were in some kind of Roman bath, a room of columns and pools and elaborate tiling. And steam. So much steam. Decades of heat and moisture had been trapped down here. Everything looked fuzzy, vague, like looking through a veil.

They walked forward, Reed leading the way.

Parker's hair stuck to her face and neck and she wanted very badly to brush it away, but her hands were still zip-tied. Somehow, not being able to do this was the worst part of the whole ordeal.

She wasn't the only uncomfortable one. The goblins fidgeted with their clothes, pulling away cloth as it clung to their skin. One stopped to use an asthma inhaler.

Only two people seemed unbothered by the oppressive humidity—Reed and Aran.

Clouds of steam gave way to another room.

Parker nearly screamed when she saw the thing that waited inside. A body of a man—skinned and butchered—was seated on a tiled
throne that grew out of the floor at the room's center.

When the thing leaned forward and spoke, Parker did scream. She turned to run, but was held in place by two of the goblins.

Everyone looked at her, including the butchered man, whose eyes stared from two lidless sockets amid the raw, red face.

The thing stood from its throne and moved to a countertop against a nearby wall. Its spine was curved, its back hunched. When it turned around again to face them, it was wearing a mask.

It shuffled forward, its chewed-up feet slurping against the sweating tiles.

It stopped mere inches from Parker. She struggled. Strong arms held her in place. Up close, she could see the bones that held the thing's shape, the wet gristle that gave its body weight, the bandages that served as connective tissue. The mask was the kind worn to a masquerade. Each cheek was decorated with an ornate gold illustration depicting an orgy, a tangle of limbs and sex.

"Better?" the thing asked her, its voice muffled.

Parker nodded, terrified.

The thing retreated to its throne.

Parker felt eyes on her. Reed. He made a face, as if mocking the thing they had come here to see. He cleared his throat and spoke. "Well, I am sorry to intrude on you unannounced, but you were very clear about how urgent this is. I could have called or sent a text message, but... Well, you should really consider getting a cell phone when your fingers grow back."

The thing ignored the jest. "You've brought the device with you?"

"I have. This gentleman standing to the left and slightly behind me is named Aran. He had purchased the device from the shop where this young lady works. We haven't gotten around to why he was so interested in the device, but I figured that could wait until you were feeling a bit stronger."

The mask nodded.

Reed motioned to one of the goblins, who carried forward a black bag. Reed reached inside and removed the item Parker was expecting to see: the clock Aran had purchased from the shop a few days ago. The one she had modified for him.

Reed carried the clock forward and placed it on the floor in front of the throne. Parker looked down at the strange clock face that laid on top of the device's body. The hands were still.

Reed backed away, and the butchered man slithered forward. His ruined hands trembled as he touched the device, staining the wood with his weeping flesh. One of the hands slid into a pocket on the robe, and removed a flat, square object. It took Parker a moment to realize what it was—a piece of leathered skin stretched on a frame. It was tattooed with numbers and symbols.

The butchered man examined the markings, then carefully set the dials surrounding the clock face. He checked and rechecked his work. "Wind it," the thing said.

"Clockwork girl," Reed said. "Might we have some assistance?"

Then, to one of the thugs, "You can free her hands."

Someone stepped behind Parker and the zip tie snapped apart. She rubbed her wrists. Her hands tingled at the return of circulation.

She took a step toward Reed, and the device. "Do you have the key?"

Suppressed panic flickered on Reed's face, but then Aran said, "I have it."

Reed looked at him.

"Front pocket," Aran said. "On my left."

Parker looked at him, then at Reed.

"Well, get it," Reed said. "Don't be shy."

Parker stepped in front of Aran. The goblin next to him took a step back and raised the barrel of his gun a few inches, so it aimed at their legs.

Aran's clothes were damp from the steam and humidity. Denim scraped her wrist as she reached into his pocket.

She looked up for a second to meet his eyes. He seemed calm, confident. His lips curled into the impish grin she'd seen earlier.

He has to be planning something, or he knows something they don't.

Somewhere, she knew the thought was comforting, but it did nothing to slow her hammering pulse or steady her shaking knees.

Her fingertips found a hard piece of metal at the bottom of his pocket, and her hand came out holding the key to wind the device.

She took one last look into his eyes and turned. Ten steps brought her to the device. She knelt, inserted the key into the slot on the side, and began to wind. The clock's hands moved along the face. The thing on the throne made a noise, but she didn't look toward it.

She made the final turns and removed the key.

The clock's hands ticked forward, like she had modified them to do, at Aran's request.

The butchered man screamed.

"Turn it off! Turn it off! Turn it—"

Words dissolved into gargling.
The thing fell forward onto the floor, reaching toward the box. Parker scrambled back, her hands slipping on the slick tiles. The thing's arms dislocated from the body as it attempted to crawl. Under the filthy robe, the body seemed to shrink. Bones collapsed, as if made from rotted wood. The clock hands continued to turn. The flesh that was visible turned from red to brown, then to dust, as if all moisture were vacuumed out of it by some invisible force. A final gasp escaped the monster's papery lungs.

"Parker, stay down!"

She turned to see Aran. His hands were unbound and holding a submachine gun. A goblin lay at his feet, its neck twisted and broken.

She pressed her body against the floor. Muzzle flashes cut through the steam like lightening bolts through a cloud. The room filled with the sound of gunfire. Above her, blood sprayed, tiles shattered. She covered her ears, closed her eyes. After several very long seconds it stopped.

Parker turned her head left and right. Dead goblins surrounded her. She stood, moving out of the way of the expanding pools of blood.

Aran tossed the gun aside. She threw her arms around him in a half hug, half tackle.

Behind her, someone whistled.

They let go and looked. Reed stood in the center of the room, looking at the dried husk of the butchered man.

Aran stepped forward.

"Relax," Reed said, holding out a hand. "As far as I'm concerned, any conflict between us is over. I was hired to bring the device here. I did. It's not my fault it didn't work as intended, but that wasn't in the contract. You also saved me the expense of having to pay these goons." He gestured to the dead bodies scattered across the floor. "Though, I'll have to pay the next crew I hire a bit more after word about this gets around. You've made working for me the most dangerous job in Ireland."

Aran said nothing. Parker could feel tension radiating from him.

"Seriously, relax. You seemed so calm this whole time, surrounded by six men with guns, and now that it's just me, you clench up?" Reed laughed. "I would love to know your story, but it's been a long night, and I imagine we'll run into each other again."

Reed walked over to the counter, where amid other things, rested a medium-sized safe. Reed raised a fist and slammed it down on top of the metal box. It buckled under the force, the door bending outward. Reed tore away the door, as if the safe was no more than a cardboard box.

Reed emptied the contents onto the counter. Several bundles of money spilled out, along with coins and other small valuables. Reed tucked the bundles of money inside his jacket pockets.

He turned to leave, then paused, went back to the counter, and pulled out a thin chain. A necklace.

"Something for the lady, a token to remember this eventful night." He let the necklace dangle from a finger. Parker accepted it in her palm.

As Reed stepped out of the room, Parker called to him.

"What was he?"

Reed paused. "Someone or something that wanted to live forever." He shrugged. "I don't know. I just met him last week. I'll leave the doors unlocked." And he was gone.

Parker leaned against a wall, keeping her distance from the corpses that littered the floor.

"How much of that... wasn't a surprise?" she asked Aran. "How much of this were you expecting?"

"I knew what the device was supposed to do, how it was supposed to work."

"It's supposed to give someone more time."

"That's why I had to rig it to tick the other way. Fast forward instead of rewind. But I didn't expect to be kidnapped. Didn't expect…" He motioned toward the thing on the floor.

"I'm going to see the world differently after this," Parker said.

"I remember what that was like, at first."

"How long ago was that?"

"Not as long as it feels."

"Tell me about it sometime?"

"If you're up to it now, I know a place we can go. Well-lit, quiet."

She nodded.

He offered a hand and helped her to her feet, and they made their way outside, the way they had come in. As promised, Reed had left the door unlocked.

Keep reading for a preview of my novel,
The Garden.

The Garden
is a full-length novel that shares some similarities with
Clockwork
. It centers on a young girl living in a foreign country. It has a handsome and heroic love interest. And it's packed with suspense, romance, action, and a mix of real-world danger and paranormal horrors.

Also, I wrote
Clockwork
as a pilot for an ongoing series. So, if you want more, take a moment to write a review, tweet at me @shotsofjameson, or contact me through my website, jamesonscottblythe.com.

Thank you for reading!