Clockwork Twist : Dreamer (11 page)

It took Twist a moment to figure out how to let his protective little bubble fall away again, after holding on to it so tightly.  Once he did, he then figured out how to open his eyes.  It seemed strange to still be in the crude pen, still surrounded by the others, sitting on the cloud-top.  Jonas took his hand away, clearing the rest of the confusion from Twist's thoughts.  Twist reached up to find he had a bandage on his brow.

“Here, drink this,” Storm's grandfather said, holding out a small clay cup to him. “It will help the aches and pains.”

Twist took it from him as the healer turned to Niko next.  The warm liquid inside smelled like far too many things at once, and was a very strange green-and-yellow color.  He stared at it silently, considering what to do with it.

“You all right?” Jonas asked gently, still sitting beside him. “You were so calm I thought you might have fallen asleep for a minute there.”

“Yeah, I'm fine,” Twist said, surprised at his own words. “He was completely right,” he said, looking to Storm.  The boy was watching him intently now. “It worked perfectly.”

“I told you it would work!” Storm said, smiling broadly. “You'll be okay now, Twist.”

“Thank you for helping,” Myra said sweetly to Storm, who soaked up her praise eagerly.  Jonas shifted uneasily, watching the boy in fleeting glances that avoided his eyes.

“We're going to end up having to trust him, aren't we?” he whispered to Twist.

Twist answered with a low, uncertain tone.

After Ted and Twist had been seen to, Storm's Grandpa moved on to each of the other captives in turn.  Jonas moved away to give Twist some room as he was seen to.  Twist finally managed to dare himself into drinking the strange tea that he'd been given.  Though the taste was foreign in the extreme, he got most of it down quickly enough to not be too bothered by it.  He gave a shudder at the aftertaste.

“Nasty, stuff, huh?” Storm said, smiling at him kindly. “At least it works.”

Twist looked back at the boy silently.  Those brilliant pink eyes now found his with no difficulty at all.  He glanced down at his pocket watch, laying in the misty surface of the cloud just beside him.  “So, I take it you can see and hear me now?” Twist asked the boy.

“Yeah, no problem,” Storm answered. “And it's really great to actually meet you, too.  You look just the way I thought you would,” he added, his pink eyes clouding over with thought and his gaze beginning to travel over Twist's form. “But, you don't look exactly the way you do in Jon's dreams.  In his dreams, your skin always glows softly, in bright colors and shifting patterns.  Like light falling through water.  Very pretty.”

Twist shuddered involuntarily, moving slightly away from the child and his disturbingly acute and intimate knowledge.  Jonas had only vaguely mentioned the illusion that his Sight put onto Twist's skin, and Twist had had the decency to pretend to forget about it.  His skin prickled against the boy's gaze and he tugged the cuffs of this jacket down farther over his hands.

“Jon thinks he can see your emotions in the colors—“ the boy went on.

“Can we talk about something else?” Twist asked very quickly, his heart beginning to race.  He glanced at Jonas to find that he was looking back at Twist curiously.  Twist sighed and shook his head slightly, forcing his heart rate to slow with determined, slow breaths.

“Oh!” Storm gasped, his eyes snapping open wide. “I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to make you...  That stuff's private.  I'm sorry.  I won't mention it again.”

Twist struggled to keep himself from glaring at the intrusive little boy.  His hand moved for his pocket watch without his thinking about it, as if anxious for the grounding sensation of its cool mechanical apathy.  The moment his fingers brushed against the chilled metal, Storm's eyes lost their focus on him.  The boy blinked, unmoving, but his face washed over with disappointment and his eyes focused on something behind Twist.  Twist lifted his hand, leaving the watch behind, and Storm started: staring him directly in the eye.

“Storm, why can't you see me if I have my watch?” Twist asked, keeping his hand away from it for now.

Storm glanced away, giving a tight shrug. “No reason.”

Twist chilled his own gaze, leaning slightly closer. “You know entirely too much about me.  I know nothing of you.  What does a pocket watch have to do with your vision?”

“Well...” Storm muttered, staring back at him in obvious unease. “I don't know,” he said, his voice slightly less than firm.

“Out with it, boy,” Twist snapped, focusing to give his voice a sharpness without raising the volume.

Storm flinched. “It's no big deal or anything,” Storm answered in a rush. “It's just … you know … the spell.”

“What spell?” Twist asked, careful now to keep his voice smooth, though his eyes remained cool.

“I don't know,” Storm attempted again.

Twist narrowed his eyes, forcing a little more cold fire into them. “I see.  Well, if you don't want to talk, then I don't want to either.”  He moved his hand back to his watch.

“But!” Storm moaned, reaching out to stop his hand, but stopping himself short of actually touching Twist.  Twist paused, watching him. “I finally get to talk with you,” Storm said pleadingly. “You never hear me in Jon's dreams.  No one ever hears me in their dreams.”

Twist took a breath, considering a new tactic.  He had plenty of questions for the boy, after all. “You keep talking about Jonas's dreams,” he said, almost conversationally. “Don't you ever have mine?”

“Well...” the boy said slowly, calculating quickly. “Jon's easier to find.”

“Why?”

“I don't know.”

“Right,” Twist said, reaching for his watch again. “Lovely to meet with you.”

“Can't we talk about clockwork, or adventure novels, or Myra?” Storm asked at a startling speed.  Twist paused. “Have you read any new Verne novels?” Storm tried hopefully. “Or do you like Dickens more now that you're having real adventure?”

Twist gave the boy the ghost of a smile. “I don't talk about books with Jonas,” Twist said smoothly. “How do you know I like Verne?”

“Hey, I'll bet those caves under Indonesia reminded you of
Journey to
—“ Storm began brightly, and very quickly.

“It's very rude not to answer questions, you know,” Twist said smoothly, cutting him off.  He indulged himself in a smile, watching Storm's evaporate.  Children were vastly easier to talk to than adults, Twist mused.  He struggled now to remember why he'd had such trouble talking with the other boys at the orphanage.

“You're never this mean to Jonas,” Storm muttered, his lip clearly wishing to pout, though he was holding back the gesture.

Twist smiled a little more broadly. “Jonas answers my questions.”

“Not always,” Storm said. “You want to know why he's afraid of his Sight?”

“I know exactly why he's afraid of it,” Twist said, frowning.  Somehow, even acknowledging Jonas's fear felt indecent.  This wasn't something he could or should discuss.

“No you don't,” Storm said. “He only told you half of it.  Seeing people die is disturbing, sure.  But that's not what really scares him.”

“Stop,” Twist snapped, his own sudden anger startling him.

“What the hell is going on over here?” Jonas asked, walking back to them and stopping to stand over Storm. “Is this little punk bothering you, sir?” he asked Twist.

“A bit,” Twist sighed, shooting Jonas a quick smile in his relief.

“This is just as bad as your dreams,” Storm muttered, crossing his arms and relenting into his pout.

“What about our dreams?” Jonas asked.

“Your dreams, not mine,” Twist corrected him. “He can't have mine.”

“Lucky dog,” Jonas grumbled.  Storm looked up at him, his pout fully formed now. “Why not?” Jonas asked, not looking at him.

“Because there's some kind of spell on my pocket watch,” Twist answered.

“A spell?” Jonas asked. “What are you talking about?”

“No idea,” Twist said mournfully. “The boy's a fortress.”

Jonas slipped his goggles on over his eyes to look down at Storm. “Spill it, boy, or I shall not speak to you anymore,” he said tauntingly.

“I'm not against you!” Storm growled in frustration, jumping to his feet. “I'm here to help you, damn it!  Oh, why don't you remem—” He stopped suddenly, clasping his hands over his mouth with a look of horror on his face.  Everyone else in the pen turned to look as he glanced around at them and his eyes went wet.

“What just happened?” Jonas asked Twist, clearly alarmed now.

“I'm sorry!” Storm gasped, throwing his arm around Jonas's middle and hiding his face in Jonas's shirt. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry...” he muttered pitifully, his voice muffled by tears and Jonas.

“What's going on?” Kima asked, peering at Jonas.

“What did you say to him?” Myra asked with a whine.

“I don't know!” Jonas yelped in naked fear.  His hands tentatively found Storm's shaking shoulders, patting supportively. “Kid, it's all right,” he tried. “Just calm down, now.”

“I'm useless...” Storm moaned through his sobs.

“What?  Why?” Jonas asked. “What the hell are you even apologizing for?”

“You don't trust me at all,” Storm gasped, moving back just enough to wipe at his face with a hand.  He still clutched tightly to the fabric at Jonas's side. “Why should you?  I don't even know what I was thinking.  I really don't!” he snapped as if furious with himself.  His large tears continued to run. “And now you're here but you keep asking me things I can't tell you, and I'm saying all the wrong things, and I just—” he gasped in a gulp of air. “I just—!”

Terror shot through Twist like an electric jolt.  The boy was slipping into hysterics.  Something had to be done, and quickly.  Twist felt helpless in the face of the realization that he was not only partly to blame, but that he didn't have a clue what to do to help.  Jonas knelt down suddenly and wrapped the boy tightly in his arms.  Clearly stunned, Storm's frantic words paused.  Jonas rubbed soothingly at his back.

“There there,” he said gently to the boy's ear. “It's not all that bad.  Everything's going to be fine.”  Twist watched in disbelief as the boy's form clearly relaxed into Jonas's embrace, and his frantic breaths slowly began to still.

“I'm sorry...” Storm muttered into Jonas's collar after a moment.

“It's all right,” Jonas responded instantly. “I forgive you.”

“You do?” Storm asked, pulling back to look at him, wide-eyed.  Still wearing his goggles, Jonas smiled.

“I don't even know what you did,” Jonas said, his voice alien to Twist's ears for all the care in it. “Of course I forgive you.”

“Oh,” Storm breathed, deflating slightly.

“You all right now?” Jonas asked carefully.

Storm rubbed at his face again, but this time no fresh tears broke free. “Yes,” he muttered softly. “Thank you.”

Jonas rose back to his feet and patted Storm's head with a hand, giving him a tight smile. “Good boy.  No more nervous breakdowns now, okay?”

“Okay,” Storm muttered, looking ashamed but no longer in imminent danger of a meltdown.

The moment Jonas stepped back, Kima rushed to Storm's side and Myra came to kneel before the boy.  Myra gave him a sunny smile and took his damp hand in her copper fingers.

“Storm, honey,” she said sweetly. “Why don't we ask Tasha to show us a magic trick?”

Storm's eyes shifted to Twist and Jonas nervously.  Twist hurriedly put on an encouraging smile.

“Come along, honey,” Myra said, getting to her feet, still holding his hand.

Kima said something in a soothing tone that Twist couldn't follow.  Storm let them lead him away to where Tasha and Niko stood, both already smiling at him.  Jonas dropped down to sit close beside Twist with a heavy sigh.

“Right,” he said, his voice low enough to only be heard by Twist. “What the bloody hell was all that about?”

“You're the one who hugged him,” Twist muttered.

“I had to do something,” Jonas said, lifting his goggles up to reveal nervous, yellow-green eyes to Twist as he leaned closer to speak more quietly. “He's just a boy.  But then,” he added, frowning in thought, “there's also all the weirdness.”

“He really knows everything about your dreams,” Twist said stiffly. “He told me things.”

“What things?”

Twist took a deep breath. “What my skin looks like to you.”

“Oh.”  Jonas's posture straightened up.  The buzz at Twist's neck took on an uneasy bite.

“Exactly,” Twist sighed, rubbing at the sensation.

“And what's all this about a spell on your watch?” Jonas asked.

“No idea,” Twist said, shaking his head as he picked up the watch to look at it.  It looked the same as it always did. “He mentioned it as if by mistake, and then wouldn't say anything else at all.”

“You don't think that really works, do you?” Jonas asked, nodding at the watch.  Twist looked at him, clearly confused. “The charm,” Jonas said, pointing to the engraving on the cover.

“What charm?” Twist asked, looking back at his watch.

“What do you think that symbol means?” Jonas asked, smiling at Twist's confusion.

“It's just a design, surely,” Twist said with a shrug, absently tracing the image with his fingers: an image of the sun, surrounded with a square, ringed in tiny little curls and marks.

“It's a ward against fairies,” Jonas said, watching Twist carefully now.

“Don't be absurd,” Twist said, forcing a laugh. “You don't believe in fairies.”

“No I don't,” Jonas said easily.  He reached out to tilt the watch while it was still in Twist's hand.  He examined the design again and then shrugged. “But I've seen this before.  I've seen gypsies use it to make themselves invisible to fairies.”