Clockwork Twist : Dreamer (20 page)

By the end of the day, Twist's copper globe showed them to be very nearly at the end of America.  The ship was still gliding above the eastern shore of Florida, but there wasn't much of it left now.  When Twist looked farther along the map, he saw the Caribbean islands dotting the sea between North and South America.  Two hundred years ago
, in the late 1600s
, those seas had been filled to bursting with sea pirates in huge wooden battle ships.  Now, the place still had a reputation.  He hoped they didn't have to stay in these skies for too long.

He sat at the table in the dining room, across from Dr. Rodés, the both of them quietly enjoying a pot of tea.  The doctor seemed absorbed in reading a large volume with a title in French on the cover, so Twist sat back to enjoy the rare silence and stirred a touch more milk into his tea.  Suddenly, the sound of a scream startled him enough to drop his spoon.

Storm ran in, saw Twist through the contraption on his face, and dove behind his chair.  He was breathing hard and looked terrified.  Before Twist could ask what was wrong, Jonas hurried into the room as well, brandishing a large wrench.  The doctor looked up at him in bewilderment.

“Where is he?” Jonas bellowed angrily.  Storm gave a strangled squeak and ducked just a little farther below Twist's armrest.

Twist gave a sigh. “We decided to take care of the boy,” he said calmly. “That means you can't kill him.”

“Fine,” Jonas spat, narrowing his eyes at Twist. “Then I'll stop just short.”

Twist's chair started to shake slightly.  He looked down to find Storm trembling violently.

“There he is,” Jonas growled, walking closer. “Come out and take what's coming to you!”

Storm shot under the table.  Howell hurried into the room and looked at Jonas sternly, while Moroni entered just behind him.

“All right, all right,” Howell said to him, walking closer. “You've made your point.  Now put that down.”

“Oh, I'll put it down,” Jonas grumbled, peering under the table.

“I'm sorry!” Storm's quivering voice said from the darkness.

“Not sorry enough!”

“What's the problem, anyway?” Howell asked. “If he's right—”

“Then he should keep his trap shut and stop messing up my life!”

“I'm really, really, sorry!” the table said.

Jonas tried to rush to the other side, closer to where the voice had come from, but Howell caught him by one arm.  Moroni moved quickly to catch the other and together they managed to hold him firmly in place even when Jonas struggled.

“Jonas, stop it,” Howell snapped. “If he's right, then I'm sorry too.”

Jonas stopped struggling, but his face still showed nothing but hate.

“I never knew,” Howell continued. “You never told me, of course,” he added bitterly. “But I misunderstood everything.  I'm sorry.  I'm not your father, anyway.  And you're not a boy anymore.  It's not my business to tell you who to be.”

Apparently as a show of good faith, he released his hold.  Moroni did so as well, albeit reluctantly.  Jonas's jaw was tight, his hands were clenched, but his eyes showed fatigue now instead of anger.  Twist caught sight of Storm's snowy-white hair as he peered fearfully over the far edge of the table.  Twist looked back to Jonas and dipped his attention into the buzz in his neck.  It was hot and chaotic, but cooling.  As angry as Jonas looked, Twist knew that he didn't feel it.  There was more fear and sadness in him than anything else, smoldering slowly deep within him.

“I guess,” Howell said, still speaking to Jonas's back, “after your parents died, I just wanted to take care of you and Ara.  We're the only family any of us has left now.  But I never meant to treat you—”

“It's fine,” Jonas said, cutting him off sharply. “Just leave it.”

Howell frowned slightly, but glanced at Storm across the table.  Storm—only his one uncovered eye, the contraption on his face, and the top of his head still visible—shook his head quickly.  Howell gave a sigh and nodded.

“All right,” he said softly. “But purely for safety reasons, could you put the wrench down, please?  Everything in this room was expensive, you know,” he added with forced lightness.

Jonas dropped it on the table, setting the teacups clattering on their saucers, and then left the room in a rush of indignation and pent-up rage.  Howell moved to follow him, but Storm stood and held his hands up to stop him as soon as Jonas was gone.

“No, no, no, you need to give him space now,” he said quickly. “That was perfect,” he said, smiling tightly. “He's just so used to being mad that he can't remember how to relax and accept anything.  He'll probably cool off and be better later.”

“Well,” Howell said, looking reluctant, “you've been right so far.”

“Storm?” Twist said, rubbing at a slight headache.  Even at a distance, Jonas's emotions were creeping through Twist's mind like a toxic smoke.

“Yes?” he asked, looking much less frightened now, but still nervous as he looked at Twist through the glass over his eye.

“Stop what you're doing,” Twist said. “You've done enough.”

“But there's still the whole problem with Aazzi,” he began.

“You've done enough,” Twist said, forcing his voice a little louder. “You might know his past, but I know him now.  Leave Jonas alone.”

“But I can help,” Storm said, disappointment rampant on his young face.

“I think you have helped,” Twist said, getting to his feet. “We'll see.  But stop for now.”

“Fine,” Storm said with a heavy sigh, crossing his arms.

Twist gave him a slight smile and shook his head as he headed for the door.  Twist stopped outside and listened.  Jonas was below decks, but farther than the crew cabins.  Twist went down the stairs and turned to continue down into the cargo deck, when a hand reached out and nearly caught him.  Twist jerked away from it and found Arabel standing in the hallway, looking unnerved.

“What's going on?” she asked softly. “Jonas just came through here and he looked...” Her words drifted off and the concern on her face grew.

“I'm not sure,” Twist said. “But I'll go find out.  Leave him to me.”

“Yeah,” Arabel said with a weak smile. “You really seem to know how to handle him.  I think you might know him better than I do now.”

“I'm still figuring things out,” Twist said, shaking his head. “Excuse me,” he said, turning to continue on.

Arabel didn't stop him.  Twist climbed down into the cargo deck.  The whole front of the ship was one open compartment, while the engine room was closed off in the back.  Crates and barrels were stacked up in clusters on the curving wooden floor—the bottom of the hull itself—and some were roped securely to the walls.  Twist stopped and listened again.  He heard no sounds except for the low rumble of the engine and a whisper of wind, but he felt a very subtle pull in the buzz at his neck, drawing him gently closer to the front of the ship.  Walking around a few towers of wooden crates, he found Jonas crouching in a shadow, his back turned to Twist.

“Go away,” Jonas said, not turning.

Twist paused in surprise.  There was something new in the buzz now.  Something dark, cold, and dangerous.

“I said, go,” Jonas snapped, standing quickly and half turning. “I don't need your help every five minutes.”

Twist gaped at him as chaos, anger, and fear burned violently at his neck.  He knew he could fix it, calm him down and take it all away, if Jonas only looked in his eyes and let his Sight wash over with the cool white fog.

“Damn it, I said go!” Jonas growled, turning to him.

Twist didn't even see the punch coming until it had knocked him back a step.  He reached up to the fire at his cheek and looked to Jonas.  His eyes were glowing a deep, blood red, but they were wet with tears as he glared at Twist with more hatred than Twist had ever seen in him before.  Fear rushed up Twist's spine, and for once he knew for certain that it was his own.

But Jonas had already caught his eyes.  The effect was instant.  His anger dulled, the color in his eyes lightened, and one of the tears broke free.  Jonas snapped his eyes away from Twist's and wiped at his face.  The moment he did, Twist caught the whiff of a new emotion hiding behind all the others: shame.  Twist's instincts whispered to him not to leave, but every other part of him screamed to go.

“I don't know what to do,” he breathed, at a total loss of anything else to say.

Jonas gave a wholly unhappy laugh. “Then do what you're told.  Leave me alone.  God, there's nowhere to hide on this bloody ship!” he hissed, throwing a halfhearted punch at the crates beside him.  The tower didn't move under the blow, and the wood held strong.  Jonas winced and shook his hand.

Twist swallowed as much of his frantic nerves as he could.  “If I stay, are you going to hit me again?” Twist asked, pouring strength into his weak voice.

“What?” Jonas snapped.

“Well, if you are, I'd prefer you didn't hit me in the face again.  That's too unpleasant.”

Jonas looked at him then, apparently confused enough to forget to glare. “What's wrong with you?” he asked, shaking his head.  Twist took a steadying breath and tried to push down his fears as his instincts won the battle.

“I'm not leaving,” Twist said, pulling himself into a steady posture. “You wouldn't leave me.  Last time, you embraced me, for heaven's sake.”

While he spoke, Jonas's eyes didn't leave him.  Their color dimmed just a little more, taking on a rusty orange.  Twist felt his own fear begin to ease.

“You're easier to fix,” Jonas said softly, the spite in his voice as transparent as a ghost.

“Granted,” Twist said, nodding.  His pride could take a few hits too, if it would help.

Jonas's eyes softened down to a deep honey gold.  He took a breath and looked away again.  Twist watched him build his anger back up, determined not to be calmed down.

“There's no one else here,” he said, watching Jonas curiously. “It's only me.  You have nothing to prove.”

Jonas shook his head with another cruel smile. “I'm here, too.  And stop poking around in my head.”

Now it was Twist's turn to give the breath of a laugh.  Jonas looked to him dangerously. “You're always in my head, remember?” Twist said, pointing to his own neck.

“Oh, poor you,” Jonas sneered.

“Do you want me to hit you back?  Is that it?”

“Maybe,” Jonas said. “Maybe you could knock some sense into me.”

“I'm not that strong.  I'd need a club or something.”

Jonas laughed, the sound surprisingly bright in all the darkness around them.  Twist felt something in his determination break, and watched as the anger, frustration, and embarrassment began to drain out through the cracks.

“Yeah, you would,” Jonas said with a sigh, glancing back to him with now nearly green, but still yellow eyes. “Then, after you're done with me, you should go after Storm.”

“I already told him to leave you be,” Twist said.

“You did?” Jonas asked, looking surprised. “I thought everyone agreed I needed fixing.”

“You're fine the way you are,” Twist said with a frown. “Why should you change?”

Jonas blinked at him, stunned.

“Besides,” Twist said, glancing away and praying he hadn't just said something wrong. “I thought Storm was fixing your family, not you.  He hasn't told you anything, has he?”

“No, he's just running around telling everyone everything I don't want them to know.”

“Well, then, you see?” Twist said, chancing a glance back at him. “You don't need fixing.  It's everyone else who has the problem.”

Jonas was actually, honestly, smiling at him now, and his eyes had warmed into a deep, forest green.  Relief washed over Twist as he tested the buzz in his neck and found stillness there now.  His cheek was beginning to ache, but he hardly cared.

“I just had a cup.  It's a rather nice orange pekoe,” Twist was saying over his shoulder to Jonas as they walked back into the dining room. “There's nothing like a good cup of tea to set you right.”

“You're such a Brit,” Jonas grumbled halfheartedly.

“Are you all right?” Myra gasped.

She stared at Twist's face in shock from where she knelt on the floor beside Storm, her hand on the boy's sagging shoulder.  Twist absently reached up to his bruised cheek.  Storm caught sight of Jonas and yelped, ducking back behind Myra and watching him fearfully.  Jonas's anger flared up again, stinging at Twist's neck, but he didn't lunge forward or reach for any kind of weapon.

“It's nothing,” Twist muttered.  Myra got to her feet and hurried to him, pulling his hand away to examine his face.  Storm followed in her wake and kept his frightened pink eyes on Jonas.

“What happened?” Myra asked, her voice sweet and gentle.  Her fingers brushed Twist's tender skin, making him wince. “I'm sorry,” she said.

“Did Jonas hit you?” Storm asked softy, sounding horrified.  Myra turned to Jonas in shock. “Oh no, did I start a fight between you two?”

“No,” Twist said, frowning at him, confused. “Everything's fine.”

“Between Twist and I, anyway,” Jonas added darkly.

“Oh thank heaven,” Storm said, taking large, steadying breaths. “I couldn't live with myself if I set you two at odds.”  Twist stared at him.  As far as he could sense, Storm deeply meant every word.

“Well, we're not.  Right?”  Twist glanced back at Jonas.  Jonas shrugged.

“That's good,” Storm said, starting to look a little better. “I'm really sorry for meddling.  I didn't mean to cause trouble.  I just wanted to help.  You never tell anyone anything,” he added, glancing sheepishly to Jonas. “I thought, if I told the others...” He shook his head. “I'm sorry.  I won't do it anymore.  I promise.”

Twist couldn't help but feel a little sorry for Storm as he tried desperately to apologize, while Jonas continued to smolder.  He and Myra both looked expectantly to Jonas, who rolled his eyes and gave a heavy sigh.

“Fine, whatever.  But if you tell anyone else anything about me, anything at all, I'll send you home immediately.  Got it?  It'd be right back to war and Cyphers.”

Storm nodded quickly, looking somehow even more frightened. “I understand.”

The remaining tension in the room made it seem hard to breathe.  Twist pushed down a breath and forcibly constructed
a smile.

“So, tea?”

Twist managed to get Jonas to sit at the table before he hurried off to make another pot of tea.  Myra joined Jonas at the table, while Storm stayed very close to her, and very quiet.  Once Twist had returned with the tea, the atmosphere of the room had at least lightened back to a low, grumbling level of annoyance.

“See?  Not a bad flavor,” he remarked hopefully after taking a sip.

“It's all right,” Jonas muttered, stirring in sugar.

“Philippe?” Arabel asked before she entered the room. “Oh,” she said, looking around. “I thought I smelled orange pekoe.  Has anyone seen Philippe?”

“He and Howell left a little while ago,” Myra said. “Did you try their cabins?”

Arabel didn't seem to hear her as she watched Jonas closely.  Jonas's eyes shifted in her direction, looking vaguely uncomfortable.

“It's rude to stare,” Storm mentioned lightly.

“Watch it, bright eyes,” Jonas snapped.

“I'm not talking about you,” Storm said with all the innocence of a two-day-old kitten. “It's just a generally known truth, which I suddenly felt like mentioning.”  He shot Arabel a meaningful glance as soon as Jonas looked back to his tea.

“Oh, well it'd be convenient if Uncle Howell was with him,” Arabel said brightly. “I need to ask them both which island we should dock at.  Philippe knows all the best French ports in the Caribbean.”

“Wait, we're going to stop in the Caribbean?” Storm asked suddenly.

“That is the plan,” Arabel said, nodding.

“Oh...” he said, looking highly worried. “Do we have to?  I mean, can't we go on and hit the next port instead?”

“What's wrong with the Caribbean?” Jonas asked. “It's nice there.”

“I think Quay is still there, building up a new crew,” Storm said.

“Quay the pirate?” Twist asked. “Isn't he in jail?”

“He broke out a while ago,” Storm answered, shaking his head. “And he's still very, very, mad at you for losing him Idris and Jonas,” he added to Arabel. “He thinks they were the strongest crew members he's ever had.  Idris, especially.  He might shoot you on sight.  Or attack the ship, if he sees it.  He dreams about revenge all the time.”

“Wait, are you sure he's here?” Arabel asked Storm. “You told me it's sometimes hard to tell where people actually are.”

“I know he was in a tavern in Kingston last week, trying to figure out which ship to steal.  He didn't have a navigator, and he was still looking for one.  I haven't had any of his dreams since then.”

“Well, if he was in Jamaica, then we can just go to another island,” Arabel said easily. “And he's probably stolen his ship and left by now anyway.” She gave Storm a smile. “Thanks for the warning.  We'll be careful.” With that, she turned and left the room.

Storm looked to Jonas. “Wow, you're right,” he said softly. “She doesn't listen to warnings at all.”

Jonas grinned at his tea. “Annoying as hell, isn't it?”

“Who's Quay?” Myra asked.

“Do you remember those pirates who attacked us in Nepal?” Twist asked her.  She thought for a second, and then nodded. “Quay was their leader.  Arabel used her Sight to follow him after he kidnapped you, me, and Jonas, and Howell got the Royal Navy to capture him in Indonesia.  Idris and Jonas used to be on his crew, along with a ninja, a woman with a gun collection, and a man who turned into a fox.”

“Oh, I see,” Myra said, listening intently.

Jonas looked up to Twist seriously. “You said all that very casually.”

“Why shouldn't I?” Twist asked.

“Did you hear any of it?  You've actually gotten jaded.”

“Well, we were captured by the man in moon and wound up in a village on a cloud just the other day,” Twist said with a shrug. “I've simply adjusted my perception to match my life.”

Jonas laughed and shook his head. “I'm very proud of you.”

Twist felt an unexpected jolt of pride at the comment.  Storm smiled too, watching Twist and Jonas with—Twist felt—far too much interest.