Clockwork Twist : Trick (20 page)

Twist looked around at the huge, open basement under the doctor's house.  The bare stone floors and walls were covered with shelves, tables, and racks full of disordered collections of metal pieces, shining wires, tools, and half-formed humanoid limbs.  Electric lamps hung from the flat ceiling, spilling cold white light over the sharp shadows.  In the center of the space, an oil-stained table sat at a slightly vertical angle.  A full mechanical metal body lay on it in pieces, oil dripping slowly from the seams, surrounded by jagged-looking, black-stained tools.

Myra shudd
ered.  Her smooth copper skin gave off a light, metallic note as the pieces slid against each other.  Twist wanted to say something to calm her, to make her feel safe.  But he could think of nothing to say, no matter how he struggled against his own anxious fear.  A sudden flashing memory came back to him of how Jonas had put his arm around Twist's shoulders.  Twist could easily remember how the gesture had felt to him once the shock of it had dissipated, and wondered if it might have the same effect on Myra.

He freed his hand from hers and put his arm across her shoulders silently, watching her carefully.  She responded instantly, fitting her smaller form into his side and wrapping her arms around his waist.  Her worried face nestled itself into his chest, just under his jaw, and he felt her worries cool and ease.  Twist's skin prickled at the closeness that she had created when he had done so little, and his heart beat quickly as he held her.

The doctor, meanwhile, busied himself with moving things about on iron rails that were set into the ground.  The central table with its grisly, broken metal body was pushed aside, and an empty table was moved into the center.  He then turned and paused, staring at Twist and Myra.

“Is everything all right?” he asked.

“This place is rather frightening, you know,” Twist said softly.

“Oh,” the doctor said. “It's just my workshop.”

Myra bit her copper lip in her silver teeth, but she reluctantly withdrew her hands from Twist.  He slowly took his hand away too, keeping a close watch on her troubled face.  She gave him a nod and pulled herself into a brave posture.

“Now, let's see this thing, shall we?” the doctor said, gesturing to Myra.

She removed her cloak and gloves, handing them to Twist, to reveal her copper form draped in her soft purple sari.  The doctor looked her over thoughtfully and then stepped closer.  Without a word, he took hold of her hand and examined her fingers, bending some of them gently along the joints.  Myra allowed him to do this until he bent one finger the wrong direction just a little too far.  She gasped and jerked her hand away, shaking it quickly.

“Ow, ow, ow...” she muttered, grimacing.

“Be careful, will you?” Twist snapped, dropping her things to take her hand and examine her finger himself.  His Sight showed no damage, though the joint was now ever so slightly out of place.  He carefully nudged it back, and Myra let out a long, relieved breath.

“I’m sorry,” the doctor said, staring at him curiously. “You sure know your way around
this thing, don't you?”

“She is not a thing!” Twist snapped, his small voice surprisingly strong in the silence of the stone room.  The doctor's expression showed clear alarm and confusion.  Twist took a breath and tried to calm himself. “I'm sorry,” he said as smoothly as he could. “Please, just try to keep in mind that this is a young girl, and not just a lifeless metal toy.  She has feelings, and right now she is very frightened.”

“I have to be able to examine this…” The doctor paused as Twist tensed visibly, expecting to be insulted by his next word. “This young lady, before I can come to any sort of opinion.  Maybe this would be easier if you waited with the others,” the doctor said gently to Twist, as if Twist's sentiments were quite fragile.

“No,” Twist said instantly.

“Twist,” Myra said softly.  He looked to her, his chilling gaze warming quickly. “He's right.  Maybe we should both leave.  You can...” she paused, taking a deep breath as.  He felt her emotions force themselves steady through his Sight. “You can fix me again if he breaks something, can't you?”

“What?” Twist asked. “How do you mean?  You can't—“  His words stopped as he suddenly understood.  Her spirit could move at will.  His Sight explained nothing of her magical workings to him, but every time her spirit had moved before, it had been of her choice.  “You and I can go wait with the others while leaving your puppet here,” he clarified.

She nodded, though her hesitation was clear on her face.

“I can fix you no matter what happens to you,” Twist said. “Always.”  Myra smiled to him gratefully and nodded.

“What are we talking about, now?” the doctor asked.

“Come here,” Twist said gently to Myra, leading her to the empty table in the center of the room.

She let him help her up to sit on the edge of the table.  She swung her legs up and laid herself down, keeping her eyes always on Twist.  He felt her fright, even though this had been her idea.  He wished more than anything that he could take it all away.  She made the motion of taking a deep breath, and then closed her eyes.  Holding her clockwork hand, Twist felt her spirit vanish from the cold, hollow, metal.

He shu
ddered and stepped back, staring at the lifeless puppet that used to be Myra.  An instant later, a small, cold hand came to rest on his shoulder.  He spun to find Myra standing behind him—her soft, pale skin almost blue in the electric light, her long black hair hanging loose around her child-like face, and her small form wrapped in swaths of pink silk just as it had been the first time he had seen her.  Her spirit looked back to him with dark, human eyes that were full of nervous tension.  She lifted her other hand to gently stroke the side of his face and Twist's skin tingled at the feeling of her cool skin against his.

“Are you all right?” she asked with her true voice.

“What?  Yeah.  Why?”

She smiled gently. “Last time I did this, it hurt you.”

“Right,” Twist said, forcing himself to focus.  He looked to the doctor. “Do I look all right to you?”  The doctor's expression promised a negative answer.

“You're talking to thin air,” the doctor said carefully.  Twist looked back to Myra's spirit, as solid and real to him as the doctor was.  Then he remembered that the form he saw in his Sight wasn't exactly real, in the strictest sense.

“I need to ask Jonas,” he said with a sigh.  He gave the doctor a piercing stare. “Please be careful.  She's delicate.  And for goodness sake, don't even touch the crystals.”  The doctor nodded slowly, staring at Twist with an odd sort of fear.  Twist took a steadying breath. “I'm sorry.  Thank you very much for helping us.”

“Of course,” the doctor said, nodding with a thin smile.

Twist then took Myra's spirit and left the dungeon-like basement.  As they walked together, Twist tried to listen to his own body.  He felt perfectly fine.  He couldn't sense any pain, slowness, or problems of any kind.  Maybe his Sight had grown stronger since Nepal.  The moment he and Myra's ghost walked into the parlor, Jonas—who had been sitting on a couch reading a book of musical scores—jumped to his feet, staring at Myra.

“What happened?” he asked urgently.

“What?” Jeffrey asked, looking at Twist.  Idris gave Jonas a curious look.

“She … left her puppet,” Twist said. “I think it’s all right.  It was her idea.”

“Who's done what, now?” Idris asked.

“Wait, you can do that?” Jonas asked Myra. “Just, come and go as you like?”

“Well, kind of,” Myra answered. “I mean, it's not easy, exactly.”

“What did she say?” Jonas asked Twist.

“You can't hear her?” Twist asked.

“What is going on?” Jeffrey asked, sounding cross.

Jonas put his hands up to silence them all. “That's it.  Hands up if you can see Myra right now.”  He and Twist held up their hands, while Idris and Jeffrey simply stared at them. “Myra's spirit can, apparently, leave her clockwork body.  She's standing there next to Twist, right now.”

“Oh,” Jeffrey remarked.  Idris pulled a pair of wire rimmed, pink-lensed glasses out of an inner coat pocket and placed them on his face.  He then smiled directly at Myra and waved.  She waved back.

“But you can't hear her?” Twist asked again.  Jonas shook his head. “Well, that's awkward,” Twist said. “Oh, but how do I look?”

“Fine. Why?” Jonas said with a shrug.

“Well, last time...”

“Right,” Jonas said, understanding taking hold quickly.  He walked up to Twist and stared directly into his eyes for a moment, his own turning a deep purple in Twist's Sight, and then blinked and lessened his stare. “You look all right for the moment.  But there's something funny going on at the edges.”

“The edges of what?”

“No idea,” Jonas said with a sigh. “It might not be a good idea to keep this up for too long, is all.  But I think you're fine for now.”

“Oh good,” Myra said with a relieved sigh.

She took Twist's hand and wound her chilly fingers through his.  Twist took her to sit on an empty couch, and tried to stop noticing that her hand now felt as real, solid, and human to him as Jonas's did.  He tried to get his mind to accept the idea that she was still a spirit no matter what his Sight told him, but his senses utterly refused to add any supporting evidence.

The others settled down again too, falling into a quiet, slightly anxious sort of boredom.  Jonas returned to reading the book of music—glancing at Twist from time to time—while Jeffrey sipped at a cup of tea from the pot that was set out on the low, marble-topped table in the middle of the room.  Idris sat on the floor, building a castle out of the playing cards that had once been a tiny elephant, and a tea spoon before that.

Twist's wandering thoughts snapped to the sensation of Myra's chill but solid grasp as she lifted his hand in hers and stared at it
quietly.  She stroked the back of his hand slowly with a finger, tracing the bones underneath his skin.  He watched the motion with his whole attention, his heart beating quicker now.

“You have such pretty hands,” Myra toned pleasantly.

“Thank you...”  Twist felt sure that hadn't been nearly enough of a response, but he couldn't imagine another thing to say.

Myra smiled up at him softly. “This is different, isn't it?” she asked, still stroking his skin. “You haven't been this nervous around me since the first time we met.”

“Well...” he said, struggling to catch his thoughts as they ran around wildly. “You know me.  I'm still new at … people.  I'm still not used to being able to touch anyone, I guess.”

“Should I stop?”

“No,” Twist said, a little too quickly.  He took a breath before he looked to her with a smile. “It's just new.  Don't worry about me.”

Myra laughed softly, grinning at him with a hint of mischief in her delight.  A mix of alarm, heady joy, and a sudden and violent craving he couldn't place, shot through Twist's general state of confusion like an arrow, striking so deep in his spirit that he felt it everywhere.  He barely managed to realize that the feeling had been entirely his own, and not Myra's at all.

Somewhere out in the rest of the world, beyond Myra's touch, Twist heard the sound of soft, muffled chuckling.  He realized distantly that it was Jonas, but couldn't bring himself to care.

The sound of the doorbell startled them all, except for the maid which stopped dusting the bookcase to head for the door.  Twist and his companions sat waiting, straining to hear down the hall.  The maid asked the same question it always asked, and was replied to in French.

“Someone actually has an appointment,” Jonas supplied, sitting on the edge of
his seat but keeping his gaze on his book.  The others looked to the doorway expectantly.

Aazzi's dark chocolate face appeared first, and her silver eyes found Twist and Jonas before her expression took on a smile.  Philippe appeared second, staring at t
hem coolly from behind his wire-rimmed glasses.  Standing together, they matched perfectly in their opposition.  Philippe’s fair complexion, sharp blue-and-silver suit, and steady gray eyes contrasted nicely with Aazzi's midnight-black gown, long and thin silver braids, and the pale-blue silk shawl that lay across her shoulders.  They were both, however, impeccable to an intimidating degree.

“You got here fast,” Aazzi said, smiling to Twist and Jonas.  Jonas put his goggles back on over his eye
s.

“We were in a hurry,” Twist said. “What brings you here?”

“You, of course,” Philippe said in his soft French accent. “We came to tell my uncle that you were coming.”

“Thanks,” Jonas said with a wide grin. “That'll help, I'm sure.”

“Who are your friends?” Aazzi asked, looking over Jeffrey with his tea cup and Idris, who was now on the fourth floor of his house of cards.

“Idris the djinn, and Jeffrey the talking monkey,” Jonas offered, gesturing to each of them despite his blindness. “These are Mr. and Mrs. Rodés,” he said to the others. “She sent us here in the first place.”

“A pleasure,” Jeffrey said, standing up to give them a polite bow.  Philippe returned the bow stiffly, as if he wasn't quite sure if he should or not.

“A djinn?” Aazzi said, staring at Idris.

“A vampire,” he responded with a smile.  Aazzi's eyebrows.

“My poor uncle...” Philippe said with a sigh. “Where is Myra?”

“Right here,” Twist said, looking to her spirit, sitting beside him. “The doctor is examining the puppet in the basement, right now.”

Philippe looked to his wife.  Aazzi stared for a moment at the empty air that Myra's spirit was sitting in, and then gave a shiver.

“She's right there,” Aazzi said to Philippe. “But she's calm.  I would never have seen her if he hadn't said.”

“That's an interesting trick,” her husband remarked.

“So, if you're here,” Jonas asked, “where are Ara and the others?”

“Parking the ship,” Aazzi said. “They will be here any minute.”

“Damn it,” Jonas spat, dropping his blind gaze to the floor. “And the magpies?”

“Even if the Rooks followed us, it doesn't matter now,” Aazzi said.

“Yeah, well, at least you gave us a choice in that,” Jonas said darkly.

“You're welcome,” Philippe
added tartly. “I'm happy that my wife and I were able to assist you when no one else could.”

To Twist's great relief, the doctor appeared in the hallway before Jonas could speak again.  He greeted Philippe with a smile and a hearty
handshake, and gave a pleasant-sounding word to Aazzi.  The three of them spoke quickly in French with gestures and tones that Twist couldn't follow in the least.

“And what have you found, then?” Philippe asked in English, as the three of them stepped into the parlor.  Twist's gaze snapped to the doctor.

“Well,” the doctor began, taking a thoughtful breath, “it's a magnificent piece.  The clockwork is amazing.  I've been working with humanoid machines my whole life, but that puppet is completely new to me.  And it’s in such fine working order that, if I didn't know better, I'd be absolutely sure that it was made this year.”

“Do you think it could ever be developed into a weapon?” Aazzi asked.

“No, never,” he responded.  Twist let out the breath he had been holding. “It's far too delicate for any sort of physical fighting.  It's obviously made to dance, as the old story says, down to every inner working.  Besides, without something intelligent to power the crystals, it's nothing but a lifeless puppet.  I don't think the same design could work without a spirit to drive it, and a disembodied spirit simply isn't easy to come by in polite society.  No one could ever get a design like that combat ready, or make enough of them to cause any real trouble.”

“Then, will you tell the Rooks what you've learned?” Philippe asked.

“I already have.”

“How?” Jonas asked, frowning. “You never left the basement.”

“Rooks haven't used letters or telegrams for decades,” the doctor said proudly. “You should see the devices they do employ.  I already sent them my report.  They should send a reply very soon.  But I'm certain you boys will have nothing to worry about.” he added with a smile to Twist and Jonas. “Now, I'm sure you want to get your puppet up and about.” He gestured for Twist to follow as he headed back to the basement.  Twist was on his feet instantly, following with Myra's spirit at his side.

“Thank you for your help,” Twist said as they walked together. “Please forgive our rudeness for appearing so suddenly and disturbing your work.”

“Not at all, not at all,” the doctor said. “I've learned more about robotics in the last few minutes than I have in the last three years.  It's truly a fantastic design,” he said as they descended the stairs down into the cold electric light. “So elegant and simple.  I've heard about the clockwork princess in whispers, but to actually get to see it...”

He shook his head with a wide smile, gazing at Myra's puppet on the table as they came closer.  It looked exactly as it had before, lying peacefully on the cold metal table.  Twist could see nothing out of place or changed.  Myra smiled and moved closer.

“Wait,” Twist said to her, holding out a hand. “Let me just have a look first.”

Myra gave him a shrug and waited.  Twist placed his hand on the puppet's brow.  His Sight flew easily over the familiar inner clockwork, touching every detail.  He opened his eyes
and put on a frown.  The neck was just slightly out of alignment, along with her left wrist and three of the delicate levers that surrounded her crystal heart.  He silently readjusted the affected pieces until his Sight showed no flaw anywhere inside.

“You've got a Sight, haven't you?” the doctor asked, watching as Twist's hands moved quickly over the puppet.

“I can see damage,” Twist answered, trying not to sound bitter as he fixed the other man's mistakes. “A few things were just a little bit off,” he added, stepping back. “It should be all right now,” he said to Myra's spirit.

“No wonder it’s in such good condition,” the doctor said.

Myra's spirit smiled gratefully to Twist and then stepped closer to the puppet.  As Twist watched, her spirit blurred and then vanished into nothing.  An instant later, Myra's puppet opened its eyes.  He took her hand and helped her to sit up, feeling her spirit now deep inside the clockwork once again.  She stretched her neck, tested her hands, and then shivered.

“Is everything all right?” Twist asked.

“Yes, thank you,” she answered, smiling to him. “It's just...”  She shook her head and appeared to take a deep breath. “I can feel where he touched me,” she said very softly. “It's fine if it's you, but...”

“I'm sorry, my dear.
” He brushed a few stray strands of her wire hair away from her face.

“If I could just ask you both a question,” the doctor said, stepping closer hesitantly.  They looked to him silently. “Have either of you ever seen another clockwork puppet like this one?”

Twist's mind returned to something that he had almost forgotten, making him wonder how he could ever have let it slip so far into the shadows: the city of clockwork people in the crystal caves under Indonesia.  He had promised to never breathe a word of his experience there to a living soul, not even to Myra, in exchange for her new crystal heart.  There must have been hundreds of them there, all hiding from the world.

“Not exactly,” Myra said, her jewel eyes looking off to her memories. “The man who built this puppet for me had toys that were kind of similar, but no other people.  He made me birds mostly, and they only worked when you wound them up.  They were wonderful, though,” she added wistfully. ”You would have loved them,” she added to Twist.

“I see,” the doctor said, looking to Twist. “And you?  Have you ever seen anything?”

“Only a cat,” Twist said, grateful for the memory. “I saw a clockwork cat in Indonesia once, but it disappeared into the forests and I never saw it again.”

“Indonesia?” the doctor asked. “Where in Indonesia?”

“I don't know,” Twist said. “We went there looking for crystals.  I'm sorry, but I'm not very good with geography.  I didn't know whether Constantinople was a city or a country until
I went there the other day,” he added with a smile, hoping to lead the conversation as far away from Indonesia as he could.

“But you've never seen another humanoid metal being like this one?” the doctor asked, staring at Twist's eyes.

Twist felt a jolt of fear, wondering if the other man could sense his diversions, and forced all the resolve he had into his next lie. “No, never.  She's one of a kind.”

The doctor stared at him for a moment longer before he nodded, looking away. “Well, thank you.  If you ever do see one, be sure to let me know,” he said, giving back a smile now. “I'd love to see it, you know.”

“Of course,” Twist said, smiling back tightly.

“Well, I should clean myself up a bit, now that I'm having guests,” the doctor said, looking down to his rough, oil-stained clothes. “Why don't you go on ahead and tell the others I'll be up in a moment?”

“Sure,” Twist said, happy to leave the frightening basement. “Thank you again.”

“Think nothing of it,” the doctor said, standing in place and watching them both walk back up the stairs and out of sight.

As Twist and Myra headed back to the parlor, Twist couldn't shake a subtle sense that something in the last conversation had gone badly.  Had the doctor seen through his lie?  Even if he had, what could come of it?  Walking on, Twist didn't notice at first that the buzzing at his neck grew stronger, hotter, and sharper as he got closer to Jonas.  He was as startled as Myra when he heard Jonas's angry voice from the parlor, just as they reached the doorway.

“I didn't ask you to come here!” Jonas yelled at Arabel, who was now standing before him in the parlor while her uncle, Howell Davis, and the green-haired engineer, Zayle, watched from behind her.  Her long blond hair
hung in a loose braid on her shoulder and she was dressed in trousers and tall boots under a short, green, lace-edged skirt and bodice, and her short brown leather jacket.  Jonas was standing too, his goggles on over his eyes.

“You don'
t have to ask!  We're family,” she yelled back, just as angry.

“God, how many times do I have to run before you stop chasing me?” Jonas growled.

“You're my brother, Jonas.  My twin.  We are supposed to be together.  But no, you follow Twist across the world without a moment's hesitation and leave me without a word.  You only met him last month!  You've known me your whole life!”

“What's Twist got to do with anything?” Jonas asked back, looking incredulous.

“Exactly!  He's not your family.  I am!  Heavens above, Jon, you won't even look at me anymore.  All I ever see are those damned goggles!  I'm starting to forget what you even look like.”

The buzz in Twist's neck sharpened into a painful heat so quickly that Twist's breath caught in his throat and his hand flew up to his neck.  Jonas's form had gone deathly still as he stared blindly at his sister.

“You know I can't look at you,” Jonas said, his voice low but toxic.

“You don't even try anymore,” Arabel snapped back at him. “Not at all.  Oh, but you'll look at him with no problem.  He's practically a stranger to us!”

Twist felt the buzz in his neck shift from white hot to frigid, black, bitter cold.  Jonas's hands were both clenched into fists and his whole form seemed to shake ever so slightly.  He shook his head and turned away.  He was out of the room and halfway to the door before Arabel's voice rose to a yell, calling him back.  Howell took her shoulders to stop her from following after him.