Clockwork Twist : Dreamer (10 page)

True to his word, the boy returned not long after.  He dragged a woman along with him by the hand, while an older man followed with them.  The woman looked the same as the others in the village, with long black hair in braids, and the same hand-spun clothing and colorful beads, but her chest and arms seemed to be wrapped in a crude and simple armor of tightly fashioned plates of thin bone and twine.  She also wore a loaded harpoon gun by a strap over her shoulder.

The man who accompanied her and the boy wore his graying hair in the same long braids as the others did, but his clothing was more colorful than anyone else's, adorned with a vast multitude of feathers that made him almost look like a bird.  His darkly tanned and heavily wrinkled face was painted with bright-colored stripes.  He carried a box-like basket with him in one hand, and a tall staff in the other.

“Look!” the boy said to the woman, pointing at Jonas through the walls of the pen. “It's Jonas, Mom!  And Myra, and Twist is here too—just like I told you.  You've got to help them!”

The boy's mother looked at everyone inside the pen with steely, critical, dark eyes.  Twist felt a sudden jolt of energy in the buzzing at his neck and glanced to Jonas, who was looking at the woman in curious confusion but keeping his gaze clear of her eyes.  Not noticing this at all, the woman glanced around at the village anxiously before speaking to her son in hushed tones and a language that Twist couldn't follow at all.

“Of course I'm sure!” the boy answered her instantly, still keeping to English. “And look, they got hurt when their airship crashed, too.  Tasha's all banged up, and Niko looks like he got burnt,” he added, looking at them sympathetically.

Clearly startled to be named, Tasha covered her shocked expression with her hand. “You know us, as well?”  Niko, meanwhile, continued to stare at the boy with cold unease.

The woman said something questioningly to her son, pointing at Tasha.

“That's right,” the boy answered with a smile. “She's the magician that Jonas and Twist met in Egypt when the Cyphers tried to kidnap Myra.”

“Whoa, hold on a second!” Jonas snapped, while a tingle of shock rippled up Twist's spine. “How the bloody hell do you know about that?”

“See?” the boy said, gesturing to Jonas proudly. “Told you.”

The woman seemed to consider Jonas critically for a long moment before she gave a sigh and looked to the older man.  She said something to him, and the man gave a nod, moving to the lock on the pen door.  The woman then turned back to look at Jonas.

“We will help you,” she said to him in English, with a light accent. “But you must do exactly what I tell you.  If any of you try to double-cross me or my son, or if you're not the same 'Jonas' from his dreams, then I will shoot you.  Do you understand?”

“Sure, whatever you say,” Jonas answered without hesitation.  The others nodded their consent as well, watching the woman and the boy with questioning eyes.

Taking his words as a sign, the older man opened the lock and then slowly began to open the door, watching everyone inside carefully.  The boy's mother lifted the harpoon gun as she and the man began to step inside.  The captives moved back slowly as well, clearly cautious, but the boy darted forward suddenly and launched himself at Jonas.  The boy wrapped his arms around Jonas's waist and pressed his face lovingly against his chest.  Jonas froze in shock.

“Jon, I'm so glad you're all right!” the boy gasped in evident relief.  He pulled back to smile up at Jonas warmly. “You're indestructible, after all.”  Jonas snapped his eyes firmly closed, his arms floating uselessly beside him as if totally unsure whether to hold the boy or push him away.

The older man locked the pen again quietly behind himself, watching the boy with a curious fascination.  He then looked everyone over quickly before moving to where Ted's limp form lay in the misty cloud top.  Steve joined him, crouching beside his friend as the man seemed to examine Ted.

“Are you sure you don't know this boy?” Myra asked Jonas in a whisper.

“Never seen him in my life...” Jonas muttered as the boy nuzzled his face into Jonas's shirt with a blissful expression.

“Pahmut...” the woman with the harpoon gun said gently, lowering her aim now that the door was locked again. “They don't understand.”

The boy glanced back at her and then up to Jonas's closed eyes. “Oh... Right.”  He released Jonas and took a step back. “I know everything about you, but you don't know me at all, do you?” he asked sheepishly, fiddling nervously with his own hands.

“Everything?” Jonas asked back, sounding nervous.

“She said something about dreams,” Tasha said, gesturing to the woman.

“I should probably start at the beginning,” the boy said with a sigh.

“Please do,” Jonas answered tightly.

“Well, my name is Storm,” the boy said.  His mother made a face. “I mean, that's the English version, anyway,” he added quickly. “I got used to English at the school.  Anyway, that's my mom, Kima, and my grandpa.”  Twist glanced over to see that the older man was waving a smoking herb over Ted's face, and that Ted's eyes were beginning to slowly blink open.  Twist glanced outside the pen to see that only a few of the villagers appeared to notice anything amiss, and those who did looked only curious.  Apparently, they saw no danger in healing their captives.

“Lovely to met you,” Jonas said, his voice flattened under the weight of his impatience.

“Yeah...” Storm muttered anxiously. “You see, Tasha's right,” he added, speaking more quickly now. “When I sleep, I have other people's dreams.  And everyone dreams about their life, and their friends, and all the things they do.  But I can't change anything or talk to anyone,” he added as Jonas's face took on an unnerved hue. “I can just sort of watch what happens.”  Twist felt his own unease meld with the tension in the buzz at his neck, at the thought of anyone else trespassing on his private dreams.

“And how long have you been having my dreams, then?” Jonas asked, his jaw tight and his tone frigid.

Storm looked at him quietly, his pink eyes as large and glassy as a wronged puppy's.

“He's been sharing your dreams for many years,” Kima said for her son, stepping up behind him to put a hand on his sloping shoulders. “He has many people's dreams, but yours are his favorite.  And he can't decide not to have them.”  Storm looked down, pitifully dejected.

“If his Sight is like yours,” Tasha said softly to Jonas, “then he can't control it either.”

Jonas pulled his goggles on over his eyes. “It's still creepy.”  Storm gave a heaving but nearly silent sigh.

“Oh, don't be so mean to the poor dear,” Myra said to Jonas, moving to kneel before the boy. “If you know Jonas as well as you say you do,” she said gently to Storm, smiling sweetly, “then you know that he doesn't always mean the things he says.  You've just startled him, is all.”

While Jonas grumbled something rude to himself, Storm's face brightened under Myra's care.  Farther away, the older man stood up and moved away from Ted, who was now sitting up and rubbing at his head while Steve struggled to explain their current situation to him.  The older man looked everyone over again before his gaze stuck on Twist.  He approached with purpose and knelt beside Twist where he still sat on the cloud-top.

“You next,” the older man said, reaching out for Twist's brow.

“No, no!” Twist said instantly, pulling away with wide eyes.  The older man paused, frowning. “I'm fine.  Really!  Please don't trouble yourself!“ Twist continued quickly.

“Is he talking to Twist?” Storm asked Myra.  Already moving to Twist's side, Myra confirmed Storm's suspicions.

“Hang on a second, Grandpa,” Storm said, rushing to him.  The older man gave a long-suffering sigh. “Okay, um, Twist?” Storm asked of the empty air slightly to the left of Twist. “Can you put your pocket watch down for just a second?  I need to talk to you.”

“Put my watch down?” Twist scoffed. “What the devil for?”

“Did he say anything?” Storm asked Myra.

“Have you ever had this kid looked at by a professional?” Jonas asked Kima softly.  Kima shot Jonas a look, but it wasn't quite a glare.

As the boy still seemed unable to find Twist from about a foot away, Twist finally reached into his pocket and drew out his watch.  The timepiece looked just as calm and inoffensive as ever, to his eye.  Nevertheless, he placed it down on the cloud-top beside him, only letting go of the chain when it became clear that the watch wouldn't fall through the cloud.  At the exact moment that the chain slipped from his fingers, Storm gave a gasp.  His bright pink gaze focused on Twist before his young face bloomed into a smile.

“Wow, it worked,” Storm breathed, looking Twist over as if he were a rare sight indeed.  Twist shifted uncomfortably under the attention. “Hi Twist!” Storm said brightly to him. “It's great to finally meet you!  You're in every one of Jonas's dreams, you know.”  Everyone's eyes moved to Jonas.

“He is not!” Jonas said vehemently. “At least, I don't remember...  Will you stop saying things like that?” he shouted at Storm.  Storm flinched and looked back to Twist, while Myra and Kima both gave Jonas displeased glances.

“Well, anyway,” Storm said to Twist. “You don't have to be afraid of being touched if Jonas is with you.”  Twist's alarm and disbelief shone out of his steel-blue eyes. “No, really,” Storm went on hopefully. “You can use that buzz you feel in your neck like a shield.  Remember in Nepal when Philippe touched you?  You did it then.”

Twist's gaze found Jonas without his meaning it to, as his heart began to pound.  Jonas looked back at him with bitter resolve and eyes the color of young grass.  Twist looked back at the boy with new caution.  He'd never told anyone but Jonas exactly what had happened to him on that day.  Storm must truly know everything about them both.

“Here, Jon, come closer,” Storm said to Jonas with an inviting gesture. “I'm sure if you hold Twist's neck he'll be able to use the buzz to stay safe from any visions of Grandpa.”

“Don't call me 'Jon',” Jonas muttered, though he moved closer to Twist all the same.

“Why don't we all just accept that I'm fine and don't need to be touched at all?” Twist asked quickly.

“You're not fine,” Jonas said firmly, kneeling beside him.

“But—!” Twist began, his mind racing to come up with any escape.

“Shut up and do as the frightening child says,” Jonas said, silencing Twist by gently pressing his palm against the skin at the base of Twist's neck.

Twist's heart rate fell into a steady and calm pace instantly, as he felt his spirit ease into the blinding, cool, comfortable fog that filled his mind to the brim.  On a slow exhale, the fog receded away to the edges of his mind, leaving his thoughts numb and dull in its wake.  His attention returned just as he saw the old man reach out to his brow with bare fingers.  Twist snapped his eyes closed.  It took all of his will not to jump to his feet and run away, but his fear seemed to slip away into the fog almost immediately.  Twist focused on the fog out of desperation, trying to pull it closer to him and wishing it were much more solid.

In a single instant, the fog in his mind responded to his wishes, both pulling in tightly around his awareness and also solidifying into a frosty glass wall.  Twist could almost see his own fears and worried thoughts on the other side of the glass, but none of them seemed real to him now.  He could feel Jonas's hand on his neck, and the sound of Jonas's pulse echoed gently in the glass, sending ripples over the surface.  As Twist marveled at this, the healer's fingers reached him.  His Sight flashed dark outside of the glass bubble in his mind, and he could almost feel the heat of it like a silent explosion.  Strange images flashed quickly by, tempting him to watch.  Twist turned his inner eye away, fighting for all he was worth to focus on the still, steady rhythm of Jonas's heart beating in his mind.

To his surprise, nothing broke through.  None of the dark, jagged, dangerous images and feelings that raged like a hurricane outside of the calm little bubble in his mind managed to even crack the thin white glass of his defenses.  No matter how loudly or temptingly the visions called to him to look, Jonas's steady pulse never lost his focus.  By the time Twist realized that he really was completely safe, the darkness had disappeared entirely like a bad dream in sunlight.

“It's over,” Jonas's voice said both inside Twist's mind and out, echoing oddly off the glass bubble. “You can let go now.”