Clockwork Twist : Dreamer (19 page)

“What
is
that?” Aazzi asked, shivering again.  The doctor reached up to put his hand on her back, looking concerned.  She moved slightly nearer to him, but never took her eyes away from Storm's device.

“It's finished,” Storm said with great satisfaction.  He then slipped the thing on over the right side of his face.

Once he was wearing it, it was easier to see that it was half of a set of goggles with one lens removed, connected to a dense nest of wiring that sat over his ear.  A thin black strap held the lens over his eye like an eyepatch, while the rest of it seemed to rest on his ear on a curved piece of silver metal.  Once it was on, Storm looked to Twist.

“Pick up your watch now,” Storm said, staring at him. Twist did as he was asked and Storm's face broke into an enormous smile. “It works!” he yelled, thrusting his fists in the air. “I can see you!  That's so neat,” he said, closing one eye at a time to enjoy the difference. “Now say something.”

“Like what?” Twist asked back.

“Wow, that's quite tinny,” Storm said, tapping the part over his ear. “But I heard it!” he declared triumphantly.

“So you're going to stop walking into me now, then?” Twist asked, putting his watch back into his pocket.

“You bet,” Storm said, still staring at him and blinking one eye at a time again.

“Seriously, who is this kid?” Zayle asked.

“And why does he know fae magic?” Aazzi asked, sounding uneasy.  Jonas and Twist both glanced at her sharply.  Twist felt the buzz at his neck tighten.

“Wait, you mean he's not just insane?” Moroni asked her.  Storm shot him a glare.

“I'm not saying that,” Aazzi said softly, inviting a hurt look from Storm. “But that thing he made is shining with magic.  I can feel it.  And it's not the sort I know.  It's much older ... more subtle and strange.”

“It's definitely strange,” Zayle added.

“It's just a little spell,” Storm said. “The rest of it is ordinary glass, and a speaker.  Like the ones in your music player, Jon.”  Arabel glanced up at the sound of her brother's short name.

“Those are only made in Austria,” Jonas said, frowning.

“It's only wire, a couple magnets—” Storm began.

“Wait, you built a speaker?  Just now, at the dinner table?” Jonas asked.

“Yeah...” Storm said slowly.

“With a few bits you picked up while you were out?”

“It's not that hard if you know the basic principles,” Storm muttered.

“You're frightening,” Jonas said, shaking his head.

“Is anyone going to explain this child?” Howell asked the room.

“I asked that earlier,” Moroni said. “Apparently, he's quite the enigma.”

“His Sight makes him dream other people's dreams,” Twist said. “Apparently, most of what people know and feel is bound up in their dreams.”

“He knows people's secrets too,” Jonas added, uncomfortably.

“And all sorts of things you don't ever expect to hear said back to you,” Twist said.

“And he knew everything about us before we even met him,” Jonas added.

“Apparently, he has Jonas's dreams more often than anyone else's.”

“Thanks,” Arabel said, holding up a hand. “Now stop doing that.”

“What?” Jonas and Twist asked in perfect unison.  They glanced at each other.

“That,” Arabel said, staring at them. “You're finishing each other's sentences.”

“Oh, they do that sometimes,” Myra said lightly. “As long as they're actually speaking when they talk to each other, I just try to ignore it.”

Arabel didn't look too happy with that advice, but she fell quiet on the subject.  The conversation then turned to how Storm had appeared: the crash, the moonship, the floating village, and the fight with Loki.  The
Vimana's
crew listened astonished, asking questions to fill in every gap.  Twist only began to truly realize how ridiculous the story was after retelling it.

He enjoyed the jolt of pride he felt when the crew gasped to hear that Twist had personally attacked the Cypher leader and helped to subdue him.  He also enjoyed the confidence he heard in his own words when he said he wasn't all that worried about being found by the Cyphers.  They had vanished by djinn magic, and the group had split up.  They had the Rooks within easy reach, thanks to Moroni, and it was very unlikely that any of the Cyphers could make the link back to the
Vimana
.  All was well for the moment.

Jonas seemed to relax as they told their stories.  Twist caught him pushing the subject of conversation off of himself repeatedly, but no one else seemed to notice.  As long as no one was talking about him directly, he didn't seem to mind talking to his family at all.  It was very late by the time they all ran out of words.  They found Storm asleep, curled up in his chair, and Jonas carried him to bed.  Since everyone on the
Vimana
was still awake, Twist couldn't help but wonder where Storm's Sight had taken his dreams.

Twist slept deeply in the gentle sway of his hammock, and awoke when the sun was still low in the golden morning sky.  He dressed and went out on deck quickly, wanting to see more of the sky than he could through his porthole.  Sure enough, the scene was magnificent.

The thin morning light filled the high, streaming, clouds with a pink blush against the chilly blue, and dusted with rust the lower bluffs that glided under the airship.  The cold, moist air was biting, but Twist found the feeling invigorating.  He knew that soon, the sun would rise higher and bathe the world in the impossible brightness that only existed up here in the clouds, and that the light would feel warm no matter how cold the wind grew.  But for now, the light was gentle and cool.

The ship was still following the coast.  White-topped waves crashed on the beaches far below, while the sea reflected the colorful sky and the enormous globe of the sun.  The land looked dark and mysterious in the dawn light, but Twist knew that he would be looking at America for the rest of the day at least.  He shook his head, staring off into the seemingly endless expanse of land, stretching out as far as he could see.  America was just too big.

Near the bow of the ship, in the middle of the empty deck, Twist saw a figure lying down on its back, staring up past the front edge of the balloon at the open sky.  He smiled and walked closer.  Jonas's goggles were laying his in hand, and his arms were stretched out wide as he gazed into the aether with deep, glowing, purple eyes.

“Well, isn't this nostalgic?” Twist toned.

Jonas's eyes shifted to his with a smile. “You're up early.”

“I wanted to see the sky,” Twist said, laying himself down on the deck as well, with his head near enough to speak easily to Jonas. “I love dawn, but I hardly ever get to see it.”

“That's because you usually go to sleep just before the sun comes up,” Jonas said.

“I like the night, too.”  They both fell quiet for a moment, staring up at the thin veil of clouds that streamed slowly by, far overhead. “Do you see any stars up there?” Twist asked.

“There's a meteor shower going on,” Jonas said. “You should see those rocks bouncing off the atmosphere.  Some of them are burning blue and green.”

Twist squinted. “I can't see anything like that.”  The blue sky looked perfect, smooth, and undisturbed beyond its cloudy shawl.

“Yeah,” Jonas said with a sigh. “I know.”  After a moment of silence between them, Twist heard soft footsteps on the deck, coming closer.  “Who's that?” Jonas asked.

Twist looked up and smiled. “Myra.”

“How did I know I'd find you here?” she asked as she walked closer, with a wooden tray in her hands.  From this angle, Twist marveled at how well her frilly pink dress and copper skin matched the sky.  She knelt near them and set the tray down. “Breakfast?”

Twist and Jonas both sat up to find a plate full of warm toast with butter, a pair of cups, and a pot of coffee on the tray.

“Thank you, darling,” Twist said, helping himself to a piece of toast. “You're a treasure.”

“A treasure who can make very good toast,” Jonas said, examining his own piece happily. “That's the most valuable kind, you know.”

Myra smiled happily as she filled their cups with coffee. “The others are eating together inside,” she said. “But I didn't see you there, and you weren't in your rooms, so I knew you were probably out here without a proper breakfast.”

“You know, I used to skip meals all the time, just by not thinking about it,” Twist said.  “I'm very glad I have you to take care of me now.”  Myra looked at him, and seemed just about ready to burst with happiness.

“Is that why you're so skinny?” Jonas asked Twist.

“Shut up,” Twist snapped.

Jonas laughed to himself while Myra shot him a glare.  As they talked together and enjoyed their simple breakfast, the sky slowly lost its golds and pinks.  The crew appeared from time to time out on deck, but none of them approached.  The last of the coffee had grown cold long before Myra suddenly asked for a story.  Intrigued by the idea, Twist decided to oblige.

He went to his room to fetch his book—the magically changeable one Idris had made for him—and returned to find that the nearly blinding, full light of day in high atmosphere had began to fall warm over the deck.  Twist sat against the bow railing while Myra curled up beside h
im, and Jonas lay at his feet.  Twist looked at the title that was currently on the cover. 
The Last of The Mohicans
.  After
spending the night as a captive in an Indian camp, the book seemed oddly too specific.

“What sort of story would you like to hear?” Twist asked, taking out from the pocket in the binding the golden, ink-less pen that Idris had made.

“Oh, something charming,” she said wistfully, smiling at him.

Twist's heart gave a shudder at the subtle warmth of her smile and he looked quickly to the title again.  His mind flitted over the authors and titles that he knew.  Few books, and fewer authors, fit very well under the title of "charming."  Lewis Carroll sprang instantly to mind, but
Alice
was just a bit too ridiculous for today.  Stevenson wrote gripping tales and grand adventures, but they could be very dark.  Twist needed to think of a bright tale to match Myra's bright smile.  Twist smiled absently himself, remembering a newer title by an author who always wrote delightful adventures.  He scribbled over the book's cover—the golden letters reforming themselves into the title—and then opened the book and began to read.

“
Chapter one, in which Phileas Fogg and Passepartout accept each other, the one as a master, the other as a man
.“

“Are you reading Verne?” Jonas asked suddenly.

“How did you guess?” Twist asked, startled.  He hadn't read the title...

“Who else would name someone 'Passepartout'?” Jonas replied with a shrug.

“Oh hush!” Myra said. “Go on, Twist.”  She peered at the page.

“And
Phileas
...” Jonas muttered to himself. “Verne always picks the weirdest names.”

Twist cleared his throat. “
Mr. Phileas Fogg lived, in 1872, at Number Seven, Saville Row
...”  He paused.  “That's a strange place to live.  I think he's talking about a place in London, but there's nothing but tailors on that street.”

“Twist...” Myra said with a whine, looking impatient. “Just read the story.  I can't read that language myself,” she added, pointing to the page.

Twist looked up at her with a frown. “You can't read English?  But I'm reading it
in
English.  How does that work?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don't know.  Are you going to read or not?”

“All right, all right,” Twist said, reaching out to drape an arm around her and pull her closer.  Myra fell easily into place, resting her head on his shoulder, while Twist looked back to find where he had stopped.  He continued on into the story for a few pages without further interruptions, much to Myra's delight.  Jonas listened as well, watching the sky with purple eyes.

“What a picture you three make,” Arabel said as Twist finished the second chapter of the story.  She was standing near the bow, looking at them with a light smile.  Jonas put his goggles on.

“I'm sorry?” Twist asked her.

“You look so peaceful,” she said, smiling somehow sadly. “I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude,” she said, glancing to the small item that she held, wrapped in brown paper. “But can I just borrow Jonas for a moment?”  Twist and Myra both looked to Jonas, still lying on the deck.  He seemed to look up at Arabel through his black goggles.

“Borrow me for what, exactly?”

She paused. “I've been talking to Storm all morning.  He's a very interesting young man.”

“Oh hell,” Jonas said, sitting up. “What did he tell you about me?”

“Quite a lot,” she said softly.

“Such as?”

“Just...”  She glanced to Twist and Myra. “Just things.”

Jonas turned to Twist as if for clarification.

“Alarmingly private things, I suspect,” he offered in a half-whisper.

“If I refuse her now, she's just going to come back later, isn't she?” Jonas said.

“Most likely,” Twist nodded.  Arabel shifted on her feet but said nothing.

Jonas gave a sigh, his head hanging low. “I'm not doing this alone.”

Twist smiled lightly. “Of course you're not.”

“I might speak every language, but I still need a translator for you two,” Myra said, watching them closely.

“I'm going to stay,” Twist said to her. “You can go if you like.  Maybe spend a little time with Storm or the others.  You might enjoy doing something else more than being here just now.”

Myra didn't seem to understand him at first, then glanced at Arabel and Jonas—both staring downward with thoughtful faces.  Then her eyes widened. “Oh, I see,” she said, looking back to Twist. “All right.  I'll find you later, then,” she said, already getting to her feet.

“Have fun,” Twist said, waving as she left.  He then looked back to Jonas.

“Thanks,” Jonas said before turning his blind eyes up towards Arabel. “All right.  Have at it.”

Arabel gave a sigh and knelt down in front of him, near enough to reach out and touch.  She held the wrapped thing in her lap, toying with the edges absently.

“It's
February
,” she
said, obviously trying not to sound hurt. “You missed our birthday.  Again.”  Twist felt a jolt of sudden pain flash through the buzz in his neck, but Jonas didn't visibly respond.

“I think I was in Amsterdam,” he said easily.  Arabel nodded, still looking at the thing in her hands.

“Uncle Howell had this made for me as my present last year,” she said. “But after I talked to Storm...”  She paused, taking a deep breath.

Twist felt the buzz grow tighter at the sound of it.  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, forcing his body to relax more fully.  If he could keep himself steady, then Jonas would be able to feel it, and maybe use it.

“If any of the things he told me about your dreams are true,” Arabel said, looking up to Jonas, “then I think you should have this.”  She held the package out to him. “You'd like it more than I do.  So, happy birthday.”

Jonas took the item and then reached up to pull his goggles down off his eyes.  Twist leaned to the side to see better around Jonas, as he peeled back the paper wrapping.  Inside was a small silver picture frame, oval, with a paper print inside.  This image was clear and bright, and hand-painted beautifully with a gentle blush of color.   It was a lovely and extremely lifelike portrait of Arabel, smiling subtly in a sky-blue field.  Jonas stared at the image in shock, and Twist shivered against the chill that shot through the buzz in his neck.  For an instant, Twist thought that Jonas's Sight had shown him a vision from the picture, but his eyes still appeared to be an empty, cool gray.

“Is your Sight doing anything with that?” Arabel asked gently.

Jonas shook his head slowly, not taking his eyes off the image.

“Good,” she said, smiling a little now. “Uncle Howell said that a pretty girl should have a nice picture of herself in her youth, to enjoy in her old age,” she said, sounding slightly embarrassed.  “But I don't need it.  I can look in a mirror if I forget what I look like.”

As she spoke, Twist focused all his attention on the buzz in his neck.  It was cold, deep, and quiet, but not at all calm.  Twist had never felt it like this before.  At a loss for anything else to do, he struggled to keep his concern in check, and pulled his pocket watch out to hold.  He thought of the warm sunlight on his back, and listened to the gentle, steady ticking of his watch.

Jonas took a breath and gave a smile, still not looking up from the picture. “You got older,” he said, his voice very soft.

“So have you,” Arabel said, smiling at him. “Do you like it?”

“Yes,” he said, he voice growing stronger. “Thanks.  I haven't really seen you in a long while.”

Arabel reached out to him, and Jonas snapped his eyes closed as she pulled him into a hug, leaving a kiss on his forehead before moving back.  A warmth rushed into Twist's neck, threatening to overthrow his still thoughts.  He closed his eyes and pulled in just a little more.

“Storm told me,” Arabel said, forcing her voice brighter, “that it's cruel to make you stay.  He said the only way to get you to come back is to let you leave.”

“I've got to muzzle that kid.”

“Well, how about if you just come back on the important days?” she asked, one hand still resting on his arm. “Just come home for Christmas.  For our birthday.  Whichever.  The rest of the time, you can do what you want.  Or, even come visit if you have time.  Or need a ride.”

“You'd let me just disappear until November?” Jonas asked with a mirthless laugh. “No complaints?  No fighting?”

“If you do come back in November, then yes.” The tightness in her voice caught Twist's attention for a moment, but he pushed it away.

“I'll think about it,” Jonas said, looking at the picture again.

“Really?” She sounded hopeful but fearful.

“Yeah, really,” he said, sounding like he wished it was a stupid question.

“That's great.” Her face bloomed with a warm smile. “That's really great.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Arabel smiled at him for a moment longer, while he looked off to the side, desperately apathetic.  Then she got back to her feet.

“Well, I've got … stuff...” she said, pointing vaguely behind her.

“Yeah, sure,” Jonas said, nodding.

“I'll see you later, then,” she said, already stepping away, even though she was still smiling at him.

“Sure, fine.”

She turned finally and walked away, practically skipping.  The moment she was out of earshot, Jonas let out a shuddering breath and turned to Twist.  He put both hands on Twist's shoulders and looked him squarely in the eyes.  Twist winced as the fog washed over him at the touch: cold, frightened, frantic, but also bursting with relief.  It subsided as always, growing slowly warmer and calmer as Jonas took a deep breath and looked at Twist through deep purple.

“Are you all right?” Twist asked finally, keeping his eyes open to him.

“Holy hell, thank you for that,” Jonas said, starting to sound more steady already. “I really owe you one.”

“What did I do?” Twist asked. “I couldn't think of anything to say—“

“No, you saved me,” Jonas said, shaking his head and letting his hands fall off of Twist's shoulders. “The buzz was so still and calm, while I was going through a hurricane.”  He frowned suddenly. “I'm going to kill Storm.  Where is he?”

“Didn't he just make things better?” Twist asked.

“That is a very complicated question,” he answered, looking down to the picture again. “I got away.  But with this and just a few words, she's caught me.”

Twist looked at the photograph. “It's a nice picture.  It looks just like her.”

“Does it?” Jonas asked, a sad smile on his lips. “I haven't seen her face in years.”

“You know,” Twist said, slipping his watch back into his pocket, “even if coming back a few days a year might slowly kill you, you'd still have the rest of the year to undo the damage.”

Jonas looked at him levelly. “Whose side are you on?”

“Yours,” Twist said, the truth of it coming to him even more easily than the breath
it took to speak it
.

Jonas looked like he very much wanted to make some snide comment to lessen the meaning of Twist's answer, but nothing seemed to come to mind.  He settled for shaking his head and looking away.