Grey Griffins: The Clockwork Chronicles #1: The Brimstone Key (10 page)

Ernie hesitated. Dr. Trimble was seated in a wheelchair. His skin was sallow, and it sagged from his skeleton, giving him the appearance of a zombie. But it was the robotic left arm that threw Ernie off.

“Um… I’m…”

“Ernest Bartholomew Tweeny?” Doc Trimble asked as he removed his stovepipe hat to reveal a thinly covered pate of grey that matched his woolly sideburns. Catching Ernie’s eyes locked on his mechanical appendage, Doc snorted in amusement. “It’s my lucky arm. Lost it in the Great War,” he continued with a dark smile that curled at the corner of his mouth. “You should see the other guy.”

Ernie shivered as the old man lifted his prosthetic limb and flexed the fingers. All Ernie could think about was the eerie pile of robotic remains that they had found in the underground bunker.

“Now I hear you’ve had a run-in or two with those boys in the Black Wolf Society; is that right?” Doc pulled out Ernie’s chart and glanced briefly at the bottom. “Had a bad knock on your head, it appears.”

“Yes,” Ernie confirmed, scratching absently where his scar had been.

Doc Trimble ran his metal finger across the chart as he read. “But your friend saved you by injecting you with faerie blood? Hmm…” He set the chart aside and gave Ernie a contemplative once-over. “It’s been hard for you, hasn’t it?
Suddenly, everything’s changed. You can outrun a train and hear whispers a mile away. You never get sick, and you never feel like you’ve had enough to eat. Your skin tingles, and you see flashes in your eyes at night. Sound about right?”

Ernie nodded. “Are you going to fix me?”

“Fix you?” Doc snorted again. “There’s nothing wrong with you, son, except your perspective. You’re a changeling now. You have different needs than you used to, and that’s why you’re here. We’re going to start by addressing your accelerated metabolism and your consumption-to-weight ratio.”

“You mean, why I eat all the time?”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself. My goal is to help you stop worrying about where your next meal is coming from, so you can concentrate on your schoolwork. How would that sound?”

With that, Doc Trimble pulled back a curtain to reveal a strange contraption that looked a lot like an electric chair. It even had leather straps for the wrists, ankles, and head. Ernie almost wet his pants.

“Old Bessie here is a Model Sixteen Phrenologic Scope with a nutrient induction system. Why don’t you go ahead and have yourself a seat.”

Ernie sat down before he even realized that he had moved. His vintage helmet was removed, the straps were secured, and a lens was lowered over his right eye. Next came a breathing mask. It was connected to a clear tube and it smelled like the trunk of a car.

“How does that feel?” Doc Trimble asked as he started flipping a series of switches. Even if Ernie had been able to speak, his voice would have been drowned in the rumbling of the engine. A series of meters lit up, and Ernie watched out of the corner of his eye as the needles jumped back and forth.

“Now if I’m not mistaken, you’re one of them Grey Griffins,” Doc Trimble said as he picked up a tablet and started jotting down notes.

“Yes, sir.”

“I bet you miss old Iverson something fierce,” the doctor said. “He was a right fine man, he was.”

“You knew Iver?”

“Of course I did. We served in the war together, along with that scoundrel William Caliburn. My, but he was a prankster.”

Doc Trimble’s eyes glazed over for a moment as he recalled a distant memory. Then he asked Ernie a few questions about his medical history. Ernie’s vision grew hazy, and before he knew it, he was asleep.

When he woke up, the examination was over. The doctor had shut down the main switch and flipped off all the toggles. “Am I dead?” mumbled Ernie.

Doc Trimble laughed and handed Ernie an updated ID card. “Just take this with you to the cafeteria. It’s been programmed with a prescription for something called Boom Food. You’ll be eating in style in no time.”

The floors of the dining room were marble, and wood panels covered the walls. The tables were already filled with students chatting away over fine china, sipping from crystal, and wiping their mouths with linen napkins. Many of the students at Iron Bridge would become soldiers in a war against unspeakable evil, but others would become diplomats and ambassadors. Poor etiquette would not be tolerated.

“So Doc Trimble programmed a prescription into your ID card and that was it?” Natalia asked as they joined the lunch line.

Ernie swiped his card over a reader and placed it back in his pocket before he grabbed a tray and headed down the line. “I guess it’s some special diet or something. He called it Boom Food.”

“Boom Food? That doesn’t sound very good,” Max pointed out.

“Either that, or it gives you gas,” laughed Harley. “Remind me not to sit behind Ernie in Natural Sciences this afternoon.”

“Very funny,” Ernie said. Then he stopped when he saw the machines that were serving lunch. Covered in brass and steel casing, they looked like robots. Unlike the schematics the Griffins found in the underground bunker, these machines were equipped with spatulas and ladles, not weapons. And they moved along efficiently on wheels and treads rather than legs.

“What’s wrong?” asked Max as Ernie stood there staring.

“It’s just that… well… I know this is going to sound stupid, but what if Doc Trimble is a clockwork machine?” Then his eyes shot wide. “Or what if
he
’s the Clockwork King?”

“Doc Trimble isn’t a clockwork,” Todd said from nearby. “He’s just an old man with a metal arm.”

Ernie was unconvinced. He turned his gaze to the clockworks behind the counter, wondering if they might be planning a robot uprising.

“They aren’t going to hurt you, Tweeny,” Ross insisted.
“Clockworks usually have only one function, and these make food. The only thing you’ll have to worry about is getting too many vegetables.”

Ernie relaxed, if just a bit. As he made his way down the line, the clockwork chefs served him a tower of pasta doused with rich tomato sauce and spicy sausage. Next came four magnificent ham-and-Swiss sandwiches on marbled rye, followed by a dozen tomato slices topped with mozzarella cheese, basil, olive oil, and balsamic vinegar. The machines completed the task in seconds, wielding knives and plates with precision.

“This is supersonic!” Ernie exclaimed.

Famished, Ernie started to eat one of his sandwiches as the Toad brothers and the rest of the Griffins waited for clockworks to serve their food. The line moved quickly, and soon they headed off to find a table with enough empty seats so they could sit together.

Most of the students were engaged in animated conversations about everything from dating rumors to their favorite music. Apparently a band named the Gilded Dolls had a big following in the Templar academies.

“What’s going on over there?” Harley asked, pointing to the back of the room. A group of boys had moved some tables, and it looked like they were sparring as some of the teachers watched with interest.

“Those are MERLIN swords,” Ross explained.

“In the dining hall? We would have been suspended for doing something like that at King’s Elementary.”

“You better get used to it,” Todd said. “We’re all expected to train if we have free time.”

Harley smiled. “So where can I get one of those swords?”

Max recognized one of the kids from their Natural Sciences class. Dean Lorey stood out from the crowd. He was shorter than Natalia, thinner than Ernie, and he shaved his head with a razor, leaving a gleaming scalp. What he lacked in size, Dean made up for in speed and determination. In seconds, he had disarmed a much larger opponent, before turning to wave at Max.

Dean had dubbed Max the “Wolf Killer,” which wasn’t technically accurate. Max hadn’t killed anybody. Still, Max appreciated the support. Thankfully, most of the students at Iron Bridge either respected the Grey Griffins or just left them alone. Angus, however, was another story.

“There’s a spot over here,” Natalia called out, pulling the boys away from the sword fight. She had been hoping to sit by Brooke, but there weren’t enough seats for everybody. So Natalia led the Griffins to a table where a single student sat eating her lunch. Max immediately recognized her as Erica Harkness, Xander’s girlfriend. He tried to steer Natalia away from the table, but it was too late.

“Hi,” Natalia greeted the other girl. “Would you mind if we joined you?”

Erica looked up, her smile fading when she saw Max. “These seats are taken,” she announced before promptly turning back to her magazine.

“There’re some chairs right here,” Ernie called, heading to the next table.

“Those are taken, too,” Erica said without bothering to look up.

“What’s your problem?” Natalia asked.

Erica raised her eyebrows. “I’m sorry. Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. You aren’t wanted here.”

“Why? What did we do?”

Erica’s eyes never left Max. “We worked hard to get to the top, and you’re not going to come in and ruin it for us.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Max.

“I’ve heard about what you’ve been saying behind Xander’s back.”

Max stood there, dumbstruck. “I think this is just a misunderstanding.”

Erica turned away, signaling the conversation was over. “Please leave.”

“How dare you!” Natalia shouted. “You don’t know anything about any of us.”

“Forget it, Natalia,” Max advised, grabbing her by the elbow.

Natalia yanked her arm free, but the force sent her juice glass flying. It shattered on impact, sending a spray of liquid all over the table’s sour occupant.

“You little freak!” Erica seethed as stains from the juice spread across her dress. Just as she was about to rip Natalia’s braids from her head, Erica caught sight of
Ms. Merical walking toward them. Logan was also watching from a doorway.

“Watch your back,” Erica warned through a saccharine smile. She stormed out of the cafeteria.

“Looks like a table just opened up,” Ernie announced as he took his seat and attacked his meal.

The Grey Griffins hadn’t been able to choose any of their electives. In fact, none of the students at Iron Bridge had that privilege. Everything at the academy was based on aptitude, not choice. If a student scored high in math, he or she might be sent to Rift Geometry; or if someone was a gifted athlete, there were combat classes. The exam results determined the future for each of them.

While the rest of the Griffins were looking forward to their “elective” classes, Ernie had been shipped to Sendak Hall. Each afternoon he had to study alongside the other changelings. On his first day, he met Hale, a petite girl with antennae. Then there was Denton. He
looked more like a lion than a twelve-year-old boy. Some of the other changelings had gone through various stages of metamorphosis, but most of them seemed normal enough—at least until Ernie got to know them.

There was a girl with a frog tongue, another who could walk through walls, and a boy who disappeared whenever he sneezed. If that wasn’t enough, Sendak Hall had all the charm of an insane asylum. It was depressingly grey, the grass was rotten, and it seemed to sit under a perpetual cloud. The guards stationed at the doors were supposedly there to keep the uninvited out, but Ernie had a feeling they were more interested in keeping the changelings locked inside.

As Ernie went to open the front door, it burst open. A horde of changelings streamed out, nearly running him over. Apparently they had been awarded some rare time outside Sendak Hall.

“Watch out, Tweeny,” a boy named Aidan Thorne warned. Nicknamed Smoke, he was the changeling who could teleport.

“You’re late!” Denton called out as his lion tail accidentally hit Ernie in the back of the head.

“Where are we going?” Ernie asked.

“It’s SIM time. Didn’t you read the syllabus?”

The only things Ernie read without coercion were comic books. With a shrug, he followed Denton, hoping that Dean Nipkin wouldn’t notice that he was late.

The SIM Chamber was a hyper-real holographic
training room located in the Master’s Wing of the academy. That’s where Romulus Wolfhelm, a retired Templar military commander, used scenario-based battles to mold his students into soldiers.

Over the summer, Baron Lundgren had used a similar device to put the Grey Griffins through a series of custom training sessions. Ernie knew how frightfully real things inside a SIM Chamber could feel, and he wasn’t looking forward to it.

Coach Wolfhelm was standing on an observation deck, with Dean Nipkin at his side. The room was domed, with metal grating on the floor. The walls were clad in iron. The iron was poison to faeries, but it only dampened the powers of the changelings.

Ernie made his way to where Denton was standing. “Hey, Shannon, on the first day of school, I heard Nipkin talking about a runaway.”

“I told you not to call me that. The name is Denton. Period,” he said. “And the kid’s name is Stephen. They never found him. Not even a trace.”

“Did you know him?”

“Are you kidding? He was a cryo—a frost elemental changeling. And he sucked at it. A couple of kids had to go to the hospital to get thawed out because of him. How does a kid like that disappear without a trace?”

A whistle blew, nearly startling Ernie out of his shoes.

“We’re going to start with something simple,” Coach Wolfhelm explained. “Dodgeball.”

“Piece of cake.” Ernie sighed with a relieved smile. “Super speed and dodgeball go together like peanut butter and jelly.”

Coach Wolfhelm smirked. “Don’t get ahead of yourselves,” he warned. “When the ball hits you, you’ll be paralyzed until the end of the game. Trust me, it’s going to hurt.”

“What if we catch it first?” Ernie called out.

“The person who threw the ball will be paralyzed instead,” Coach Wolfhelm explained. “The last one standing wins.”

There was a nervous tension as they waited for the game to begin. Most of the changelings had never been in the SIM Chamber before, and they didn’t know what to expect. In particular, Robert Hernandez looked like he was about to vomit.