Clockwork Twist : Missing (10 page)

That night, the ship slipped beyond the edge of the Arctic Circle and dove into constant night. Most of the passengers watched the sky darken out on the open decks, but Twist had had quite enough of the crowds. He left Myra with Skye—now that the two seemed to have become fast friends—and returned to his cabin. Arabel also stayed outside. Twist sat in the silence of his empty cabin and savored the quite. But as the sky outside the porthole windows dimmed into pure black, a heavy fatigue fell over him. He lay down on his bed and closed his eyes, meaning to only rest for a moment.

When he awoke again, untold moments later, the room had a staggering stillness to it. Outside, he heard no sounds at all. There were no lingering echoes of voices, nor any rhythm of feet in the distance. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he saw that it was closer to morning than midnight. The rest of the ship slept around him, soundless and still. This new, endless, and empty silence—so much deeper than anything that could survive in daylight—seemed to suffocate him and set his nerves on edge.

Still fully dressed, Twist got quietly to his feet and crept out of the dark room—careful not to make a sound. The quiet hung so thickly in the air that he feared disturbing it. The bright, gaslit hallway offered little comfort. Twist walked along it slowly, feeling more singularly alone than he had in a very long time. He eventually came to the stairs that led up to the third deck and climbed them carefully, overly aware of every creak in the wood under his feet.

Stepping out onto the promenade deck, into the now-constant night at the very top of the world, Twist shivered against the cold and pulled his jacket tighter around him. He had expected to see nothing but empty space above the ship—oily blackness shot through with silver stars—but up here in the Arctic Circle, the stars were not alone.

Ghostly sheets of shifting, faintly glowing colors hung from space itself, wafting over the airship like willow branches in the wind, almost close enough to reach out and touch in the high atmosphere. The aurora spread out to fill the sky, washing the deck in gentle waves of light: blue, green, soft pink, and the deepest purple. As Twist stood at the railing, feeling the ship sway ever so slightly in the air under his feet, he let his troubled mind wander through the impossible image that filled his vision.

In that silent moment, he realized that he’d seen every one of those colors before, in the illusion that his Sight put onto Jonas’s eyes. Looking up at the stars, Twist couldn’t help but wonder if Jonas was out there among them. With his powerful Sight, Jonas might actually be able to see him. Twist’s eyes searched the sky for any sign at all of the strange glass-and-metal ship, but he couldn’t find anything in the blackness behind the aurora lights. Not even the moon was out tonight.

His eyes caught on a subtle movement in the sky: one tiny point of light seemed to be gliding slowly from left to right across the other stars. As he watched, a soft sensation wafted at the edges of his mind. It was so slight that at first Twist didn’t notice it at all. Then, slowly, a soft, pulsing vibration billowed into his mind, taking shape like a cloud of smoke above a flame. As he turned his attention to it but left his eyes on that moving star, Twist caught the feeling: a subtle warmth broke over him in a slow wave—spilling through his Sight to linger on the skin at the base of his neck—and the sudden and ravenous relief of even such a subtle connection threatened to swallow him whole. Somehow, in the deepest part of his heart, he simply knew that Jonas’s powerful eyes had found him.

He kept his eyes open to that gliding star until they began to water in the dry, cold air. A chill breeze sent a shiver over his spine. The moment he blinked, Twist lost the star among all the others, and the feeling in his Sight vanished. When Twist tried to find it again, it was as evasive as a dream. He reached up to lay his palm on the base of his neck and pushed at his Sight. Instantly, the dull, aching pain behind his eyes flared brightly. He winced and took his hand away to steady himself at the railing.

“Twist? What are you doing?”

Twist jerked at the sound and spun to find Arabel standing behind him in the soft glow of the aurora. The world seemed to crash in on his private thoughts, shattering them to dust.

“What?” he managed to ask her.

“Are you using your Sight again?” Arabel asked. “Doesn’t it still hurt?”

“No,” he muttered, looking away quickly. “It’s fine as long as I don’t pull too hard,” he said, dragging his composure back into place. “But it’s very late. Or early, rather. Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“Shouldn’t
you
?” she replied.

Twist gave a quiet sigh as he turned back. He leaned heavily on the railing, his hands wrapped around the freezing steel. Somehow, it felt like an enormous effort just to stand. His eyes wandered into the stars again, desperate to find the one that felt like Jonas. He needed her to leave. Now.

“Are you all right?” she asked, coming to his side.

“I’m just…tired,” he said, finding no better explanation.

“Why do you push yourself so hard?” she asked after a pause, her voice hollow and bitter. Twist looked to her to find something like disappointment in her eyes. “You’ve always been driven, but this whole thing about this friend of yours…” She shook her head disapprovingly. “You’re like a different person.”

“Maybe I am,” he toned, thinking back over the last few days.

“Myra is worried sick about you.”

“I know.”

“Well,” she said with a forced lightness, “she and I met someone at lunch. He’s a lovely man from Surrey. His wife wants to visit Sydney or something, so they’re taking this trip together.”

“That’s nice,” Twist muttered, unsure why any of this was important.

“But he’s a doctor in London now,” Arabel said gently. “And you know how Myra likes to talk about you. Well, he was very interested to hear about your”—Twist began to feel his stomach tighten—“I mean, what it is that you’re going through right now.”

Twist looked to her sharply, apprehension clear in his cold eyes. “I don’t need a doctor.”

“Oh, sure, sure,” Arabel said quickly. “No one’s saying that. But if you wanted to speak with him, maybe he could help—”

“I don’t need help,” Twist said, surprised by how clearly his sudden anger rang in his own voice. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t suggest that I do.”

Arabel took a slow breath, staring at him thoughtfully. “What about Myra, then?” she asked coolly.

“What about her?”

“Would you have a conversation with this man if doing so could make Myra worry just a little less about you?”

“I assure you, no psychiatrist from Surrey knows where Jonas has gone or how to get him back. No amount of talking to him is going to solve anything.”

Arabel shook her head with a heavy sigh. “You realize, of course, that without you, Myra is alone. She has no family. She’s just been following you around the world all this time. Imagine her fear, seeing you like this.”

A sudden flash of rage nearly brought Twist’s clenched fist into contact with Arabel’s face. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing his hands to stay at his sides.

“Please, Twist, it’s only one little harmless conversation. Do it for Myra.”

Twist pulled himself into a straight and dignified posture before he opened his eyes to the black horizon. “Even if I have lost my grip on reality, I’m no fool. Treating me like one only shows your own shortcomings.”

He turned sharply and walked away from her before she could respond. He heard her calling for him, and her footsteps followed him for a moment. Twist hurried his pace until he got back inside his own cabin and had shut the door behind him. The moment he knew he was alone, the terrible fatigue washed over him again. He slid to the floor against his cabin door and lost himself in the deep shadows of the dark room.

Twist swirled the glowing amber brandy in his glass and watched it glint merrily in the bright gaslight. The gentlemen’s smoking lounge wasn’t Twist’s idea of a nice place to be—thick clouds of cigar smoke filled the air, mounted animal heads stared accusingly down from the dark oak walls, and the loud and boisterous declarations of the intoxicated men put Twist’s nerves on edge—but there was a man at the door who refused to let any of the women passengers enter. At the moment, avoiding Arabel was worth a few minor discomforts.

“Hullo there,” a man said brightly as he peered around a potted plant at Twist. His face was ruddy and round under a very fashionably constrained blond haircut, and his accent sounded like expensive education to Twist’s ear. “I thought I was the only young man in this place!” he said with a wide smile. “Do you mind if I join you, old boy?” He gestured to the open leather chair that sat opposite Twist’s.

Twist gave him a shrug and looked back to his brandy.

“I’m Alistair Harding,” the man said, changing his cigar to his left hand as he reached out to offer a handshake. The diamond in his cufflink glinted in the light, and Twist guessed that his very sharp, dusty-blue suit probably cost nearly as much as the solid-gold watch chain that hung over his white waistcoat.

“Twist,” he answered, tipping his top hat. He kept his hands to himself, and Alistair eventually withdrew his offered handshake.

“Ah…” Alistair said knowingly, “‘Twist,’ you say…can I call you Oliver?” He smiled proudly at Twist, waiting expectantly.

Twist offered him a halfhearted smile and then took a heavy draw on his brandy, cursing Dickens yet again. He could have named the pitiful little urchin anything…

“I’m sorry,” Alistair said with a laugh. “I’m sure you hear that one a lot. So, what brings you to Australia, Ollie?”

Twist looked back at Alistair before he answered. A rash and ill-advised idea occurred to Twist, but he considered it anyway. The other man seemed to have had a few drinks recently and was obviously in good humor. Why not? He had very little to lose. Twist looked back at his audience with a thin smile.

“I’m on my way to Australia to meet a boy who has other people’s dreams, in the hope of acquiring some information on my best friend who has gone missing. Only, no one in the world—not even his own twin sister—can actually remember that my friend ever existed. I’m rather in a hurry to find him because I think that some very nasty monsters are holding him in a spaceship in Earth’s orbit right now, and that they plan to take him to Jupiter at any moment.”

Alistair listened quietly, all of the mirth melting slowly from his ruddy features. He blinked a few times, as if trying to clear the image of Twist in his mind. “I’m sorry, what was that?” he asked, leaning closer.

“Kangaroos,” Twist said. “I’m going to Australia to see kangaroos.”

“Good man!” Alistair said brightly. “I’m looking forward to seeing some myself,” he added with a smile. “And that short stop off in Japan should prove entertaining as well. Frightfully fascinating culture, Japan has. Do you know that some of the men still walk around the cities armed with swords? I also hear that they eat loads of raw fish and always take their shoes off inside of houses.”

“Fascinating,” Twist muttered, wondering how many drinks Alistair had actually had.

“So what business are you in, Ollie?” he asked before taking a long draw on his cigar.

“I was working in clock repair once, but I’m afraid I’ve become something of a vagrant rogue now. I live on my girlfriend’s money. She’s a dancer. Well, that and the pirate treasure we found in the Caribbean Sea. But most of my friends aren’t even human. One of them is a monkey who speaks better English than I do.”

Alistair frowned at him, looking highly confused.

“I’m an accountant,” Twist offered instead.

“Right, of course!” Alistair said, looking relieved as he began to laugh. “I swear, Ollie, you should be on the stage. The things that come out of your mouth! And it’s all so dry, as well. You’re bloody brilliant, you are!”

Twist smiled lightly and sipped at his brandy. Somehow, he was beginning to enjoy this bizarre conversation. Before Alistair could ask him anything else, another young man appeared beside Twist’s chair. When he looked up at the boy’s face, Twist was once again startled to find that it wasn’t a boy at all, but Skye. This time, however, there was a thin, ginger mustache on her lip. Twist stared at it in alarm.

“There you are, Oliver!” she said in a voice that sounded deeper than her usual, but not at all unnatural. “Your lady friends have been looking for you.”

“Lady friends?” Alistair asked sharply. “Ollie, old chap, what are you doing in here if you have lady friends to entertain?”

“They think I’m as mad as a hatter and want me to see a doctor, so I’m avoiding them. They might be right, of course, and that’s most of the reason I don’t want to be examined.”

Alistair laughed this time, and pointed at Twist accusingly. “You’ve got to watch out for this one, don’t you lad?” he said happily to Skye.

“Oh, he’s a handful, I’ll tell ya,” Skye responded easily before looking back to Twist. Something in her bright blue eyes caught Twist’s attention, something serious hidden in her pleasant smile. She was worried, but hiding it from Alistair very well.

Twist gave a sigh and finished his brandy before getting to his feet. “It was nice meeting you, Alistair,” he said as pleasantly as he could. “I’d much rather stay here and chat with you, but…” he trailed off, gesturing to Skye.

“Oh I know,” Alistair said, smiling. “It’s bad for one’s health to keep a lady waiting. It was nice to meet you, too. I hope to see you again, if you can get away from your harem.”

Twist was surprised to find a smile on his own face as he tipped his hat again and walked away with Skye. He had heard it said that talking about one’s problems could sometimes make one feel better about them, but he’d never actually tried it before. Apparently, it did work. Even though Alistair hadn’t believed a word of the truth that Twist had said, he had to admit that he felt somewhat lighter for having said it out loud.

As Skye walked with him through the thick smoke and clustered leather chairs and oak tables, Twist suddenly realized that she had come into the lounge by herself. She was wearing a light-brown bowler hat with a small white feather tucked into the red ribbon, and was otherwise dressed as he’d seen her before, but she still looked like a woman to him—even with the mustache.

“Skye, how did you get in here?” Twist asked as they neared the man at the front door.

Skye smiled at him from the side. “Sometimes, it’s easier to be a boy in this world. I’ve got a lot of practice at it.” The man at the door opened it for them with a shallow bow. “Thanks, mac,” Skye said in her lower voice and with a sharp bob of her chin.

“My pleasure, sir,” the man said. “Please come again.”

“See?” Skye asked Twist brightly, back in her charming female voice, as they walked out into the long hallway. “Piece a cake.”

“What?”

“What?” she asked back.

“Never mind,” Twist said, shaking his head. “So Arabel and Myra asked you to come get me, then, did they?”

“Yep. Myra gets whiny when she doesn’t see you for a couple of hours.” As she spoke, Skye peeled the mustache off of her lip and put it away in a small case that she slipped into her pocket. Twist decided not to mention it.

“Does she?” Twist asked curiously, returning his attention to her words. He couldn’t remember a single moment when Myra had seemed “whiny” at all to him.

“Oh yeah,” Skye said as they continued to walk. “The girl’s nuts about you,” she added with the flash of a smile. “It’s really cute, if you ask me.”

“Nuts about…” Twist muttered, trying to work out what the meaning of the phrase might possibly be.

“She’s crazy about you,” Skye tried. Twist narrowed his eyes in thought. “You’re the apple of her eye. She thinks you’re the bee’s knees. Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Skye said, throwing her hands in the air. “Typical of a man not to understand a woman’s feelings.”

“Are you trying to say that she fancies me?” Twist tried hesitantly.

“Sure, that’s close enough,” Skye said with a flippant wave of her hand. “Whatever you call it. If she hasn’t seen you in a while, you’re all she wants to talk about.”

Twist smiled lightly, savoring the idea of being so present in Myra’s mind. He had a strong suspicion, however, that Skye was exaggerating immensely.