Timekeeper (Timekeeper #1)(43)

“Give us your pass, please.”

He thrust the crumpled paper at them.

“Daniel Hart?”

He nodded.

“We’ll be letting your parents know about this.”

Danny turned toward his auto. Go ahead, he thought, tell them. One of them doesn’t give a damn, and the other is frozen in time.

He kept clenching and unclenching his hand. The other—the one he’d slugged Lucas with—throbbed painfully, and his stomach ached where he’d been hit. Danny had never punched anyone in his life before tonight. Matthias had once taught him how, in case he found himself in a situation like this one, but he had never warned Danny how his knuckles would bruise and split.

He had to get away. Looking around, Danny realized an unsettling yellow fog had descended. It was the type of fog people could get lost in. In fact, several had ended up drowning in the Thames this way. His lungs hurt, and his head was woozy, but there was no way to tell if it was from the poisonous fog or his own desperation.

Finally, he recognized his auto and hurried to it, guided by a desire as sharp as hunger. He wanted to drive through London, through the fog and the night, all the way to Enfield. He wanted to see Colton.

The new idea took hold and he ran faster, wincing when his stomach protested.

Enfield. To hell with what the Lead said; Danny would go tonight. He’d stay with Colton in his tower, learn how to be a shut-in, a recluse. They could have all the next day to practice reading, and Danny would tell him stories of London, and listen to the local gossip.

Danny hopped into the driver’s seat. The auto gave a promising little jump, then quieted. He tried again and again, but it wouldn’t start. The fog had done something to it.

He yelled into the night air, then got out and kicked a tire in vexation. His toes twinged, but he couldn’t stop.

“You damned—piece of—rubbish!” He punctuated each breath with a kick. “You’re never—here—when I need you!”

What did any of them know about him? That he preferred blokes, that he had no friends, that his father had left him forever.

The saddest thing about it all was that his father wasn’t even dead. No—his father was trapped in time, unmoving, a memory.

And now he couldn’t do the one thing that might free him. He had been too caught up in himself, in Colton. Putting Enfield before his own father.

“Oy, what’s going on here? This your auto?”

Two constables had seen what he was doing and approached to investigate. Danny stood panting in the cold night air, glaring at them both, his breath bursting into white clouds.

“Yes, it’s my bloody auto,” he said. “’Course it’s mine, it’s a piece of shit, isn’t it?”

“That’s quite the mouth on you, young man.”

“Shove off.”

They were threatening to take him in when they heard the rapid clatter of a woman’s shoes. Cassie emerged from the fog, out of breath.

“Please, he’s had a rough night,” she told the constables. “I promise I’ll see him home.” They grumbled for a moment, then let him go with a warning.

Danny straightened his jacket and turned to Cassie. Her face was blank, but he could tell she was disappointed in him.

“Auto won’t start,” he said, looking away.

She went to the boot for her tools. They had expected something like this to happen. As she propped the bonnet open and began to tinker, Danny leaned against the auto. Now that his anger had burned off, he could feel the cold and started shivering. Even the throbbing in his hand grew more intense, a sickening starburst of pain.

“I’m sorry,” Cassie said. “I know how badly you wanted the Assignment.”

“It’s fine.”

“Sure. Beating on a bloke tends to mean everything’s fine.”

“It’s just …” He dragged his uninjured hand through his hair, clutching it until his scalp ached. “What the hell am I supposed to do now? I can’t go to the Maldon tower. I can’t even go to Enfield.”

“Is it really so hard for you?” Cassie asked, glancing at him as she worked. “Not going to Enfield.”

“You wouldn’t understand, Cass.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

“No, you wouldn’t. No one does.” Except for Matthias, he remembered with a pinch of shame. Matthias would know how this felt.

He watched the brick wall across the street and listened to the clanks and scrapes of Cassie’s work. There was a pause, then she swore. Danny turned and saw her staring at the internal components, her shoulders shaking. She went back in and checked every piece, every connection, every screw, every valve. Then again. And again.

“Cass.” Danny gently pried her tools from her hands. Her white gloves were now stained with grease. He wrapped one arm around her, tucking her under his chin. It was the way he’d held her when she told him William was dead. She breathed hard, and he could feel the cold sweat on her temple.

“You’ve done enough,” he told her. “It’s fine. I’ll be all right.”

They stayed like that as the noxious fog rolled in, thick and oppressive. Eventually, Cassie swallowed and stepped back. She ran her sleeve under her nose, an unladylike gesture that would have given both their mothers conniptions.