Timekeeper (Timekeeper #1)(46)
Danny would have. He wanted to leave this place and talk to Matthias, maybe even tell him about Colton. But just then Danny spotted a familiar gray vest down the hall.
“Brandon!”
The apprentice looked over his shoulder. Danny waved frantically, signaling him to wait. The boy rolled his eyes.
“Sorry, Matthias,” Danny said. “Some other time.”
Danny ran down the length of the hall toward the gray-clad apprentice, who didn’t seem particularly thrilled to see him.
“I’m glad I caught you. There’s been a problem.”
“Enfield again, is it?”
“Well, sort of. Here, let’s step out of the way.” He looked down the hall, but Matthias was gone.
As Danny explained what had happened, the apprentice’s eyebrows furrowed. Danny probably sounded like a first-rate crank, especially if word had gotten out about him hitting Lucas.
“Why’s it so important to keep this tower?” he asked when Danny wrapped up his fumbling plea.
“It’s hard to say. I just feel rather attached to it.” When Brandon didn’t react, Danny realized he’d have to dig deeper. “They think I’m weak. That I can’t handle it. Ever since my accident in Shere, the Lead’s been treating me like I’m this fragile creature who’ll break at the first sign of strain. I want to show him different. But I’ll need help.”
Brandon thought it over. His eyes trailed from right to left, looking between two answers. “I don’t think there’s much you can do once it’s assigned. Sorry mate, but I’ve got an assessment coming up, and I don’t want to get in trouble.”
As he spoke, Brandon took out his tiger’s eye and rolled it between his fingers like a priest handling rosary beads. Danny didn’t even think before he snatched the marble from Brandon’s hand.
“Oy—!”
“I’ll give it back if you agree to help me.”
“What are you, a child?” Brandon made a grab, but Danny hopped back a few paces.
“Brandon, please. I swear this won’t come back to you. If I’m caught, I’ll take all the blame. I’ll say that I lied to you, that I made you think the Lead reassigned Enfield to me. You’ll be clear for your assessment.”
Brandon exhaled angrily through his nose. Danny knew that the boy could easily take him in a fight, but Brandon didn’t seem the fisticuffs sort. Finally, after a minute of deliberation, Brandon nodded once. “All right. I’ll ask around. If I find out the new mechanic’s name, I’ll send word.”
Danny thanked Brandon profusely, gave him back the marble, and left before someone like the Lead saw him lurking around the office.
At home he walked from room to room in a daze. If someone found him out, he would be in serious trouble. He was already on a two-week suspension. Then again, if his relationship with Colton was exposed in any way, or if the mysterious bomber decided to turn to Enfield next—
He stopped dead, shivering all over. It only occurred to him now how odd it was to say bomber, singular, when it could easily be bombers, plural. If people who were unhappy with the towers got ideas …
The telephone rang. He almost ran into the wall in his hurry to reach the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Danny, is it?”
It was Brandon’s slow drawl. Danny deflated in relief.
“Have you heard anything?”
“They said there’s an Enfield job next week, something about cleaning the clockwork.”
I already did that.
“The new mechanic they’re pairing me with is Daphne Richards.”
Danny must have groaned, because Brandon made a sound of amusement.
“I asked her for a drink at the Winchester to get to know her beforehand. Tomorrow at six.”
Danny could have reached through the receiver and kissed him. “I owe you a drink myself. No, five drinks.”
Brandon huffed and hung up.
Danny stared out at the thick gray rain, thinking. How could he possibly convince someone like Daphne Richards to hand over a job based on some wish-wash? Especially if he was on suspension. Especially if she hated him.
But then he thought of Colton’s smile, and his resolve hardened.
His mother didn’t come home until late, and by then he was already in bed. He listened to her heels clacking against the hardwood floors as the rain continued on into the night. When she finally came upstairs, he expected her to go to her bedroom. He startled when she knocked on his door.
“What, Mum?”
She eased the door open and looked inside. “Are you all right, Danny?”
“What d’you mean?”
She took a hesitant step toward him, a dark form relieved only a little by the watery moonlight. “You’ve been acting odd lately. Something must be going on.”
Danny slumped against the headboard, glad that she couldn’t see his face. “I’m fine, Mum.”
“Do you … want to talk about it?”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
It wasn’t a good feeling, lying to his mother, especially when she was trying. Why was she even trying? Why now? Why not three years ago, when he had needed her most?
Besides, he couldn’t tell her the truth. Not yet. Maybe not ever.