Timekeeper (Timekeeper #1)(70)

Her scratched-up hands were shaking. Time distorted, made her pick up her tools three times in a row three times in a row three times in a row, made her crawl across the floor again.

made her crawl across the floor again.

The little girl picked up the loose pieces and brought them to Daphne’s side.

Once Daphne attached the central cog, she focused on the others, working layer by layer. She was mesmerized by the blood pounding in her ears, a drumbeat keeping her on course. Slowly, the clockwork moved forward—one second one second, and then another. Daphne’s vision grew dark as she hurried to attach all of the pieces, to get them in the right order before she went under completely.

When every piece was in place, she put her hands on the central cog and closed her blurry eyes. The time fibers surrounding her writhed in turmoil, the ends frayed and stiff. She jerked them back together, and tied off the loose ends.

Something lit up inside her as her heart pumped, as her body struggled to remain upright, a tense power breathing down the back of her neck. Slowly, painstakingly, the fibers wove together in the pattern that should never have been broken.

She opened her eyes and swayed. The clockwork jerked, jerked again, and began to move.

The grayness lifted.

Time resumed.

Daphne took great shuddering breaths, her heart fluttering in her chest. She looked down at herself and saw patches of spilled blood. Her blood.

She toppled to the floor.

Footsteps thundered on the stairs, but she couldn’t turn. The little girl stood before her, amber eyes still wide. No longer flickering.

Daphne blinked, and the girl was gone.





Danny had taken a bite of toast when he received a call to come into the office.

“As soon as you possibly can,” the Lead said. He sounded grim, and suddenly the idea of Danny finishing his toast was rather unappealing.

He didn’t want to know what had happened to make the Lead sound like that. Ever since this whole affair with Colton began, Danny had been terrified he might receive a call like this.

Maybe Harland rang and said I looked suspicious, Danny thought as he drove toward the Parliament building, which cast a long golden reflection on the Thames. Maybe he did see me with Colton.

“Don’t make assumptions,” he muttered as he parked the auto.

As had been the case for the last several days, no protesters were outside the Mechanics Affairs building. Constables lined the front in case any decided to show up.

Yet the more Danny thought about it, the less sense it made for the protesters to have been involved. Maldon had been guarded night and day.

Unless they were only a distraction.

Danny climbed the stairs and greeted the Lead’s secretary, who showed him into the office. She acted kind enough. Perhaps there was nothing to be concerned about after all.

And then the door opened.

The Lead looked up from his desk. Daphne Richards sat in one of the chairs before him. She turned and stared Danny down, her eyes like blades of ice; the kind that could pierce the hulls of ships.

He had a feeling he was about to be sunk.

Danny swallowed and walked inside. The secretary closed the door behind him.

The Lead gestured to the vacant chair. “Sit.”

Danny hesitated, then pulled the chair a little farther from Daphne’s before he took his seat. Her hands were covered in bandages, and she had scrapes on her cheek and neck.

“Daniel,” the Lead said, lacing his fingers together on the desk’s surface, “you’ve been lying to me.” He glanced at Daphne. “Both of you have.”

Danny began to sweat. His tongue flattened under the weight of apologies and excuses, but he said nothing. Likewise, Daphne remained silent.

“Are you aware of what happened in Dover, Daniel?”

He shook his head.

“You were assigned to go to Dover and clean the Bernice Tower clockwork. Instead, without my consent, you traded the job with Daphne.”

“Sir, I—”

The Lead held up a hand. “While she was there, a peculiar thing happened. A bomb was hidden behind the central cog. The clockwork she was repairing exploded.”

Danny inhaled sharply. His chin stung with the memory of Shere—of Maldon’s tower falling, the gear gleaming in Lucas’s chest. He looked at Daphne, who continued to stare straight ahead, her jaw clenched. She could have very well been lying in a coffin today.

Because of him.

Your fault.

Danny’s fingers twitched as he fought the rising horror inside him. Over and over, he had sent others to their destructive fate. His next breath was a ragged sound torn from his chest, loud enough that Daphne looked at him.

I’m sorry, he mouthed. She turned away.

“Daphne was able to replace the central cog. Otherwise, she likely wouldn’t be here.” The Lead leaned forward. “Daniel, did you have knowledge of this?”

Danny’s body buzzed. He shifted his gaze from Daphne to the Lead and shook his head.

“Don’t lie,” Daphne snarled. “You wanted to trade jobs with me for a reason. First Lucas, and now me.”

“You think I killed Lucas?”

“It’s simple, isn’t it? Lucas and I were your competition, so you decided to do away with us for good.”

“Of all the idiotic—”

The Lead slammed his hand on the desk and they jumped. He glared at them, mustache quivering.