Gideon Page 8

  “Nope. No one has seen any of them, at least none of our crowd anyways.”

  Gideon considered this new information. He’d thought there would be some sort of welcoming committee, some official sign that he was now among the fallen and would be claimed in some ceremony, like a coronation. He was not just an ordinary angel, after all. He was a Watcher, next best thing to a full-blooded Guardian, who was prized highest in the ranks of the Fallen. He thought maybe he could meet the leadership, negotiate some things, and then he would find Ashley, once everything was arranged to his liking. This story about abductions and Ashley being taken wasn’t at all what Gideon had in mind.

  “So who runs the place? Who do they report to? Where do they take them?” Gideon hadn’t completely believed Persephone’s tale about the abduction, but with Francis’s confirmation, he now understood what danger Ashley was in. It also meant Persephone was also in more danger than he could protect her from.

  “We have no clue. We’re Guardians, and we never got training in this,” said Francis. Persephone was agreeing. Gideon didn’t like the fact that Francis had aligned himself with her, and now it was two against one.

  “So who can help us? I mean, surely someone knows,” she asked.

  Francis stood, gazing into the fire as if the answers to all their questions resided there. “I think we need to go visit the clockmaker.”

  Chapter 9

  Persephone had never ridden in a large vehicle before. Though the ceiling height was tall she still felt hemmed in, but it was the best they could do. Gideon couldn’t trace with both of them. Francis refused to fly and Persephone had never transported except to bring her charges to Heaven. So they drove.

  Gideon’s driving was erratic. He and Francis were bantering back and forth from the front seat while Persephone examined her perch on the bench seat behind. Looking over her shoulder, she noticed the black canvas bag filled with tools and other assorted things, perhaps weapons Gideon liked to take with him. So the rumors were true.

  “So who is this guy anyway, Francis?”

  “We call him the clockmaker.”

  “That doesn’t tell me shit. I’m not in the market for a clock.”

  “You are because you’re out of time,” quipped Francis.

  “He makes time or clocks?”

  “I honestly don’t know what or how he does anything. I just know that he knows a whole lot about the Underworld and the way things work. He takes things apart to study how they’re made. He makes things.”

  “What things?”

  “Things that move. Things that fly. Things that do other things.” Francis’s voice trailed off as he watched rain hit the passenger window.

  “He know we’re coming?”

  “Fuck no. I don’t even know if he’ll see you. I’m hoping she can get us in.” Francis tilted his head to her direction.

  “Francis, do I know this man?” Persephone was racking her brain to try to come up with some past reference, but the Clockmaker tag wasn’t helping.

  “I don’t think so. And he’s not a man.”

  “What is he then?” Her blood pressure was beginning to spike. It was exciting to be on a mission, and a dangerous one at that. But although her excitement was thrilling, she feared she might not be able to protect her charge.

  “Couldn’t say.” Francis looked straight ahead, and she could tell he was done talking. He pointed to the right, and Gideon’s tires squealed over the wet pavement. Street lamps were getting fewer and fewer as they wound their way back and forth through alleyways. She’d have to use her automatic homing device to get anywhere familiar. All the buildings began to look the same. The neighborhood was made up of small shops with several stories above. Nearly every window was dark.

  “Are we close?” Gideon asked as he squeezed the steering wheel, making the black leather covering groan as if it were alive.

  “Very. So slow down and I need to concentrate to find it. Just a little shop.”

  “A clock shop.”

  “You’ll see.”

  Gideon abruptly pulled over. “Dammit, Francis. I got to have answers, and I got to have them now. I can’t just walk into any place with her. You know that. I have no idea who this guy is or even if he’s a good guy or a bad buy.”

  Francis cackled, and it gave Persephone shudders.

  “That’s the thing. I have no clue. But I do know he has some answers. And that’s what we need most. You may not like to hear them, but he’ll have them, if anyone does. And then you can decide your next course of action. Without some of this information, I think you’d better prepare yourself to become a scorched oily patch on the floor somewhere.”

  “Jeez. Not a very nice picture,” Gideon said as he pulled out slowly into the deserted street. He examined his rearview mirror and caught Persephone’s eye. “You scared yet, kid?”

  She checked herself. She wasn’t scared for herself. She had been afraid for Gideon, but that had vanished as she anticipated a meeting with some strange being with questionable motives.

  “I will protect you, Gideon.”

  “Dammit, Persephone. Stop saying that. You have no clue what that even means.” Gideon’s tone rubbed her already raw emotions. It was what they called heart bleeding, the harsh knowledge her efforts were not being appreciated but she had to go on anyway.

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m not throwing in the towel. I’m here to do my job.”

  Her charge was going to say something else unkind, but Francis grasped his forearm. “Gideon, lighten up on her. At least one of us knows what their job is. Leave it be for now. This won’t do you any good.”

  Gideon made a quick glance in the mirror again, and their eyes met. “Sorry.”

  It was the first apology she’d heard from him. Some evidence that the soul inside his strange circumstance had the capacity for compassion. It was a very good sign.

  “Stop right here and pull over,” Francis commanded. “He’s right here.”

  She saw the tiny shop, dimly lit from within, cluttered with moving parts and faces of timepieces like watching fish in an aquarium. Small animals and carved figurines of clowns, kings, moons, and stars moved along little tracks, everything in motion, casting various shapes and shadows against the walls and the sidewalk in front of the shop. The painted, antique-looking letters in the window read “Clockworks Unlimited.”

  A second sign hanging from the shop door that read Out Of Time.

  “This guy have a sense of humor?” Gideon frowned at his Guardian friend.

  “I doubt it. He’s not that way.”

  “So what’s with the ‘Out Of Time’ sign?”

  “I’ve never thought about that. I’ll ask him.” Francis opened his door. “I think I’ll approach with your Guardian, while you wait in the truck, if you don’t mind.”

  “As if I have a choice.”

  “Your funeral. We have to handle this guy with kid gloves.” Frances squinted and then peered up to the windows above the shop. “He’s kinda weird. Hard to think what goes on in that mind of his. I’m guessing he has a lot of moving parts that look something like this.” Francis pointed to a flock of mechanical birds flying inside the window in loose formation.

  “Are those real?” Persephone noticed a cloud of small buzzing insects hovering over the archway of the front door on the outside of the building.

  “Yup. Real bots.” Francis grinned at Gideon, rain soaking his right shoulder and running down his front. “They’re as real as the real ones, just made up of different material, that’s all. The guy’s a genius.”

  Persephone slid out of the car. The light misting rain was a welcome relief and cooled her anxiety. Francis’s parting words to Gideon were, “You stay here and we’ll send a message. You still get those, don’t you?”

  Persephone heard Gideon call Francis an asshole.

  Francis put his arm around her, and she noticed part of his left wing protruded above his collar again.

  “I imagine this place has
lots of dusty corners, Francis. Are your allergies going to be okay?”

  “Kid, I’m not allergic to dust. Mostly feathers. These birds don’t shed anything but springs, tiny screws, and pieces of cellophane. The deadly toxins in some of them are safely guarded in glass tubes under pressure. I just keep out of their way.”

  He knocked on the front door, and then bent to whisper to her, “And you see something crawling on the ground, best not to step on it. They are bugs all right, but not the harmless kind our Father makes.”

  He knocked again with more force. The cloud of insects buzzed louder and closer to the tops of their heads, which sent her into Francis’s arms.

  “No worries, kid. He has to have a reason to come after us. Let’s not give him one.” He winked and pinched her nose.

  Though he was still inside his truck, she could hear Gideon growling. She took it again as a good sign that he at least cared about her welfare.

  A light fixture illuminated the front door as the cloud of insects dissipated into thin air. A short round-backed man in blue overalls pressed his nose against the glass to get a better view of his company. His thick glasses made his eyes look two inches wide. He blinked and then scowled.

  “Dammit, Francis. You got trouble with a new toy? Go away. It’s too late.” The small gentlemen behind the door looked Persephone up and down. “Uh oh. What the hell are you tampering with, Francis?”

  “Let me in,” Francis whispered. “I’ll explain it all inside.”

  “Is it safe?” the man asked Persephone. She had no idea what he meant.

  “What?” she asked back.

  “Is it safe?” he repeated.

  Francis swore under his breath and then put his lips to her ear, even though she would be able to follow a telepathic message from him. “He knows you’re a Guardian. Tell him it’s okay.”

  “It’s safe,” she repeated. “And we have Gideon here in the truck, too. Can he come?”

  The man’s skin turned a pale shade of green in the dim light. As he shook his head, Persephone saw he had a number of small warts in clusters on his chin and sides of his cheeks. She also saw fresh sutures covered in bandages in three places along his forehead. It appeared to her the man was quite clumsy.

  “Suppose it won’t make any difference now. I have words for Gideon.”

  Persephone nodded to Gideon in the front seat as the man unlocked and opened the door. The deafening sound of clocks ticking and chiming echoed off the watery streets and walls of the alleyway.

  “You could have walked right in without waking me up to do this,” he said.

  “That wouldn’t be respectful,” answered Francis.

  “Right. One of your Guardian things.” He motioned for them to enter while he waited for Gideon at the doorway. He placed his palm on Gideon’s chest, holding him from passing. “What the hell happened to you? Or should I even bother to ask?”

  The cloud of bugs returned, hovering menacing above Gideon’s scalp.

  “Contrary to what you might have heard, I’m harmless,” Gideon said boldly.

  The man allowed her charge to enter, adding, “And clueless. I serve tea and no alcohol.” The door slammed behind him. His feet slid across the floor in brown knit slippers. As he passed her, Persephone smelled clove and cinnamon, plus some other spices she could not place. He carefully negotiated three wooden steps, making use of the creaky handrail, and continued toward an open door to a well-lit room beyond. Francis followed him while Gideon waited in the rear.

  The shop was full of moving timepieces of all sizes. Pieces of metal from kitchen utensils, pots and pans, gardening tools, and even small motors were blended with clock faces, hands made of various materials, each piece inching up or down or around in circles, causing a chain reaction of other moving parts like an antique conveyor belt powered by some inscrutable source. She noticed the mechanical devices measured and told time in a variety of ways, but nothing appeared to be causing the movements except weights and momentum from other moving parts. There didn’t appear to be any electricity or gas present. The only light appeared to be from flickering candles.

  The blue and green flock of tiny mechanical birds flew overhead again, several of them swerving to avoid hitting her head, but not managing to avoid hitting the spoke of a slowly rotating large wheel the size of a man’s head. Three of the little creatures dropped to the floor and buzzed in circles before taking flight again to join the rest of the flock. Gideon’s arm about her waist helped her gently step up to follow Francis. She found the warmth of his hand lingering on the small of her back comforting, but she desperately wanted to investigate the curious devices nearly obstructing their path.

  Warm breath at her ear spoke volumes. “Later. Let’s go inside where it is safer.”

  That’s exactly how she felt as Gideon went out of his way to protect her from low-hanging limbs of dolls, airplane propellers, and hanging metal baskets of spare parts. There wasn’t one moving thing that resembled anything she’d ever seen before.

  The large room off the shop was the gentleman’s real inner sanctum with bookshelves filled with old tomes, wooden boxes with more parts overflowing from their tops, and benches with half-finished projects held together with clamps and screws. But for the lack of elves, this might have been Santa’s workshop to a child, Persephone thought, similar to pictures she’d seen in Christmas books for the young. Faces of dolls with eyes that opened and closed like marionettes, working in tandem with gaping mouths shaped like the orifices of nutcrackers, formed a moving valance along one wall. The clicking of moving parts, ticking timepieces, and occasional pings, bongs, and tympanic tapping of alarms wiped out any noise from the group’s movements or the background noise of a vintage movie being wound by a mechanical hand.

  The clockmaker moved several drones from a painted red table, located three additional chairs and motioned for the group to sit while he padded off to a wood-burning stove with a large silver kettle steaming in the corner. Four mismatched mugs were filled with hot water, each with its own tea bag, and placed in front of the maker’s company. He removed his glasses, peeling the wire arms from around his oversized ears, putting them next to the mug and sat, waiting for someone to speak.

  Persephone was uncomfortable with the silence. “Thank you for the tea.”

  The inventor allowed his left eyebrow to rise, a twinkle showing in his left eye, and without smiling, said, “Wait until you drink it.”

  Francis immediately sniffed it, raising his head to declare, “I’ve had it before. Actually quite delicious.”

  To this, the clockmaker grunted.

  She and Gideon drank from their cups, the warmth on her palms soothing her nerves further. They drank quietly and in tandem.

  “I know Francis. I’ve heard of you,” he said, pointing to Gideon. “Who the hell are you, then? A Guardian, no doubt, but whatever do you want with me?”

  He reached behind his back and couldn’t find the spot he was looking for, then grabbed a long metal file and slid it under his collar at the rear of his neck, scratching something that itched on his upper back. His eyes closed in deep repose and pleasure, and for just a second as he reopened them, the glow was distinctly red. Persephone’s system went on alert status.

  “Manfred, this is Persephone, Gideon’s Guardian. Persephone, Manfred the clockmaker.”

  His gnarled and bony hand extended over the red table, shaking. Persephone accepted the handshake tentatively. “Nice to meet you, Manfred.”

  “Likewise.” His squeeze at the end lingered, and Persephone allowed him to withdraw first, though she was seriously creeped out by the touch. He leaned back, folding his arms across his chest, then changed his mind and inserted the file, scratching his back again.

  “You want me to help you with that?” offered Francis.

  “No. Keep your hands to yourself. I only touch Guardians or part-time Watchers if I initiate the contact. Not the other way around. You try to touch me,” he stared at the three
of them intensely one by one, “I’ll rip your arm off at the shoulder socket, understood?”

  Persephone felt Gideon’s forearm lay beside hers on the table. Again, his touch was comforting. She could feel his impatience. She wasn’t sure if Manfred could read their minds so didn’t attempt to alert Francis to her question of protocol. She hoped someone would do something.

  The sound of something falling in the front room startled her. Manfred was on his feet, leaning through the doorway. He discovered what he was looking for.

  “Tabitha, come here and join us by the fireplace.”

  Persephone and the other two angels looked downward, following Manfred’s lead, and all of them watched a mechanical cat waddle across the floor, its tail weaving back and forth with minute clicking sounds. The cat’s eyes were also red, but luminous, as if on fire from within his skull.

  “Watch it, Guardians. Tabby has a taste for real flesh and feathers, unlike myself. She likes to test my reflexes, but I assure you I never lose.”

  Persephone watched the “cat” rub against Manfred’s fingers, sneaking a red one-eyed perusal of the company as if calculating whom to attack first.

  Francis sneezed, barely getting his nose cloth out in time, which sent Tabby streaking off to a dark corner with a mechanical hiss.

  “Honestly, Francis. You can do something about that, you know. That’s completely disgusting. You’re more like one of us. Are you entirely sure of your pedigree?”

  Francis hung his head, closed his eyes, and nodded.

  “Well, I’m going to begin, Manfred,” Gideon started, changing the awkward subject. “We’ve run across a situation, and we’re hoping we can get some advice from you.”

  “Is it serious?” the clockmaker asked.

  “Deadly.”

  “And you trust I’ll give you an honest answer? I’m not a Guardian, as you all know. And I haven’t quite rid myself of the urge to trap and skin Guardians.”

  Persephone tensed, which drew Manfred’s attention, and he followed up with a smile. “Lovely reflexes, my dear,” he said as he patted her forearm. She withdrew her hand to her lap, not sure what manner of creature he was. She was fairly sure he wasn’t human, mainly due to his red eyes.