Clockwork Twist : Dreamer (17 page)

“The only thing we can think of,” Twist said, “is to keep you with us until we can figure out something else.”  Storm didn't respond.

“You can stay with us!” Myra said to Storm triumphantly.  Relief and joy bloomed brilliantly on his face.

“But you're going back to your mom as soon as it's safe,” Jonas said suddenly, pointing a finger squarely at Storm's smile. “We're not kidnappers.”

“Oh,” Storm said, his smile dimming. “But I've got time now?” he asked, brightening up again. “After all those dreams, I actually get to be with you?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Jonas grumbled, though Twist felt the tension in his neck begin to ease.  Bliss washed over Storm again.

“Well, isn't that nice?” Jeffrey said, patting Storm's hand supportively.

“It's wonderful,” Storm said to him. “Better than a whole forest of bananas!”

“Oh my,” Jeffrey said, his gaze drifting off on the implications.

While Idris and Niko offered Storm mild congratulations, Myra leaned closer to Twist, smiling at him warmly.  She came in so close, so quickly, that Twist felt his heart beat a little faster as he looked at her.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Twist began to smile and accept her thanks, but she moved just a little closer to him and left a kiss on his cheek.  The moment of contact burned hot, rich, and enticing through his Sight.  When she turned away to ruffle Storm's snowy hair and say something sweet to him, Twist took a moment to let the feeling run wildly around in his unprepared emotions.

Tasha returned to the table before her coffee got cold.

“Aden says we are right to be careful,” she began, stirring a bit of cream into her coffee as she spoke. “I told him everything that happened, and he said that it's certain Loki will want some level of revenge.  Since everyone else who saw Myra and the rest of us still has their memories, it will be far too easy to find her through the shows.  So, Aden is putting them on hold.”  Myra looked disappointed by this news, but said nothing.

Twist gave her hand a gentle pat and offered a reassuring smile. “Don't worry.  Aden still wants to show you off, I'm sure.”

Myra nodded and looked a little brighter.

“As for you,” Tasha said to Storm, after taking a sip of her coffee, “Aden was very sorry to hear what the Cyphers were doing to you.  He's already looking for a suitable foster family to look after you under Rook protection.”

“But—”  Storm looked to Jonas imploringly.

“We already decided that he'll stay with us for the time being,” Myra said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.  Storm relaxed somewhat.

“Really?” Tasha asked, sounding impressed.  Twist nodded. “Well, I'll let Aden know not to worry about the foster family.”

“So, what about us, then?” Jonas asked. “If we're not touring, what does our owner want us to do?”

“He doesn't own anyone,” Tasha said with a frown.  Jonas didn't look at all convinced. “He wants Niko and I to go back to London, actually,” she continued. “And he wants you three,” she paused, looking at Storm. “Well, you four, I suppose, to get on the next ship out of New York and then stay on the move until he contacts you.  Naturally, he is sending you an escort.  He should be here within the hour.”

“An escort?” Jonas asked.

“One of our better agents, actually,” Tasha said. “A man named Edwardo Moroni.  He specializes in protection.  He just came to New York last night, after escorting a expedition to the North Pole.”

“What about us?” Jeffrey asked, gesturing to Idris.

“We're going back to the beach if this doesn't get more interesting fast,” Idris said.

“Why is Aden sending you somewhere different from us?” Myra asked Tasha.

“Because we've been doing shows together for so long now,” Tasha said unhappily. “He thinks that the Cyphers might find my name from our previous shows, since I was said to perform with a clockwork dancer in all of the ads, and they might follow me while looking for you.  He'll send Niko and I more support and send us out on a European tour to draw them away from you.”  To Twist's surprise, Niko looked decidedly unhappy about this.  Twist hadn't though Niko cared whom he was with as long as Tasha was there.

“Oh, I see...” Myra said softly, looking at her fingers, which lay folded in her lap.

“Oh, it's not all that bad, Myra,” Tasha said soothingly. “We'll see each other again.  This is just to keep us all safe right now.”  Myra nodded and gave her a brave smile that looked about as thin as the colored smoke wafting through the cafe.

“Do you want the puppy again?” Idris asked her.

Myra's smile brightened honestly for a moment and she shook her head. “Thank you, I'm all right,” she said, straightening her posture a little.

“Besides, she's got a pet,” Jonas said, nodding towards Storm.  Storm opened his mouth to protest, but then paused, apparently thinking it over.  Myra rolled her eyes.

Tasha and Niko finished their coffee and then readied themselves to leave, saying that Aden had sent someone to collect them at the docks, a short walk along the river from the cafe.  Niko made a comment about wishing that his luggage was here in New York, rather than in a holding pen, sitting on a cloud, floating somewhere over the American Midwest.  When Myra agreed, mentioning a rather nice new dress that she hadn't gotten a chance to wear yet, Idris gave a heavy, put-upon sigh and snapped his fingers.  All of their luggage appeared suddenly on the two tables in a faint puff of purple smoke.  They thanked Idris, but he waved their thanks away, saying that all he really wanted was something bloody interesting to do.

“Maybe you should go talk to the lady at the door, in the purple hat,” Twist said. “She looked interesting.”  Myra stared at Twist in surprise, and possibly a mild amount of alarm.

“Really?” Jonas asked Twist. “Was she pretty?”

“She was very pretty, actually,” Twist said, thinking back. “Dark eyes, and a somewhat exotic and fascinating face.  She looked good in the purple too.  And there was an air of mystery and intrigue about her.”

“I hate my eyes sometimes,” Jonas said with a mournful sigh.

Myra's jewel eyes flashed in the light as she stared at Twist, full now of a dangerous and shifting fire.“What?” Twist asked Myra.

She narrowed her threatening eyes at him but said nothing.

Idris laughed to himself and offered a hand to Jeffrey. “What do you think, Master Simian?” he asked as the monkey climbed onto his shoulder. “Shall we go introduce ourselves to this interesting and very pretty lady, or wait for Twist to be destroyed for acknowledging the existence of another attractive woman?”  Myra turned slowly to aim her pent-up fury at Idris.

“I like meeting new people,” Jeffrey said, staring at Myra with unmasked fear.

“Me too,” Idris said. “Well then,” he began, giving her a short bow while Jeffrey did the same from his shoulder, “until we meet again, my pet.  But next time you call, please try to have at least one interesting wish for me,” he added gently. “You know how I love your mad, beautiful, little mind.”

Myra's face warmed a bit as she said goodbye to Idris, her anger forgotten in his compliments.  Tasha gave Jonas and Myra each a hug—and Twist a smile and curtsy—before leaving, while Niko only offered them each a cold nod.  Twist, Jonas, Myra, and Storm then all sat down at the table again.  A silence fell over them as the others descended the stairs.

Jonas rubbed at his face.  “This is one hell of a day.”

“Where did we wake up this morning?” Twist asked him, having trouble thinking that far back.

“The middle of Storm's village,” Myra offered.

“And before that?” Twist asked.

“Wasn't that San Francisco?” Jonas asked. “Only, it seems like we were there ages ago.”

“I think the crash left my head a little funny,” Twist said, reaching up to rub at his brow.

“I'm pretty sure you had a concussion,” Jonas said.

“Ah.”

“Excuse me.”

A tall, slender man stood beside the table with an amiable smile on his rugged, olive face.  His black hair was bound tightly in a short tail at his neck, and he wore a loose white shirt over dark trousers and high leather boots.  He wore a red cummerbund instead of a waistcoat or jacket, his collar left open over a bare throat—with no scarf or even a cravat—and a pistol strapped brazenly at his side; Twist couldn't help but wonder if the man had any pride in his appearance at all.

“I was told to look for a woman made of metal,” he said pleasantly in a light Italian accent. “I hope that's you,” he added to Myra.

“You're Moroni?” Jonas asked.

“At your service,” he said with a short bow. “Aden asked me to protect you until further notice.  But he didn't give me your names, I'm afraid.”

Jonas gave a quick introduction. “Oh, and don't touch him, or expect me to look at you,” he added quickly.

“Whatever you say,” Moroni said, looking only mildly confused. “Well, Aden asked me to get you out of New York as soon as possible, and then stay on the move.”

“That appears to be the plan,” Twist said.

“What we need is a ride,” Jonas said, pulling his goggles down to hang around his neck as he looked out at the river, glistening in the last of the afternoon sun. “I actually agree with Aden this time.  We'd be much safer on the move.”

Moroni pulled a small leather-bound book out of the bag on his shoulder. “There's a steamship, an airship, and a train leaving New York every few minutes, all day,” he offered. “Is there anywhere you'd particularly like to go?”  The others fell into a thoughtful silence.

Storm looked around at them quietly for a moment. “The
Vimana
will be here tonight,” Storm offered, “if it isn't here already.  And then they're heading to South America to look for Incan gold.”

“How do you know?” Myra asked, looking at him in wonder.

Storm gave a shrug. “Ara dreamed it.”

“Come on,” Jonas said, shaking his head. “You know I hate my family.”

“No you don't,” Storm said, on the edge of a laugh.  Everyone looked to him sharply.  Storm looked back at them, bewildered. “Well, he doesn't,” he said to Myra. “Not in his dreams, anyway,” he added to Twist's chair. “He just says that sort of thing to keep them at a distance, so he isn't tempted to look at them and see their futures or their dea—”

“Stop talking,” Jonas snapped.  Storm winced and remained quiet.  Jonas looked away to the window, his jaw tight and his nerves even tighter against the buzz in Twist's neck.  Twist struggled to think of something supportive to say, but Jonas gave a sudden start.  “Oh, come on!” he yelled at the window.

Twist followed his gaze to see the huge, weather-grayed hull of the airship
Vimana
glide slowly over the river, following the waterway to the joint sea-and-airship docks at its end.  The white, elliptical balloon looked bright and new between the sails that hung out from it like wings.  Twist guessed they must have replaced it recently.  But even from inside the cafe, at a distance from the river, he recognized Arabel's agile form darting over the rigging like a squirrel, and her uncle Captain Howell Davis at the helm, guiding the ship through the rooftops, along the water.

“God hates me,” Jonas grumbled.

Myra, Storm, and Moroni followed Twist and Jonas up to the edge of the docks.  Seafaring ships floated in the water along the long, wide, wooden jetties, while airships hovered among them, resting in the air just barely above the water.  The
Vimana
hung at the other end of the wooden plank that rested against the dock.  Twist looked at Jonas and saw a grim scowl on his face as he stared at the airship.

“Can I do anything to help?” Twist offered softly.

“Yeah,” Jonas said. “Hold still.”

Jonas turned slightly and then threw a punch at Twist's arm.  Myra gasped.  Twist jerked away from him in surprise, not sure why he was under attack, but realized quickly that the blow didn't hurt as much as it could have.

“Thanks,” Jonas muttered, taking the first step up onto the gangplank as he pulled his goggles into place over his eyes.

Twist rubbed at his arm and followed after him, while the others began to climb as well.  The crew of the ship was walking to and fro over the open deck: from the hold, to the doorway that led to the cabins, and to Howell, who stood in the middle of the deck with a clipboard.  Twist recognized the re-supply check instantly.  Aazzi must be below decks, staying out of the sunlight, while everyone else pitched in to make sure that they would have everything they might need before they left port.

Jonas stepped onto the deck and gave a sigh, quietly waiting to be noticed.  After climbing down from the rigging, Arabel walked by with purpose in her steps.  Her long, always-loose golden braid hung on her shoulder.  Her bodice was orange today, her blouse cream, above a short, lacy, red skirt that hung over her tight black trousers and high boots.  Her sea-green eyes—the exact twins of her brother's—caught sight of Jonas.  She turned and gasped as if she'd been hit with a bucket of cold water.

“Jon!” she breathed, too shocked to say anything but his name.  It was enough, however, to call everyone else on deck to stop and stare at him as well.

“Ara,” Jonas muttered stiffly, looking at her blindly through his goggles.

“Are... are you all right?” she asked, stepping a little closer.  Twist quietly realized that he, Myra, and Jonas still looked a bit singed from the airship crash.  “Are you in trouble?” she asked.

“No,” Jonas said, shaking his head. “I'm fine.”

Arabel's gaze found Twist and Myra, and touched on Storm and Moroni only for an instant. “And Twist and Myra are fine as well?” she asked.

“Yep, just fine,” Jonas said.

“Then … why are you here?” she asked gently, slowly, carefully.  As if speaking to a lit stick of dynamite.

Jonas shrugged. “'Cause.”

A smile had been growing on Myra's face as she watched this odd little display.  She stepped forward and put her hands on Jonas's arms from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder.  Jonas froze and then half turned to look at her.

“What he means to say is,” she began sweetly, “we hear that you're headed to South America tonight, and we could use a ride out of this city if you have room for us.”

“Oh?” Arabel toned uncertainly.

“Something like that,” Jonas muttered, nodding slightly.

“Jonas Zephyr Davis, asking
us
for a simple ride,” Howell said, visibly astonished. “I told you,” he said, turning to Dr. Rodés beside him, “cloud formations like that one this morning are an omen of the unforeseeable.”

“Sure, we have the room, Jon,” Arabel said, smiling guardedly now. “Welcome aboard.”

Jonas's jaw shifted uneasily, but he made no other response.  Myra turned her face to look at his, her chin still on his shoulder.  Jonas looked away from her.  Twist kicked at his leg.

“Thanks,” Jonas muttered, his voice very low.

“Of course,” Arabel said, nodding with the ghost of a smile.

Twist felt a sudden, ravenous desire to flee flash through the buzz in his neck, but Jonas didn't move.  He stood still on the deck as Myra let him go and Arabel moved off, speaking to her uncle.  Twist silently slipped his hand into his friend's, fitting his fingers through Jonas's, watching him carefully.  His Sight burned cold at first, but the fog warmed back down to normal after a moment.

“If it's really that bad, we can do something else,” Twist said softly.

Jonas shook his head. “We're already here.  I'll be fine,” he added, forcing a smile Twist knew he didn't mean.

“We've got a few cabins free,” Arabel called to them as she returned. “I can show you...” her voice fell away as she looked down at Twist's hand, still holding her brother's.

“Thanks,” Twist said with a polite smile, taking his hand back. “That would be great.”

“Did you clear mine out yet?” Jonas asked her.

“No,” she said, smiling sadly. “We never do.”

“Well, I'm sorted then,” he said, turning to walk towards the stairs down into the ship.

“Are you following him, or should I?” Myra asked Twist, watching him walk away.

“Leave him,” Twist said, shaking his head. “He needs a little space to clear his mind.”  He turned to Arabel to find her looking at him through her own quiet thoughts.

“Hi, I'm Storm,” Storm said, stepping closer to Arabel and offering a smile.  She looked down at him, startled. “I would really like to talk with you, when you have a minute,” he said.

“Hello, Storm,” Arabel said, pleasantly, looking at his pink eyes with obvious curiosity. “I'm Arabel, Jonas's sister.”

“Uh huh,” Storm nodded, as if she were stating a well-known fact. “So, have you got a minute now, or...?”

“I'm kind of busy just now,” Arabel said, frowning. “How about later?”

“Sure,” Storm said, looking slightly frustrated. “Just don't forget.”  Arabel looked at Twist for explanation.  Twist gave a shrug.

“We just picked him up,” he said, for the moment happy that Storm couldn't hear him. “He's a bit strange, but usually worth listening to if you can make sense of him.”

“Oh.”  Arabel nodded, but didn't seem to understand.

“What?” Storm said after a moment, looking nearly at Twist. “What'd he say?” he asked Myra.  Arabel looked at him again, more confused.

“Let's go see our cabins, shall we?” Myra responded brightly. “Do we get the same ones as last time?” she asked Arabel, already drawing her towards the stairs.

Storm gave the area around Twist a suspicious look for a second, but then turned to follow Myra.  Twist grinned back, rather enjoying his invisibility.

The
Vimana
was a large enough ship that most of the crew cabins on the second deck sat empty much of the time.  Just like the last time Twist and Myra had stayed on the
Vimana
, they were each given their own sparse cabin to use.  Twist stepped into the simple square room and looked over the hammock against the right wall, the small porthole windows above the desk on the far wall, and the old, heavy, trunk to the left.  Every time he came back to the
Vimana
, the room looked exactly the same.  He found it somehow comforting that there was something in his life that didn't seem to change.

He decided to take a moment to freshen himself up after the effects of the airship crash, the long day and night on a misty cloud, and other shenanigans that had left him feeling rather ragged.  Presentable once again with a freshly clean face and his black curls relatively tamed, he dressed in black trousers, a clean white cotton shirt, and a bright-blue waistcoat.  Twist left his hat and coat in his room and headed out to check on Myra.

Her door was open.  Her room looked almost exactly the same as his, except for the bright pink and yellow flowers that were painted on the wall between the two porthole windows.  Twist smiled when he saw the flowers, remembering Myra's insistence on painting them there to brighten the room.  Kneeling as she was beside the open trunk, Myra turned to smile at Twist when he knocked on the open door.  She too had changed clothes, into a delightfully frilled, summery, long pink skirt and matching short jacket, over a yellow cotton blouse with pearl buttons.  Her copper skin gleamed once again, freshly wiped and buffed.

“Nothing's different on this ship,” she said, standing up. “I didn't get to take this last time, but it's still here,” she said, shaking out a long, soft, white, scarf-like shawl that Twist had bought her in Bombay. “Isn't that amazing?”

“Yes, it is,” he said, nodding. “The
Vimana
never changes.”

“There you are,” Storm said, walking towards Myra's door from the hallway.

Twist turned, but not quickly enough.  Storm very nearly walked into him, obviously not seeing him at all.  Twist jumped out of the way awkwardly, colliding with the wall in his confusion.  Myra burst into bright laughter, while Twist caught his balance and glared at Storm.

Storm looked to Myra innocently. “What's funny?”

“You almost ran into me, you strange little boy!” Twist snapped at him.  He straightened his waistcoat and moved a little farther away, careful to be well out of Storm's path.  Moroni walked to the open door as well, looking in curiously.

“Twist was in the doorway,” Myra said.  She managed to catch her breath, but bubbles of laughter were still clinging to the edges of her words. “I've never seen him move that fast,” she said, giggling.

“Oh,” Storm said, looking back at the empty doorway. “Sorry, Twist!”

Moroni frowned at him, confused.  Twist shook his head.

“I really need to work this out,” Storm muttered, his expression deeply thoughtful. “The problem is the magic.  Maybe I can use a little more magic to be able to see him...”

“You can do magic?” Myra asked, highly interested now.

“Well, sure,” Storm said. “Whatever I pick up from dreams.  I think I can cook, too.”

“Have you ever tried?” Myra asked.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “But I know that the trick to a good omelet is tarragon.”

“Well, you do have that right,” Moroni offered, nodding.  He looked to Twist. “Is there any chance you could explain him a little?  I'm new here, you know.”

“Nothing can explain him,” Twist said darkly. “Nothing polite, anyway.”

“Oh stop it,” Myra said.  She batted her hand at Twist with a smile. “He said he was sorry.  How's your room, Storm?”

“Oh fine.  It's like this one,” he said, looking around her cabin. “But without the flowers.”

“Wait a second,” Myra said, looking at him seriously. “You don't have any luggage, do you?”  Storm shook his head. “Idris only gave us back our things...  So you don't have a change of clothes, or anything,” she said, looking worried now. “Not even a toothbrush!  Oh, that's no good.  We have to fix that.”

“I'm all right,” Storm said, looking somewhat sheepish. “You saved me.  And you're letting me stay with you.  You've done more than enough.”

Myra crossed her arms and looked at him sternly. “No.  You're under our care now.  That means we have to take care of you.”  She looked to Twist. “Isn't that right?”

“Sounds reasonable to me,” Twist said.

“I could take him into the city while the crew is re-supplying,” Myra said, happy now. “I do love shopping in America,” she added, clasping her hands excitedly.

“A wonderful idea,” Twist said, pleased to see her excited. “But you shouldn't go alone.”   He instantly thought of Jonas.  It seemed like a very bad idea to leave him alone on this ship.  Twist looked to Myra hesitantly. “It's just, Jonas...”

“Oh yes,” she said, concerned now as well. “It was lucky enough to get him on the ship once.  We might not get him back on again that easily.  And you really should stay with him.”

“Well, I am here to protect you,” Moroni offered. “I can certainly supervise a shopping trip in broad daylight.”

“You wouldn't mind?” Twist asked him.

“Not at all.”

Myra didn't waste a moment.  She took her purse, put on a pink hat to match her dress, and then took Storm's hand, leading him quickly out into New York City.  Storm gave up his bashful protest under the onslaught of Myra's glee, and went without complaint.