Chapter 34

My chest burned from the labor of ascending at least ten flights of stairs at a running pace. Behind me, Luther was in worse shape. His gangly frame hunched over as he grabbed at the handrail for aid, every step an effort. At last, we came to a door at the top of the stairs, the first platform before another set of steps.

Using the key on yet another locked door, we came to a hallway that wrapped around the four sides of the tower. On one side was a solid inner wall, on the other, the opal glassed face of the clock. A mechanism stretched between the two walls, turning the long hands around the numbered circle.

The silhouette of a man was pinned on the outside.

"Regulus!" I beat the glass behind him. He appeared to be suspended by the wrists, hanging from the frame.

At the sound of my voice, his body jolted.

"He's alive," I spoke more out of surprise. "How do we get on the outside? There must be some kind of maintenance ledge..."

Way ahead of me, Luther scanned the outer wall, the space between only big enough for one man to fit through at a time. He slid a bolt from a built-in exit designed to look like it was part of the wall. "Here." He stood back to let me through the small crawl space.

Peering out, I stared into a grate. A narrow outcrop ran beneath the massive clock face, no more than a few strips of metal separating the long fall to the ground below.

Luther cleared his throat. "I'd do a lot of things for you, Nico, but you couldn't make me walk across that."

"Appreciate it, cousin," I replied. Gritting my teeth, I pulled off my coat to prevent the wind catching it like a sail and slipped outside before I could think about the possibility of becoming part of the pavement.

One hand flat against the clock face, I sidestepped along the tower, trying my best to ignore the frigid wind breathing beneath my clothes. Fuck, it was cold. Especially up here, where the elements were unrestrained.

"Nico, wait!" Regulus called out. "Stop the clock!"

"What?"

"I'm going to fall!" he shrieked, looking up at his hands. I followed his gaze, where the hour hand was nearly at the ninth number. The minute hand ticked slowly behind it, but the shorter, sharpened hand of the hour skimmed the rope tying Regulus to the steel framework composing the clock.

If I moved him, it might be enough to snap the fraying rope. Just the wind swaying his body along the sharp edge of the hand was enough to begin the process.

"There's a room just up the stairs," he said quickly, "with cogs and wires. They took me there. Stop the clock first, maybe try to wind it back so the hand won't rub against the rope. Then go up to the observation deck and pull me up."

"Shout if it gets worse, Regulus. I'll have a man out here to try to catch you, just in case."

"Just stop the fucking clock, Attano!"

I ducked back inside and ordered two benders to stand on the ledge and wait. The group was reluctant to volunteer, so I selected two men and reminded all of them who paid their salaries. They slipped outside with no further motivation.

Meanwhile, the rest of us pressed down the narrow hall and back to the stairs, heading to the next floor where the clock room was located. There was an entire floor dedicated to the workings of the hands. A large table of gear trains held various cogs that turned at a steady pace.

"How the hells does this work?"

Luther nudged something on the floor behind the other side of the table. "He might have been able to help."

Around the mechanism lay a dead man in a pool of his own blood. A knife jutted out his back. With a mane of grey hair and wrinkled skin, I figured this might be the owner of the watch in my pocket. Fielder, Milla had called him. A remnant sympathizer. Could he have tried to help Regulus and got in trouble for it?

I looked back to the task at hand. "Just destroy it all."

"No, wait," a voice wheezed. The old man's eyes fluttered.

"Fielder?" I crouched beside him.

"You could speed it up if you... hit the wrong... cog. There is... a balance." He forced the words out in shaky breaths. "As long as the pendulum swings... the clock will sing."

"How do I wind it back?"

"The lever." He pointed a shaky finger toward a mechanism that propelled from a gear train. "Each turn is a minute." He hacked a mouthful of blood across the unfinished pavers. When he fell quiet, the sound of the clock—the tick-tock beat counting down the seconds to Regulus's demise—was suddenly all I could hear.

"Keep him warm, Luther," I whispered, tossing him my coat. There was nothing to do for the man but make him comfortable on the doorstep of death.

I studied the back of the mechanism more closely. A metal wheel spun within the arms of an escapement, attached to a string tied to a pendulum that must have swung beneath the floor we stood upon. Shaped like a star, the wheel caught on the sides of the arms as the pendulum pushed them open one at a time, side to side.

I shot the string connecting the wheel to the weight, leaving the rest intact. There was no more ticking, no movement of the cogs. The entire clock went still.

Regulus shouted something incoherent outside.

I snapped at the nearest man. "Wind it back as far as you can and don't stop until we've got him down. The rest of you, get to the top!"

We weren't far from the hour's completion, but it would hopefully give the rope enough slack against the hour hand for us to pull him up without it snapping as well. The stairs led to a ladder, and my cousin and I climbed one at a time up to the belfry, where a deck wrapped around five copper bells of various sizes.

A banister surrounded the area. We both dashed to the side where Regulus hung from the iron baluster, gradually giving the rope some resistance to pull him up. The Mirth remnant cried out as we moved him, inch by inch.

"It's splitting!" he shrieked. I peered over the edge, swallowed back bile when I saw the drop from the height of the deck, and realized he was right. The rope frayed where the hour hand had rubbed against it.

"This might feel strange at first, but trust me," I called out to him.

He whimpered, completely helpless to my demands. I gathered the wind from my remnant and pushed him sideways, so he swung across the clock face like a human pendulum.

"Are you out of your fucking mind, Attano?" Regulus's shrill voice echoed over the entire city.

"Stay here in case the rope unties from the banister," I told Luther, ignoring the screaming shifter. "The momentum puts less strain on the rope, Regulus. At least... I think." I muttered the last part to myself. Science had never been my strongest subject, but I could at least use the force of the wind to support the weight of him as he swung from side to side. Thank the saints no one was out here to witness this. I could only imagine how this looked from the ground.

Regulus swung to the right, nearly hitting the side of the steel framework. I pushed a rush of wind to send his momentum in the opposite direction. Leaping over the handrail, my right hand clung to the banister, and my false hand reached to catch him.

He reached the crest, and I sent a final gust to push him a little higher and grabbed him by the wrist. Securely wrapping his forearm, I clutched the banister as he dropped, bracing myself for the full weight of him as it yanked on my arm.

Regulus cried out from the jolt, but I gritted my teeth and held us both against the clock until Luther and the other men reached us, assisting me in pulling him over the edge. We both collapsed across the deck. My arm, fingers, and face were numb from the winter wind fighting against my control of the air.

As I collected my breath and gradually stood to my feet again, they freed the Mirth remnant's wrist from the rope bindings. Regulus crawled on trembling arms off to the side to dry heave. His entire body shook like a struck cord. From the cold, from the fear, from whatever the Society had done to him—the cause wasn't as important as fixing it.

"No time to waste," I barked. "We need to get back to the train."

"He can barely walk—"

"Then carry him!" We might have stopped the clock, but our time here was still running out. The gunshots in the distance did nothing to ease my worries.

I led the group back down the ladder while Luther went on a rampage between the bells, striking them with the handle of his gun and composing a chaotic victory song that sung over the Districts, no doubt letting the city know we'd taken back one of our own. If anything, it would at least alert the rest of our group we were done here.

My boot caught on the limp body of Fielder as I crossed the clock room, having been distracted by the pressing problems of the night. My fingers were too numb to find a pulse, but if he wasn't dead yet, he was about to be.

"You can't do anything for him, boss," Luther said when he finally joined us.

Obviously, but I couldn't just leave him here. Not after he helped us. Not when he was most likely punished for having a heart that cared for both sides of this wretched city.

For those reasons alone, I wrapped the old man in my coat and lifted him over a shoulder and started the long descent down the clock tower.

Lights stretchedacross the streets as we quickly made our way back to the Main Station. Still carrying the old man with no idea where to leave him, I felt the eyes of the natives behind their windows follow us back to the train. They didn't hide this time, watching boldly as we carried two injured men down the main street leading to the station.

My steps slowed, yet my breathing quickened. The dead weight on my shoulder dragged me down considerably, even with Luther's help.

"You got to leave him, Nico," he muttered. "He's a dead man. He doesn't care where his body is found."

"It's . . . principle." I spat out.

He breathed a curse. We were still several blocks from the station and undoubtedly out of time. But just as I was about to give up, something stirred in the street before us.

The men behind me dropped Regulus to grab their guns as natives appeared in the street. His body hit the cobblestones, and he protested the drop with a groan. I merely lifted my free hand in surrender, insisting we wanted no trouble.

"We're just trying to leave," I called out.

To my surprise, they lifted their hands in return. Free of weapons. I motioned for my men to stand down.

A woman stood in the center of the street. Long grey hair braided over a shoulder lifted in the wind as she pulled her coat around her. "Leave Fielder with us," she whispered. The night was so still, she didn't have to speak very loud for her voice to carry.

I nodded and slowly laid the man's body down in the street. Two men behind her approached to take him, quickly taking him inside one of the apartments lining the street.

"He advocated for your kind," she said. "They took him a few nights ago. He lived right there." She pointed with her chin to the adjacent flat.

Luther sighed. "Boss . . ."

"Right," I said. "Well, he was bleeding out by the time we got to him. Just wanted to make sure his body was found and taken care of."

"Thank you," she said before tossing something in the air. It landed at my feet.

Keys.

"You can take our carriage the rest of the way. We'll risk the Watch in exchange for your kindness." Her head canted, looking at Regulus struggling to sit up.

"Thank you," I said, before darting to the only car with horses ready to ride. This was a mercy we never saw coming, and Regulus whispered a prayer of thanks to the lost deities of the realm as the men pushed him inside the carriage.

Just as we set off, the steam train's horn whistled twice.

A warning of its departure.

Ordering Regulus to hold on tight inside, I set the horses into a charge.