The Clockmaker's Shadow | ONC 2021 | LGBT

2. Tick Tock (2K Milestone)

(Author's Note: dedicated to lhansenauthor whose ONC 2021 cozy mystery, Who Let The Ghosts Out? promises to be great fun!)

Rik's first thought was to run out and find a doctor, but then reality kicked in. He wasn't supposed to be here. And it wasn't as if a doctor could do anything to help Ari now, except sign the death certificate. When Rik had felt Ari's wrist for a pulse, he'd realised the skin was already colder than normal. Death must have occurred hours ago.

Ari stared sightlessly at the ceiling. His beautiful brown eyes now dull and empty.

Rik swallowed, and took a deep breath, trying to control his emotions and get his brain working instead. Ari was a young man, in the prime of life. What on earth would cause him to die suddenly like this? In bed?

Apart from an unexpected heart attack, all Rik could think of was suicide... or murder.

There were no obvious signs of anything untoward. No weapons lying around, no blood stains, or handy bottle—empty of pills—sitting on the bedside table. No suicide note.

Rik forced himself to take a closer look at the body... and sucked in his breath as he saw the evidence. There were tiny red dots speckled across the whites of Ari's eyes, a classic sign of asphyxia. Ari had been smothered.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Not again.

He had to go, right now! There was no way Rik could afford to be found here. He backed out of the room, not bothering to wipe down the handle or the door where he had touched it. He wouldn't be around long enough for any fingerprints to be matched.

Down in the shop, he caught sight of the carriage clock on one of the shelves. Polished and gleaming, it sat ready for someone to collect. But it wasn't going to be him. Rik swallowed again. If only... Surely the most useless words in any language. He went out, making sure the door was locked securely behind him.

Once out in the street, Rik strode off, not caring in which direction he went. He had to think.

Was there anything essential he had left behind in his employer's house? He didn't want to go back there if he didn't have to. The duke would be expecting to receive his carriage clock, and would insist on an explanation, rather difficult under the circumstances.

Rik had his tool kit in his pocket. He was wearing his good boots, sturdy trousers, and a clean shirt and jacket. He'd miss the red silk waistcoat he'd splashed out on with his first week's wages but that was hardly essential. Most importantly, he had the cloak he was rarely without. The one with the small gold pieces sewn into the lining. That was one thing which never changed wherever he was. Gold always talked.

No, he had everything he needed. There was nothing keeping him here, not now that Ari was dead, and every reason to leave.

Even the most basic questioning from officials would throw suspicion his way and it wouldn't take long for them to discover he had no history here on Mercer beyond a few months.

He looked up, suddenly aware of his surroundings. The street was similar to the one he had just left, lined with terraced shops and small businesses. What he needed was a dark alley, or a deserted building—a place where he could disappear, with no-one watching.

Rik walked for another mile before he found somewhere suitable. An empty shop with a For Sale sign on it. Casually, as if he had every right to be there, he took out his tool kit and moments later, shut the door firmly behind him.

Allowing himself no time for second guessing, Rik closed his eyes and took several slow deep breaths, steadying his thoughts. At first everything was black inside his head, then, as he concentrated, green lines began to appear, becoming three dimensional like the pages of a book standing upright. Falling open.

Rik was never quite certain whether he was seeing something actual, or merely a figment of his imagination, but whichever it was, the results were real enough.

Where would he end up this time? Until today, Rik had been enjoying Mercer, with its lack of sophisticated technology, and its embrace of a simpler life. He didn't want to go anywhere too different, if he could help it. The pages were moving faster, he had to choose quickly. There, that one.

The next moment, the shop was empty once more.

~~

Rik opened his eyes and braced himself. He was crouched down low, making as small a presence as possible, ready to run if he had to. He was still inside a shop, but this one was far from abandoned. Racks of sober suits, all black or grey, lined the aisle he was in and he could hear the low murmur of voices in the background.

"Hullo! Where did you spring from?" asked a surprised voice.

Rik stood up slowly and turned around to face a young man with a quizzical expression on his face. He appeared to be wearing a grey suit similar to those hanging up in the shop. A salesman perhaps?

Rik smiled apologetically. "Sorry, I dropped my wallet." He tapped his pocket in confirmation.

The young man continued to stare in a puzzled way.

Rik was just wondering whether to push his way past and make a run for it, when the salesman asked politely, "Can I help you, sir? Are you looking for something off the rack or made to measure?"

So perhaps it was his clothes that were out of place. Rik relaxed a fraction. The first contact with a local inhabitant was always tricky. At least this man spoke the same language, unlike one time when everyone spoke some sort of obscure Russian dialect. However, who knew what the currency was here? Rik needed to do some research before he made a mistake that couldn't be explained or laughed away.

"Thank you, but I'm just browsing at the moment. I've been out of the country and I wanted a look at the current fashions," Rik said chattily, beginning to make his way to the door. "Thank you for your help," he added, as the salesman continued to stare after him.

Rik left the shop quickly. He cast his eyes up and down the street, hoping he didn't look too different from the general population. The street looked pretty much the same as the one he had left earlier, except busier. Perhaps the wooden carvings around the windows were more elaborate, many had gilt trim, but the differences seemed minor. All good so far.

More importantly, several men on the other side of the road were wearing clothes similar to his own, though he couldn't see a single person wearing either a cloak or boots. He couldn't do anything about the boots but he slipped his cloak off and draped it over one arm. Now to find an inn, or hotel, or whatever passed for it in this world, then get directions to a money lender.

Once he had money, he could find somewhere more permanent to stay, get oriented to the city and become acquainted with the culture.

It was an all too familiar routine. This must be the eightieth (or was it the eighty-first?) world he had crossed over to. Dimension travelling had been thrilling to start with, full of novelty and excitement, but now it was just... lonely. Because, every time he left somewhere, he could never find his way back. He had to build his life all over again.

Rik ran a hand through his hair and straightened his shoulders. Maybe this time it would be different. Maybe this time he could stay in one place for more than a few months.

(Word count: approx 2190. First milestone achieved!)