Clockwork Firefly

Clockwork Firefly - Chapter Sixteen

Three days had passed since his father left, but all Peter could seem to think about was the conversation about Mary he'd had with Pete this morning. Every morning since their father had gone, Peter had woken early to accept the call from the hotel in Tijuana where they were awaiting the return of the man they sought. It was a rather dull time, his father had claimed, and after assuring him that all was well with everyone, the morning's conversation would end and he'd dress for the day, attend to Walter Robotics business matters, and then spend time in the lab talking with Pete.

It was always hard, seeing him like that, growing more pale by the day, the pink of his lips fading to a cyanotic blue. He was free of the padded room now, but he chose to remain in the workshop and not venture upstairs. He didn't know what he'd done, as they all had indulged Mary's request not to tell him, but he knew he'd hurt someone and was unwell so he accepted the house arrest as punishment until his father returned with the cure.

"Tell me, who is this Miss Mary everyone keeps mentioning?" Pete asked out of nowhere, his nimble fingers working on the new hand for the Spine his father had begun on a trip across the country he didn't remember.

Peter was a little stunned by the question, but recovered as quickly as he could. "She's a guest."

"One of yours?" He asked with a faint smile. "Father's letting you bring them home now?"

"Technically she's father's guest. He's a friend of her father's. He promised to keep her safe while she was out in California." A bit of a fib, as the men had never met, but it made it easier to explain her presence.

Pete lowered his screwdriver and blinked at his brother. "And so he left her alone in the house with you?"

"She's not that kind of girl, Pete. She's like a sister. Well... a cousin at least. Just a sweet kind of kid that even someone like me wouldn't put the moves on."

"Oh, I see." He nodded and returned to his work. He didn't seem to need sleep as much as he used to, and it was proving very productive. All thoughts of his brother's love life fleeing as he pulled a magnifying lens around to peer through at the inner workings more closely.

"You sure you're okay, Pete?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, I'm fine. You know me, happiest when I'm lost in my work."

A last look given toward his brother, a pang of guilt over the kernel of anger that still lay embedded in his thoughts toward him, a heavy dose of sympathy and regret as well. He imagined his father was right about him being happy in the vaulted libraries of the Cavalcadium. He would probably be there a week before he realized that he was no longer in California. It bothered Peter to think of being separated from his twin. They had never been apart until recently, and even this small absence of having him on another floor was sometimes hard to acclimatize himself to. Just then, Hatchworth arrived with the lunch, and Peter took the chance to excuse himself and head upstairs.

He had without intending to, gone two days without seeing their house guest. He was, currently, in the conservatory, pencil in hand, drawing the koi as they swam in the wide river that wound across the floor and through the various plant life. He was finding it difficult to concentrate at the moment. Something was distracting him. He listened and heard nothing, but then a deep inhalation which was precipitous to a sigh revealed the issue. Smoke. Something was burning. He sprang from his seat and ran, following his nose toward the dining room where the smell was heaviest, as it faded on his way to the kitchen. The door thrown open, he looked for the expected scene of apocalyptic chaos only to see Rabbit in an apron. It and his face were flecked with some sort of vibrant red speckles and he was holding a large towel-draped tray of steaming glass jars. Beside him, her hair under a kerchief, wearing the dress she'd arrived in California in, Mary was plucking jars out of a large stockpot of rapidly boiling water with a pair of tongs and setting them on the tray.