The Mechanic

Chapter 5

I spent the next two hours curled up in the armchair by the fire with the music box resting in my lap. I had pinned up my hair so that it was no longer falling into my face and my dress was twisted around my ankles. With a sad smile, I opened up the music box and listened once again to the tinkling melody as the couple spun around on the box's surface. 

Tears tugged at the corners of my eyes and I tried to stop them, but they spilled down my cheeks all the same. I didn't want this music box to be the last thing I remembered my father by.  If something terrible had occurred and I hadn't been able to stop it--

I shook my head, realizing that thoughts like these wouldn't get me anywhere. I closed the box with a click. Giving a small sigh I stood up from the armchair and checked the time on the clock that hung above the fireplace. I had a few hours left until I had to go find Auden with an answer. I didn't want to go. I didn't want to leave the comforting confines of the workshop. I couldn't go to a ball when my father was out there in the world somewhere, possibly in trouble. 

But wouldn't a distraction be good for me? I wiped a tear from my face and went over to one of the more cluttered desks in the room. Victoria's invitation to the party was resting on top of a pile of parchment but I paid it no mind as I set the music box down onto the wood. I picked up a pencil and pulled an open notebook toward me, suddenly overtaken by the desire to record something. My pencil flew across the paper and my mind seemed to go somewhere else entirely as I drew. 

I didn't even realize what I was doing until I placed the pencil down onto the table and reached up to brush a finger against the cut on my forehead. My breath hitched in my throat as I looked down at what I had drawn. 

I had sketched the trees of the forest, shaded in the mounds of snow covering the path, and outlined Brown as she reared up into the night. One last thing, I thought as I dipped a paintbrush into one of the pots of ink designed for the fountain pens that Father loved to use. 

I brushed its tip against the parchment in a fluid motion and then gave a small smile. There. That flash of red hair as it had been in the short glimpse I had gotten of it last night. Who had been there in the forest with me and what were they doing there? 

Clearly this person didn't want me to see anything further than I'd already seen. Is that why I had been taken back here, placed into my bed as if nothing had happened? But then why leave the music box? That was a dead giveaway as to what had happened. I frowned and pushed the journal away, pulling the music box back in front of me. I turned it over and over again in my hands. There didn't seem to be anything different about it. Nothing obvious, anyway. Then why did they return it? Was it a warning? A keepsake of my father? 

With a growl, I threw the box with all my might at the wall and collapsed to the floor, frustrated. Once again, tears spilled down my cheeks and this time I was unable to control them. They rushed down onto my chin and stained the collar of my dress. 

Father would know what to do. Father would know how to solve this. And just then, I realized that I was hopeless without him. 

******************

It took me a while before I was able to get myself up from off the floor and toward the music box, which now lay in pieces on the ground. I was picking up the remainders of the ceramic couple when I noticed, buried deep within the scraps of metal and gears, a small paper folded neatly into fourths. I rubbed my eyes before I picked it up and my heart was racing so fast it made my hands shake as I peeled back the folds. 

I have your father, the paper read. He is still alive. If you wish to keep it that way you need to stop looking for him. If I find you in the forest I will make sure he is punished for it. Consider this a warning.

My throat seized as I read those words over and over again. Father was still alive. But if I went looking for him he would most certainly be harmed. I rubbed at my eyes, praying that I wouldn't start crying again. 

Auden. I needed him. I rushed toward the door and grabbed the fist cloak I could find before hurrying out the door into the freezing cold. Snow crunched beneath my boots as I ran toward the bakery, my breath making little clouds in the air. Passerby stopped in their tracks to give me strange glances. I didn't blame them. My hair had completely come free of its up-do and my eyes were still puffy from crying. I must look insane. 

I reached the door of the bakery just as Auden's mother was putting up a wooden. They must be closing early for the ball tonight. They were catering, after all. She gave me a concerned glance as I knocked on the door but let me in. 

"Evie, are you alright? You look terrible." She reached out a hand and placed it onto my arm somewhat awkwardly. 

"Just a bit shaken. Is Auden around?" I looked around the bakery with crawling nerves.  

"Sure, sure. He's just around back. You can go find him if you want." I nodded and gave her a timid smile before walking around the counter and into the kitchens. 

Auden was standing with his back to me, his hands clasped behind his back as he looked down at something on the table in front of him. He spun around when the door gave a sharp click behind me. 

"Evie!" he said excitedly. His excitement changed the moment he spotted my face. "Are you okay? What's happened?" 

I gave a little shake of my head and then buried my face into his chest, my shoulders heaving with dry sobs. He rested his chin against my head and rubbed my back gently. 

"You don't have to say anything," he muttered into my head, and for that moment I felt safe.