Clockwork Twist : Missing (17 page)

Twist stood near the closed door of the steam train’s passenger car, looking out through one of the wide glass windows that filled the wooden walls of the carriage, as Tokyo sped by. They had taken the rickshaws from the banks of the river—which he’d been told was called the Sumida—to Ueno Station, and were now on the new train line that ran in a large arc through the immense city. The train station had been surprisingly busy, as there were plans to install a subterranean train network just before the beginning of the coming century, and construction was due to start very soon. Twist was also told that the train line he was now riding would one day cover the entire city in one continuous loop.

Twist shook his head, watching small clusters of low buildings race by. The clusters, green patches of forest, plains, and watery farmland combated Twist’s concept of what made a city actually a city. But even today, on a chilly
March
day under a clear blue sky, the train was so crowded that there was nowhere left to sit. Maybe it really was a good idea to build more train lines, and quickly. Twist glanced to Myra, who stood beside him, when she laughed at another lighthearted comment from Skye. His eyes caught, however, on the face of a man who stood at the other edge of the closed train door.

The man was staring directly at Twist with coal-black eyes. The top of his head appeared to be shaved clean, while the rest of his long, straight black hair was bound in a complex structure at the back of his head. Though he wore no beard, his face showed every other imaginable sign of age, with deep lines beside his eyes and gentle spots in his amber skin.

Though he wasn’t much taller than Twist, he stood with a stoic pride and struck a very impressive figure to Twist’s eye. The man’s clothes were the same loose but straight-lined robes that Twist saw everywhere here, but the shoulders of his jacket hung in sharp points far over his actual shoulders and gave him an even more alien appearance.

“Twist, stop staring,” Arabel muttered to him softly.

“He started it,” Twist shot back to her, watching as the man seemed to continue to unabashedly study Twist’s features.

“Did you see the sword?” Arabel asked him with forced brightness. “I think he can stare at anything he wants to, don’t you?”

Twist glanced down to find a long, slightly curved sword in a sheath strapped to the man’s side. His mind instantly supplied him with the image of Vane, holding just such a sword to Twist’s throat, the very first time they had met. One cut from a sword like that had left a scar on his wrist that might never fully heal. Twist looked out the window again.

To Twist’s surprise, he heard the man speak suddenly, in a deep, forced-sounding voice. Though the words made no sense to him at all, Twist glanced back to find that the words had, indeed, been addressed to him. Myra gave the man a smile and responded in a bubbly, softer version of the same language he had used. Twist frowned slightly as he recognized the word “London” among the other syllables.

The man appeared impressed as he nodded, still watching Twist. “Goo-d affu-ta noon,” he said, looking rather pleased with himself as he did.

Twist’s companions all looked to him to respond. Twist gave the man a smile as he recognized the words he had meant to say.

“Oh, good afternoon,” Twist said back, tipping his top hat. “How do you do?”

“Fine sank-you, an-do you?” the man responded with a short, nodding bow. Twist couldn’t help but smile to see the proud light in the other man’s eyes as he produced nearly English sounds.

“I’m very well,” Twist said. “I’m sorry, I’m a little surprised that you speak English.”

The man seemed to focus on his words intently, and paused for a moment before he shook his head, raising a hand to wave before his face. “No, no, I don-toh spee-ku Enge-lish,” he said slowly, still smiling proudly. He then turned to Myra to speak again in his own language. Myra responded brightly and then turned to Twist.

“He said that studying language is his hobby,” she said with a smile. “He’s never met an Englishman before.”

“Oh, I see,” Twist replied. He noticed then that many of the other people on the crowded train were watching and listening to them. Twist was surprised to find himself feeling a bit like a celebrity. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you, sir,” he added brightly.

“Ah!” the man said happily. “Nice to mee-to you, too.” He laughed and clapped his hands together once, as if in triumph.

Twist laughed lightly in response. Myra and Arabel continued to chat with the man—wholly in Japanese now, as he seemed to have reached the end of his studies—until the train pulled into another station. The man then left the train with a wave and a “goo-doh bye!” Many of the other travelers left the train as well, but just as many new travelers boarded immediately afterward, filling the train back up again. Twist squeezed himself into the empty corner beside the door, while Myra stood to block anyone from touching him by accident.

“Well, that was entertaining,” Twist muttered, once the train set off. “Where are we getting off, again?”

“Shibuya,” Arabel said, reading a small, paper map of the train system that she had picked up at Ueno. Twist glanced at the map, but found no recognizable words of any kind among the strange, clustered characters.

“And where’s that, then?” Twist asked patiently.

“Oh, sorry,” Arabel said with a smile. “That was Shinjuku, so we’re getting off at the next stop,” she added, pointing to one of the train stations on the map, near the end of the line.

“Wonderful,” Twist said with a relieved sigh.

Even if the others on the train were highly skilled at swaying lightly on their feet with the motion of the train and seemed perfectly comfortable in such close quarters, the sheer number of people around him was starting to wear on Twist’s overstressed nerves.

True to Arabel’s word, they stepped off the train at the next station, which was really nothing more than a small conductor’s house beside the covered wooden platform. Twist looked around at the quiet, simple, and almost rural town around him, as they walked away from the station. A gradual slope rose away to the left, and a river wandered by to the right, while the train tracks ran forward and back from the clear dirt patch of empty street beside the station. Twist noticed a small, wolf-like dog sitting beside the station as if waiting for someone.

Arabel led the way as they walked along a thin street that headed up the slope. There were far fewer people in this part of the city, and Twist could hear birds singing in the sparse wood that stood at the top of the slope before them. They passed a small group of children who wore very bright, colorful clothing and wooden sandals. The children stopped to stare at them and whisper to each other. Twist offered them a smile as he passed by.

As the road cut into the heart of the small forest, he and his companions came under the soft shadows of the trees. Twist noticed that some of the trees here looked like smaller, paler versions of the huge redwood trees he had seen near San Francisco.

“He should be right up here,” Arabel said, peering into the woods as they walked along the road.

“I thought you said this guy was underground,” Skye mentioned.

Glancing around, Twist could see no buildings or even cave openings among the trees.

“He is,” Arabel said, frowning. “I’m sure of it. And we’re very close now.”

“You’re never wrong about these things?” Skye asked.

“Never,” Arabel said, shaking her head. “We just have to find…” She paused and then seemed to see something in the woods, along a thin, winding path. “This way,” she said, taking off at a quick pace.

As Twist and the others followed behind her, they came quickly to one very large tree in a small clearing. The trunk was round and bare to a great height, and was as wide as a London cab, while the twiggy green branches reached high enough to make a good airship dock up above the canopy of the other trees. As they walked around the back of it, they found a man sitting on a small stump, reading a book.

Twist was startled to find that the man looked European to his eye, with bushy red hair, pale skin, and bright blue eyes. He was dressed, however, in a suit that was made entirely of green leaves. At second glance, Twist noticed that his ears stood out from his head in long points, a pair of short horns stuck out of the top of his curly red hair, and that his legs and feet quite resembled the furry hindquarters of a goat.

“Oh, hello,” Arabel said to him.

“What do ye want?” the satyr asked her with a thick Scottish accent. Twist couldn’t stop himself from staring in utter confusion at this strange man-like creature. He glanced around to find a similar sentiment in the expressions that Skye and Myra wore, but Arabel didn’t appear at all perturbed.

“We’re looking for a fox with just one tail,” Arabel said brightly. “I know he’s around here somewhere. He might be underground. Do you know where I might find him?”

The satyr rolled his eyes and looked back to his book. “There are no humans allowed in the club. Be on yer way.” Arabel pulled back, a frown on her face.

“Now, see here!” Twist snapped at the odd Scottish satyr. “We’ve come all the way from London. You can’t just turn us away.” The satyr made no response to Twist’s words but continued to read his book as if Twist hadn’t spoken at all.

“Come on, can’t you help us out?” Skye tried.

“Them’s the rules, ladies,” he said to her with a shake of his head. “Be on yer way.”

“Ladies?” Twist balked instantly. When the satyr made no response whatsoever yet again, Twist stepped closer to him. “Excuse me,” he tried. “Can you hear me?”

The satyr didn’t so much as glance up from his book. Twist waved a hand in the space between the page and the satyr’s eyes, but he gave no response at all. Twist looked to his friends to find them all watching him curiously.

“I have an idea,” Twist said, stepping away. “Come with me, out of earshot. Don’t say anything to him.” The others followed Twist out of the clearing and out of view of the satyr.

“Twist?” Skye asked the moment they stopped. “Why can’t the goat-guy see you?”

“I don’t know. I guess a satyr counts as a fairy,” Twist answered quickly. His curiosity pulled his mind toward the symbol engraved on his pocket watch, which Jonas had recognized as a spell to ward off fairies, and to the dream he’d had of Storm as a satyr, but he forcibly turned his thoughts onto the task at hand.

“Well, Puck was a satyr,” Skye offered thoughtfully. “He worked for Oberon, and Oberon was the king of the fairies. But that was Shakespeare. Why can’t this guy see you?” She paused, looking alarmed. “And since when are satyrs real?” she asked darkly, turning to glance back at the Scottish one in the clearing behind her.

“I don’t know,” Twist said, shaking his head, aggravated now as he struggled to focus. “And it’s not important now. He can’t see me. That’s all we need. If humans aren’t allowed, then logic would suggest that there is some kind of hidden entryway into the underground space where Vane is right now, correct?” The others gave vague nods. “All we need is for him to open that doorway. Then I can walk through, and he won’t try to stop me.”

“Okay,” Skye said with a nod, “I like how you’re learning to roll with the weirdness, by the way, but he saw the rest of us and refused to let us in. How are we going to get him to open the doorway?”

“I don’t look human anymore,” Myra offered with a musing expression. “I could tell him I’m a ghost. Then he might let me in.”

“Oh! And what about Kali?” Skye asked suddenly. “I could send her with you. That way I can keep an eye on you. And if there’s a load of magical creatures where you’re going, it might be better to have her along, anyway.”

“My word, we’re bizarre,” Arabel said with a sigh. The others smiled at her. “But yeah, that might work. I can almost see Vane right now. And he is surrounded by magical creatures.”

“Let’s give it a go,” Skye said, stepping back. She stretched out one arm and then held still as a brilliant, orange-and-white, swirling light rippled off of her back and down her arm before taking the shape of a full-sized Bengal tiger sitting in the underbrush. “Kali, honey,” she said sweetly to the now perfectly solid tiger, “go with Twist and Myra, and keep an eye on them, okay? I have to wait here.”

Kali gave a soft, growling sort of sound and nuzzled her wide, flat snout against Skye’s outstretched hand before looking expectantly to Twist.