I could go further and make a reality my oldest dream, awake or asleep—that my father had never left us. That he, Nerissa, Conrad and I were a family, together.
“Well, I never heard of such a curious phrase,” Archie said, and tossed back the last of his drink. “No idea what you’re talking about. Sounds like some story in a cheap magazine.”
That was one way Archie and I weren’t alike, I realized. He was a terrible liar. He couldn’t even look at me, and fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat, as if a colony of ants had taken up residence under his shirt.
“All right,” I said. “I suppose I’ll say goodnight, then.” I started to walk out, then stopped and looked back. “And I am sorry. For going off like that and worrying you.”
I sped out of the room before Archie could reply. His lie had told me a lot.
He had heard of the nightmare clock. And what my father knew about it scared him enough to make him lie to me about it. If he knew, someone else knew. Someone who might be willing to tell me the whole story, explain the cryptic riddles of my dream figure.
His knowing about the clock also meant that I’d been right: the dreams, the black figure and the endless skies, the great gear, all of it—they were at least partly real.
I felt a swell of happiness in my chest like a soap bubble, fragile but there. As I climbed the stairs to my room, my thoughts were racing. The nightmare clock could set me free—if the dream figure was telling the truth. Could I use it to undo what I’d done in Lovecraft? I had to think so. Otherwise it was just another dead end, another dashed hope. It was like a Gate, but with the power to move time and events already set. That, I could use. That would set me free, free of everything I’d let Tremaine make me do.
While I got ready for bed and crawled under my blankets, I decided I needed to find out, and fast—because if I had a chance to set everything right, I was taking it, no matter what.
My father was quiet at breakfast, holding his head in his hands. Valentina was by contrast unusually sharp and impatient for someone who prided herself on decorum. She slammed a coffee cup down at Archie’s elbow, and he winced.
“Do you have to?”
“Your own fault,” she returned, and went and sat at the other end of the table. Conrad raised his eyebrow at that, then went back to sulking over his notebook. Dean and my father were engaged in some kind of glaring contest, and Bethina was focused on her food. Only Cal seemed to be in a good mood.
“Say, Valentina,” I said in a voice that was gratingly perky to my ears. “I’m a bit bored. I was wondering if I could use the library on the Munin to do some reading.” I widened my eyes in innocence. “I wanted to ask permission, after yesterday, of course.”
“Sorry, no,” Valentina said. “I have more important things to do today. You’re just going to have to entertain yourself in the house with the others, where we can keep an eye on you.”
“Good grief, Val,” Archie snapped without looking up. “This isn’t a reform school. Just let her go get some books that don’t insult her intelligence. If she stays on the Munin and doesn’t wander around, she’ll be fine.”
“Oh, of course,” Valentina said, and the acid in her tone could have etched the teacup she was holding. “Because you have the final say in all things, Archie, don’t you?”
“As far as the people at this table are concerned, I do,” Archie said.
“Right,” Conrad said, pushing back from the table. “I’m going … somewhere else.”
“Yeah,” Cal said hurriedly, also jumping up. “Thanks for breakfast, Miss Crosley. I mean, Mrs. Grayson. Uh … I mean … just thanks.”
Bethina took that as her cue to start clearing plates, and Dean pulled out his pack of Lucky Strikes, practically waving them under Archie’s nose before he went out to the back steps to smoke one. I rolled my eyes.
“Looks like it’s just you and me, then,” Valentina said in the same tone she’d used on my father. “Let’s get you fixed up with something a girl like yourself finds stimulating.” She snatched my hand and practically dragged me outside and to the Munin.
I had prepared this lie carefully, so that it would practically drip sincerity. “I am sorry about yesterday,” I told her as we climbed the ladder into the main cabin. “I really didn’t mean any disrespect.”
“Aoife, I’m just going to say this once,” she told me when we were inside. “Because I’m not your mother, and not trying to be, but I am older and I’ve been around. From what I’ve seen these past few days you’re a sweet, bright girl. You don’t want to waste yourself on somebody like Dean Harrison.” She flipped the switches in the main cabin to turn on the aether lamps and then folded her arms, looking for all the world like a miniature, younger version of one of my professors at the Academy. “You want to wait for someone who’s marriage material. Lifelong material. Don’t sell yourself short just because a boy gives you a wink and a smile. I’ve seen too many smart girls take that route and end up stuck in the mud.”
“You’re not married,” I said, feeling reflexive anger when Valentina insulted Dean. She didn’t know him, and she’d admitted she didn’t know me. Four days didn’t qualify her to give me parental advice. “And don’t worry about filling in for my mother. You’re barely old enough to be my big sister.” I knew it was mean, but she’d fired the first volley.
Valentina smiled, a tired and sad smile. “I know that your back will get up no matter what I say about that boy. But maybe in a few months or years you’ll realize I’m not just trying to be a snob. I want to help you.” She went back to the ladder to the outside. “I have mixed feelings on marriage, but I do believe that were things different, did we not lead these lives, I would marry Archie. In a heartbeat.”
She sounded sincere, her face softening and her voice dropping, and looked so happy at the prospect that for a moment I felt almost guilty about what I was going to do. Almost. It seemed Valentina could be your best friend one minute and then in the next instant be as cold and hard as the brass that kept the Munin’s hull intact. I knew I couldn’t predict which Val I’d be getting, and after a lifetime as a charity ward, with new families and new mothers every few months, I couldn’t trust someone like that.
“So, when you worked with the Brotherhood,” I said, deliberately pulling down a stack of blue cloth–covered boys’ adventure novels and trying to act casual, “did you use this ship for traveling and battles with eldritch creatures and things?”
Valentina laughed softly. “It’s not as exciting as you’d think. A lot of chasing, a lot of frustration and dead ends. A lot of time cooped up with musty books, learning the lore. The only exciting part was combat training. I liked that.”
“But some excitement in the field, surely? It sounds a lot better than the Academy,” I said. If Valentina wanted to talk about the Brotherhood, I was happy to encourage her.
Valentina went over to a map of the world painted on the wall, in the spaces between the bookshelves and curio cabinets, and traced her fingers over it. “Oh, yes,” she said. “It’s a wondrous life. If you have the strength for it.”
While she wasn’t looking, I grabbed a few books from the section of the library filled with handwritten volumes and shoved them under my coat. They were what I had come for—the diaries of the Brotherhood members, whose knowledge was compiled into the vast Iron Codex, the go-to guide for fighting things like the Fae. Hundreds of diaries, like Archie’s and like mine, collected into a single volume. That volume was watched over by the Brotherhood. These were the next likeliest place to look for the knowledge I needed—about both the Brotherhood and the nightmare clock, if it existed at all outside of the sort of fear-tinged whisper it had caused in my father.