His Clockwork Canary by Beth Ciotta Page B

they’d prohibited Freaks from voting
     or enrolling in colleges or securing employment in esteemed vocations. Oh, aye. All
     she had to do was
think
on that, and outrage obliterated lust.
    Simon fell into frustrated silence as they abandoned their search and proceeded to
     Spirits & Tales. He ached, no,
died
to progress in his mission. To advance his goal. Willie sensed it with every fiber
     of her altered being. This moment, winning the Race for Royal Rejuvenation trumped
     all else in his life. No matter what he professed, she did not believe he pursued
     the prize solely for his family. Perhaps he intended the fortune for his mother and
     sister, but he wanted the glory for himself. There was no denying an aggrandizing
     “vibe,” as her mother would say.
    “Did you really think it would be so simple, Darcy?” Willie asked as they walked downhill
     and against the frosty air. “Few things in life are.”
    “You see the worst in everything, Canary,” he said. “Why is that?”
    If she broached that subject full on, she would elaborate for eons. Instead she skirted
     the issue. “Because I do not trust mankind in general.”
    “Cynical.”
    “Realistic.” Chilled to the bone, Willie stuffed her gloved hands in her coat pockets,
     seeking additional warmth. Her knuckles knocked against something hard.
    Strangelove’s telecommunicator.
    The device she would use to betray Simon.
    Report to me the moment he’s acquired whatever legendary invention he seeks.
    Strangelove’s instructions had been clear. His intent, however, was shrouded in mystery,
     as was his true identity. What would a devious, seemingly wealthy and ruthless man
     like Strangelove do with a working clockwork propulsion engine? The detrimental possibilities
     cramped her already knotted gut.
    Spying the painted sign advertising Spirits & Tales, Willie purposely slowed her stride.
     “If the Briscoe Bus’s engine does, by some wild chance, exist and if we are indeed
     able to find it, you’ll be turning it over to the Jubilee Science Committee posthaste,
     aye?”
    Simon cut her a glance. “Why would I dally when my intention is to win the race?”
    “But the prize won’t be awarded until the week of the jubilee celebration, and that
     is several months away. In the meantime hundreds of other participants are in pursuit
     of a lost invention and who knows what marvel they might find?”
    “Nothing is more significant than the Peace Rebels’ time-traveling engine,” Simon
     said, although he did not sound wholly convinced.
    “I suppose that depends on who determines the importance. Who has the final say? The
     science committee? The queen? You know how she feels about anything having to do with
     time travel. If anything, she’d want to diminish the significance of the infamous
     engine, not celebrate it.”
    Simon stopped in his tracks, as did Willie. “Are you suggesting I’m chasing another
     doomed dream?”
    “I’m
wondering
if you have alternate grandiose plans for that clockwork propulsion engine. For all
     I know, Briscoe Darcy shared pertinent information with your father, information passed
     on to you—a visionary and a gifted engineer. That knowledge, coupled with your intellect
     and skills, makes you a prime candidate to follow in Briscoe’s footsteps. The next
     Darcy to build a working time-traveling vehicle, hopping dimensions in search of greater
     glory.”
    His lip quirked. “Such faith in my abilities.”
    “So it
has
crossed your mind.”
    “Why do you care?”
    “Because you could make the world worse than it already is.”
    He studied her hard, causing her to shiver with a chill that had nothing to do with
     the tundralike weather. “I am intrigued by your cynicism, Canary, but not deterred.”
     He glanced at the pub. “Are you with me or not?”
    Given the circumstances, and unwilling to risk the fate of a potentially dangerous
     discovery, Willie bolstered her shoulders and prepared to trace a