The Clockwork Three by Matthew J. Kirby Page B

dreamed that they were still alive. It had all been a mistake, and they would come for him and take him home. All he had wanted back then was for everything to be how it had been. Perhaps chasing gulls on the beach was how Pietro had found that comfort, if only for a few short moments.
    “When you say it that way, Reverend, I guess I shouldn’t be too hard on him.”
    The old man smiled with such kindness in his eyes. “You’re a good boy, Giuseppe. I wish there was something I could do. You deserve a better life.”
    “I’m going to have a better life. Real soon.”
    “I pray that you will.” The reverend wiped under his eye with one finger. “I’d better be getting inside.”
    Giuseppe thanked him and they said good-bye. The old man shuffled away, and Giuseppe waited until he had disappeared around a corner of the church. Then he went to Mister Stroop’s tomb. He had squandered the day in anger and earned nothing, and he cursed himself for having to dig into his stash, something he had never let himself do. But he needed it for Pietro. He replaced the flagstone and left the churchyard with his old fiddle.
    Night fell as Giuseppe crossed town. He lingered at the entrance to Crosby Street, hoping to catch Pietro. The boy never showed. No surprise after the way Giuseppe had yelled at him, but the little boy’s absence set him pacing and turned his stomach in shame and worry. He waited an hour, and then Giuseppe went in.
    He made it to Stephano’s lair without incident. The woman with the milk from the other night stood inside by the door. Her dull blonde hair drooped in front of her eyes. She pushed it back, and held out her hand.
    “Give me whatever you made,” she said.
    He took a step back. In all the years Giuseppe had known him, Stephano had never left the collection at the door to another. The padrone trusted no one with his money.
    The woman rolled her eyes, lashes thick with makeup. “Look, kid, you know he’ll know. Just give it over.”
    “Where is he?”
    She pursed her lips like a tightened knot, and tapped her toe on the ground.
    “You don’t know?” Giuseppe asked.
    “No, I don’t know! He just took off all of a sudden and left me with you brats. ‘Just get their money,’ he says. Well, I’ve a mind to just get the money and keep it for myself. I’ve had enough of this.”
    “Here,” he said, and handed her his take. “Best be long gone before he gets back, though. You know his temper.”
    Doubt darkened her eyes like a shadow. “Go get some supper.”
    Giuseppe nodded and left her, but he skipped the kitchen and went to look for Ferro or Alfeo. He wanted to find out what had happened, and along the way he watched for Pietro. He never saw the little boy but found his friends sitting up in their usual spot on the third floor. The other boys in the room talked and laughed as they never could when Stephano lurked on the stairs below them.
    But Alfeo was quiet. “Giu, I’m really worried.”
    Giuseppe set his fiddle on the floor and sat down. “What is it?”
    “I think we need to take you to the hospital.”
    “What happened? Why?”
    “Because I’ve never heard of anyone’s shadow falling off before.” Alfeo kept a straight face, but Ferro snorted. “And I think you need a doctor to sew your Pietro back on.”
    Giuseppe punched Alfeo in the face and knocked the boy flat on his back. Alfeo looked up, shocked.
    Ferro grabbed Giuseppe’s shoulder. “Hey, Giu, he was only joking.”
    “It wasn’t funny.”
    Alfeo sat up, rubbing his jaw. “Think it’ll be funny when I break your nose?”
    Ferro turned to him. “Back off, Alfeo.”
    “But —”
    “Back off, or I’ll thump you both.”
    A moment passed. Giuseppe grunted and held out his hand. “I’m sorry.”
    Alfeo stared at him. Then he took Giuseppe’s hand and they shook. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Look, we saved enough room for the kid. Where is he?”
    Giuseppe looked in the corner. “I don’t know,”