Aether Spark: Book One of the Clockwork Calamity by Nicholas Petrarch

Author:Nicholas Petrarch [Petrarch, Nicholas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pelorus Books
Published: 2018-04-13T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Five

Night Terrors

If you want something great, you must risk something great... and sacrifice something great.

— Alchemical Proverb

T hat night, Chance slept in his workshop. He usually did when things were troubling him. It was easier to think in his own space, and he suspected Rhett wouldn’t have welcomed him into their shared room anyway. The boy needed space of his own to process things.

Chance stretched out on the sofa, his legs draped over the armrest as he clutched a blanket around his middle. His other arm gripped Ashworth’s folder close to his chest. He’d tried to read through it when sleep was difficult, but he kept drifting off mid-read.

Sleep was fitful. Not a moment after drifting off he’d be set upon by horrid dreams filled with harsh voices and flames. Everywhere there was confusion as he floundered about, seeking something—but he didn’t know what.

And always in the end, was Harper’s face locked in his last frightened stare. No matter where Chance fled Harper’s face would not leave him, drawing ever closer until Chance felt he would be pulled into those terrified eyes.

Chance started from his sleep, sucking in air as if he’d not breathed before. The folder fell to the ground, its pages scattering wildly. He touched his forehead. It was wet with perspiration, and there was a nasty kink in his neck.

Sitting up, he untangled himself from the blanket and rubbed his arm to dispel its numbness. Retrieving his watch from the chair, he checked the time by the moonlight coming through the window. It took him a while for his eyes to adjust, but he could see it wasn’t much past midnight.

Will this night never end?

He slumped over and rested his head over his knees—his arms hanging so the back of his knuckles pressed against the rough wooden floor planks. He wondered if any of the others were resting.

After a few moments, he set the watch back on the chair. On occasions such as this, being an alchemist had its advantages. Rising groggily, he went to his shelves and rummaged in the poor light for a few components to mix a sleep aid.

He’d just finished and was about to drink it down when the sound of breaking glass chimed in the night. He paused, craning his head to listen. It sounded as if it had come from the house. He set his mixture down and went to the door, cracking it slightly.

The lights were still on, casting a weak glow into the courtyard. Was Ashworth still awake? He heard more noise from the house.

Pulling the blanket across his shoulders, he stepped outside. Even with the walkway blocking the breeze from the bay, the night’s chill pricked Chance’s exposed skin and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. The air came in thick and heavy. There would be another storm in a day or two. He could sense it.

He made for the house, hoping Ashworth hadn’t partaken too liberally of his flask. It was

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