Lumière (The Illumination Paradox) Read online

  THE

  ILLUMINATION

  PARADOX

  Series

  JACQUELINE E. GARLICK

  Lumière: A Steampunk Fantasy , a novel, 1st edition: November 2013

  Published by Amazemo Books, Ontario, Canada

  Copyright © 2013 by Jacqueline E. Garlick

  Cover Art copyright © Kevin C.W. Wong & Mae I Design and Photography

  Interior Design by Novel Ninjutsu

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except for purposes of promotion by the media, not to exceed 10% of the content.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual events and/or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  For my brother Brad, for obvious reasons.

  Always a force in the face of adversity.

  For my father Jack, for whom I was named, and whose imagination and sense of humor I thankfully inherited.

  Thank you for always encouraging me to chase my dreams

  and stretch my imagination, and for showing me how.

  You are missed.

  Oh, and I know this won’t make you happy but . . .

  I quit my day job.

  Prologue

  Eyelet—age eight

  A brass mechanical elephant strides toward me, glinting gold in the amber setting sun. Its trunk is raised; steam clouds chug from its nostrils. The carnie at its controls peeks out from behind the breastplate, shouting for me to move out of the way.

  But I don’t.

  I stand frozen in the midway, staring up at its jewel-plated armor and sparkling gemstone eyes, imagining I’m one of the lucky children riding aboard its copper saddle, beneath the bright pink parasol that shades its back.

  Frantic, the carnie pulls back a tusk and the mechanical beauty trumpets, sounding a little bit tinny, yet magically—elephant! Its mouth opens wide, showing off a ruby-crested tongue and a row of splendid ivory teeth.

  Oh, how I love this machine. The way its gears work inside its head so perfectly, unlike the gears inside my own.

  “Out of the WAY, KID!” the carnie shouts again.

  I hear him but still I don’t move.

  “Eyelet!” My mother’s hand bites down hard on my shoulder, snatching me out of the way. A house-sized plume of dust rises under the elephant’s foot, marking the spot where I used to be.

  “You could have been killed!” She shakes me by the shoulders. “What were you thinking?” She drops to her knees. “Was it a daydream? Or was it one of your episodes?” Her eyes are wide and fearful.

  I shake my head, but the truth is I don’t know. Could it have been an episode and not just my curiosity that held me there? I’ve been slipping in and out of episodes so much more lately—it’s getting harder and harder to tell.

  “Oh, Eyelet.” Mother’s face sours. “What am I to do with you?” She crushes me hard to her chest.

  Nothing, I think. It’s not up to you. Father’s promised to fix me. And he will. As soon as he perfects the machine.

  I push back in protest, too big for such coddling at nearly nine. “Oh, Mother,” I say. “You needn’t worry so much. My condition is only temporary. Remember what Father said?”

  She blinks at me through glistening green and blue-flecked eyes, and for a moment I don’t think she believes in Father as much as me.

  “Besides,” I say, changing the subject. “Did you see him? The elephant, I mean. Did you saw how positively delicious he was?”

  “That I did,” she says, the lines softening on her face.

  “The way he moved. It was absolutely perfect.” I turn, watching the elephant clatter up the midway. “And his trunk.” I turn back. “It even blew steam! And they have a Ferris wheel, over there”—I point—“made out of a gigantical gear! They’re giving people rides in its teeth, if you can believe it.”

  “I can’t,” she says.

  “I know!”

  She grins.

  “And there’s long-legged clowns—oodles of them, everywhere.” I put a hand to my mouth and whisper in her ear. “Well, they’re not actually long-legged, they’re short-legged walking around on stilts, but I don’t want to spoil it for the other kids.”

  Mum laughs.

  “And one of the clowns, a short one, flew right up and over my head.” I show her with my arms. “He shot right out of the mouth of a cannon, he did. Grease-painted face all smudged with soot, wearing one of the biggest grins I’ve ever seen!”

  “You’re enjoying yourself then? Carnival is a success?”

  “Brilliant.” My chin snaps toward my chest. “Only thing that would make it better is if Father were here.” I look back at the gates. “He’s supposed to be coming, isn’t he?”

  Her eyes linger on the horizon a little longer than they should. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon.” She bites her lip, which makes me not believe it. “Until then,” she looks back at me, mustering a smile, “how about some taffy to fill the void?” She pulls three gleaming jewelets from her purse and my eyes widen.

  “Three jewelets,” I say. “That’s a lot of money.”

  She leans in close, her voice a teasing whisper. “Dad would think it spent on a good cause, don’t you think?”

  I grin. “Most certainly.”

  “All right then.” She stands. “We best go get in line, before they’ve sold all the sweets.”

  I frown and cross my arms over my chest. “But I want to watch the elephant until he disappears. I won’t be able to see him from the line.”

  She glances toward the elephant and back, and I see worry settle in on her face again.

  “Please Mum, I’m afraid I’ll never get to see anything like it again.”

  “All right,” she reads my disappointment. “But promise me you’ll stay put.”

  “I promise I won’t move from this very spot.”

  She drifts off across the fairgrounds, looking back over her shoulder from time to time to make sure I’m still standing where I should be.

  I am.

  The midway crackles with the sounds of whistling dynamite, creaky gears and children’s screams. The air tastes dipped in sugar. The elephant saunters toward the back gates flicking its ears at make-believe flies. I do hope Father makes it in time to see him. Where could he be, I wonder? I gaze at the gates. He promised he’d come. And he never breaks his promises. Even the ones he can’t possibly keep.

  I close my eyes and his face comes to me this morning in the kitchen. I hear the soothing sound of his voice in my ears. Smell the lingering scent of pipe tobacco on his neck as he pulls me in for a hug.

  “You will be there, won’t you?” I fall back and stare at him through serious eyes. He’s been working an awful lot lately, and later than ever, too. Mum says it’s because of the de-motion . Father says it’s because he’s so smart they can’t get along without him.

  He leans in, caramel eyes staring back at me just as seriously. A match to my very own. “How much do you trust me?” he whispers, and I smile.

  I know this game and exactly how to play it. “As much as the stars and the moon and the pesky ol’ sun,” I say, doing the hand signs—first crossing my fingers, then curling them into a C, then pinching together my finger and thumb to form a circle. My other three fingers wave behind, like the glistening rays of the sun.

  It’s our little r
itual whenever I have to face something hard that I don’t like. His promise to me that everything’ll be fine.

  He pulls me in for one more hug and I melt against him, breathing his smoky aroma deep into my lungs. I could hold on forever, but I don’t.

  “I’ll be a little late.” He stands and kisses Mum, whispering into the back of her hair. “I’ve business to attend to out in the Follies,” he adds.

  “The Follies?” Mum draws back looking singed. Her green-blue eyes turn watery grey. “What’s out in the Follies that’s important enough for you to leave the safety of Brethren?”

  “Don’t worry,” Dad smoothes her cheeks with his hands and kisses her again. “I’ll be back in time to join you both before sunset. I promise.” He presses something bright and shiny in Mum’s hand. “Until then, keep this safe for me, will you?” he says then whispers in her ear. “Or rather, for Eyelet—for her future.”

  He doesn’t think I hear him, but I do.

  Mum stares at the object lighting up in her hand, closing her fingers over it before I’ve had the chance to see. “What is it?” she asks.

  “I’ll explain later.” Father eyes flick from her to me and back again. ”For now, just promise me you won’t let it out of your sight?”

  Mum nods and he slips away. And I forget to say, “I love you.”

  Honk! A clown flits past, his horn blasting my thoughts back to the present.

  “Witness the magic of the Great Illuminator! Watch photographs come to life before your very eyes!” A man’s voice barks from inside the carnival tent behind me. “Gaze through a sheet of metal! See beyond a block of wood! Count the coins inside your purse!”

  The Great Illuminator? The coins inside your purse? It can’t be, can it? Father? I can’t help myself. I must see. I’ll only be gone a second.

  Bolting across the midway, I fall to my knees and duck my head beneath the flap of the red–and-white-candy-cane-striped tent. But to my dismay, it’s not Father at all, just a carnie, dressed up to look like a professor in a pinstriped suit and bowler hat.

  “You, sir!” the carnie shouts. “Don’t you want to know what your wife carries ’round in that carpet bag of hers?”

  The crowd chuckles as the couple blush.

  “You’re not the least bit curious to know how much she’s worth?” The carnie’s voice lilts. The crowd’s heads swing, curious. The young woman’s cheeks start to glow. She turns to her husband and grins.

  “Come on, now, don’t be shy. I won’t bite.” The carnie waves the young woman to the front. He’s balding and thin as a communion wafer, with kippers for lips, they’re so scaly. I can’t help but wonder what’s happened to him, for his skin to look so weathered. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was part gator.

  He glares out over the crowd through a set of dead lark’s eyes, all dried and dull, standing atop a soapbox, like he’s some sort of king.

  “Come, now,” he prods the couple, eyeing the man. “You can’t tell me you’re not a little bit curious?”

  The crowd stirs like a herd of hungry cattle impatient to be fed, their lollie eyes flicking backward and forward. The husband finally nods and shrugs the young woman from his arm. She grins, dancing to the stage through the hum of the crowd.

  “That’s right.” The carnie instructs her. “Stand up straight, right there, over that X.”

  The woman skips up the stairs, takes her place.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Mrs. Benson.” The young woman blushes. “Soon-to-be Mrs. Reginald Benson.” She raises her chin proudly, gazing dreamily at the man she’s left in the crowd. A chorus of “aaahhhhs” floats about the tent.

  “Very well then”—the carnie tips his hat—“Mrs. Soon-to-be-Benson. Shall we get started?”

  She nods, holding her purse out to one side.

  “No, no, like this.” The carnie steps in to adjust it. “Right in front of you please. Up tight to your chest. That’s it. Just like that. Now hold it.” He races from the stage, taking safety behind a short wall erected next to a cabinet-style box that sits on a table. He stuffs a crankshaft into the pinhole and begins turning it. Two large glass plates inside the cabinet start to spin in opposite directions. The noise is incredible.

  “Hold it. Hold it,” he crows to the woman with the purse, as the plates begin to whir, louder and louder. Her eyes are big as saucers themselves. Electrical currents pop and sizzle along the wires. Several in the crowd place their hands over their ears.

  My heart races with excitement. I leap into action, forcing my way through the tangle of legs to the front of the crowd. I don’t want to miss a thing. The whir of the spinning disks throws the hair back from my shoulders, but I’m not afraid. Unlike everyone else here, I know what’s going to happen.

  “In a moment!” the carnie shouts above the racket. “Lightning will pass between the two brass bolts you see mounted there, on either side of the front of the cabinet!” The crowd gasps. “Don’t worry!” the carnie assures them. “Everything’s fine! No one will be hurt!”

  Even the woman with the purse looks scared.

  I lean in even closer to get a better look, my hair streaming wildly about my shoulders. Electricity starts to fly, jumping snake-like between the two brass bolts. I’m both anxious and exhilarated. It’s just as I remember.

  Women scream. People flee. One woman nearly passes out. But not me. I smile at the familiar whirl of blood that races through my veins, the way my heart jiggles in my chest.

  “Wait!” the carnie shouts. “The magic has only just started!”

  The crowd settles down.

  The apparatus picks up speed, and my skin begins to prickle. The hairs on my arms stand straight on end as if some spirit pinched me. It’s suddenly far too hot. It’s as though I’m getting sunburned; but I can’t be, my arms and legs are completely covered by clothing. I don’t remember feeling burned before, but then again, it was a long time ago.

  An eerie glow begins to fester, streaming out, forming a halo around the machine. I don’t remember this either. My heart says to run. But my brain says to stick. After all, Father said there’s nothing to fear.

  I raise a hand to shield my eyes, squinting as the waves of electricity grow until their heat is almost unbearable, the flesh beneath my skin rippling. I consider turning away, when at last it happens—lightning leaps from the bars at the front of the wooden cabinet, up a set of snaggled wires, over to a tube of glass that rests in a stand hovering above the young woman’s head. In the blink of an eye, there comes a flash, so big and bold it’s blinding. It sizzles down the long thin pointed nose of the tube aimed at the woman’s chest, before zap! It’s gone.

  The young woman turns completely green. The outline of her body radiates luminously before the crowd. Her eyes distort, their centers turning red. She looks up, glaring demon-like out into the crowd.

  People gasp and fall backward. One woman faints. Others flee. Screaming. My stomach falls to my knees. I think to run, but I’m stuck in place. It’s as though my shoes anchor me to the ground. I suck in a breath, my heart pounding in time with the whirl of the machine, the jolt of the current pulsing through me, until at last the demon leaves her eyes and the green glow begins to fade. The lightning bolts between the brass bars dissolve into little puffs of stinky smoke, zapping and twitching as they simmer. The glass plates inside the cabinet whirl slowly to a stop and I gasp, relieved, as my heart stops whirling with them.

  “And there it is!” The carnie spins around, pulling a slate-colored screen from the backside of the machine. He holds it up, its image still glowing the most horrid shade of green. “The contents of her purse. Two jewelets, one juniper and a key!” He points to the skeleton of each object photographed inside the purse’s ghoulish green outline. Even the young woman looks amazed. A collective “ahhhhh” drifts up from the crowd again. Jaws dangle.

  The young woman is quick to dump her purse and hold up each item, proving the photograph correct.


  “There, you see!” The carnie waves his arms as if to part the sea. “And that’s just one of the many magical uses for the Great Illuminator!” He grins, and my stomach feels sick. What is he talking about?

  “What else can it do?” someone hollers from the crowd.

  “It might be easier for me to tell you what it can’t do!” the carnie chuckles. The crowd joins in as he paces the stage, his finger wagging as he shouts. “Suffer from migraines? No more! Unwanted hair? Gone in a flash! Unsightly scars, pits, birthmarks?” He snaps his fingers. “Consider them zapped! Why, this young woman had a moustache when we started”—the carnie points back to the woman with the purse—“and just look at her now!”

  The crowd laughs.

  The young woman looks confused, taking his hand to navigate her way from the stage. “Bring an end to facial tics, headaches, moodiness, depression—”

  “It can do all that?” a plump woman shouts.

  The carnie turns to face her. “All that is just the beginning!” He leans into the crowd, placing the back of his hand to his mouth like he’s about to tell a secret. “Expose yourself enough times”—he shouts in a half-whisper—“and it’ll even lighten your skin.”

  The crowd gasps.

  “That’s right, my friends. Now who among you will be the first to own one? ” The carnie waves his arms as the young woman flashes the price on a sign over her head. “That’s it! Step right up! Don’t be shy! Get your own, personal, party-sized Great Illuminator, today!” He lifts his arms and the crowd applauds.

  All but me.

  The carnie’s eyes settle on me in the crowd. “For you.” He grins and steps down from his soapbox, awarding me the photograph, like it’s some sort of prize.

  I look down at it in disgust. At the jewelets, the juniper, and the key. “It’s not yours,” I whisper.

  “I beg your pardon?” he says.

  “It’s not yours to be selling,” I say.

  The crowd falls hushed.