Turnkey (The Gaslight Volumes of Will Pocket Book 1) Read online

  “Oh...well...it is late.”

  “So stay here.”

  “I don't want to bother.”

  “It's more bother to leave. Sounds like rain.”

  “Yup,” Kitt added. “It's probably still coming down. Besides, don't try your luck. You think you can find another free magic French inn?”

  “I thought you weren't listening to—”

  “Don't you like it here?” the Doll asked.

  “Sure,” I said.

  “Is it me?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Is it him?”

  Kitt made a silly frown. I elbowed him.

  “No. I mean, he did take off with my bottle, threw it through a window, and stole my wallet...”

  “Empty wallet,” Kitt said.

  “Empty wallet!” the Doll repeated, trying to establish camaraderie, I think.

  I was cornered. And the place was dry. And warm. With jam.

  “Are there beds?” I asked.

  “I don't know,” she said.

  “Where do you sleep?” Kitt asked her.

  “Where you found me,” she said, as if it was the most commonly-known fact in existence.

  “All right,” I said, dropping back onto the stool. “I'll stay.”

  “Excellent!” The Doll celebrated with a firm screwing on of the jam jar lid.

  “Excellent...” I repeated quietly to myself.

  As I fell asleep that night, tucked into my overcoat with a bag of rotting and therefore quite soft potatoes propped behind my head, I realized that neither I nor Kitt had ever asked for her name, if she even had one. Her last words to us before leaving for the glass case were “Dolly bids you a good night!”

  Dolly...

  There seemed something significant about it, something I feel that I almost grasped, but then I fell asleep.

  I woke up the next morning...late...to the sound of Kitt banging around at the other end of the room. I was surprised...and a little impressed. I half-expected him to take off in the night with as much as he could carry. I got up, attempted to stretch the soreness from my body, and yawned.

  “Morning Kitt,” I said, scratching my head. “How are you?”

  “Morning Pocket,” he replied. I glanced over his shoulder and noticed he was stuffing clocks into a bag. Sigh. I should have figured as much. Kitt noticed me looking and grinned.

  “I found a bag.”

  “I see that.”

  He nodded and returned to his plundering. I decided not to get involved. If I had taken to that philosophy sooner, I wouldn't be in this situation in the first place. Still...

  “Kitt, I don't want you to take these things.”

  “Well, if it helps, I'm not really taking anything yet. I'm just finding. Finding clocks. And I'm stuffing. Stuffing a bag. And later I will be carrying. Carrying a bag, and—“

  My voice got harder. “Kitt. I'm serious. Stop.”

  He dropped the act and frowned at me. I think he was a little hurt at the tone.

  “I don't understand,” he said. “Why, suddenly—“

  “Because, you know. Her.”

  “What?”

  “Because this place isn't abandoned anymore. There is a living resident here and I don't want you stealing from her.”

  “Do you think she'd really mind?”

  “I don't care. I mind. I don't want to see you leave this place with anything more valuable than a scrap of paper.”

  “Pocket, really?”

  “Promise me!”

  “Fine.” He grabbed a handful of old papers from the tables and made a big show of stuffing his pockets with them. “There! You happy? Just papers!”

  He grabbed some more and shoved into his clothes. I wasn't amused.

  “You're hilarious,” I grumbled.

  “Thanks,” he grumbled back. “So, while you’re up there on your pedestal of morality, you wanna tell me what I'm supposed to do for survival with these papers? For food?”

  “I have decided something!” said the Doll, walking into the room. We quieted and gave her our combined attention. She struck the pose of a royal about to deliver a great address to her people.

  “I think we should go outside,” she continued.

  “Outside?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Where exactly outside?”

  “Around,” she said. “Around and about.”

  “Uh...I don't know if that's such a good idea.”

  “I won't make much noise.”

  “Sorry. Not sold.”

  “It's probably much safer here for you,” Kitt said. “And you've got that nice glass case back there. Very fancy. Haven't seen one of those outside.” This angered her and she went away for a few minutes. Kitt started frowning again.

  “Was that the wrong thing to say?” he asked.

  “Apparently.”

  “Do you think she hates me?”

  The Doll burst through the door again, key spinning wildly, with an old basket in her hands. She was smiling.

  “I found this.”

  “All...all right,” Kitt said, confused.

  “You can have picnics with this, yes?”

  “You want to go on a picnic?”

  “Around and about.”

  I couldn't help but smile. “She's cute,” I said under my breath to Kitt. I think she heard me, because she started to grin.

  “I've never been outside,” she said.

  “Ever?” Kitt asked.

  “Never.”

  “Hmm...well, I suppose you wouldn't have. But then how do you know about picnics?”

  “I know many things.”

  “Spoons,” I offered.

  “Yes, spoons. And picnics and many things. You do not have to go outside to know about it.”

  “Okay,” Kitt said. “That's fair. A picnic it is, then.”

  She was all smiles.

  “Have fun,” I said.

  She was all clouds.

  “You're coming too,” she said.

  “I shouldn't. I—“

  “Come on, Pocket,” Kitt said, taking up sides with the Doll. “She looks so sad.”

  “Since when do you care?”

  “I care about happy people!”

  “You have to come too,” she said to me. “You turned my key.”

  “What?”

  “Look, we both slept here last night,” Kitt said. “We owe her for the hospitality. Plus, we did put a hole in her window up there.”

  “We?”

  I was going to argue further, but...sigh...I never could stand such a look of disappointment in a woman's eyes.

  “You win,” I said. “One day outside.”

  She lit up and started hunting down things to put in the basket, which she gave Kitt to hold, while chattering away about various customs and facts from the outside that she was determined to confirm with her own eyes.

  When she was finished, she took me by the hand and headed for the stairs.

  “Hold on,” I said. “What about that?”

  “What?”

  “That.” I pointed to the key in her back.

  “What about it?”

  “Don't you think you might stand out a little with that thing?”

  “Maybe. I don't mind if people stare.”

  “Right. Of course not. Nor should you. Me neither.”

  “Then let's go.”

  “Just the same,” I said, holding her momentarily back. “It probably wouldn't hurt to use a little subtlety.”

  “How?”

  “Oh...I don't know. If you had a drape or an umbrella or something that might draw attention away...”

  “Wouldn't this be easier?” She reached behind her and, with a pop, pulled the turnkey out of her back. Kitt and I froze. She blinked three times then cocked her head to the side again.

  “What's wrong?” she asked.

  “You can take that out?” I said.

  “Of course. I only really need it turned once, and you did
that for me.”

  “Oh. That works.”

  She dropped the turnkey into my hands. I took a few steps back, feeling the weight of it. Kitt shrugged and followed her up the stairs, basket in his arms.

  I stood alone at the bottom, holding the shaped metal. I caught something. Etched into the key in an elaborate script were the words: “TWO WEEKS.” I rubbed my thumb over the W.

  “Come on up!” shouted the Doll from upstairs. I felt my feet start to climb.

  Yeah, I'm no follower, all right.

  Chapter Five

  Beggar's Vacation

  The city of New London was nothing but a scrambled mess of children's building blocks. Multicolored models reaching not far enough into the heavens. London was a faraway toy on the other side of my glass. I pressed my fingers against the cool pane and listened to the hug-chug sound of the engines aboard the British Airway Grand Zeppelin No. 21. I sighed and pushed my shoulders back into the worn seat in the zeppelin's guest cabin where I was residing.

  The zeppelin chugged its motors and bounced casually through the smoggy-black clouds over the far end of the city. A matron in an evening gown walked the aisles, welcoming us, her “valued guests,” to her London, as she so put it, her “city from the sky.” Poetic, I suppose.

  The No. 21 Zeppelin was a tourist ship specializing in quarter-hour tours around the circumference of the city. It was a tour I'd never taken. Never had any interest. But now that I was aboard, hanging in the sky on this big, bloated bird, I found myself quite taken with the view.

  I let my head rest in surrender in my hand. I stared out of my porthole and counted the white clouds that would rise and reveal themselves every so often amongst the smog. The clean amongst the brown-black tones of industry.

  I reflected on my day thus far.

  It began with Kitt, the Doll, and myself stepping out into the autumn air and leaving the stilted quiet of the watch shop behind. We were fortunately able to exit the building without attracting any attention and within moments blended into to the bustle of the city. Nothing suspicious about three young Londoners walking the town. The long ends of the Doll's key, I discovered, were hinged and folded inward, rendering the entire piece small enough for me to hide in my coat. For once, a bit of convenience in my life.

  “So what do you want to do first?” I had asked the Doll.

  “See the outside.”

  “I meant, more specifically.”

  “Specifically?”

  “Right. See, we're already outside.”

  “Oh.”

  She really hadn't seemed to give the endeavor much thought, other than “outside” and “picnic.” She tapped a finger to her lips.

  “You pick something,” she said at last.

  Wonderful. I glanced up and down the street, looking for inspiration. I glanced at Kitt. He raised his shoulders in apology. I glanced at the Doll, who was waiting impatiently for my undeniably brilliant proposal. She would have to wait a minute longer.

  “Well...” I said to break the silence and assure my companions that I was deeply probing my mind and exploring every fathomable option at our disposal. “I guess we could always...”

  The Doll frowned and poked at the picnic basket Kitt was still holding.

  “All right...” I continued, determined to conquer this. “We could start out by...well...the weather is pretty crisp today, a lot of sunshine...”

  “Yes,” the Doll said, her eyes picking up a bit more shine.

  “A lot of sunshine,” I repeated. “And if I think if I've got my bearing straight...Kitt, we're just a few blocks from the trade district, aren't we?”

  “One of them, yeah,” he replied. “It's a little over to the left.”

  “Good, good. I've got it. If memory serves, just a bit away is this little combination butcher and barber shop owned by this enthusiastic young businessman. Nice man. Far too taken with cutting things. Just beyond that is a little path that empties out into this beautiful little park. Perfect time of the year too. Autumn's in decline, but there’s still a fair amount of gold in the trees. We can go and sit and watch the bicyclists ride over each other. You'd love it.”

  “Sounds fine to me,” Kitt said. “What do you think abo—“

  “Look!” The Doll said, pointing to the sky. A few zeppelins were launching out of the city air docks, passing an incoming commercial steamship. “We should do that!”

  “Oh.” Why, I wondered, did she bother assigning me the task of...no, it wasn't important. Best humor the girl then be on my way. “Sure,” I said. “That works too.”

  The obvious problem with taking a zeppelin tour was the question of how the three of us, not a ha’penny between us, practically vagabonds in the eyes of common society, were going to afford such a luxury. I'm a fairly skilled storyteller, but I doubted that I could find an interested party and rattle off anything epic or long-winded enough to warrant the kind of coinage that I knew the shiplines would be asking. Plus my...fuller...stories tend to either cast people away or put them to sleep, despite being absolutely loaded in entertainment. You are a rare connoisseur, Alan, to appreciate the unique quality, the “flammable intensity,” of a Will Pocket tale.

  But once again, I veer from my path.

  We walked to the docks, where a needlessly stern man with too many buttons snuffed at us and pointed out the fees for such a trip in a vernacular of such high breeding that I could nearly hear syllables in his words. He left us with a smug little grin and then, calmly and rationally, I debated to myself whether or not it would be in my best interest to punch his teeth down his flabby throat.

  Rest assured, dearest reader, that your narrator is by no means a violent man. I am passionate, as is any artist, but I would never take a swing at someone who didn't deserve it. Cruelty is for barbarians. A thinking man reserves his emotions and only strikes at those who would truly harm or insult this great existence.

  “And if they're not bigger than you.”

  “No one is bigger than the side of justice, Alan.”

  “Mmm...and how many fights have you been in?”

  “More to the point...”

  We scuffled away, Kitt and Dolly looking particularly sullen. I bit my lip and wondered what was coming next. I guessed that, reminded of our poverty, the girl would return to my suggestion of a nice, inexpensive day in the park.

  “We need money,” she said.

  “There are many things around us that don't cost a thing.”

  “But...the balloons...”

  I looked up at the low-floating zeppelins above our heads. They really were quite striking.

  “I see your point.”

  Now was Kitt's turn to chime in.

  “Come on, come on. Pocket's right. Plenty of other things in the city.”

  “But...” I said, looking up. “The balloons...”

  “They...are nice,” Kitt replied.

  I pulled my eyes away and tried to strike a more positive tone.

  “Oh well. Cannot be helped. Let's be on our way.”

  The fox furrowed, and I swear I saw the tips of the ear-shapes upon his hat twitch.

  “Excuse me for a moment,” he said.

  “Kitt...” I answered, a tone of suspicion overtaking my voice.

  “Just for a moment.”

  And he was off. I was beginning to get tired of that tendency. I was never really certain if he intentionally ran off in situations like that to avoid questions and complaints, but I've never ruled it out.

  Dolly and I sat down one of the larger shipping crates that occupied the long, painted platform leading back from the ticket kiosk. She seemed elsewhere.

  “You all right?” I asked.

  “Mmm-hmm,” she nodded.

  “He should be right back. Maybe. I don't know. I don't know what he'll do next.”

  The small, polished cogs beneath her white cheeks pulled her mouth into that child's smile.

  “He's very unusual,” she said, swinging her legs.
/>   “Heh.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, sorry. It's just a little funny to hear a mechanical person call someone unusual.”

  She surprised me by frowning again.

  “Am I that odd?” she asked, more surprised than unhappy.

  I slid closer to her.

  “Trust me,” I said. “You'd have to put a lot of work in to catch up with Kitt.”

  We laughed. As I reflect, I now realize that I never wondered, sitting there, how fascinating someone else might see the act of her laughter, of the complicated twisting and warping of bands and gears to create the unique sound. Such a person, I imagine, would consider me terribly backward and obsolete, as I relaxed and caught myself admiring her face and parts below.

  “How long have you known the unusual fox?” she asked.

  “Would you believe me if I told you only since last night?”

  “Yes.”

  “Last night.”

  “My, my.”

  She watched as another steamship pulled itself through the sky, the words “END BRITISH PIRACY, FOR KING AND COUNTRY” painted in dripping letters down the port side. I came to the horrifying realization that I was actually having a nice time. A wave of relaxation replaced the normal feeling of pestered longing that I so often felt.

  We sat there for awhile and watched the ships launch before Kitt came jogging back up.

  “Hey ho!” he shouted from the other end of the walkway.

  “The creature returns?” queried the Doll.

  “Looks like it,” I smiled.

  “Good neeeeeews!” Kitt sang, presenting the picnic basket left in his care by the Doll.

  “Yes?” I asked.

  “Look inside.”

  The Doll hopped off of her seat and took a peak.

  “Is that money?” she asked.

  “You don't know what money looks like?” Kitt countered.

  “I'm not sure.”

  “Me either,” I said. “It's been awhile since I've seen the stuff.”

  “Yes, it's money!” Kitt said. “I've gotten us some money!” He seemed to be expecting accolades.

  “Accolades, Kitt,” I said.

  “Thank you, Pocket.”

  “So we can go into the sky now?” Dolly asked, bright-eyed.

  “Wait,” I said. “Kitt, you—“

  “I saw a lot of shipmen running cargo when we first got here. I asked one if I could help carry a load for a few pounds.”