Page 120 of The Toymaker's Son

His smile vanished. “How dare you!” His illusion rippled.

“Where is Devere!”

“I am the master of this game.”

“You’ve never had a single original idea, have you?” I laughed. “That is why you’re obsessed with him, because he creates where you cannot. He makes wonder in toys. He is unique and brilliant, and you are a sorry excuse for a plagiarist.”

“You insolent fool!” He flung off the glamour, revealing the shocking visage of a creature with sharp teeth and long black hair, wearing a gown of black and gold. He was so beautiful he was almost ugly for it.

Elisabeth gasped.“What is he?”

“Go,” I told her. “Go back inside the church. The iron on the door will keep him out.”

“But you—”

“He won’t hurt me. He’s hereforme.” I met Adair’s glare and knew I was right. “Hurry.”

She spun and dashed away, telling everyone to hurry back inside.

I fixed my gaze on Adair’s mesmerizing eyes. “I’m not afraid of you, Adair.”

“More the fool, you.” He started forward and reached out a hand. “Say farewell to your pathetic human life. This is the last you’ll ever see of it.”

I ran. Perhaps not the bravest of actions, but I had no weapon and no means to hurt him. I did, however, know where to run to.

His laughter bubbled through the graveyard like an approaching storm. “You cannot outrun me, Valentine.”

I didn’t need to. I just needed to reach the toy store, my sanctuary. Devere wasn’t there, but part of him might be. Enough to stop Adair. The heavy clunk of the mechanical bird in my pocket made it true. Dreams could be made real. The toy store was a beacon of light in the storm. It always had been and always would be.

Clouds smothered the sunlight as I dashed up the main street, and a foreboding wind tore over me, trying to push me back. The townsfolk hurried home, retreating inside their houses. I glanced behind me, stumbled, and pushed on, arm raised against the swirling winds.

It would be all right once I reached the toy store. Whatever magic the place held, it would know me and welcome me. I had to believe it. I had nothing else to believe in.

I skidded around a street corner. Horses squealed, and hooves kicked the air. I ducked and lunged out of the way—not this time—narrowly missing the racing carriage. The driver yelled, but I hardly heard him. The toy store was just across the street. I ran to the door and tried to pull off the panels. Rusted nails held the boards in place.

The side door.

I dashed around the building, yanked off a rotten board, and plunged inside. The roof had long ago fallen in, exposing the hallway to the rain. Grass grew from the rotted floor. Ivy crawled up the walls. It didn’t matter. I pushed through, batting trailing foliage out of the way. A carpet of weeds and fallen beams smothered the workshop, blocking the doorway. I shoved the storefront door off its hinges and fought to get by a fallen display cabinet. The toy store was… in ruins. I’d known it would be bad, but time and decay had ravaged it, reducing its remains to broken wood and rusted metal.

There was nothing left.

But there had to be something… A small piece of magic, something of the dream, something I could use. “Devere, help me find you?”

“He’s not here, Valentine,” Adair called from outside the boarded-up windows. “You’re alone, like you’ve always been.”

No. That was one thing I’d never been. I’d always had Devere.

The fireplace was cold, its grate rusted away. The chairs I’d warmed myself in by the fire had sagged on rotted legs. The dream was long dead, and I missed it, missed its vibrance, its warmth, missed the wonderful toys, the chugging trains, and the ticking clocks.

I looked at the wall. The clocks were still there. Some had fallen and smashed, but most remained. I stumbled over the debris to get closer to them.

“Come out, Valentine. I have all the time in this world. You do not.”

The plain wooden clock remained, but unlike the others, which had decayed and faded with time, it remained intact, as though it had been carved yesterday. I peered at its hands and the intricate numbers for hours.

It buzzed.

Then buzzed again.

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