Beware the Clockwork Witch

I hold my sister’s heart in my hands. Each time it ticks, blood drips out of the scorched and twisted gears and the severed tubes that used to be her arteries. Her body is rigid, engulfed by the flames spewing from the long-barreled guns of the Watchers. As they open their silver cloaks, the spiders stream out, each one the size of my fist, sleek and steel. I will not be able to fix her this time. They will tear her apart, incinerate the pieces, and throw what they can’t burn into the Swamp. This can’t be happening. We kept her secret for years. And now the words I’ve come to despise are shouted in triumph by my sister’s murderers.

“Beware the clockwork witch!”

I remember exactly where it is; the tiny clock that holds all her memories. Mother told me what to do if this ever happened. I take out her heart-shaped locket, open its two halves to expose the magnets. But the tiny release switches on my sister’s heart are charred, bent, and useless. The tiny access door is melted shut. Already a Watcher turns to look at me and the spiders are moving.

I inhale deeply, taking in the smell of burned flesh and the shouting of the crowd gathering around us. This may hurt her, but it will save her. I collect every fragment of fear and hatred into my throat and scream as I smash her clockwork heart into the paving stones. As the first spider launches into me, there is a flash of movement from the midst of the gears and wires. Something tiny flies upward and sticks to the inside of the locket with a click.

The barbed hooks in the spiders’ front legs dig into my chest and shoulders as they swarm onto me. I look down just long enough to see the clock and snap the locket closed. I struggle against the spiders, even though it’s pointless. Already I feel the sensation of dozens of tiny legs crawling around underneath my skin. I know it’s not real, but it might as well be. I’ve had nightmares about spiders my whole life. We all have.

For a few moments, I am somewhere else in time. Mother reads along as the words of the Doctrine of Life play through the home speaker. My sister and I sit across the table from her. I am following along with the words. Adie is not.

“Fear is what keeps us safe. Fear is our help against the dangers we know, our shield from the dangers we do not know. Through fear, we understand. Through fear, we preserve and extend. Through fear, we live.”

Mother looks up at me. Something goes dark in her eyes and she and stops. “I’m sorry, Kalen,” she says. “You don’t have to say those things.”

“But we’re supposed to,” I say. “Adie wasn’t doing it.”

Adie tilts her head. “I don’t like being afraid.”

“I know, Adie,” Mother says. “I don’t like it either. So I think that we don’t have to say those things they tell us to say on the speaker.”

“But how are we going to keep safe if we aren’t afraid?” I ask. “Father wasn’t afraid, and—” I choke a bit, and Mother moves to embrace me.

“Beware,” the speaker continues. “What must we beware?”

Mother’s and Adie’s faces grow fuzzy.

“Beware fire.”

There is a flash behind my eyes and a high-pitched whining sound reverberates through my head.

“Beware spiders.”

Another flash; the whine grows louder.

“Beware the Swamp.”

A final flash and a shrill so loud I am afraid my eardrums are damaged, and I am somewhere else. Underground this time. No speakers or cameras. Adie lies faceup on a table, and Mother shows me how to fix her. She has busted up her knees again. Mother carefully removes the outer layers of skin that cover the mechanical workings underneath.

I am absorbed in the process, cataloging every spring, gear, and washer. If something happens to Mother, I am the only one who can fix my sister when she inevitably damages more body parts, and the only one who can add new ones to help her grow.

“Make sure you disconnect these two wires before you disconnect the tube,” Mother says. She completes the process and connects the artificial artery to a needle, which she hands to me. “Do you remember where to put it?”

I nod and push the needle into the crook of my arm, easily finding the vein. Adie only needs a little this time, so I wait until I hear the chime of the alarm clock monitoring her blood level. I close off the flow and remove the needle. I am a little woozy, but I force myself to stay focused as Mother finishes up.

“Mother?”

“Yes, Kalen?”

“Why isn’t she afraid?”

Mother smiles. “I gave her a different kind of heart.” She runs a hand across the open book on the table next to Adie. It’s the oldest thing we own. Even Mother doesn’t know how old.

“Mother?” My vision is getting watery and distorted.

“Yes?” Her voice breaks a little. She hears the question before I ask.

“Why couldn’t you make me not afraid?” The words are too much; a tear slips out of one eye.

Mother takes me into her arms, rocking back and forth a little. She is crying now too. “I’m sorry, Kalen. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She whispers it over and over, like a lullaby.

I lean my head on her shoulder. “I’m always afraid, Mother. I’m so tired.”

“I know, son. I know,” she says. “I’m tired too.” She takes me by the shoulders and straightens me up to face her. “I would have done the same for you if I could. But I couldn’t. Only a child born fearless can have a clockwork heart, and there is nothing the Watchers fear more.” She releases me and looks sadly at the book for a long time, and then she says, “Before you were born, the Watchers told me I would lose you. Every week I went to them, and every time they told me the same thing. They even made it into a nightmare and forced me to dream about it over and over again. I have never been so afraid. But then you were born. Your father and I were so happy. And I wondered for the first time if the Watchers were wrong. Then your sister was born, and my worst fear came true.” She pauses again and I go to her this time. “You have known fear from the moment you entered the world, just like the rest of us. But she never knew a moment of it. With your father’s help, I was able to make her this.” She gestures to Adie’s body. After a moment, she looks at my face, trying to see my thoughts.

“Can I learn to not be afraid?” I meet her eyes.

“I hope so,” Mother says. “I have been trying ever since your father...but it’s very hard.”

“Why did Father go into the Swamp?” I ask.

“He thought he could find a way out if he wasn’t afraid,” Mother says. “I still hope he made it. But the Watchers would never tell us if he did.” She takes my hands. “That’s why you have to take care of Adie. She can find a way, even if he couldn’t. She can lead us out of the Swamp; I know she can.”

“All right.” I say. For a moment, I am not afraid.

A thunderclap rattles my skull and I am standing next to an empty bed in a dark room, a piece of paper in my hands.

Kalen, Adie –

I am going to find your father. I cannot wait any longer. If I stay, I fear I will lose my resolve. Follow and find us when you can. Bring anyone who is brave enough. Adie, be patient with your brother. He has to protect you and keep you put together. Don’t make his job too hard. Kalen, watch out for your sister. Don’t let the Watchers find out about her or the book. Destroy it if you have to.

I love you both.

- Mother

As I read the words, a chant begins in the shadows of my memory, building in volume and resonance with every repetition.

“Beware fire. Beware spiders. Beware the Swamp.”

Memory melts into the present as the final phrase becomes the cry of the people gathered around me, shying back from the spiders and the flame, parting for the Watchers who drag my sister’s smoking body toward the swamp.

“Beware the clockwork witch!”

I kneel in the street, watching dully as the spiders rip their barbs out of my flesh and retreat to their masters, as Watchers stomp out wayward flames and begin to disperse the crowd. I cannot repair Adie this time. I may have saved her mind and her memories, but her body is gone. There aren't enough parts for a new one. I glare at the nearest Watcher as they throw down their silver cloak to smother a small blaze.

And in that moment, I know what I can do. I can’t make a new body, but—

“Watcher,” I say. They turn to look at me as they pick up their unsinged cloak. “The clockwork witch had a book. It told her how to leave the Swamp.”

“Show me.” The Watcher says in a crackling voice.

I lead them to the basement. My legs tremble violently. I hope desperately that they do not know what I intend to do.

As soon as they see the room—the table, the drawers, the wheels and gears, the book—they push me aside and move in, gun raised. I grit my teeth and rush for the lever that controls the main lifting arm. The Watcher spins at the sudden movement, but I am just fast enough and the arm might as well be my own. I bring it down, catching their head in the crook of the arm and squeezing the two parts as tight as the controls will allow. They writhe violently and a jet of flame shoots across the room at me. I duck behind the table, keeping it between us, but the heat still burns my skin and I feel my hair singe and curl. Over a dozen spiders race across the floor toward me.

I scream and jam down on the controls as the Watcher’s silver mask begins to buckle and creak. As the barbs pierce into my legs, the mask shatters outward with a crunch and the fire stops.

I kick and claw through the spiders to pick up the cloak. I throw it on and feel a link form in my mind. The spiders withdraw and I will them back into the cloak.

It worked. A thrill of triumph sparks through me as I look around the room at the spare parts and machinery. Not enough for a body, but enough.

After an hour, I leave my house for the last time, wearing the silver cloak and the first fragments of a set of armor. Secured in the center of the breastplate is Adie’s heart, held in Mother’s locket. In a backpack is the book, the rest of the parts I need for the armor, and all the food I can fit.

As I reach the edge of the Swamp, I level the gun. Fire streaks ahead of me, clearing a path.

Mother was right. With Adie—for Adie—I will make it out. I will find Mother and Father. We will make her a new body; one that will never burn or break. And then we will return. We will come from the Swamp with fire and spiders and bravery; with all the things the Watchers fear. Crying out the words they will never forget:

“Beware the clockwork witch!”