And now for something completely different…
This story is currently published under my sweet romance pen name, Jeanie Nicholson, mainly because I needed a reader magnet to build a separate mailing list and this was the only story I had that might appeal to that audience. An Edwardian fairy tale and love story with gearpunk elements which is decidedly NOT horror, it’s not my usual fare, but it’s also one of my favorite stories I’ve ever written.
I hope you enjoy it. It’s a bit on the long side, so I’ve divided it into two parts. This is part two.
WITH HER WINGS RESTORED, Meg could help Phineas with his work. He seemed to enjoy having a pixie for an assistant, and she enjoyed watching him work, bringing him tools and parts and being involved in the creation of his little clockwork wonders. She even learned how to make his tea and prepare some of their meals.
One day Phineas started building something bigger. Some of the parts were too big for her to carry without magic, and she couldn’t make out what it was going to be. When she asked him, he only said, “It’s yet another exercise in my stubborn nature,” which didn’t tell her anything, really.
While he worked on his mystery device, she helped more with the day to day things, like feeding Josephine and letting her outside, and making sure Phineas remembered to stop and eat. He worked furiously on his new project, as if there wasn’t any time left to build it. Yet in other ways, she noticed, he had begun to slow down. He retired a little earlier each night, and slept a little later each morning, and he needed to sit down more often.
One night, after he tucked her into bed, he went into his own room and shut the door. She could hear him coughing long after he turned out his light. After that, she noticed how labored his breathing had become.
His machine started to come together, but she still didn’t know what it was supposed to be. It looked like a large bellows encased in glass, with a protective brass casing around the outside. Tubes ran from it to a something that looked like a mouthpiece, and it had straps for going over his shoulders. “It still needs a power source,” he said, before excusing himself and going to his room.
He shut her out, but she could hear him inside, having another coughing fit. Frustrated and determined, Meg squeezed through the crack underneath the door. She found him doubled over, coughing into a linen handkerchief. When he finally stopped and pulled it away from his mouth, it was covered in red flecks.
“Phineas?” she asked, her voice quavering with uncertainty.
“It’s all right, Meg. I just... I need to lie down for a bit.” He reclined on his bed. “If you could manage to bring me some water...”
“How long have you been sick?” she asked, and he gave her a faint smile.
“For a very long time.” He held up his mechanical arm and flexed the fingers. “It’s been eating away at me for years, piece by piece. But I’ve been too stubborn to give in. I don’t know whether my ingenuity has proven to be a blessing or a curse.” He lowered his arm with a sigh, and his lungs rattled. “But now it’s in my lungs. Those are harder to replace. My new device should do the trick, but it needs a power source to pump the air to my lungs, and I don’t think—” He was interrupted with another coughing spell. Meg handed him his handkerchief. When he could speak again he said, “I think perhaps I’m out of time.”
Fury welled up in Meg as the implication of his words sunk in. “Phineas, you fool! Why did you waste your wish on me? You could have used it to fix yourself! I could have made you well!”
“And leave you disfigured because of my cat? No, Meg, my wish wasn’t wasted. My whole life might have been a waste if not for you. I only wish... Meg, what will happen to you, when you go back to your people? When they see your artificial wings?”
“I don’t know. I suppose they’ll be jealous.”
“You’re not afraid that they’ll... that they won’t accept you? That they’ll treat you like a...” he gave another rattling sigh. “Like a freak?”
She shook her head. “Why would they?” Then it dawned on her, the way he never had company, or hardly ever went into town. The way he had been trying to hide himself the first time she saw him. “Is that what people think about you?”
“I’m different,” he said. “Some of my people don’t know what to do with that.”
“But, that’s stupid! Can’t they see how special you are? Can’t they see how you shine?”
Phineas smiled. Then he closed his eyes, and went still. Meg darted to the pillow next to him. “Phineas!”
He took a breath and opened his eyes, and turned his head to look at her. “You’re the special one, Meg. You were special before I gave you your wings. I hope your people know that. I hope you know that.”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not going back. I told you I would be with you always.”
He managed another small smile. “I’m afraid you can’t come with me where I’m going.”
“No,” she said, and then more firmly: “No. I can fix this. There has to be someone who can wish you well. Don’t you have anyone, Phineas? Anyone besides me?”
“I have Josephine.”
“Phineas, this is serious.”
He was quiet a moment. Then he said, “I have a sister. She runs an inn with her husband in the next town. I haven’t seen her in... not since...” He closed his eyes. “I haven’t wanted her to see me this way.”
“Is she kind like you?”
He smiled. “Moreso, I dare say.”
Meg nodded, her mind made up. “Then I’ll go to her. If she’s kind to me, I can grant her a wish, and she can use it to make you well.”
“There’s no time, Meg. She’s too far away—a day’s journey. I’m afraid I wouldn’t be here when you got back.”
“But I have to try—“
“Please, Meg. I’d rather have you here with me.”
Hot tears spilled down Meg’s cheeks, and she batted at them furiously. It wasn’t fair. She had the power to fix him, but the law only allowed her to use her magic to benefit humans under very specific conditions. They had to earn a wish, and they could only ever get one. If she broke the law, she’d be banished forever. She could never go home again.
But Phineas was her home now. She couldn’t let some stupid law stand in the way of her ability to make him well.
She wiped her nose, and flew up to hover where he could more easily see her. “Phineas, I’m going to grant you another wish.”
“Are you allowed to do that?”
“It doesn’t matter. Please, make your wish.”
He closed his eyes and licked his lips. His chest rose and fell, his lungs rattling within. Then he opened his eyes and looked at her with a longing that broke her heart. “I wish you could be big enough, just for a while, that I could hold you in my arms just once before I go.”
“Phineas, that’s not—”
“Please, Meg? This is my wish.”
It was done. He couldn’t take it back now. Meg closed her eyes and focused on his words. Warmth filled her body, and her heart. When she felt her feet reach the floor, she folded her wings and opened her eyes.
The world looked much smaller. So did Phineas as he reached his good hand out to her. She took it, and let him pull her down to the bed, where she stretched out beside him. He wrapped both of his arms around her and held her close.
She’d never been held this way before. It was nice. Nicer than nice. She laid her head on his chest and could hear the rattling inside as it rose and fell. “Why didn’t you let me fix you?”
He was silent a moment. Then he said, “Because this has been my heart’s wish for some time now.” He held her a little tighter. “Besides, I should have passed on ages ago. I’ve defied my fate long enough. I suppose I was too afraid to go. But now I know that faeries exist. If such a thing can be in this world, then what wondrous things must lie beyond it?”
She looked up at him, and he was smiling at her. “I’m not afraid anymore, Meg. And that’s because of you.”
“But I don’t want you to go.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
He touched her hair, and caressed her arm, sending an unfamiliar sensation through her whole being. On impulse, she pressed her lips to his, the way she’d seen humans do. His copper fingers grazed her cheek, then he pulled away to look in her eyes.
“There’s one more thing I must ask of you. My sister. She has a boy. He’s an exceptionally bright lad, much like I was at his age. I want him to have my things—my inventions, and my tools. Can you see that he gets them? And watch over him, if you can.”
“Yes,” said Meg. “I promise.”
“Thank you, Meg. For this, and for making my life special.”
He kissed her again, but only briefly, before breaking away as a coughing fit overtook him. Meg sprang up to go fetch him some water. But before she finished filling the glass, the coughing stopped.
She carried the water back to his room, and dropped it, making a mess of water and broken shards at her feet.
Phineas was gone.
MEG SAT IN THE WORKSHOP on Phineas’s stool, and wound his menagerie, one by one. She watched each delicate clockwork creature make its way around the room, the birds chirping and the mice whirring along the floor, and the butterfly with wings not nearly as splendid as hers flitting here and there. She watched them until she could watch no longer, hiding her face in her hands as her grief spilled forth.
By the time she was emptied of tears, the creatures had wound down. She found a bag and gathered them all up, along with Phineas’s tools. Then she put on his overcoat to hide her wings, slung the bag over her shoulder, scooped up Josephine, and left Phineas’s cottage for the first and last time.
The journey would have been faster on wing, but much more conspicuous at her current size. Besides, it was already a struggle to hold onto the cat. By the time she reached the next town, her legs were tired and her feet were sore.
It didn’t take her long to find the inn. Inside, a pretty blonde woman stood behind a counter. She smiled at Meg as she entered. There was kindness in her smile, just as Phineas had said. “May I help you?” she asked, before glancing uncertainly at the cat. “I’m afraid we don’t normally allow pets. But perhaps an exception might be—”
“This is Josephine,” Meg blurted, setting her on the counter. “She needs a new home.”
“I’m afraid we can’t—”
“Phineas is dead.”
The woman froze, and looked from Meg to the cat. “My name is Josephine,” she said, her voice small and hollow as she reached out to stroke the cat’s fur. “He named her after me. Oh, God.” Her hand flew to her mouth as she choked back a sob.
“I’m sorry,” said Meg. She slid the bag of Phineas’s things from her shoulder and set it on the counter. “These are for your boy. Phineas wanted him to have them.”
Josephine the woman nodded as Josephine the cat leapt down from the counter to rub against Meg’s legs. “Thank you,” said the woman, then went to a doorway behind the counter. “Michael, can you please come out here?” She turned back to the front. “I’m afraid I didn’t ask your name,” she said, but came up short as she realized no one was there.
When she looked over the counter, all she saw was the cat sitting next to an empty coat on the floor.
“WHERE DID SHE GO?”
The old woman smiled at the little girl in the bed. “She returned to her normal size, and kept out of sight.”
“But what about the promise she made Phineas?”
“She kept it, of course. After all, she couldn’t return home to her people, because she had broken the law.”
“That’s a stupid law, grandmother.”
“Yes. Perhaps it is. Nevertheless, Meg watched over the boy in secret. She watched him discover Phineas’s inventions, and she watched him grow more intelligent and inventive as he grew taller and more handsome. She watched over him as he went off to the Great War, and made sure he came home safe.
“And when she finally revealed herself to him, he was kind to her. So she granted him a wish.”
“What did he wish for?”
“The same thing Phineas did. He wished for her to be big, like a human, so that they could be together.”
The old woman’s smile grew wistful as her gaze wandered to the distant past.
“Did he get his wish?” the little girl asked, drawing her back to the present.
“Yes. He did.” She moved to the side of the bed and made sure the girl was tucked in tight. “Now it’s time for little girls to go to sleep.”
“But my butterfly,” she protested, reaching for her nightstand.
“I’ll get it.”
The old woman picked up the clockwork butterfly, with its splendid wings (but not nearly as splendid as hers had been) and wound it up. As it took flight, the little girl sighed happily and sank back into her pillow. “Goodnight, grandmother,” she said.
“Goodnight, my darling,” said Meg, and planted a kiss on her cheek.
Thank you for reading! Click here to buy the ebook:
You can also let both me and others know what you thought and help this story spread its wings with a like, comment, share and/or restack.
Want to read more of my short stories? Here are a few you might enjoy:
You can find more of my short fiction in these collections:
