Chapter 10

Graham

 

“She can’t stay in there forever. We must get her out.” Graham’s heart pounded.

He, Machin, and Gelsey were standing around the globe, watching Evelyn slipping back and forth between her human shape and that of an ordinary blue flame. As ordinary as a blue flame with no wick or electrical component can be inside a lantern.

Graham set down the ram’s horn and sighed. It was getting more and more difficult to hear Evelyn’s voice through the horn, and today she’d withdrawn more than she had since she’d arrived.

“The poor thing’s fading.” Gelsey tutted. “She hasn’t eaten or had a drop of water in days.”

“She should have no need for air, food, or water, at least not in her present form,” said Machin. “But Graham is right—Evelyn Bowman is not meant to stay trapped inside this globe. She must transform, to return to her physical body. Soon. I hope Halloween won’t be too late.”

“And to think Halloween has already happened in her land of Erie.” Gelsey’s hands were on her hips. “I’m still trying to understand how that’s possible.”

Graham frowned. Halloween in Havenbrim was a night of light and remembrances. It should have been a happy occasion, but everyone in the household was grim. Even the white glow from the lanterns seemed to have dimmed.

“We’ll celebrate tomorrow as planned,” said Machin. “And we will do our best to include Evelyn in the festivities.” Turning to Gelsey, he added, “Do you have everything you need to bake the fig cakes and gingerbread?”

“Yes, but it’s difficult to focus on that with the poor girl fading away.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder. “We must not give up hope.”

Gelsey nodded, but she looked as if she were about to cry. With an exaggerated sniff, she straightened herself up and left the room.

The flame inside the lantern jumped. At that moment Evelyn’s arms and hands weren’t distinct from the rest of her light, but the tip of the flame wriggled and seemed to be pointing.

No one noticed except for Graham.

“Master Machin—”

“Prepare for tomorrow, and try not to worry. When the cakes are baked and cooled, you can help Gelsey wrap them. In the meantime, we’ll need to select a few lanterns to place outside with Evelyn. I look forward to your recommendations by tomorrow evening.”

“But, I—”

Machin raised a hand.

“This is not your fault. When you’re selecting the lanterns, remember the connection between light and life. It’s no coincidence that Evelyn’s light is the same color as the flame of your torch. I must get back to work, Graham Webb.”

With that, Machin excused himself and retreated to the furnace. Graham was surprised Machin hadn’t worn a hole in the floor in front of the furnace, already.

Graham exhaled. “The trouble with being a ’prentice is that nobody feels they need to listen to me, even when I have somethin’ important to say.”

He glanced at the lantern. As much as he was drawn to Evelyn and the blue light, everything felt wrong. He couldn’t understand what was making him question his master. It was almost as if he blamed Machin for what had happened, more than he blamed himself. Machin spoke in riddles, leaving Graham to wonder whether his master had a sinister purpose, after all.

He shook his head and pushed the stool against the back wall. There was no point looking at the lanterns up close for the new task Machin had given him. He’d polished them every day since he’d started working for Machin, and he still didn’t understand what made them glow white. All burned with an impenetrable seal. As far as he knew, each of the globes had been formed at the furnace, crafted from a special form of tektite. All were made of Celestial Glass, not that he knew what made the glass celestial, exactly. Or what that meant. Seemed like another fancy word his master liked to use, such as moon glass.

Graham shrugged, figuring that when the time came, he’d choose three lanterns at random to leave outside for Halloween.

“Light and life,” he muttered, repeating his master’s words.

His lips twisted. “Is he tryin’ to tell me there are more flame-people, like Evelyn, inside those globes? Was I supposed to get trapped inside one of those, too?”

Glancing at the lantern on the table, he whispered, “Did Evelyn end up inside my globe, instead?”

He sucked in a breath. Machin’s wrong. This is my fault.

The blue flame inside the globe flickered. The features of Evelyn’s face reappeared, followed by arms and legs.

She waved and smiled.

Graham lowered his head, tempted to brush the globe with his lips. “Glad to see you’re back,” he said. “Are you feelin’ better?”

In response to Evelyn’s look of confusion, Graham pressed the ram’s horn to the glass.

“What do you mean better?” she said.

“You’ve been fading in and out all day—sometimes you look like you, and sometimes you’re only a flame.”

“Oh, well that explains it.” She looked down. Her legs ended in a pool of light where her feet should have been. “I’ve been trying to tell you something—to get everyone’s attention. But no one was paying attention to me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I heard you, Machin, and Gelsey talking about tomorrow. I wanted to help with your plans to get me out of here. But I need more information.”

Graham tried to brush away a smudge on the glass with his fingers, but that only smeared it around. He lifted a clean white cloth.

“May I?”

Evelyn nodded. The pink that tinted her already blue-tinged cheeks gave her a violet glow.

He softly smoothed the cloth across the glass, keeping a steady eye on the flame. The other lanterns had no flame, yet each of them surged with light. They glowed from a source unknown to him, and even though some were more decorative and had pieces of colored glass, most of them burned white.

“This isn’t hurtin’ you, is it?” He paused, listening for her answer.

“No. Could you describe it to me…the outside of this lantern—the one I’m in? I can’t see all of it inside here.”

He smiled, polishing the section of globe behind her as he spoke. “It’s a plain globe, made of Celestial Glass, taller than it is wide, but smooth and curved. The frame and cap are made of dark metal. Four strips of edging connect the base to the lid.”

“Sounds a lot like the lantern at the lake,” she mused. “Since you’re Machin’s apprentice, does that mean you helped to make this lantern, here in Havenbrim?”

“I wish I could say I did, but I didn’t, really. I only helped choose the materials—the globe and the color of the frame.”

“But you assisted with the design?”

“If you want to call it that, then yes.” He smiled again, dropping the cloth.

Graham sat down with his elbow on the table, then tilted his head so his cheek rested on his fist. He admired the lines of her hair, and jaw, and hands, and how they swayed in and out of focus.

“You say this lantern has a lid,” Evelyn said, pointing up. “Does that mean you can open the top?”

Graham remembered the lid quite well, and the trouble it had caused. Machin hadn’t been able to set the lid on the globe. It had resisted. With some effort, Graham was able to get it to fit. And it had failed to seal.

“It opens, yes,” he said softly, then swallowed. “Though, we haven’t tried removin’ the lid since you came along. I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

“But what if the solution is that simple? All this talk about Halloween doesn’t make sense. Maybe if the globe were opened, I could step outside.”

Graham stared at the lid, wondering if that would allow her to escape. He smiled, imagining Evelyn resting in his palm. Or, what if she turned into her physical form, with a human body? Something more than a flame. The whole of a person.

His heart sped with the same feeling he’d had when he’d almost kissed the globe.

He reached, letting his fingers fall onto the lid.

Then pulled his hand away.

Evelyn frowned. “What’s wrong? Why won’t you help me?”

“I was tryin’ to,” he said, holding up his hand to the glass. Pink welts had already begun to bubble on his skin where he’d touched the space where the metal fit the glass.

Evelyn pressed her hands to her mouth. “You’re burned! I’m so sorry.”

“I wonder,” mused Graham. He touched a fingertip to the glass. It was warm but not fiery hot like the lid.

He lifted the cloth he’d used to dust the lanterns. With the cloth’s protection, he handled the lid with no trouble. He tugged and twisted. The cloth warmed against his skin. Too warm. He shook it out, and tried again.

Machin entered into the room. “Graham,” he said, his voice pained. “What are you doing?”

“Evelyn had an idea, and it made perfect sense to me. Why not just open the lantern’s lid?”

“Please, don’t!” Machin’s hands flew to his head, pulling at hair. “You don’t know what you’re doing, Graham Webb. You should have consulted me first. We wouldn’t want the light to blow out, accidentally.”

Graham’s face paled. He exhaled.

“I don’t think we’ll need to worry ’bout that, Master Machin.” His voice was wistful, but held a touch of pride.

Slowly, his lips formed an awkward grin.

“It seems this lantern has finally sealed.”