CHAPTER#74

"That man who came for me killed me, that's what happened." Dana held up her ruined arm. "I'm dead, and he wants me to go to the house where you came from and steal something or con the owner into letting me in."

Several seconds passed, and the typewriter started moving again.

You should go there. You can get help.

"Oh really? Who's gonna help me? You? The guy who lives there?"

Someone will help, it told her. This man will not help you.

"What do you know, you're just a magic clock. Speaking of which, what are you exactly? Why did you come here?"

I needed fixing, the clock told her.

"Why did I have to fix you?" Dana stood up and walked over to her dresser. She opened up her drawers and began pulling out clothes. "I bet Mike could have hired someone. Dude seems like he has plenty of money."

It had to be you. The typewriter paused for several seconds, then spooled the paper up to make room for more text, dinging as it reset itself. You had the spark.

"I had the spark?"

You are dead now. I'm sorry.

"You're gonna be sorry when I toss you out that window." Dana spread out her clothes, picking a pair of low cut jeans and a tank top. "And why did I have to fix you? What are you exactly?"

I am a mimic, the typewriter answered. My heart was broken. I could no longer transform.

"I didn't see a heart when I was in there," Dana muttered. "You were all busted gears. And what the fuck is a mimic?"

My heart changes to match my appearance. And mimics are creatures that mimic things.

"Gee, that explains everything." Dana picked out a jacket to go over her tank top. "I don't suppose you know what Daryl wants from the house?"

I don't. And you should not help him. Help Mike.

"I've got my own problems."

I will help you.

"Help me how? You're a fucking typewriter."

I am whatever I need to be. I can change shape when nobody is looking.

"What about when I was inside you? I could still see you, and you grew legs or something."

That was different, the typewriter wrote. Watch.

Dana jumped when the typewriter grew a pair of long, metallic arms with razor blades at the end. It whipped them back and forth for emphasis, then retracted them. Dana squinted her eyes, but couldn't see the seam where they had disappeared.

"How is that not transforming?" Dana asked.

Not transforming. Part of the form. Hidden when I change. The typewriter stood up on a pair of metal legs. Legs were already here.

"No deal. I refuse." Dana looked back out the window. It looked like the driver was staring into the sun. "I'm just going to do what he asks. No offense, but I want to see Alex again."

I understand. The typewriter sat quietly for several moments, then started typing again. Take me to Mike. Use me to get in the house.

"That... would work, actually." Dana frowned. "You would do that for me?"

I owe you. Turn around. The typewriter spat out the paper with a final ding. Dana picked it up and closed her eyes instead. She could hear the strange shifting of wood on metal, and opened her eyes to see that the typewriter was now an ornate desk clock. Picking it up, she inspected the surface, looking for hidden limbs.

"Are you really in there?" Dana asked. In response, an unseen flap opened, and a cuckoo bird jumped out at her, announcing the top of the hour. "Okay. Well, I guess we are just waiting for sleeping beauty to wake up."

The clock chimed again.

-

"Are you going to keep staring at me or what?" Mike had watched Sofia swing away from him and back again, still unmoving. He wasn't entirely certain whether to laugh or not, but two things had suddenly occurred to him.

The first thing that he realized was that the vines had restrained Sofia in such a way that her arms had been pulled up behind her. Her breasts had pushed hard enough against the fabric of her blouse that, in conjunction with the tightness of the vines, the fabric had split, revealing an enormous amount of cleavage.

The second was how pissed at her he was.

"I haven't decided yet," he told her. "You lied to me."

Sofia rolled her eye. "Of course I lied to you. You were only going to get in the way if you came with us."

"And yet, here you are. I don't know if Abella or Tink are even alive, and I believe the blame lies solely on your shoulders." Mike walked closer to her, contemplating the thick foliage that had pinned her in place. "As for getting in the way, it looks like I made it this far without your help. I'm busy trying to save your ass so that we can get out of here and stop a coven of assholes from breaking through the Geas."

"The house is under attack?" Sofia asked.

"Yes. Yes it is. I left the others up there to deal with it so that I could come down here and find Tink so that she can show me how to turn on the house's defenses."

"Which is something she needs her goggles to do. Or rather, you will need her goggles." Sofia frowned. "Years ago, Emily tried to make amends with Tink by giving her those goggles. It was after an incident involving some guy who broke in, I don't know the full details. Those goggles, when worn by the Caretaker, can be used to activate the house's defenses once every twenty four hours. I thought it was a terrible idea at the time, but Emily and I weren't exactly on speaking terms at that point."

"I'm hardly on speaking terms with you right now!" Mike was near enough now that he could see how she had been tied up. So many vines currently held her in place that he wasn't sure which one to cut first. He didn't need her face planting on the stone beneath. "It occurred to me, on my very long walk into the forest and back, that you have been particularly nasty to me." Identifying a vine, he grabbed it with one hand only to cry out when the vine tried to curl around him. Drawing his dagger, he sliced cleanly through it. "Shit, that startled me!"