Free Machine by K.Z. Snow

Already, the ache of missing such loving intimacies had settled inside Will. He yearned to have them back.
    Should he tell Fan about Ulney Rumpiton, about Mrs. Rumpiton’s hiring of Zofen and the nighttime appearance of the Spiritorium? He would have to decide that after gauging Fan’s mood. But he did need to talk to somebody about these strange goings-on. The subject was too unsettling to ignore.
    Will had no firsthand knowledge of Ulney’s behavior so couldn’t determine if or how the boy had changed. He was still becoming acquainted with the residents of Taintwell, most of whom he met in one of three ways: when they came to Fan’s house to discuss some matter with the Eminence of Taintwell, when Will accompanied Fan to village meetings, or when Will patronized local shops. It would take many more months for him to learn who was who.
    Cloudburst was in the barn when Will parked the OMT, which meant Fan was already home. He tried to ignore the apprehension that began to nibble at him. Straightening his cravat and coat, for Fan loved seeing him handsomely dressed, Will strode to the back door and let himself in.
    Immediately he knew Fan wasn’t better. No cooking smells scented the air. No water filled the bathtub. Whichever of them arrived home first always began these chores. The house’s deadness signified another telling departure from routine.
    Will hung up his hat and called out, “I’m back from my job hunt. If you haven’t eaten yet, I’ll fix us something.”
    Fan soon appeared in the doorway to the parlor. “Don’t bother.”
    He sounded terrible and looked worse—his skin ashen, the lines in his face carved deeper, the intense clarity of his eyes dulled to mud. Yes, he’d fallen off the bridge. He’d fallen far.
    Will approached him and gently laid a hand on the side of his face. Fan hadn’t shaved, hadn’t bothered to brush the snarls out of his thick hair. “Go rest, my darling. I’ll bring you whatever you need.”
    What Fan needed, and desperately, was his special herbal tonic. All the patience and understanding Will had to give wouldn’t pull him from the abyss. Assurance that his father had left the province wouldn’t do it either. His illness had a firm grip on him now. Regardless of what had caused that fist to close and lock, only Fan’s medicine had the power to loosen it. Yet even that came with no guarantees.
    Will was terrified, but he knew he must not show it.
    Slowly, Fan’s arm rose. He lifted Will’s hand from his face. “William, I want you to leave. I… I’m having difficulty… holding myself together. You don’t need to be around me when I’m like this. I can’t even tolerate myself when I’m like this.”
    “You’re wrong. This is when I most need to be around you.” Will hurried over to the stove and grabbed the teapot. “Here, let me make a decoction of the powder. I’ll brew six cups, eight cups. That way I can simply heat it when you need it. I’ll even put in as much honey as you’d like. Or you can drink it cold, with sugar and some chips of ice.”
    Just as Will began filling the kettle at the sink pump, Fan snatched it out of his hand. “Stop coddling me. You’re only making matters worse. Can’t you see that?” He set the cast iron kettle in the sink with a weighty thunk , then braced his hands on the sink’s edge and hung his head. “Leave, William. I can’t bear having you here, hovering over me. I know it’s getting too cold for you to stay in your caravan, but I’ll gladly pay for your lodging at the White Inn or Elva Scrubb’s boardinghouse. I just want you gone. Frankly I” — he swallowed hard — “I think it was a mistake having you move in.”
    Will felt his face contract as if Fan had struck him. “You can’t mean that.” Fan isn’t in his right mind , he kept telling himself, but the reminder didn’t mitigate the sting of those words. He grasped Fan’s upper arms and made him turn. “Listen to me. I love you. It