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The Dragon MechanicThe door was locked.The Dragon Mechanic in Short Stories
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Septimer had vague memories of being six, curled up in her uncle's lap while he sat at his great big ink-stained writing table and sketched out diagrams of gears and machines and dragons. His clothes smelled subtly of car exhaust and molten metal, but it was a smell she loved because it was her uncle's smell. In his dim study, the only light was that of his tall desk lamp and Loki's red eyes, like dying embers, burning faintly in the shadows at the back of the room. Her great mechanical heartbeat filled the room with a slow, deep, steady pulse.
While her uncle worked and Septimer watched, her eyes barely peeking over the rim of the desk, he would tell her of how Loki's namesake, a trickster god of Norse mythology, wrapped himself in a cloak of feathers and flew to the ends of the earth in search of Thor's hammer. She dreamt endlessly of climbing onto Loki's back and sitting just between the giant's beating wings, wrapping her arms around his neck while the wo