A teen girl unravels the mysteries of a secret society and their most dangerous invention in this adventure-swept romance set in Victorian London.If you are curious about Legacy of the Clockwork Key, here is a short scene that happened early on in the novel. This is the first time Meg and Will open Meg's grandfather's timepiece that may not be an ordinary timepiece after all...
When a fire consumes Meg’s home, killing her parents and destroying both her fortune and her future, all she has left is the tarnished pocket watch she rescued from the ashes. But this is no ordinary timepiece. The clock turns out to be a mechanical key—a key that only Meg can use—that unlocks a series of deadly secrets and intricate clues that Meg is compelled to follow.
Meg has uncovered evidence of an elite secret society and a dangerous invention that some will stop at nothing to protect—and that Meg alone can destroy. Together with the handsome stable hand she barely knows but hopes she can trust, Meg is swept into a hidden world of deception, betrayal, and revenge. The clockwork key has unlocked her destiny in this captivating start to a trilogy.
"I don't think this is a watch."Read Legacy of the Clockwork Key and find out what exactly this strange device is. My review of Legacy of the Clockwork Key is here.
"What else could it be?" I reached forward to grab it then pulled my hand back. My fingertips came to rest on his, but he didn't look up. Instead we both stared at the strange mechanism unfolding in his hands.
Like an odd shining blossom, three silver structures rose up on a short brass stem as Will opened the cover. Each petal's edge had a different pattern of irregularly shaped teeth. The shape resembled the flower embossed on the back, but with sharper edges and minuscule gears. "What is it?" I had never seen anything like it before in my father's shop.
"I don't know." Will delicately flipped the device over. "Look at this."
The round nub had protruded out of the back, lifting the image of the three-petal flower out from the casing to create what looked like a button.
"Press it," I urged. My shock had dissipated in favor of raw excitement. I had no idea what would happen, but I felt like a child waiting for the jack to spring from the box. Will pushed the button, and with a click, the gears began to move. They twisted and spun as the mechanism turned to a slow circle.
Music, the clear tones of tiny bells, reached out to me. Though the tune was delicate, it was as if I could hear my grandfather's rumbling voice singing to me and only me.
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