Chapter Thirty-Four

The Walrus

My head whipped around. There, at the top of the stairs, stood a great gray walrus of a man. His face bristled with whiskers and a single brown tusk hung from his jaws. I grabbed the book and leaped to my feet.

Nellie gasped. “Grandpa!”

He wasn’t a rich brown like Nellie; his hands and face were lighter than mine. But his eyes were the same sea gray as hers, and they burned with the same fierce intelligence. He stared at the gaping glass case, the healthy book on the floor, the salt-stained book in my hands. His brows lowered.

“We were going to fix it,” said Nellie in a rush. “Aran thinks we should rinse out the salt water, and—”

“Salt water? You took it outside? It’s been in the sea?” His voice grew louder with every word. He took a menacing step closer. “Give it to me, boy.”

Well, what would you do if a walrus came at you? I bared my teeth and growled. The world grew sharp and crisp.

“Stop, Grandpa, you’re scaring him,” said Nellie.

But I wasn’t scared. I was completely alert, my body tensed for action.

“That’s my Songs of the Orkney Islands,” barked the walrus.

He was blocking the stairs so I couldn’t escape that way.

Nellie looked at my arms hugging the book, and then at my face. She lifted her chin to the walrus. “He needs it.”

“Needs it? A nineteenth-century first edition?”

“Not the book, the selkie song. I couldn’t remember all the verses.”

I froze, exposed like a fish left gasping on shore. It was bad enough that he’d seen me; now he’d start asking questions.

“All for a song, eh?” His eyes got a considering look. He reached up to his tusk. I gasped as he pulled it from his mouth.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” he said, sitting at a table by the window. “And this calls for my pipe.” He struck a twig into flame. Smoke spiraled up from the tusk; he waved it toward me. “Bring it here.”

I weighed the book. Until it was healed, it probably couldn’t sing Nellie the rest of the song, and she couldn’t sing it to me. And the walrus’s anger—you only get that protective of something very valuable.

The sound of my voice startled me. “Do all the books have songs?”

“Songs, and stories, and the lore of the sea.”

I stared at the wall. Maybe there were more songs in there about my folk. What did humans know about selkies? About pups like me? This was the only time in my life I’d have a chance to find out.

I took a step closer to the walrus. Then another. I handed over the book.

He examined the cover, shaking his head. “Nellie, I thought I made it clear. You’re never to touch these books unless I’m with you.”

She gulped.

“I’ll send this off to be repaired. You’ll work to help pay for it.”

Nellie gave a crisp nod of agreement, blinking back tears. But at her side, her hand flicked toward the door.

“Go,” she whispered.

She was trying to help me get away. But I couldn’t leave her to face the old man’s anger alone. And I couldn’t leave this wall of secrets.

“I’ll work, too,” I said.

The walrus snorted. “I don’t know a thing about you.”

Nellie said, “He’s just some boy I found at—”

“I’m staying at Maggie’s,” I said, jumping in to get the story right. “I’m her nephew, except, I’m not there, I mean, it’s a secret. My father can’t know, with the divorce, and . . . and . . .” I sputtered out of air. They were both staring at me. I took a deep breath. “Don’t tell anyone else I’m here. Please.”

“All right,” said the walrus. “I’ll think what work this warrants. Come back tomorrow morning.”

Nellie glanced at me. “Grandpa, he can’t—”

“I’ll be here at seven,” I said.