CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Liss didn’t return home by noon. Or even more than an hour later. I huddled on the sofa with Grayse, watching Mam tread a path from the kitchen to the main room and back. Her pacing made my head spin.

“I could go to the Wattersons’ and see if she’s there,” I offered for what felt like the hundredth time. If Mam didn’t agree soon, I resolved to go anyway. There was nothing else for me to do until sundown, in any case.

Mam paused by an armchair, blinking at the dish rag she’d been clutching for an hour without using it. “No. Thank you. I’d best fetch her myself.” She started toward the peg that held her cloak.

“Don’t be cross, Mam.” Grayse nibbled the ends of her fingernails between words. “Liss probably forgot the time. Maybe she’s running home now.”

Mam turned, halfway through shrugging on her cloak. “Of course, little fish.”

Grayse might not have glimpsed the lie in Mam’s eyes, but I did.

Perhaps Liss was in danger. The thought made my skin crawl. But she had no reason to go near the sea today, not when she was so excited to meet her secret beau at his da’s shop. Liss was on an adventure with Martyn somewhere, no doubt, and things would go much better for her if I found her first.

“Watch your sister, Bridey,” Mam said, ushering me back to my senses.

I leaped up. “Why not take Grayse with you? You can search faster with my help. I’ll start at the Wattersons’ while you try elsewhere, and we’ll meet in the market.”

Mam’s shoulders slumped. “Very well. Grayse and I will go ask at the neighbors’, and we’ll meet you at the fountain in an hour. And Bridey—” She waited until I raised my eyes to hers. “No delays.”

I hurried north, my skirt swishing around my knees. An hour wasn’t long to check all the trysting spots Mally used to frequent, so starting at the Wattersons’ house seemed a sensible plan. Liss and Martyn might have mentioned something to his family about where they were off to.

Town was quiet in the afternoon gloom, but fires cast their ruddy light in the windows of most homes.

I rapped on the Wattersons’ door and fixed a pleasant expression on my face, turning my back to the sea. I could hear muffled voices inside, before heavy steps trudged toward the door. Seconds later, Martyn’s face appeared.

When he saw me, he smiled warmly. “Afternoon.” He clapped me on the shoulder, shooting pain through my bandaged arm. “How’s your wound?”

“Grand,” I gritted out, “when no one’s touching me.” Martyn’s smile turned sheepish. “Where’s Liss? She needs to come home now. She’s over an hour late!”

But Martyn’s brow furrowed. “She isn’t here.”

I stared. Was he always this thick? “Of course she is.” I peered into the house. “Li-iss!” I called in a singsong, my pulse quickening. “Do you have any idea what time it is? Mam’s beside herself!”

Martyn’s face slowly turned the color of clotted cream. “I haven’t seen her today,” he insisted. “I waited at the shop for hours, but she never came. I thought—I thought she was busy and couldn’t come. She’d warned me your mam might not let her out, given the news of those poor folk at the harbor.”

My fingers worried at my Bollan Cross. “When has Liss ever been too busy to keep her word? You didn’t think to look for her?”

“I didn’t think—”

“Didn’t think at all, did you?” The harshness of my words startled even me. I offered Martyn an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. Liss left at dawn and … if she’s not here …”

Martyn rubbed the back of his neck. “What can we do?”

I jumped off the front step and started running. “Go. Tell everyone Liss is in danger,” I called over my shoulder. “They won’t believe me, but they might listen to you!”

“Wait!” Martyn shouted. “Where are you going?”

“To help my sister, same as you!” When he still didn’t move, I urged, “Raise the alarm! Hurry!”

I veered left, heading for the spot where the fossegrim had attacked Cat. I hoped Liss was wearing her Bollan Cross. Nothing else could keep her from drowning if the serpent had dragged her underwater.

My pace slowed as the ground shifted from dirt to sand. I loped down the beach, stopping just shy of the waves. Eyes narrowed, I scanned the gray-blue horizon for a flash of blonde hair or the gleam of inky rubber skin. But aside from the whitecaps, the only things stirring were massive rainclouds hovering over the sea, not quite ready to unleash their fury.

I prowled the sand, watching the water. My toes dug into something soft that wasn’t sand. Heart sinking, I glanced at a familiar scrap of dyed wool lying among broken oyster shells. It was the shawl Liss had worn when she left the house this morning.

Clutching the familiar blue garment to my chest, I glowered at the water. “Take me next! If you want a fight, I’ll give you one!” My breath came in quick sobs. “I’m through being afraid. Come and claim me! Just leave my sister be.”

A gust of wind blasted loose sand around my ankles, but no half-blind serpent emerged to heed my challenge.

Whirling away from the ocean, I wrapped Liss’s shawl around my shoulders and dashed toward the market to meet Mam. I’d convince her we needed someone with a boat to call Fynn and Da in to shore. Fynn was the only person capable of helping Liss now.

He could go where Mr. Gill and his patrolmen could not, and find my sister.

“Hold on, Liss,” I whispered, hurrying over to Mam and Grayse. They stood near the fountain, talking to Mr. Gill, the water’s merry babble failing to disguise their low, urgent tones. “Please, hold on.”

I spent the rest of the long afternoon at home minding Grayse, playing games I wasn’t thinking about, and preparing food I didn’t touch, while Mam found someone to bring Da and Fynn back from sea. She didn’t understand why I was so frantic, but she agreed to have them fetched anyway. She seemed to have little faith in the search party Mr. Gill was gathering.

Grayse hardly said a word as we passed the dragging minutes, and every time something reminded her of Liss, her eyes brimmed with tears. Mam would have been better comfort, but she’d begged me to take care of Grayse while she waited at the harbor.

“For my sake, please stay here. Stay safe. I can’t stand the thought of losing another daughter,” she’d pleaded.

I’d tied Liss’s shawl around Mam’s shoulders, pressing a stack of slightly stale biscuits into her hands before she departed.

By the time the front door creaked open, it was an hour or so before sundown. Morag would be waiting at the cottage with the poison. Grayse was sprawled on our bed, asleep early with her thumb in her mouth.

I scrambled off the sofa, peering past Mam as I hoped for a glimpse of Da and Fynn. “Where are they?”

“Almost here. I left to check on you girls the moment I saw their boat on the horizon.” Mam collapsed on the warm spot on the sofa I’d just vacated, and her hollow gaze said enough. Her hair and Liss’s shawl were damp, crusted with sand.

“Go rest with Grayse,” she whispered.

“But I’m not the least bit—”

“Go.” Her shoulders quaked, but her reddened eyes had no tears left to shed. Softer, she added, “All these years … Morag has been right to fear the sea. I’d never given it more than a passing thought, when all this time, I should have been guarding you girls against it.”

I put a hand on her arm, but before I could tell her how right she was, she seemed to snap out of a daze. She shook her head and loosed a breath of nervous laughter. “Oh, what am I saying? I’m out of my mind with exhaustion. Forgive me, Bridey … Sea monsters belong in bedtime stories, along with fairies who like to clean people’s houses.”

“But, Mam.” Perhaps I ought to tell her about her dreams. Maybe Morag was mistaken. Maybe Mam was ready to accept the truth.

“Go sit with Grayse!” Her tone told me she was far from ready after all. “I need you to keep her out of your Da’s way when he gets home. Now!”

Tiptoeing into the bedroom, I snuggled up next to a sleeping Grayse and stared out the window at the gray clouds swollen with rain. I had half a mind to climb through the window and run to Morag’s for the poison now, but I needed Fynn as much as I needed the deadly witch’s brew.

It was only a matter of agonizing moments.

Raised voices sounded from the front of the house, startling me into alertness.

The window was now streaked with raindrops, and the sky beyond it still steely gray, though my empty stomach told me it was nearing suppertime. I hurried into the hall, shutting the door with care to avoid waking Grayse.

Fynn and Da weren’t in the house.

Mam, tousle-haired and clad in a robe, stood in the doorway. She didn’t acknowledge me when I peered over her shoulder and asked what the fuss was. But I answered my own question as I took in the bizarre gathering on our lawn.

Standing on one side of the road, soaking up the rain, were Da and Fynn. Their fishing gear lay in a heap at their feet. They glared at five figures opposite them: Mr. Gill and four surly men who often smoked pipes at the tavern. Mr. Gill held something long and thin in his hands, and Fynn’s gaze was trained upon it.

“He has to come with us, Peddyr,” Mr. Gill insisted, gesturing at Fynn.

Da shook his head. “He doesn’t have to do anything. He’s a guest here. My guest.”

Mr. Gill shifted his weight. “I know you’re not happy about it, but Mrs. Kissack swears she saw the lad outside her window not an hour ago, leering and beckoning her to come outside. And when she did, she saw footprints leading over the cliffs!”

I clenched my hands at my sides. Mrs. Kissack had surely been dreaming.

Da scoffed, too. “Fynn was at sea with me! Whoever she saw, it couldn’t have been him. Danell, think, man! You stopped us on the way back from the harbor with our fishing gear!”

Mr. Gill cleared his throat. “Yes. Well. Even if she is mistaken, there are plenty of folk here who’d as soon take her word for it. And don’t tell me you can’t imagine why. He shows up just days after that unfortunate girl drowned, claiming he remembers nothing, hardly says a word to anyone—”

“And why should I?” Fynn’s eyes flashed. “I can recognize an idiot without having to engage one in conversation.” He crossed his arms, and one of the men imitated him.

Da clapped a hand on Fynn’s shoulder. “He’s been with me since before Liss went missing. He even reeks of fish!”

Mr. Gill tugged at his collar, his eyes bulging slightly. I hoped his shirt would choke him. “Still, he’s one of the only suspects we’ve got. He has to be taken in for questioning. And should he fail to provide answers to our satisfaction, a constable from Peel will take him someplace more … permanent.”

Take Fynn where, exactly? And what did he mean by permanent?

“Come with me, son,” Mr. Gill commanded, extending a hand to Fynn. Then I understood. He meant a cell, confinement, sentencing for crimes Fynn hadn’t committed. All to lure the town into a false sense of safety that would crumble the moment someone else’s head turned up in the harbor. Like Liss’s.

Mam shook her head and pressed her fingers to her lips. “Danell! How do we know you’re not the one behind these murders? Has anyone questioned you? What if I saw you outside my window, hmm?”

Mr. Gill’s lips twitched, but he didn’t spare a glance for Mam. He and his men advanced, forcing Fynn back. Da reached for something on his belt—a knife—but Mr. Gill was quicker. He aimed the long, thin object toward the sky, his face expressionless.

A bang reverberated through the still morning air as the end of the old hunting rifle exploded.

“Peddyr!” Mam’s cry drew neighbors from their houses with a chorus of front doors creaking open.

“Stop it!” A scream ripped from my throat as I pushed past Mam, running toward the men. “You have no idea what you’re doing. You’re only making things worse! Fynn is the only person who can help Liss. If you take him, she’s doomed!”

“Stay back, Bridey!” Da growled as I neared him, his eyes narrowed at the rifle.

“Wait!” Fynn held up his hands. “I’ll go.” He walked stiffly to Mr. Gill’s side, avoiding my gaze. “Lower your weapon. I’ll go.” The two broad-chested men seized him, securing his arms behind his back.

Mr. Gill lowered the rifle. “That’s as it should be.”

I ran toward Fynn but the men blocked my way. “I hate you!” I didn’t care who heard me. Weak Mr. Gill, his supporters, the neighbors who stared from their front steps like I was the evening’s entertainment. “I hate all of you!”

Mr. Gill turned, a sad smile on his graying face. “Go chase your sea monsters, lass, and forget this troublemaker.”

As he marched Fynn onto the road, I started after him, but Da swiftly grabbed me.

“Bridey! Get control of yourself!” He pinned my arms at my sides, and I struggled against him. “Ouch!” He winced as my foot connected with his shin. “We have to let Fynn go for now. But we’ll fight this. Don’t you doubt it for a second.”

I peered up the road, trying to spot Fynn in the group, but the figures all blurred together.

As Da lifted me into his arms, Mr. Gill’s voice carried on the wind. “Soon as we lock this one up, we’ll pay a visit to the witch.”

Morag. I had to warn her and get the poison so I could use it, with or without Fynn.

I twisted in Da’s arms, but his grip was firm. “Easy, bird.” He brought his face closer to mine. It was as blurry as the figures striding up the road.

Inside, Mam poured tea and made toast, but I said I’d rather go to bed without supper. I’d have to sneak out my window—there was no way Mam and Da would let me out of the house tonight. As I reached the bedroom door, I turned back, watching my parents sip their tea with shaking hands.

For a moment, I considered telling them the whole story. About the fearsome creatures hidden in the deep, and Fynn’s secret. But I knew as I studied their faces, even as they discussed curses and the Little Fellas in hushed tones, that there were certain things people just couldn’t believe until they saw for themselves.

That, and there wasn’t time to talk.

As I slipped into my room and shut the door behind me, Da murmured, “Mureal, where did you put my boots? I’m heading back out to look for Liss myself. Danell Gill and his search party are as useless as a fish trying to walk on land.”

A chill stole over me as I thought of Da rowing his boat into the serpent-infested water. It was all the more reason to hurry.

Hoping Morag’s poison would be ready, I crossed to the window, popped the latch and slid open the glass panel. It would be just a short drop to the muddy ground.

“Where are you going?”

I turned, pulling back my hands from the window ledge. Grayse blinked up at me, half-awake and stretching.

I tried to smile. “To save Liss. And Fynn and Morag, too, if I can manage it.”

Grayse threw back the blankets. “When will you come home?”

“Soon, I hope. Tonight.” I forced a smile. “But I need you to do me a favor.” Grayse bobbed her head. “Good. You can’t tell Mam I’m gone. Don’t even let her in our room. Understand?”

Grayse nodded again, looking more alert as she warmed to the idea.

“If she wants to give me anything—food, tea—insist on bringing it yourself. Tell her I’m exhausted, and I don’t wish to speak with her right now.”

“Can I eat the food?” Grayse widened her eyes hopefully.

“You can eat it all, if you like. Just make sure you get sick out the window, not in here where Mam will have to clean.”

I hitched up my skirt and threw one leg over the window ledge. There was no screen to push away. It had fallen out years before.

“Come back soon,” Grayse whispered.

“I’ll try, little fish. I love you. Tell Mam I love her, too.”

I landed in a cold puddle, spattering mud up my once-white stockings. After a gulp of fresh air, I took off running through the rain, hoping the light would last long enough for me to find Liss.