Surrendering (Swans Landing)

by Norris, Shana

  “I’m not sure that being me is a good thing.”

  Mara pushed the papers off my lap and positioned herself on my legs, her face close to mine. “Being you is a great thing,” she said. “Don’t forget that.”

  Her lips were soft and warm, and I closed my eyes, reveling in the feel of them. I hugged her close, not wanting to let go.

  A cough made us break apart and heat crept up my neck when I saw Lake watching us from across the room.

  “It’s getting late,” he said. “Mara, you can share Sailor’s room.”

  Mara rolled her eyes as she stood. “It’ll be just like a slumber party.”

  She gave me a small wave as she disappeared into the hall, leaving me still facing Lake. He narrowed his eyes at me, his arms crossed. I rubbed the back of my neck, avoiding his gaze though I could still feel it on my skin. He knew I’d almost had sex with his daughter. He had to know, or at least suspect. He had that pissed off dad look.

  Finally, when I felt like my head was about to explode, Lake turned away, leaving me still twitching on the floor.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  I couldn’t sleep. I had been lying on my makeshift bed on the floor of the living room for hours, but my mind wouldn’t stop thinking over all of the events of that day.

  Domnall was here and he had my mom.

  My mom, who had killed my father. My father, who’d had an affair and another child. Both sides of my parentage were tainted.

  The room felt stuffy. Dylan slept on a blanket only two feet away, his brother snoring next to him. Mrs. Waverly was on the couch, trying to get a few hours of sleep before she would go up to take over the watch in the attic. Callum slept on the love seat, his arms over his head.

  I tiptoed across the room to the back door, sliding it open as quietly as I could. Cool night air drifted toward me, prickling my skin. The sky was dark, thick with fog, and the island was silent. Even the constant swish of the ocean a few blocks away sounded muted, like it too was trying to be quieter.

  I needed some air and some solitude. Closing the door behind me, I slipped across the wooden deck and down the stairs to the backyard. The small attic window was only on one side of the house, so I didn’t think I could be seen, and the darkness helped give me more cover.

  I stood in the grass, sucking the salt air deep into my lungs. Somewhere out there, the finfolk had my mom. What were they doing to her?

  My feet started moving before I realized I was leaving the Mooring yard. I slipped between houses and along the shriveled shrubbery, my senses on high alert for any sign of movement. I strained my ears to hear even the slightest sound of a song, but there was nothing except the ocean in the background.

  I hesitated when I reached Moody’s Variety Store, pausing in the shadows. I should go back to Miss Gale’s house and go to sleep. If anyone noticed I was gone, I would be in major trouble. If the finfolk found me, I would be in even more trouble.

  I didn’t want to see my mom, but I wanted to know what Domnall was doing to the humans. Shrubbery shivered to my my left and I jumped, my muscles tensed, legs ready to spring into a run. I had no weapons to help me fight off the finfolk, but I would run as fast I could and hope that it would be enough. I grit my teeth, searching the shadows for danger.

  But the creature that emerged from the brush was a small gray cat. It caught sight of me, sniffing the air for only a brief moment before darting back toward safety.

  I let out a long breath, closing my eyes as my shoulders sagged.

  I kept moving through the night, creeping closer to the beach. The clouds overhead blocked out most of the moonlight, so the night was almost black.

  The voices reached me before I spotted the two figures standing by the dunes.

  “They are all asleep,” Artair’s voice drifted toward me. “We could surprise them now.”

  “Do you think I care much about the people, Artair?” Domnall asked, his voice sounding tired and weary. “They are only obstacles that can be easily removed when they get in my way. Has everyone returned from their searches?”

  “Yes, my king,” Artair answered. “The others have searched the waters, but they have not found it yet.” He paused, then said, “Maybe it is not here.”

  “It is here,” Domnall said. “I know it is. The finfolk here do not even realize what they have opened.”

  “Yes, my king.”

  The dark figure took a few steps forward along the sand dune, the wind whipping his long hair back from his shoulders. I recognized Domnall’s wide form.

  “Sing to me, Artair,” Domnall said.

  “My king?” Artair asked.

  “Just for a moment. I want to see her.”

  “Yes, my king,” Artair said.

  I backed up quickly, my feet slipping over the sand. I had to get far enough away that I wouldn’t hear the song while Artair sang. I couldn’t risk falling under the spell and letting them find me.

  In the safety of the darkness under Moody’s Variety Store, I pressed my hands to my ears and squeezed my eyes shut. I stood like that for a long time, praying for the strength to resist the song’s effects.

  After what seemed like an eternity, I dared to remove my hands from my ears and listened hard. All I could hear was the constant roar of the ocean. My body relaxed as I let out a long sigh.

  “You are brave, coming out here alone,” said a low voice behind me. Something sharp pierced the skin of my back and I fought not to move at the pain. “Or else incredibly stupid.”

  I turned around slowly, my hands held up like I was being arrested. Artair stood in the shadows behind me, a knife in his hand. It looked strange to see him with such a smaller weapon than the spear he had always carried back in Hether Blether, but I guessed the larger weapon didn’t make the journey across the ocean. The knife was a black handled steak knife, probably something he had found in a human’s home or in a store on the island. My stomach churned as I thought about how many other humans the finfolk might have captured that day.

  “Where’s my mother?” I asked.

  He studied me, keeping the knife pointed toward me. “The woman you were with this morning on the beach? She is fine. She is being kept with the others.”

  I gulped. “How many humans do you have?”

  Artair shrugged. “A few. Most have stayed hidden in their homes, but they cannot hide forever. Domnall will draw them out.”

  His hand stayed steady, the tip of the knife still directed toward my stomach, but his face didn’t hold his usual stern expression. I thought about how he had hesitated on the beach when Domnall had told him to take away Lake’s ability to change.

  “You don’t have to do this,” I told him. “You don’t have to follow Domnall’s orders.”

  “He is my king,” Artair said, his voice flat.

  “Whenever any form of government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or to abolish it,” I recited.

  Artair blinked at me, his face blank.

  “Those are the words of my people,” I said. “The Declaration of Independence, written by humans. If your king is not acting for the good of your people, you can demand a new one.”

  Artair sneered. “We are not human. We are finfolk, and we live by our own laws.” He lifted the knife higher, aiming it at my neck. “I should take you to Domnall now. He would be happy to have captured you.”

  “You’re not like that.” I stared back at him, clenching my fists to keep my hands from shaking. “You are different.”

  Artair’s face turned red, the color sweeping down his neck. “No, I am not! Do not ever say that again. I am finfolk, all the way through.” His eyes flashed, like I had hit a nerve.

  I thought about what I knew of Artair. He was Domnall’s guard, seemingly the equivalent of a captain and Domnall’s most trusted man. Sailor and I had seen him with his family in Hether Blether, in the village market and at the beach. He had a wife and a young daughter.

  “You are differ
ent,” I said. “You’re a father. How can you tear families apart just because they’re human? You have my mother. How would your daughter feel if someone did this to you?”

  Artair’s face paled. He leaned toward me, his teeth clenched. “Do not speak of my daughter.” But his hand trembled, the knife shaking a little.

  “What Domnall is doing is wrong,” I insisted. “You know that. How can you let him use the song to control people? It’s not right.” I could never imagine myself manipulating people that way. The thought of using the song to make people do things against their will filled my mouth with a sour taste.

  He took a step back and then lowered his weapon. He turned away from me and said, “You have only a moment before I change my mind and alert Domnall to your presence. Go.”

  I turned, intending to run, but then I looked back at the man standing in the shadows.

  “Why is Domnall so insistent on taking the island?” I asked. “Why can’t he just take whatever finfolk want to go to Hether Blether back with him and leave us in peace?”

  Artair considered me a moment, then he said, “It is not the finfolk that Domnall came here for. He is looking for something that he believes now exists here on your island.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “The door to Finfolkaheem.”

  The finfolk underwater homeland? That didn’t make sense. The door had been in Hether Blether once, Callum had told us that, but it had closed long ago. Swans Landing didn’t have the connection to the ancient city that Hether Blether did.

  I shook my head. “The door isn’t here.”

  Artair raised his eyebrows. “Are you certain about that?” Then he turned and stepped into the darkness.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  After my encounter with Artair, I made it back to Miss Gale’s house unseen. I’d crawled back into my bed on the floor, but sleep wouldn’t come. I tossed and turned most of the night, thinking about what Artair had told me. Domnall thought that the door to Finfolkaheem, the ancient underwater city, was here. If it was, where was it?

  If the door was here in Swans Landing now, I had to find it before Domnall did. I had to reach the finfolk there and convince them to help us.

  The mood in the house was quiet and somber most of the morning. Lake and the other adults met together in the kitchen, trying to come up with a plan for driving Domnall away.

  “You can’t fight them,” Callum said. “You’re weak.”

  “Maybe we should resort to other weapons,” Mr. Moody said, glancing at the old shotgun he’d leaned against the wall.

  But Callum sighed and shook his head. “You’re not listening. Domnall will manipulate your mind before you even get a chance to fire at him. Humans aren’t any trouble for him, and the finfolk on this island are only slightly less weakened.”

  Lake leaned over the island counter, his hands, calloused and cracked from years of work on the water, clasped together. “So what is our option? What can we do?”

  “Nothing,” Callum said. “Hide here and hope that Domnall doesn’t decide to come in after you.”

  Mr. Richter ran a hand through his thick hair. “We can’t sit here forever. We’ll run out of food eventually. And there are others on the island. We have no idea what’s happening with them.”

  “I’ve tried to call as many people as I could,” Mr. Waverly said. “A lot of them aren’t answering their phones.”

  Mara, Sailor, Dylan, and I sat in the living room, trying not to be noticed by the others as they talked. I wanted to be a part of their planning, but it was clear that they didn’t consider us anything more than kids. I stayed still and quiet, hoping to hear something useful. I didn’t dare tell them about my trip out to the beach the night before or how Artair had caught me. Which meant that I also couldn’t tell them that I knew what Domnall wanted to find.

  “We need to check on the others on the island,” Lake said. “To find out how many are still able to fight against the finfolk, and how many are willing.”

  Callum stood. “I will go,” he said. “I’ll check on as many people as I can.”

  “No,” Sailor said as she leaped up from the couch.

  Lake hesitated, then he said, “I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

  “I am the best option you have,” Callum pointed out. “I’m fully finfolk, so I’m not susceptible to the song like the rest of you.”

  The others exchanged a look.

  “He’s right,” Mr. Moody said. “He’s our only option.”

  Lake nodded. “I can’t tell you not to go, Callum. The choice is yours. But no one else can go with you.”

  Sailor wrapped her arms around Callum, burying her face in his chest. “Don’t go,” she said.

  Callum kissed the top of her head. “I’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with Domnall before.”

  “And he cut off your leg! I don’t want to lose you.”

  “You won’t,” he assured her. “I’ll be back before you know it. We’ll end this. We’ll find a way.”

  But he didn’t sound any more confident than I felt.

  Callum and Sailor said their good-byes and then Callum slipped out the door, with instructions from Lake and Mr. Richter on which homes to make sure he visited. Mr. Moody peeked through the curtain over one of the windows, watching as Callum disappeared.

  “Are we sure we can trust him?” Mr. Moody asked.

  “Of course we can,” Sailor snapped.

  Mr. Moody turned from the window and gave her a weary look. “I know you care about him, but he is still one of them. We have to be careful about who we trust.”

  “We can trust him.” Sailor crossed her arms and looked at me. “Right, Josh?”

  I nodded. “He’s never given us any reason not to trust him.”

  We all went back to what we had been doing before while we waited for Callum’s return, which for me meant reading some of my dad’s papers. Morning stretched into afternoon, and then afternoon toward evening. And still, there was no sign of Callum.

  Sailor peeked out of the curtain at the darkened street. “Something’s happened,” she said.

  “Something happened all right,” Dylan muttered. “He went back to his own kind. I told you we couldn’t trust him.”

  Sailor whirled around to face him, her nostrils flared and her cheeks red. “Callum is not one of them!” she shouted. “He’s on our side. When are you going to accept that?”

  “Then where is he now?” Dylan asked.

  “Domnall must have caught him,” Sailor said. “He probably needs our help. We need to go after him.”

  “No,” Lake said, standing from the barstool at the counter where he had been eating a box of cheese flavored crackers. “No one is leaving this house.”

  Sailor’s eyes shone with tears. “But he could be in trouble. We have to help him.”

  “Or he could be with Domnall, working with him,” Lake said grimly. “We don’t know, and we can’t risk it right now.”

  Sailor’s body trembled and her face turned so dark, she looked like she might explode at any moment. I put my hand on her shoulder.

  “Callum isn’t working with Domnall,” I said.

  “How do you know?” Dylan asked.

  Mara scowled at him. “Dylan, stop. If Josh and Sailor believe that Callum is on our side, that should be good enough for all of us.”

  Dylan crossed his arms. “None of you are willing to face the fact that you don’t know this guy as well as you think. If you don’t wake up soon, you’re going to get us all killed.”

  I didn’t want to believe that Callum might have joined Domnall. But without knowing the truth about what had happened to Callum that day, even I couldn’t argue forever for his innocence. And if he was really on our side, then what had happened to him? I didn’t want to think about what Domnall might have done if he had caught Callum.

  “We can’t do anything about it right now,” Lake said. “It’s too dangerous to go out in the dark, when they could be hiding anywhere,
waiting for us. They have the advantage right now of already being out there. In the morning, if Callum still isn’t back, some of us will go to try to find him.”

  Mr. Moody nodded. “That’s all that we can do for now, I reckon.”

  “Let’s all just get some sleep,” Lake said.

  But sleep felt like something that would never come.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  I woke with a start, my muscles tensed. I lay quietly on my blanket in the corner, staring up at the skylights overhead, my heart still pounding against my ribs.

  For a moment, I thought I had heard the song. I thought my dad was there, his hand stretched toward me. His lips were moving, but I couldn’t hear his voice over the humming in my ears. Then my mom screamed and I woke up.

  A dream. Just a dream.

  A sound startled me and I lifted my head, blinking as I looked across the room. Dylan was in the kitchen, opening cabinets.

  “Didn’t mean to wake you,” he said when I slid into a barstool at the counter.

  I rubbed my eyes and looked at the clock over the stove. 6:17 A.M. The last time I had remembered looking at the time, it was nearly four. I had managed a couple hours of sleep at least.

  Dylan’s eyes were ringed with dark circles. He didn’t look like he’d gotten any more sleep than I had.

  “Is everyone else still sleeping?” I asked quietly. His brother’s snores drifted to us from the couch. I only knew Reed vaguely, in the way that everyone in Swans Landing knew everyone else. He was twelve, so our paths didn’t cross much.

  Dylan nodded. “I think Lake and my parents and the others are still up in the attic, taking shifts at keeping watch. I saw Mr. Moody down here a little while ago, checking the doors. Then he went back up.”

  “How long have you been up?” I asked.

  “An hour or so,” Dylan said, shrugging. He found a box of granola bars and offered me one. I took it, tearing the wrapper quietly. Salty peanut flavor, I noted. Finfolk loved their salt.