Fear the Drowning Deep

by Sarah Glenn Marsh

  “Please?” Grayse added.

  “Please, Bridey,” Fynn echoed, and his low tone sent a pleasant shiver up my back. His lips turned up with a teasing smile. “Play Happy Families with me.”

  I tried to answer, but my mouth had gone dry. “Give me a moment. I’ll meet you in the other room.”

  Grayse hurried off, shaking the box, but Fynn lingered near the door. In the moment I’d looked away from him, his expression had turned cooler, distant. Like he’d just had an unwelcome flash of memory, or the interruption had bothered him more than he cared to let on in front of Grayse.

  “Off you go,” I said, smiling shyly before shutting the door, and granting myself a moment’s privacy to splash water on my blotchy face.

  In the main room, my sisters, Fynn, and Da formed a circle by the hearth. Grayse shuffled a stack of cards while Da sipped tea and pored over one of his older maps. Liss moved over to create a space and patted the floor beside her. My leg brushed Fynn’s as I sat, which did nothing to soothe the lingering redness in my cheeks.

  “Fynn,” Da said, setting down his map. “Where might I find giant crabs like the ones Boyd and Nelson caught?”

  Fynn stared at Da. “I’m sorry, sir?”

  “I understand you don’t remember anything before your accident, but I know what you are. I’ve figured it out just by watching you these last few weeks.”

  Fynn went utterly still beside me. “You do, sir?”

  “’Course!” Da slurred. “You’re a fisherman! With your build, and your excellent eye for fish—I saw the herrin’ you selected for my wife at the market—there’s no doubt. The sea’s in your blood, my lad.”

  Fynn’s rigid posture relaxed. “You’re right, sir. There’s salt in my veins.” Softer, he added, “So much I can almost taste it.”

  Da attempted to clap Fynn on the shoulder, but cuffed him on the ear by mistake. “Why don’t you join me at sea, son? I could use the extra help finding anything out there.”

  Fynn grinned. “I’d like that, sir.”

  “Then it’s settled!” Da leaned back and took another swig from his bottle.

  The distant sounds of Mam and Mally making supper drifted into the room. Maybe I could persuade Mally to tell Fynn he wasn’t well enough to leave yet. After all, it was more than likely his attacker was still out there.

  After supper, Grayse begged everyone to play another round of Happy Families. Da had more maps to mull over, but once the table had been cleared, Liss, Mally, and Mam followed Grayse to the main room.

  “Coming, Bry?” Liss called.

  “Maybe later.” I stacked our plates in the sink and cast a sideways glance at the table, but Fynn had wandered off. Listening to the chatter in the other room, I started scrubbing dishes.

  As I worked, I gazed out the window over the sink, my thoughts drifting like the waves. White foam sprayed up from the rocks as usual, but—what was that shape hovering over the dark water? It was tall and broad-chested like a man, yet filmy—incandescent. I blinked, trying to get the image to sharpen into focus, but when I searched for the figure again, it had disappeared. Had I just seen a ghost? Grandad’s ghost? Or worse, the apparition that had called him out of this life and into the next? If this was what had lured Eveleen and Nessa from their homes, it was a wonder they hadn’t died of fright on the spot.

  Blood rushing in my ears, I pressed my nose to the chill glass pane and held my breath. Nothing remotely human reappeared. Perhaps my tired eyes were conjuring images in the sea spray, though I thought not. But if I shouted for Mam and Da now, they’d stick me in bed and have Mr. Gill phone a doctor. Even if they tried looking out into the nighttime sea, with my luck, whatever I’d seen wouldn’t show itself again.

  Covered in gooseflesh, I abandoned my dish washing and went in search of Fynn. He stood on the far side of the main room, studying one of Mam’s older paintings—a likeness of me as a toddler. Mam had captured me playing in the ocean on a calm day, my hair like a small white-capped wave as I bobbed among the blue.

  “I’d love to see such a beautiful image now,” Fynn murmured. “Whatever happened to make you hate the sea so, it must have been dreadful. You don’t seem to be afraid of many things.”

  “I wasn’t always afraid. And nothing happened to me.” I spoke around a lump in my throat. I longed to tell Fynn what I’d just seen, but the thought of him questioning my sanity overwhelmed all desire to mention it. “I just know there are some things best left alone, and the sea is one of them. I’m surprised you don’t agree, after washing up half-dead.”

  Without thinking, I rested my hand on the top of Mam’s horrific new painting. Someone had turned it to face the wall.

  “Is that your mother’s latest masterpiece?”

  It was odd, the way he said mother instead of mam, but his neat, careful pronunciation intrigued me. “It’s rubbish, really. Nothing interesting.” I hoped the disdain in my voice would be enough to keep Fynn from wanting a peek.

  He gripped the edge of the canvas. “I’ll just have a quick look.”

  As he turned the painting toward us, the color drained from his face. Silently, he studied every inch of the serpent and its blood-stained teeth, which were longer and sharper than I remembered. Fynn slowly exhaled.

  “Fynn, what is it?” When I’d waited long enough for an answer, I laid a hand on his shoulder. “Do you need to lie down?”

  His cobalt eyes met mine. “I’m fine, thanks.”

  I slid my hand over his back in soothing circles. “No you’re not. What’s the matter?”

  “The painting startled me.”

  There had been a slight hesitation before he spoke, and I wondered if he was being entirely truthful. My hand stilled on his back. “If you’re lying to me, Fynn, I swear I’ll find out some—”

  “I’m sorry.” He leaned forward, so close we could have attempted another kiss. “I confess, it more than startled me. I wasn’t expecting to see anything so …” He stared at the creature. “Foul.”

  I reached for his hand. Again, I considered telling him what I’d glimpsed out the kitchen window. But it was late and dark, and the misty figure wasn’t the first such thing I’d imagined in the waves. It could easily have been sea spray, blown into a strange shape by the wind, and made into a man by my nervous mind.

  The other possibility was too much to contemplate at this hour.

  “Where did your mother see that creature?” Fynn turned the canvas to face the wall with unnecessary force.

  “She didn’t. She paints a lot of unusual things from her dreams. See?” I pointed to one of her mermaids, then to the inky-black water horse swimming beneath a boat, and yawned widely. “If you’re sure you’re all right, I think I’ll be off to bed.”

  “Good night, Bridey. Sleep well.” Fynn brushed his thumb over the top of my hand. My skin was still tingling as I fell asleep.

  Something crushed my lower leg, jarring me awake. I groaned as Liss climbed over me. Rubbing my leg, I listened for Grayse’s rhythmic breathing. By some miracle, she slumbered on.

  I silently cursed Liss as I squinted into the dark. There was no starlight to help me make sense of why she was heading for the door at such a late hour. She always took care not to wake me when she got up to use the outhouse. Was she sick?

  “Liss,” I whispered. “Wait for me.”

  I slid out of the warm blankets, the fog of sleep releasing its hold. It seemed I’d closed my eyes only moments before to revisit my near-kiss with Fynn.

  The bedroom door creaked open.

  “Liss, wait!” There was no time to find my slippers. I crossed the cold floor in pursuit of my sister.

  Liss waited for me in the hallway. Even in the shadows, her frown was visible.

  “What on earth are you doing?”

  “Going to have a look outside. I heard shouting.” Liss shivered and rubbed her arms, though the air in the house was mild. “If you want to come, be quiet. There’s no sense waking Grayse.”

/>   As we neared the front of the house, the voices grew louder. Fynn stood in the doorway.

  Over his shoulder, out in the night, a procession formed. Paraffin lanterns—twenty or thirty in all—bobbed like a parade of fireflies. But the sounds accompanying the light show would have better suited for a funeral.

  “Alis!” a man shouted over a woman’s wailing. “Alistrina!”

  A wave of dread coursed through me.

  “Who’s Alis again?” Fynn turned, not bothering to close the door. He seemed to have been aware of our presence despite our silence. “That name sounds familiar.”

  I shook my head and pressed my lips together, but Liss answered, “Catreena’s little sister. What’s happening?”

  “She’s gone missing.” The faint glow of the search party’s lanterns painted Fynn in grim light. “They’re heading toward the cliffs.” He stepped aside to allow us a better view, and sure enough, the lights were drifting downhill.

  Whatever was plaguing our town couldn’t be preying on yet another girl. Especially not one as small as Alis. She’d invited Grayse to play dolls just the other day, looking so bright and full of life as she demolished an entire bonnag at the market.

  Pushing past Liss and Fynn, I rummaged for a cloak to cover my nightgown. I couldn’t help Alis if she had gone over the cliffs, but I could find Cat and hold her hand through the terrible ordeal.

  “I’m coming with you.” Fynn handed me Mam’s cloak, evidently realizing what I was about to do.

  “Me, too,” Liss said firmly.

  “None of you,” Mam commanded from the hallway, “are going anywhere.” She shut the door firmly, then put her hands on her hips. Her eyes were owlishly wide, and she surveyed the three of us with a look that could have cut through steel.

  I didn’t dare move when her temper was so near to boiling over.

  “It has clearly escaped your notice, so I’ll inform you for your own good. It’s dangerous out there. Girls, back to bed. Your da will join the search. Fynn, you’re a grown man, so whether or not you go is your choice. But if you decide to risk your neck after I’ve just finished healing you, I’ll reopen every one of your wounds myself.”

  We stared, openmouthed, at Mam.

  “Now!” Her eyes flashed a warning.

  Liss and I darted to our room and crawled back beneath the covers.

  Though I was certain I wouldn’t be able to close my eyes for a moment, I lapsed into a restless sleep sometime before dawn.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The next morning, Grayse was the only person in the house who attacked her bread and jam with any enthusiasm. The rest of us sat around the table, drowsily picking at a stack of toast.

  “When’s Da coming back?” Grayse pushed aside her empty plate and twisted the Bollan Cross around her neck, smearing it with blackberry goo from her sticky fingers. “He said he’d take me to the bakery today!”

  Fynn, Liss, and I exchanged glances, waiting for Mam to break the silence.

  Across the table, she rubbed her forehead and heaved a sigh. “I don’t think he’ll be able to take you anywhere today, little fish. I’m sorry.”

  Grayse puffed out her lower lip, always a warning sign.

  “Mally,” Mam said quickly. “Why don’t you and Grayse make shortbread? There’s a bag of caraway seeds in the top cupboard, behind last year’s preserves.”

  Mally led a pouting Grayse over to the cupboards. Mam finished her tea and followed them.

  “That’s her fourth cup.” Liss frowned. “Just watching her is giving me jitters.”

  “It’s her fifth, actually,” I corrected, toying with my mug. I needed to occupy my restless hands. Thinking of chopping firewood, I slid out of my chair, but something warm grabbed my right hand and held tight. Fynn’s mouth curved in a faint smile.

  The ache in my stomach was replaced by a hot, fluttering feeling. Still, I glanced at the door every few seconds. I imagined Da bursting in with news of Alis’s rescue—a story of how she’d only snuck out to look for shooting stars, or to build sand castles in the moonlight.

  Perhaps, I thought as I watched Mam gulp more tea, I should encourage all the girls in town to wear Bollan Crosses like the one I’d given Grayse. I doubted Morag’s eerie fishbone charms could really prevent anyone from drowning, but at least then I’d be doing something, not just sitting here. Already Alis was likely out of the search party’s reach, lying among the coral where no one but crabs and fish would discover her. Like Eveleen and Nessa.

  Mam returned to the table, another cup of tea in hand. She took her seat as the door banged open and Da trudged inside. Mam’s hand trembled, sloshing tea over the side of her mug. “Peddyr, is Alis—?”

  “She’s gone. We found some small footprints near the cliffs, but that’s all. We searched everywhere.” Da grimaced. “Either the Little Fellas are angry, and they’ve put a curse on the town, or a madman is preying on our daughters.”

  Stunned silence followed his words.

  “In all my years, I’ve never …” Da bowed his head. “As I was leaving, her mam found her cardigan in their yard.”

  Mam took Da’s arm. “Come now, you and the others did all you could …”

  “Maybe we ought to leave out bigger cakes, so the Little Fellas won’t take our girls,” Da muttered darkly. “It might help to show Them more respect.”

  I stared at my parents. Da—strong, practical, fair-minded Da—wanted to appease the fairies. Nothing was right anymore.

  “Peddyr, that’s enough! I don’t want to hear any more talk of unnatural things.” Despite her words, Mam’s face was as pale as Da’s. “Let me fix you some strong tea.”

  The moment Mam steered Da into the kitchen, I rushed to the door with Fynn close behind. Given how miserable I felt, Cat was surely feeling far worse. She’d stood up for me in the market, and now it was my turn to support her.

  “Where are you going?” Liss called.

  “Cat’s house,” I answered as Fynn pushed open the door.

  A light rain began as we came within sight of the low sandstone building. The sensation of Fynn’s large hand joined with mine was quickly becoming familiar.

  Even more familiar was the red-haired figure standing near Cat’s door. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, seeming to welcome the cold drizzle rolling down his face.

  “Morning, Lugh.” I tugged on Fynn’s hand to slow our approach. “Has there—has there been any more news about the search for Alis?” The words sounded hollow, but I’d suddenly been transported back to the night of our kiss. The obvious was all I could think to ask, especially with Fynn still holding tight to my hand.

  “Oh!” Lugh shook the water from his shaggy hair and blinked. “Morning, Bry.” He smiled faintly, but it faded when he looked at my hand clasped with Fynn’s. His gaze shifted to the lad beside me, all traces of his smile vanishing. “You must be Bry’s new friend. The comeover all the lasses are sighing about.”

  “I go by Fynn. I’m sure Bridey’s mentioned that.” He narrowed his eyes but extended his free hand to Lugh.

  Lugh flexed his fingers at his sides, staring at Fynn’s hand until he lowered it. “Actually, Bridey hasn’t told me anything about you. You’re the reason I’ve barely seen her lately, I assume.” He moved closer, bringing his face inches from mine. “Tell me, have you forgotten everything that happened before he came around?”

  I dropped Fynn’s hand like it might burn me.

  “Of course not!” I stared at the curve of Lugh’s jaw, unable to raise my eyes higher. “Don’t be ridiculous.” I dropped my gaze to the mud.

  “If you need a reminder,” Lugh said quietly, his breath warming my cheek, “I’d be happy to give you one….”

  “Nothing’s wrong with my memory!” Heat rushed up my neck. Lugh had never given me trouble before, and I wasn’t sure how to respond. He wouldn’t meet my eyes.

  “I just wish things could go back to the way they were. Before—”

  “Stop
upsetting Bridey.” Fynn clenched his fists. “If you can’t control what comes out of your mouth, I’d be glad to help with that.”

  Lugh rounded on Fynn, his eyes flashing. “What makes you so special, anyway? Do you know her favorite color? Or what she fears? What’s the first thing she wants to do when she leaves the Isle?”

  “I never said I was special.” Fynn raised a fist, and I stepped between them. “Bridey can clasp hands with whoever she damn well pleases.”

  “You want to throw punches?” Lugh glowered at Fynn from around me, taking a step back and spreading his arms wide. “Go on. Hit me. Can’t hurt worse than I do already.”

  “Stop it, both of you! This is not the time. Think of Cat and her family!”

  I drew a deep breath, prepared to elaborate on how childish they were being when another voice cried, “Easy, lads!”

  Several of Cat’s relatives pressed against the nearest window, vying for a better look at the scene in the front yard. One of Cat’s uncles flung open the door and barked, “That’s enough, you two!”

  Glancing from Fynn to Lugh, I wasn’t sure whose face was redder. “Listen, Lugh—”

  “Don’t.” He swallowed hard. “I can’t talk to you right now, Bry. Cat needs me. I shouldn’t even be out here.” He spun on his heel and hurried inside. The curious faces in the window began to disperse.

  “I don’t like him,” Fynn snarled, his breath tickling my ear.

  “Don’t say that. He was just being an idiot.” An ache settled in my chest. Part of me wanted to follow Lugh, to throw my arms around him and say something that would wipe the hurt from his eyes. But I didn’t know the right words.

  Cat’s uncle had shut the door, but he left it unlocked and Fynn held it open for me. Smiling at the little bow he gave me, I tried to leave the memory of Fynn and Lugh’s shouting outside with the rain.

  Given the number of visitors crammed inside the cottage, finding Cat or her mam in their main room was a daunting task. It seemed all of Cat’s relatives, even the ones who lived outside town, had arrived to lend their support.

  The way they sniffled and embraced one another, it was as though everyone believed Alis was dead. I thought so, too, but a part of me still hoped we were wrong—that Nessa and Eveleen would stroll down the road tomorrow with Alis in tow.