Fear the Drowning Deep

by Sarah Glenn Marsh

  “That’s not fair,” I said, biting my lip. “I’ve tried to visit since your mam went missing. All you had to do was open the door.”

  Lugh turned, bringing his face close to mine until our noses touched. “You’re right. I didn’t want to see anyone. You understand.” When I nodded, he swallowed. “But you’re not exactly the girl I used to know, and I miss her. I thought—I thought you had felt the same way about me.”

  I lowered my gaze, feigning interest in a discarded handkerchief being pushed across the ground by the wind. He had a point. Before Fynn’s arrival, when I’d thought of embraces, lips locked, hearts racing, I’d thought of Lugh. But not anymore.

  “He’s stolen my heart,” I blurted. “I’m so sorry.” Heat crept into my face as I watched the handkerchief twirl. “I used to think about us, too. Rather a lot. But I can’t change how I feel. If Fynn had never come here …”

  Lugh touched my cheek. “You don’t understand, Bry. It’s all right if you don’t want to be my girl, but that doesn’t mean you can stop being my friend.” His eyes glistened. “Cat misses you, too. She hasn’t been right since Alis disappeared.” He shook his head. “You still matter to your friends, no matter what the rest of this stupid town thinks. I only hope you can say the same of us.”

  I tried to form words, but my throat resisted. Instead, I threw my arms around him. Lugh stiffened, but after a moment, his hands pressed against my back.

  “I’ll be a better friend. Just give me time.” My insides writhed like I’d downed a bucket full of Morag’s beloved snigs. “Everything’s been so strange lately.”

  Lugh’s sigh gusted through my hair. “I know. Nothing’s felt right since that girl washed up on the beach. I keep hoping my mam and the others will turn up one afternoon with a grand excuse for where they’ve been, but I know they won’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They’re gone. Dead. I can just feel it.”

  “Oh, Lugh.” I laid my head on his shoulder, like I’d done countless times since we were small, and willed myself not to cry for his sake. “I miss them, too.”

  “You don’t know the worst of it,” he murmured into my hair.

  “Don’t I?” I thought of the fossegrim’s song, of the way my feet had nearly marched me over the cliffs. Of Fynn’s stubborn wounds, and of the serpent’s razor teeth. To kill the fossegrim, I’d have to find a spear and let it try to lure me to my death again. I couldn’t let Fynn fight it while he was still injured.

  That is, if he hadn’t already sped out of Port Coire, and my life, for good.

  “She was with child.”

  Lugh’s words jarred me from my thoughts. “Your mam was—?”

  “Aye. That’s why she’d gone to my aunt’s for supper. To share the good news.”

  I pressed my trembling hands to the sides of his face. His eyes held the same haunted look shared by everyone in town these days. “I promise you, I’ll make things right. I’m going to find out what happened to your mam, and to the others, and make sure the guilty party never harms another soul.”

  Lugh frowned. “How can you promise that? Bridey, do you know something about the disappearances? Who’s behind them?”

  “Nothing you would believe.”

  “If you’re planning to do something daft—”

  “No more questions,” I said quietly, stepping back and nodding toward the tavern. “Just trust me. And I’d best hurry. I’m trying to find Fynn. But will I see you and Cat at the wedding?” I shook my head. “Mally picked a terrible time to fall in love.”

  “That she did. But I wouldn’t miss the wedding for anything.” Lugh squeezed my shoulder. “And I’ll try to make things right with him. With Fynn. If you trust him, so do I.”

  I smiled. “Thank you.” I wished I had something more to offer Lugh, something stronger than comforting words. My hand brushed over the Bollan Crosses bulging in my pocket. “Here, I want you to have this. Give one to Cat, too, would you?” I untangled strands from the mess and handed them to Lugh.

  He studied them, frowning. “How many of these awful things are you carrying around?”

  I adjusted the sleeves of my blouse. “Seven, now.”

  “Is this some new English fad?” Lugh turned a cross over in his hands. “They don’t seem to be very well-made.”

  “No, they’re no fad. But they just might keep you from drowning if you find yourself someplace where swimming for your life won’t save you.”

  Lugh narrowed his eyes. “Does this have anything to do with your story about your grandad? Because, Bry, it’s past time to—”

  “Look, if you care for me as much as you say you do, you’ll wear it. Please. I can’t lose you, too.” As I turned and ran the short distance to the tavern, Lugh called a farewell. I waved over my shoulder. “Be safe! Don’t go near the water! And I’ll see you at the wedding.”

  Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the heavy tavern doors.

  The fug in Ms. Katleen’s was even thicker than the humid, storm-charged air outside. The stench of dark ale, mildew, and salt crawled down my throat, banishing all desire for food. If I closed my eyes, I could pretend I was back in Morag’s cottage.

  Why Liss liked working here was a mystery.

  Pressing against the wall, I scanned the faces of the patrons, no easy task in the dim lighting and swirls of bluish smoke. Unlike the deserted market, the tavern was crammed with bodies. It seemed everyone was keen to drown their sorrows lately, even some of the most devout churchgoers who hadn’t, to my knowledge, touched a drop in years.

  Near the front windows, a woman buttered bread while her husband smoked. Several older fishermen lounged at a table, gulping steaming bowls of soup and looking as though they had nowhere else to be. Their wives had all left them in one way or another by now.

  Younger men sat at the bar, frowning over the rims of their mugs. They didn’t have to point or curse as I passed—the gleam in their eyes said it all: strange girl, witch child, madwoman.

  I squared my shoulders and moved deeper into the room, past a man who chomped on a pipe as he made eyes at shapely Ms. Katleen. Seated in the darkest corner at the back of the room, his face half in shadow, was Fynn, staring into a glass of ale, prodding the foam above the dark liquid. He didn’t look up until I dropped into the chair opposite him.

  My stomach flipped as his eyes met mine. He offered me a half-smile, and in that moment, every word I had wanted to shout at him vanished. I glanced at the beads of sweat from his tall glass collecting on the table. “Since when do you drink ale?”

  Fynn’s lips twitched. “I don’t. But it seems to be the drink of choice, so I thought I’d give it a go. The foam is awful.”

  I traced patterns on the table with the moisture from his glass. At least when I looked at them instead of Fynn, talking was easier. “I’m glad you didn’t leave. I’m sorry for everything I said. All of it.”

  “I’m sorry, too.” Fynn’s hand covered mine. “Sorry that I had to show you something that scared you. Only when I tried to go, to return to the water like you wanted, I realized I couldn’t leave you with the fossegrim still hunting here.” My heart thudded in my ears as I listened. “Even if I’m a monster, too.”

  Hearing my words repeated back at me stung like a slap. “I didn’t mean that.”

  He squeezed my hand. “I showed you something I doubt most people here could comprehend, let alone accept. But I trusted you when you said you wanted the truth.” He laced his fingers through mine. “I still trust you.”

  I drew in a deep breath and met his eyes. “I want to trust you, too. That’s why you must tell me everything.”

  Fynn swept his gaze across the tavern. “Bridey.” He spoke my name like a warning, or a plea.

  Lowering my voice to a whisper, I leaned forward. “I’ve seen what you are. Now I need to know who you are. And don’t spare any detail.”

  Fynn grimaced. “This isn’t the right place for such talk.”

  A
s if to prove his point, Ms. Katleen bustled over to our side. “It’s so nice to see you, dear.” She clamped a heavy hand on my shoulder. “And I’ve already met your charming friend. Are you hungry?” Her auburn curls bobbed around her chin as she spoke.

  Fynn shook his head. I mumbled, “Not really,” but a loud growl from my stomach drowned my words.

  “What can I get you, then?” Ms. Katleen asked with a knowing look. “Name anything.”

  “Loaghtan lamb for me, please.” I hoped to send her away from the table quickly. “Herrin’ for him. And a bonnag to share.”

  The instant Ms. Katleen whisked her way toward the kitchen, I reached across the table and gently prodded Fynn in the chest. “You lied to me about not knowing the glashtyn. You made me fall for you while pretending to be something you aren’t—human. So you owe me this. And there will never be a perfect time to talk. Now, out with it.”

  Fynn sighed, but finally agreed. “There isn’t much to tell. I was born eighteen years ago at the mouth of a bay near the Welsh coast. My father taught me to hunt.”

  “Hunt what?”

  “Fish, mostly. And seals.” He gave an apologetic smile. “He also taught me to speak English, so I could go on land if I chose. But I preferred to hunt in deeper water, where there’s bigger game like sharks and whales.”

  I suppressed a shudder. Dozens of questions raced through my mind, making it difficult to choose just one. “What about your mam?”

  “She was human, if my father told me the truth. I never sought her out. When I was ten, Father left me to fend for myself.” He paused when I arched my brows. “Don’t make that face. It’s our custom.”

  “Well, I think it’s terrible.” Though I shouldn’t have been surprised to hear that the ocean was as brutal a place as I’d imagined.

  “Any more questions?”

  “We’ve only just begun.” I leaned closer. “What’s your real name?”

  The question made him laugh, low and melodic, in a way that made my stomach flutter. “Nothing I can pronounce in this tongue. Besides, I like ‘Fynn.’”

  I hoped the dim lighting would disguise the furious blush in my cheeks. “I’m glad. How long do glashtyns live?”

  “Longer than you. About a human life and a half.” He smiled. “Which just means you’ll never have to miss me, assuming you don’t wish me to return to the sea.”

  “What were you doing near Port Coire when the serpent attacked you?”

  He regarded me solemnly, shaking his head. “Other questions?”

  “Fynn, this is important. There are monsters in the water waiting to kill my family and friends. Were you coming to help the fossegrim? Or the serpent?”

  His lip curled. “No. Glashtyns and serpents hate each other. Always have. But if I tell you what I was doing, you have to promise not to think less of me.” He took both my hands in his, and a slight tremor passed between us. “I’d gone on land in human form—not this island, but another close by—to hunt a girl.”

  I reached for Fynn’s glass and lifted it to my lips. He raised his brows as I took a gulp of the bitter liquid. It made me cough, but warmth spread through my chest. “Right. Because glashtyns drown women.”

  Fynn sighed, his breath grazing my cheek. “It’s our nature.” Seeing my stony stare, he hurriedly whispered, “I would never hurt you. You really did save my life that day on the beach. Glashtyns know of places deep underwater where we can sometimes heal, if we reach them in time, but the sea had spat me out and left me to die …”

  He fell silent, as though the memory pained him. Then he met my eyes and continued, “When I woke after the fight, there you were. I should have wanted to carry you off into the water, yet all I longed to do was wipe the worry from your eyes. I can’t explain why I’ve lost the urge to hunt. But I have no desire to harm you. Never have, even when I took you swimming.”

  I took a second sip of the ale, then pushed the glass toward Fynn. I’d had enough. “I can explain the change. Well, a little.” Morag’s tale of blood magic was still fresh in my mind. Seeing Fynn’s wide-eyed look of amazement tugged a reluctant smile from my lips. “I’ll tell you later. Right now, I want to know more about—”

  “More about what?” a sharp voice asked.

  Mrs. Gill stood by our table, her arms folded across her chest. “Bridey Corkill, does your mam know you’re here? I daresay she wouldn’t approve of the company you’re keeping.”

  I clenched my hands on the edge of my seat, not daring to glance at Fynn. “Mam’s the one who suggested Fynn stay with us. We’re not the first family that’s hosted a tourist here, I might remind you. She trusts me to make my own decisions.”

  “Well, I’m keeping an eye on you.” She spun on her heel and strode away.

  I had an urge to chase her, to grab her bony shoulders and shake some sense into her head. But instead of drawing even more unwanted attention our way, I took another sip of ale to wet my bone-dry mouth.

  Fynn scrubbed his hands through his hair and sighed. It seemed to have cost him a great effort not to shout at Mrs. Gill. When he finally looked at me again, he said in a soft voice, “Where were we?”

  “We were talking about what brought you to the Isle. And the serpent.” A cold wave washed over me, sweeping away the warmth of the drink.

  “Right.” Fynn grabbed the glass, pushing it back and forth between his hands. “I was hunting on land, and when I returned to the water with my catch”—he frowned at the look I gave him, and quickly amended—“with a girl, I encountered the serpent. It wanted my kill, and we fought.” Fynn ran a hand gingerly down his injured side. “Needless to say, the serpent won.”

  Picturing Mam’s painting of the two beasts facing off over the drowned girl’s body, I frowned. “Had you ever fought a serpent before?”

  “No. The ocean is vast, and I’ve never strayed far from these waters.” Fynn paused to take a sip. “I wonder why the serpent is keeping close to this island, anyway. The fossegrim is easier to explain. It likely followed the serpent here, picking off the remains of the larger beast’s meals. Or, if it’s the same one that murdered your grandfather, it may have remembered this spot as good hunting grounds. But serpents never stay in one place for long.”

  I told the story of Morag’s foot and the half-blind serpent’s desire for revenge while Fynn drained his glass.

  “Wish I knew why people drink this stuff.” He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “It’s disgusting. And I wish I knew how we could get rid of the damned fossegrim before anyone else goes missing.”

  “And the serpent, someday,” I added softly. It had to be stopped eventually, though until it started luring people into the water like the fossegrim, the fiddling monstrosity was our sole concern. “Morag reckons she may have found a way to be rid of the fossegrim. Piercing its heart with steel may kill it. How are you at stabbing?”

  “Probably the same as you.”

  “Hopeless, then.”

  Fynn shook his head. “Not hopeless. You’re strong. Stronger than me, I’d wager, while I’m still healing.”

  Maybe he was right. I did all that wood chopping for Mam. But I couldn’t take the life of a living being, even one as cruel as the monster who took my grandad away. I couldn’t even spear a single snig the day Morag sent me scouring the shore. Just thinking about killing gave me a feeling like spiders scuttling across my skin. “We’ll find a way.” I managed a smile. “At least, I hope so.”

  “I know so.”

  I was about to ask Fynn whether he’d ever encountered a fossegrim before this one when Ms. Katleen and her mam appeared at our table with our supper and our cake.

  “Who ordered the lamb?” Ms. Elena asked.

  “I did.” As I met her eyes, her waxy hands trembled so hard she nearly dropped the plate in my lap. She banged my dish on the table, and I took advantage of her nearness to whisper in her ear. “There’s something dangerous in the water, and you know it. No one wants to listen to me or Morag, but they might
be willing to hear you, if you were to try.”

  She flinched, and hastily straightened as much as her stiff back allowed. “I’m nearly deaf, young lady. I haven’t any idea what you said.” She gripped the table and frowned. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have bread in the oven.”

  As she tottered off, Ms. Katleen bent down and whispered, “I’m sorry about Mrs. Gill. That woman …” She pressed her lips together as though biting back the sort of remark that would make Mam use my full name. “Let’s just say not everyone here jumps to conclusions just because someone thinks they saw something funny in the water, or because Thomase Boyd is flinging accusations faster than you can say unfair. You two are welcome to stay as long as you’d like.”

  When Ms. Katleen left us to our meal, I lifted my fork and glanced at Fynn’s untouched fish. He stared at his plate as though it were laced with poison. “Eat,” I urged. “You’ll need your strength if we’re going to hunt a fossegrim and help with a wedding tomorrow.”

  Fynn picked up his knife and fork, chopping his supper into sloppy portions. “I thought you wanted me to stay away from your family.”

  I reached for his hand but drew back before our fingers touched. “I’m still angry you lied, but I understand why you did. You knew how I’d react.”

  He gave a small smile. “Just my luck that I fell for someone who can’t stand the sea. You’re well within your right to hate me.”

  “I don’t, though. Knowing your secret hasn’t changed what I feel for you.” Except, when I looked at him now, I saw the beast, too.

  Something Mam had said weeks ago echoed in my thoughts, chasing away my vision of his glashtyn form. “Besides, the Corkills don’t turn their backs on anyone. Your place is with us. That is, if you still want it.”

  Fynn raised his eyes to mine. “Of course I do. I haven’t been sleeping on your sofa all this time out of a love of rocks and trees.” With a grin, he stole a piece of my lamb. “This isn’t half bad.” He hovered over my plate, perfectly poised to steal a kiss. I bent forward, tipping my chin up. Fynn’s breath hitched. If I moved another fraction, I could kiss him.