But not today. I drew back. It wasn’t Mrs. Gill’s threatening words, or the looks of the men at the bar that made me lower my eyes to my supper. Anger was still simmering in my veins. It would take more than the space of a meal to forgive Fynn for keeping so much hidden from me, even if he had his reasons.
As we ate, my mind wandered back through the summer’s many strange events before Fynn turned up. The drowned girl. Nessa Daley’s disappearance. The false pearl in Da’s nets.
“I have one last question.”
Fynn paused, a forkful of fish halfway to his mouth.
“The day after the girl washed ashore, I found a giant pearl on the floor of Da’s boat, and I saw a fin that looked a lot like yours. Was that—?”
“Me.” A smile lit his face. “I saw you protecting Grayse from the birds.” Fynn dropped his gaze to the berry bonnag between our plates. “Even before I lost the will to hunt, I thought you were beautiful. Warm and light. The kind of beauty a creature like me, from the cold and the dark, can only hope to grasp for the briefest moment before it slips away like water through human fingers. I just wanted to give you something pretty.”
“Then why did the pearl turn into a rock that evening?”
Fynn passed me a slice of bonnag without meeting my eyes. “Nothing from the ocean is meant to survive on land forever.”
Suddenly, I wasn’t hungry anymore.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The blast of a horn roused me early the next morning. Though its clarion cry was familiar from wedding days past, it sounded shriller than usual. More like a dying seal than a call to celebration. I leaped out of bed, tripped over the edge of our rug, and banged my hip against our bedside table.
“Happy Thursday!” Grayse chirped, throwing back the covers. Liss groaned in her sleep. “Lucky, lucky Thursday!” Grayse’s hazel eyes held no trace of tiredness, as though she’d been awake long before the horn blew. “Ready to be a bride-maid, Bridey?”
“Maybe tomorrow.” I yawned, shuffling over to the window and rubbing my smarting hip. The sky was still a canvas of indigo night and silvery moon, save for a thick line of orange smeared across the horizon. All of Port Coire’s fishermen were taking to the water, their boats gliding silently toward the open sea like ghosts retreating into obscurity.
There was no sign of a phantom fiddler hovering over the rocky waters.
As I drank in the star-studded view of the cliffs and our neighbor’s chicken coop, memories of yesterday crashed over me like the breaking waves. Fynn the glashtyn. Morag’s fear of the serpent. Mrs. Gill’s hateful words.
Another burst of noise sliced through my pounding head. I flinched and turned to Grayse. “Do you know who Mally charged with sounding the horn?”
Grayse’s eyes narrowed to mischievous slits. “The Cretney boys.”
I shook my head. “I should have known.” I was finally alert thanks to the shrieking horn, and while I didn’t feel much like celebrating, it was time to get ready.
Mam had hastily altered one of her old dresses for me. The rosy gown adorned with tiny pearls was like something from a fashion magazine, and Mally pinned a glittering hair-slide behind my ear to secure my fancy knot of braids. Still, gazing at my reflection in all its finery, I couldn’t summon a smile.
Perhaps I was simply frustrated that there wouldn’t be time to look for the fossegrim, or something metal to kill it with, before the wedding began.
The morning passed in a haze until Grayse, Liss, and I gathered by the door to watch Da and Fynn depart for the church. We each held a thin, reddish osier wand identifying us as Mally’s bridesmaids. Judging by the muffled argument that could be heard from the back of the house, we would have to wait a while on the nervous bride.
Tears splashed down Grayse’s cheeks as Da and Fynn slipped on their shoes. “I want to go with them!”
“The men always go to the church first, Grayse,” Liss said impatiently.
“But I’m bored!” Grayse swung her osier wand, and the supple willow branch swished into Fynn’s leg with a thwack.
He shouted something that made Da chuckle and Liss blush. Clutching his leg, Fynn struggled to keep his balance. I tried to disguise my smile with a sudden fit of coughing.
Grayse sniffled and dried her tears. She glanced shyly at Fynn and mouthed, Sorry.
Da thumped Fynn on the back. “We’d best leave before one of us loses a limb, aye?” Grinning, Da opened the door allowing in a gust of warm, sultry air and stepped outside.
“I’ll be there shortly,” Fynn called. He turned to me. “You look beautiful.” He’d never sounded so cautious with me before. His hangdog expression made his angular features appear softer than usual.
After checking that Grayse and Liss were occupied, I put my lips to his ear, inhaling the scent of spring that clung to his skin. He must have borrowed Da’s ancient bottle of aftershave. “Cheer up. This is a wedding. You’re supposed to be happy.”
“I’ll be happy if you forgive me.”
“I’m trying.” The trouble was, when I pictured kissing Fynn again, the image of him in his sea-monster skin flashed to mind. I shivered.
Fynn gave a strained smile, then slipped out the door. For once, I wasn’t entirely saddened to see him go.
Minutes later, Mally emerged from the room that would now be mine. My pulse quickened at the sight of her in Mam’s wedding gown. Over the years, it had faded from pristine white to buttery ivory, but she looked radiant with waves of her honey hair cascading down her back.
“Isn’t it gorgeous?” She twirled around the main room, a butterfly in flight.
“Yes,” I managed, despite the leaden feeling in my stomach. “Artur will be speechless.”
Seeing her in the gown made Mally’s imminent departure a reality. She would go to England tomorrow, taking the boat ride I had dreamed of for ages. We had dreamed of. I wasn’t ready to watch her leave.
“Ready, bird?” Mam snapped her fingers, calling my attention. “What’s that you’re wearing?” Frowning, she touched the string of my Bollan Cross, but the high collar of my dress hid the charm.
“It’s a necklace.” I turned away from her and hurried down the hall. “Give me one more moment!”
The extra crosses from Morag rested in a jumble on our dresser. Perhaps I could convince Mally to wear one on her journey tomorrow. I pulled three crosses from the pile and rushed back to the main room.
“Here.” I offered a cross each to Liss, Mally, and Mam, who gave me identical blank looks. “They’re necklaces. I thought it would be nice if we wore them to the wedding, to show we’re family.”
“Everyone knows that already.” Mally took a necklace first. “It’s a bone.”
“Aye. But it’s pretty, right?” I dangled the second Bollan Cross in front of Liss until she took it from my hand. “Put them on.”
“I don’t know. They’re kind of horrible,” Liss grumbled, but she and Mally slipped the crosses over their heads. After a strange, almost startled look at me, Mam did the same.
“Let’s go!” Grayse urged.
As we neared the church, time seemed to speed up. We walked three circles around the churchyard with Artur’s attendants, a tradition I’d never understood. Then we stood by the altar inside the stuffy sanctuary, listening to Pastor Quillin’s voice rise above the sniffles of the small crowd as he blessed the couple.
Only about half the residents of Port Coire lined the pews.
“So many are missing,” Liss whispered, leaning in. “Probably all friends and relatives of Mally’s former beaus.” She frowned. “Never mind them, though. She doesn’t need their approval to enjoy her day.”
I made a faint noise of agreement, but I knew better. Not even the gossips would miss an opportunity for dancing and feasting. They’d slurp our broth and gorge on our geese while muttering behind their hands.
No, those who had chosen not to attend the ceremony were avoiding me.
Mrs. Kissack was notably absent, tho
ugh one of her friends nudged another woman’s shoulder and glanced my way. The women exchanged a look and shook their heads, but I fixed a smile on my face and focused once again on Mally and Artur.
In a blink, the ceremony was over and the guests rose to their feet. Applause echoed off the church walls as folk tossed hats and handkerchiefs into the air. The Cretney boys threw the wedding horn, and Grayse tossed her wand. It was a miracle no one lost an eye.
Fynn stood in the front row of onlookers keeping a healthy distance from the Gills. I was surprised they’d even bothered to come. I shook my head at them, then pretended to glare at Fynn until he acknowledged me with a grin.
In so many ways, he was still the boy I’d come to know. And yet …
Our neighbors sucked in their breaths, heads turning toward the altar. I glanced up just in time to witness Mally and Artur’s first kiss as husband and wife. He dipped her to the floor in his enthusiasm and nearly dropped her.
Someone whistled. The tips of Artur’s huge ears turned pink.
Scattered applause followed the newlyweds as they retreated down the aisle. Mally caught my eye and waved as Artur ushered her out the church doors. I returned the motion, though I doubted she’d seen, then dodged the copper-haired Cretney boys to reach Fynn’s side.
“I’m counting to ten, lads!” a woman’s deep voice boomed. “How many times have I told you, there’s no playing chase in the Lord’s house!”
Seeing me approach, Fynn sat straighter in the deserted front pew.
Aside from my parents, who spoke in low voices with Artur’s mam, and my sisters, who were entertaining a few lingering guests, the church had emptied.
“Care to explain why everyone’s gathering out front?” Fynn asked, nodding toward the windows, which offered a view of the weed-choked churchyard. Young men were stretching their legs, preparing for a run in their Sunday best.
“They’re getting ready for the race.” I smiled. “Whichever lad reaches the market first gets to break a bonnag over the bride’s head. Then the girls grab cake to put under their pillows so they can dream of their future husbands.”
“That seems like a waste of good cake.” Fynn shook his head. “And a useless way to find a husband. Why are they going to the market?”
“That’s where we hold the feast. Wedding celebrations are always in the market.”
Fynn found my hand on the wooden seat and looked at me, a question in his eyes. When I nodded, he twisted his fingers around mine and, to my relief, they felt normal, hot and slightly rough. Certainly nothing like the rubbery skin of a flipper.
He lowered his voice as my parents’ conversation faded. “Care to share what’s bothering you? Do you have more questions for me?”
“It’s not that. I wish we’d had a bigger turnout, is all.” My stomach ached as I surveyed the empty church again. “I can’t blame the folk too nervous to risk being out at dusk, but …” I shrugged. “I wonder how many wished to avoid me. Seeing you win the race, though, that might lift my spirits.” I pulled my hand from Fynn’s and shoved him off the pew.
He bowed quickly. “If I get there first, the cake is yours.” His eyes flashed. “You could even eat it and save Mally from the humiliation of crumbs in her hair.”
“And spoil all the fun?” My lips turned up in a grin for the first time in days as I glanced to the windows again.
Out in the churchyard, sandy-haired Thomase elbowed stout Martyn Watterson in the ribs out of pure meanness or to give himself more space to stretch. I couldn’t be sure. Lugh was there, too, standing apart from the others and watching the sky.
I walked to the door with Fynn. “Aigh vie!” I called as he went to join the lads. “That means good luck!” He waved, and then, to my surprise, strode toward Lugh.
My old friend tensed. Fynn stepped closer, his lips moving rapidly. Lugh squared his shoulders, scowling deeper, and replied. They stared at each other for a long moment.
Leaning against the church door, I strained to hear, but their voices blended with the murmur of the other lads.
With a jerk, Lugh’s open hand shot toward Fynn. Fynn gripped the hand with both of his, and Lugh’s shoulders relaxed. They nodded stiffly and dropped their hands, then went their separate ways.
I sighed. Regardless of what had passed between them, they both seemed at ease now.
“Are we heading to the market soon?” I called to Mam, glancing over my shoulder into the church. I wanted to greet Fynn, Lugh, and the others at the finish line, and they looked ready to take off at any moment.
“Soon,” Mam’s voice drifted from the altar.
“Or we could go now.”
I whirled around. Cat stood beside me in a pale green dress. To my dismay, she wore a string of her mam’s best pearls instead of the Bollan Cross I’d asked Lugh to give her. Shadows ringed her eyes, and her smile was faint, but at least it was there. Like old times.
She propped her hand on her hip. “How about it? Be my escort?”
With effort, I returned her smile before looping my arm through hers. “You’ve got to stop scaring me like that.”
“Please,” Cat scoffed. “Seems to me you need more excitement in your life.” She waved to Lugh and Fynn as we passed. “I got your present. The necklace. I would have worn it today, but my mam insisted I borrow her pearls. I don’t like to upset her since Alis …” Cat twisted the strand of pearls between her fingers. “Did you make it yourself?”
“Morag did.”
Cat raised her dark brows, her eyes widening. “It’s not human, is it?” We veered left, following the dirt path through a copse of tired, bent ash trees.
“No.” Cat’s shadowed eyes demanded the truth. “It’s a charm to prevent drowning. When you return home, put it on and don’t take it off. Even if you don’t believe me.”
“I won’t.” Cat raised her voice as the sound of frantic feet grew louder. “I know Alis didn’t wander off with Nessa or Eveleen.” Her lips trembled. “Mrs. Kissack told me what you said, about seeing the monster that killed your grandad, and—”
“You think I’m mad, too?”
“No. And neither does Lugh. I’m not sure I believe in sea monsters, but I know you wouldn’t lie, either.” She squeezed my hand. “There’s something strange happening here. And after all that’s passed, I’m not sure I’m ready to hear the truth.”
I took a deep breath. “I understand. Better than you think. But the necklace will keep you safe.”
“Will it? It’s just a disgusting old bone, as far as I can tell, and I don’t trust witchcraft.” Cat met my gaze and held it, heedless of the crooked path ahead. “But I trust you, Bry.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
We barely had time to perch ourselves on the edge of the fountain before the lads dashed into view. Harsh breathing and the slap of bare feet on hard-packed earth rang through the air as they drew nearer. Thomase was in the lead, Lugh and Fynn following hard on his heels.
“Come on, Martyn!” Liss clasped her hands against her chest.
Personally, I didn’t think Martyn was likely to catch the others. He was near the back of the group, along with one of the scrawniest Cretney boys, looking as though he’d soon keel over into the bushes.
As the lads scrambled toward the tailor’s shop—the tiny building declared as the finish line—I was sure for a moment that Thomase would win. But then he tried to elbow Lugh in the ribs to ensure his victory.
Lugh shoved him. He’d always loathed cheaters. They landed in the dirt together, a tangle of limbs punching and kicking. All the frustration and sorrow both lads had endured thanks to the sea seemed to be pouring out as they struggled. I winced as Lugh landed a blow that was sure to give Thomase a black eye.
Fynn flew past them, making my heart skip as he breezed into the lead. But Adam Radcliff, another of Mally’s former sweethearts, darted ahead at the last second. He slapped his hand against the wall of the tailor’s in the space of a blink before Fynn rammed the building with his
shoulder.
While the crowd applauded, Ms. Katleen presented Adam with the bonnag. As a girl tossed flower petals, Mally glided over to her side.
“I’m glad that’s done,” Liss muttered, leaping to her feet and smoothing her dress. “I’m going to check on Martyn.”
Fynn dropped into Liss’s vacated seat. Dark patches soaked Da’s old suit. Mam had made her best effort to hem the garments to Fynn’s lean body, but it was a haphazard job.
“That was interesting,” he panted, slicking back his disheveled hair. “I’m surprised that idiot didn’t try to trip me instead of your friend.”
“Oh, I’m not,” Cat said, nudging me with her shoulder and pointing to the spot where several lads were attempting to pull Thomase and Lugh apart. “That Boyd lad is nothing but trouble. Handsome trouble, though.”
I groaned, but Cat didn’t appear to hear. She turned, splashing cool water from the fountain on her face. “I’m going to see if I can grab a piece of the bonnag to put under my pillow. Want to come, Bry?”
I glanced at Fynn and shook my head. “I’ll just watch.”
“You don’t want to dream of your future husband tonight?”
“I don’t want to dream of anything. I’d welcome one night of uninterrupted sleep.”
“I do!” Grayse jumped up from her seat and reached for Cat’s hand. They hurried to join the group of girls gathered around Adam and Mally.
When Cat and Grayse were out of earshot, I whispered to Fynn, “It’s a silly superstition.” He arched his brows. “Not that all superstitions are silly. Some, as we know, are quite real.”
Fynn nodded gravely and leaned against me. I stiffened, my heart quickening, and as though he sensed my discomfort, he pulled away. That only made me feel worse.
As we listened to the shouts of girls vying for a piece of the dreaming cake, I prayed the happy sounds wouldn’t turn to screams when dusk fell on the wedding feast.
Fear the Drowning Deep Page 18
