Though the girls’ struggle was usually a spectacle worth enjoying, I kept my gaze trained on the hill to the north, hoping to see a gray-haired figure ambling toward the gathering. But Morag’s foot must have been bothering her. Or else she didn’t want to brave the harsh tongue-wagging of the townfolk.
When Mally announced supper, everyone claimed their seats. Fynn and I hurried to the table where Mam and Da were seated, the Gills beside them. Da commanded one end of the table, and gestured for Fynn to sit at the other.
“Is that wise, Peddyr? Letting a murderer preside over your family’s meal?” Mrs. Gill demanded, her jowls quivering. Her round face had seemed so friendly when I was small, though that was a long time ago.
Fynn drew out his chair and sat without so much as a glance at Mrs. Gill, but Da frowned at her. “That’s a mighty strong word to throw around without proof, especially at a wedding.”
She sniffed, looking suspiciously at Fynn. “I stand by it. I can’t recall a summer tourist ever staying as long as this lad. And until he turned up, our girls didn’t fear disappearing from their beds. It doesn’t take a law man to piece these things together.”
Da sat taller and narrowed his eyes. “If you have a problem with anyone at this table, there are plenty of seats elsewhere.”
“Your choice,” I added as I dropped into a seat and smiled sweetly at her.
Mrs. Gill rose stiffly from her chair. “Fine. Let’s go, Danell.” She tugged her husband’s arm. “We aren’t welcome here. The Corkills can enjoy their meal with the murderer and their witch-loving daughter without us.”
As they shuffled away, Da rubbed his hands together. “Now that that’s behind us, where’s the first course?”
Broth arrived in wooden piggins, and hardly anyone spoke as we scraped the steaming liquid up with large mussel shells. Next came a platter of capons, followed by goose. Grayse’s mouth fell open as Da carved slivers of meat from a roasted hog. It was all more than we could afford, especially with fish still scarce, but friends and neighbors had pitched in to make the feast one to remember.
As I ate, my gaze traveled to Morag’s hill. Still, no hunched figure limped into view.
Perhaps she hadn’t understood that my invitation was sincere. Yet, she’d fixed me countless cups of tea, helped me begin to accept Fynn’s glashtyn side, and trusted me with the real story about her foot. In the space of a summer, she’d become like a grandmam to me. She had more than earned her place at our table.
Mam pushed back her chair. “I can’t eat another bite! Shall we dance as we used to, love?” She ushered Da from his seat as a group of musicians struck up a popular dance hall tune.
Someone tapped my shoulder. “Care to take a walk?” Fynn offered me his hand. “I’d ask you to dance, but I don’t know how.”
“All right.” I glanced around the square. Mally’s white dress and Artur’s dark suit stood out among the paltry crowd of revelers. Liss led Grayse and a few younger girls in a dizzying circle dance. Lugh spoke with Martyn while Thomase skulked nearby, kicking stones. There was no sign of the Gills.
Fynn shot me a hopeful look as I gripped his hand. “You’re not afraid to be alone with me, then?”
I shook my head. “Are your wounds healed enough for an uphill climb?”
“It’s not what I had in mind, but I think I can manage.” Fynn raised his brows. “Besides, it’s past time I met Port Coire’s famed witch.”
I shielded my eyes against the setting sun. “Aye. Help me find a plate, would you? Morag might like some supper.”
Slipping away wasn’t difficult, especially when drinks were flowing freely courtesy of Ms. Katleen. Balancing a napkin-covered plate of meat and rolls in one hand and holding Fynn’s arm with the other, I slid between the long shadows of the bakery and the tavern.
Strangely, even though his nearness made me picture the glashtyn again, I didn’t feel the slightest hint of nerves. That is, until I began thinking of what I was to do if he tried to kiss me again.
Fynn sang under his breath, seeming to gain confidence in the tune as the rush of ocean waves drowned the noise of the celebration.
“What’s that you’re singing?” I asked.
Fynn shrugged. “A chanty I picked up listening to sailors. I regret that the words aren’t very—” He frowned at something in the distance. A girl-shaped something, running toward us with alarming speed.
“Roseen!” I gasped.
When she reached us, Cat’s cousin doubled over panting. Her eyes were wide, her face red as a beet. “Catreena,” she wheezed, pointing back the way she’d come. “Catreena.”
My blood turned to ice. “What about her?”
Roseen gestured frantically toward the sea. “We were on the beach. She just—swam—wouldn’t answer me.” She shuddered. “You have to help her!”
Fynn disentangled his arm from mine and bolted toward the nearest strip of beach, casting off Da’s suit jacket as he ran. If anyone could get to Cat in time, it was he.
“Don’t just stand there! Go after him!” I shouted at Roseen, heart thudding in my ears. The plump girl looked about to keel over. “Hurry! Fynn might need—oh, just go!”
Roseen nodded, still breathing hard, and dashed off.
Satisfied she would at least try to help, I dropped Morag’s plate and sprinted back toward the party. The distance from the beach to the market had never seemed so great. I needed to find Da. He would find something sharp and fight the monster, for surely it was the fossegrim that had called my best friend into the sea.
“It’s Bridey!” someone called as I ran through the market. “How are the fish, Bry? Still whispering death threats from the waves?”
Shaking my head, I rushed to the nearest table, scattering napkins and plates in my search for anything metallic and sharp. There was a platter of leftover goose. Clumps of flowers. An empty bread basket. A hog’s rump with a carving knife stuck in the side. I pulled the steel blade out and hid it in the folds of my dress.
Peering through the crowd, I found Da in the shadow of the carpenter’s shop, sipping a mug of ale. I could run to him now and tell him Cat was in trouble. I could press the knife into his hands and explain what he needed to do. Follow him, wringing my hands, while I helplessly watched the rescue.
Drawing a deep breath, I turned away from the party. Fynn was already on his way, and he was a stronger swimmer than Da. And the fossegrim was mine to challenge. The constant dread of losing anyone else I loved would end tonight.
I tore past the bakery and the tavern, patting the lumpy Bollan Cross hidden under my dress. It lent me silent reassurance as I rushed by Fynn’s discarded jacket.
When the earth beneath my feet changed from packed soil to sand, an eerie chant echoed in my ears. The sky darkened to lavender, making the filmy figure hovering in the waves easy to spot. But there was no sign of Fynn or Cat in the murky water. Roseen stood alone on the beach, arms wrapped around her waist.
Come to me, a voice crooned. I’ve been waiting so long.
The last time I’d heard this melody, it had made all rational thought impossible. My legs had jerked forward of their own accord. But with the cross around my neck, my mind was clear and my feet only moved as I told them to. If I lived through this, I’d have to tell Morag how well her charm worked.
Let me hold you, my treasure, an hour or two.
Mouth dry, knees banging together, I crossed the sand, heading straight for the crashing surf.
At the water’s edge, I froze. Facing down the sea had been so much easier with Fynn at my side. With no one to walk beside me, my courage fled in the thundering waves.
The wind picked up, knocking a swell sideways and revealing a glimpse of dark, curly hair.
Cat.
If I didn’t move quickly, my best friend would forever belong to the sea. The salty waves had already taken enough from me.
Stomach lurching, I staggered into the water. I clutched the carving knife with both hands, terrified a w
ave would knock me over and I’d lose the blade. Roseen called out, but I didn’t turn to acknowledge her. If Fynn didn’t reach Cat soon, she would drown.
We’ll dance in the waves to your heart’s delight.
Chill water crept up my legs, soaking my dress. I shivered, kicking to untangle myself from something slimy, then continued slogging against the current. The fossegrim floated just beyond the peaks of the waves, pulling a bow tenderly across a small fiddle. He was still too far away. I still couldn’t swim, and the water would close over my head before I reached him.
My love, my life, you’ll make a beautiful wife.
I fumbled with the knife as a wave smacked me square in the chest. The ocean numbed my fingers. I wondered how I could ever get close enough to the monster. But I’d die before I let this creature have Cat.
“I’ll do it! I’ll marry you!” I shouted over the anguished cries of seabirds. Concealing the blade behind my back, I planted my feet in the mucky sand and willed myself not to think about what might scuttle over them.
The fiddle’s sweet notes faltered. The fossegrim raised his colorless eyes to meet mine and a smile stretched across his pallid face. He glided over the water, his wavy hair and ruffled shirt blowing in the breeze.
That was a good sign. He looked transparent as a ghost, but if the wind could touch him, so could I.
“Bridey!” Fynn’s call was clear above the roar of the water.
I tried to answer, but the words died in my throat as the fossegrim surged forward. Up close, he wasn’t so handsome. His face and neck were mottled green and gray, his eyes milky like something left to decay at the bottom of the ocean. The clothes he wore hung in tatters off his gaunt frame, and clawlike hands curled around his fiddle. The instrument’s body appeared to be carved from driftwood, and its strings resembled fine braids of blond human hair. If this was what Lugh’s mam and the girls had seen when they leaped from the cliffs, it was no wonder they’d panicked and drowned.
The creature spread its bony arms and hissed a single word: come.
Now was my chance. I held the carving knife at my side beneath the water, careful to keep it out of sight of the fossegrim. I crept forward until he and I were more than close enough to touch.
The fossegrim lifted a hand, palm open. I flinched, anticipating a blow, but he merely ran a long, thorny finger down my cheek. My skin burned, and the odor of smoke invaded my nose and throat—the stench of rotten meat sizzling over flames, of gutted fish, and spoiled milk.
Resisting the urge to rub my cheek, I locked eyes with him. “What are you waiting for?” I managed, despite my constant shuddering. “I’m right here.”
This time, he reached with both hands, mouth gaping in a horrible imitation of a grin. Fragments of bone littered his mouth, though they were too irregular and misshapen to be called teeth. Ripples of cold rolled off his body and crashed into me, making it even harder to stay on my feet. The faces of Cat, Grandad, and the missing girls flashed before me, steadying my shaking legs as the monster wrapped a hand around my waist.
Unable to utter a cry or even draw a breath, I jerked back and raised the knife, aiming for the creature’s heart. A claw-curled hand swiped at my arm, but trying to stab a monster wasn’t so different from chopping wood. I had to follow through with my swing or risk losing my balance. The sharp points of his nails raked my forearm, yet I pushed through the searing pain.
The carving knife rammed into the fossegrim’s chest.
He howled, grabbing me by the throat, but as his life bled away, so too did his strength. Using both hands, I drove the knife in deeper, recalling the faint music playing on the wind as Grandad jumped. No one else would have to die for the fossegrim’s pleasure.
The creature shuddered, his milky eyes bulging. For a moment, I thought he would simply sink beneath the waves. Then a loud pop rang out as his body burst into wet chunks of sticky, greenish foam. The sight reminded me of the dyed seeds girls would throw at the end of Mally’s celebration. Bits of fossegrim stuck to my face and hair, cold and reeking of ash, while other pieces fizzled in the waves. Wiping muck from my brow, I lunged for the knife that had served me so well, but it had been lost to the sea along with the fossegrim’s gruesome instrument.
Someone crashed through the water yelling my name. Fynn struggled against the waves. His trousers clung to his legs like a second skin, but his chest was bare. Rivulets of water ran down his face.
Finally remembering how to use my legs, I sloshed forward into his waiting arms. Even in his other form, Fynn was nothing like the horror I’d just faced. I held tight to his waist, finding his warmth a relief after the fossegrim’s intensely cold touch. My right arm throbbed, but I was past caring about the pain.
“Don’t take offense,” he muttered shakily, holding me close, “but you stink.”
A laugh escaped my dry throat as I glanced around. “Where’s Cat?”
“Safe on the beach.” Fynn cupped seawater in his hands and used it to clean more thick slime off my cheek. “I had to wrestle her out of the water. Roseen helped me hold her down.” He picked a clump of fossegrim out of my hair and lobbed it out to the horizon. “I don’t think either of us alone could have kept Cat from heeding the monster’s call, she was struggling so, but I wish I could have come for you sooner. I should have come for you sooner.”
“You did what you had to. Thank you for looking after my friend.” I rested my head against his shoulder. A pale moon appeared through the broken wall of clouds. “If we’re waging war against the sea, I’d say we just won a battle.”
Fynn’s face lit with a fierce pride, and I managed a strained smile.
“But, did Cat and Roseen …?” I wasn’t sure how to ask whether they’d seen him in his glashtyn form. I dreaded his answer.
“They didn’t see anything I care about,” Fynn answered. “Even in this skin, I’m a strong enough swimmer to handle a spell-touched girl.” He glimpsed my bloody arm and held it above the water. The stinging dulled slightly, but the four slashes there looked deep enough to leave scars.
I swayed against Fynn, lightheaded. “I need to get to shore.” He obliged by picking me up and splashing through to the shallows. “I like you, Fynn. Rather a lot. No matter what you are,” I murmured, gazing up at him. “Have I told you that?”
A smile lit his face. “Even if you didn’t, I think I already knew.” He smoothed my hair away from my forehead. “Does this mean you’ve forgiven me?”
“I can’t seem to stay away from you, any more than you can return to the sea. So, yes.” I closed my eyes, content for once to listen to the ocean’s whispered secrets.
On shore, Cat inspected my arm with a frown. “We’ll have to put something on your cuts. They look terrible.” Her dark curls were plastered to her head, and like Fynn and me, she was soaked from head to toe. “Roseen went to get blankets. And to tell our parents how you and Fynn rescued me when I tried to swim and got in too deep.”
I blinked. “Isn’t she going to tell them about the—”
“Monster? Fairy? Ghost?” Cat shivered in the brisk evening air. “No.” She met my eyes. “No one believed you when you tried to explain what happened to your granddad. And no one would believe us now, no matter how well we explained it.” She laid a trembling hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry I never believed you.”
Pulling Cat into a tight hug, I murmured, “It’s all right. There are a lot of things I wouldn’t have believed until recently.”
Grandad told me many stories when I was small, but my favorites were the ones in which clever girls outsmarted dangerous beasts. If he were here, he’d be proud of what I had just done, and that thought made me stand a little taller.
“I know the feeling,” Cat said at last, shivering hard. “Roseen and I were walking on the beach, collecting seashells for Alis’s memorial. Out of nowhere, I heard beautiful music, and the next thing I knew I was in the water. I didn’t even care that I was going to drown. Only the music mattered.�
� Cat heaved a shuddering sigh. “Then Fynn was holding me while Roseen covered my ears, and you were facing a—what was that thing, Bry?”
Fynn gave me an encouraging nod. Cat needed the truth now.
I gripped her shoulders. “It was a monster. And there are more like it. That’s why I gave you the hideous fishbone necklace.”
She nodded, her eyes round like twin moons. “I still don’t understand how you killed a monster. You were so brave!”
My cheeks warmed. “I didn’t feel brave. And besides, I don’t think killing means you’re brave. I just did what I had to, to keep you safe.” Cat made a soft noise, a sob or a muttered word. “It was Morag that gave me the idea about piercing the monster’s heart with steel. In a way, she’s the reason it’s dead and we’re still here.”
We moved farther up the beach, trailed by Fynn. “I always thought Morag was a horrible old woman,” Cat said softly. “Yet it seems she’s smarter than anyone else in these parts.” Cat gave a weak chuckle. “Now I wish I wasn’t so fond of sweets. Maybe then my mam would have apprenticed me to a witch instead of a cake maker.”
I squeezed her hand and smiled.
It was over. The disappearances would finally end. It was over. Against the vast, uncaring sea, we had won.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
A fist pounded on our front door, jarring me from the memory of watching Mally and Artur’s ship departing the harbor at dawn. I turned away from the hearth where I’d been feeding the flames a bundle of herbs, and Da peeled himself out of his chair. Mam hurried after him, her hands still wet from washing dishes, followed by Grayse.
Mr. Gill stood on our step, his face brighter than a spring radish. “Found—bodies—harbor,” he wheezed, chest heaving.
A thorn of cold jabbed my gut as names and faces flashed to mind: Cat, Lugh, Martyn, even Thomase. But I’d killed the fossegrim. This couldn’t be happening. Unless the serpent somehow …
“Who?” I choked out.
But Da was already speaking. “What are you going on about, Danell? There were murders at the harbor, is that what you mean?”
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