The House in the Cerulean Sea

by TJ Klune

  He lay flat on his stomach and peered underneath the couch into Theodore’s lair, cheek pressed against the floor.

  Off to his right, there was a soft blanket that had been fashioned into a nest. A small pillow—the size of Linus’s hand—sat atop it. Spread out around it were Theodore’s treasures. There were coins and rocks shot with quartz (much like the ones in Lucy’s room) and a pretty red-and-white shell with a crack through the middle.

  But that wasn’t all.

  There was a piece of paper that Linus could make out a few words: Brittle and thin. I am held—

  There was a dried flower that looked like the ones Linus had seen in the garden.

  There was a leaf so green that only a sprite could have grown it.

  There was a piece of a broken record.

  There was a picture that looked as if it’d been torn from a magazine, of a smiling bellhop, helping a woman with her bags.

  There was a picture of Arthur as a younger man, the edges curled with age.

  And next to it, piled lovingly, were buttons.

  So many buttons.

  It’s the little things, I expect. Little treasures we find without knowing their origin. And they come when we least expect them. It’s beautiful, when you think about it.

  Linus blinked against the sudden burn in his eyes.

  “It’s wonderful,” he whispered.

  Theodore chirped that of course it was. He went to the buttons and nudged his nose into the pile as if searching for something. His tail thumped against the floor as he lifted his head.

  In his mouth was a familiar brass button.

  He turned and walked toward Linus.

  Linus watched as his jaw clenched. Theodore bit down onto the button before dropping it to the floor.

  Linus could see the impressions of Theodore’s fangs in the brass.

  Theodore nudged it toward him. He looked up at Linus and chirped.

  “For me?” Linus asked. “You want me to take it?”

  Theodore nodded.

  “But that’s—” Linus sighed. “It’s yours.”

  Theodore nudged it toward him again.

  Linus did the only thing he could—he took it.

  He sat up from the floor, pressing his back against the couch. He stared down at the button in his hand, tracing a finger over the grooves from Theodore’s fangs. The wyvern poked his head out from underneath the couch and chirped up at him.

  “Thank you,” Linus said quietly. “It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever given me. I’ll keep it for always.”

  Theodore lay his head against Linus’s thigh.

  They stayed there as the evening sunlight drifted along the wall.

  * * *

  It was Thursday morning when the anger of men came to a head.

  Linus was in the kitchen with Zoe and Lucy, who was bellowing at the top of his lungs along with Bobby Darin’s sweet, sweet voice. Linus was smiling, and he was laughing, though his heart felt like shards in his chest. Sticky buns were in the oven, and if he listened hard enough (though Lucy was doing his very best to make sure he couldn’t), he would hear the sounds of the others moving throughout the house.

  “So many leftover pecans,” Zoe said. “I’m not sure we needed to—”

  Linus startled when she dropped the bowl she was washing back into the sink, soapy water splashing onto the floor.

  She stood stiffly. Her fingers twitched, her wings unfurling, moving hummingbird-fast.

  “Zoe?” Linus asked. “Are you all right? What’s happened?”

  “No,” she whispered as Lucy continued to sing, unaware. “No, not now. They can’t. They can’t.”

  Lucy said, “What? Who are you—”

  Zoe turned around, little soap bubbles falling from her fingers and floating to the floor. Her eyes were brighter than Linus had ever seen before, filled with an otherworldly light, irises glittering like shattered glass. Not since Linus had known her had he been afraid of her, and this was still true. But he would be foolish to think that she was anything but an old and powerful sprite, or forget that he was merely a guest on her island.

  He started toward her slowly, not wanting to surprise her in case she’d become unaware of his presence. Before he could reach her, Arthur burst into the kitchen, eyes narrowed. The room grew warmer, and for a moment, Linus thought he saw the flash of fire, though it might have just been a trick of the morning light.

  “What is it?” he demanded. “What’s happened?”

  “The village,” Zoe said, her voice soft and dreamy, her words almost like musical notes. “They’re gathering at the shore of the mainland.”

  “What?” Lucy asked. “Why? Do they want to come here?” He frowned down at the pecans on the countertop. “They can’t have my sticky buns. I made them just the way I like them. I know sharing is a nice thing to do, but I don’t feel very nice today.” He looked to Linus. “Do I have to share my sticky buns?”

  “Of course not,” Linus said evenly. “If that’s what they want, they’ll have to make their own.”

  Lucy grinned, though it seemed nervous. “I made two for you, Mr. Baker. I don’t want you wasting away.”

  “Lucy,” Arthur said. “Would you please gather the others in the classroom? It’s almost time to begin your lessons.”

  Lucy sighed. “But—”

  “Lucy.”

  He grumbled under his breath as he hopped down from his stool. He paused at the kitchen doorway, glancing back at the three of them. “Is something wrong?”

  “Of course not,” Arthur said. “Everything is perfectly fine. If you please, Lucy.”

  He hesitated only a moment longer before leaving the kitchen, calling for the others, telling them that apparently sticky buns wouldn’t get them out of their lessons as he’d thought they would.

  Arthur went to Zoe, gripping her by the shoulders. Her eyes cleared, and she blinked rapidly. “You felt it too.”

  Arthur nodded. “Have they started to cross?”

  “No. They’re … stopped. At the docks. I don’t know why. But the ferry hasn’t left the village.” Her voice hardened. “They would be foolish to try.”

  A chill arced down Linus’s spine. “Who?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “But there are a few of them.” She looked past Arthur into nothing. “They’re angry. It’s like a storm.”

  Arthur dropped his hands and took a step back. “You will stay here with the children. Go on as normal. Tell them nothing is amiss. I’ll deal with this myself. I’ll return as soon as I’m able.”

  She reached for him, hands circling his wrist. “You shouldn’t have to do this, Arthur, not after what … let me go. I will—”

  Arthur backed away from her slowly. “No. On the chance they still come to the island, the children will need you more. You can protect them better than I could. If it comes down to it, take them to your house. Close the forest behind you so that nothing gets through. Cover the whole island if you have to. We’ve talked about this, Zoe. We always knew this was a possibility.”

  She looked as if she were about to argue, but subsided at the expression on Arthur’s face. “I don’t want you going alone.”

  “He won’t be,” Linus said.

  They turned to him in surprise, as if they’d forgotten he was there at all.

  He sucked in his stomach and puffed out his chest, hands on his hips. “I don’t know what’s going on, exactly, but I have a good idea. And if it has anything to do with the people in the village, then it’s high time I gave them a piece of my mind.” He thought he probably looked ridiculous, and his words didn’t have the weight to them he’d hoped, but he didn’t break their gazes.

  Arthur said, “I won’t have you in any danger, Linus. It would be best if you—”

  “I can handle myself,” Linus said with a sniff. “I may not look like much, but I assure you I’m more than I appear. I can be quite stern when I need to be. And I’m a representative of the government. In my expe
rience, people listen to authority.” This was only somewhat true, but Linus kept that little detail to himself.

  Arthur sagged. “You silly, brave man. I know what you are. But if you would just—”

  “Then it’s settled,” Linus said. “Let’s go. I don’t like cold sticky buns, so the sooner we deal with this and can return, the better.” He started for the doorway, but stopped when a thought crossed his mind. “How are we to cross if the ferry is on the other side?”

  “Catch.”

  He turned in time to see Zoe toss a set of keys toward him. He fumbled with them, but managed to keep them from falling to the floor. He frowned when he saw it was the keys to her ridiculous car. “While I appreciate the effort, I don’t see how this will help us. There is quite a bit of water between us and the village, and unless your car is a submersible, then I don’t know how this will be of any use.”

  “It’s better if I don’t tell you,” she said. “It’ll only make you worry.”

  “Oh dear,” Linus said faintly. “I don’t know if I like the sound of that.”

  She stood on her tiptoes, kissing Arthur on the cheek. “If they see you…”

  Arthur shook his head. “Then they do. It’s time to step from the shadows and into the light. Past time, I think.” He glanced at Linus. “Someone wise taught me that.”

  They left her standing in the sunlit kitchen, sticky buns warming in the oven.

  * * *

  The car bounced down the road, Linus’s foot pressing as hard on the gas pedal as he dared. His heart was racing, and his mouth was dry, but there was a sharp clarity to his vision. The trees seemed greener, the flowers that lined the road more brilliant. He glanced in the side mirror in time to see the forest closing off behind them with a low groan, covering the road with thick branches. If one didn’t know what to look for, there appeared to be no way through.

  Arthur sat in the passenger seat, hands folded in his lap. His eyes were closed. He was breathing slowly in through his nose and out through his mouth.

  They reached the dock at the edge of the island without incident. The sea was calm, the whitecapped waves small as they fell upon the shore. In the distance, across the channel, Linus could see the ferry still docked at the village. He brought the car to a stop, the brakes squeaking.

  Arthur opened his eyes.

  “What now?” Linus asked nervously, sweaty hands flexing on the steering wheel. “Unless this car is a submersible, I don’t see how we can cross. And if it is, I must tell you I have no experience piloting such a vehicle, and we’ll most likely drown at the bottom of the sea.”

  Arthur chuckled. “I don’t think we’ll have to worry about that. Do you trust me?”

  “Yes,” Linus said. “Of course I do. How could I not?”

  Arthur looked over at him. “Then drive, my dear Linus. Drive and see what that trust has gotten you.”

  Linus looked ahead through the windshield.

  He took a deep breath.

  He lifted his foot off the brake.

  The car began to roll forward.

  He pressed his foot down on the gas.

  The car picked up speed.

  His knuckles turned white as they left the last bit of road and hit the white sand of the beach. His throat closed as the ocean filled the windshield. “Arthur—”

  Arthur said, “Have faith. I would never let anything happen to you.” He reached over and put his hand on Linus’s leg, squeezing tightly.

  Linus didn’t slow.

  He didn’t stop.

  The roar of the ocean filled his ears as the dry sand turned wet and the first spray of saltwater misted against his face. Before he could shout in warning, the sea crackled in front of them, the water vibrating and shifting as if something just underneath the surface was rising. He closed his eyes tightly, sure they were about to have wave after wave rush over them, pulling them under.

  The car rattled around them, the steering wheel jerking in his hand. He prayed to whoever was listening for guidance.

  “Open your eyes,” Arthur whispered.

  “I would really rather not,” he said through gritted teeth. “Staring death in the face is vastly overrated.”

  “Good thing we’re not dying, then. At least not today.”

  Linus opened his eyes.

  He was stunned when he saw they were on the sea. He twisted his head to look back, only to see the shore shrinking behind them. He gasped, struggling to breathe. “What on earth?”

  He turned forward again. A white crystalline road lay before them, materializing from the ocean. He peered over the side of his door, looking down. The road beneath them was almost double the width of the car, snapping and crackling, but holding.

  “Salt,” Arthur said, and Linus could hear the amusement in his voice. “It’s the salt from the ocean. It’ll hold.”

  “How is this possible?” Linus asked in wonder. Then, “Zoe.”

  Arthur nodded. “She is capable of a great many things, more than even I know. I’ve only ever seen her do this once before. We decided long ago to make use of the ferry, to keep the people of the village at ease. It’s better to deal with Merle when we have to, instead of inciting fear by a car crossing the water.”

  Linus choked on a hysterical laugh. “Oh, of course. Just a road made from the salt of the ocean. Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “You didn’t know it was a possibility,” Arthur said quietly. “But those of us who dream of impossible things know just how far we can go when pushed to do so.”

  “Well, then,” Linus said faintly. “Let’s see how they like us being pushed, shall we?”

  He pressed the gas pedal as hard as he could.

  The car roared forward along the salt road.

  * * *

  They could see a group of people standing on the docks near the ferry. Some had their arms raised in the air, hands curled into fists. Their shouts were drowned out by the sounds of the car and sea, but their mouths were twisted, their eyes narrowed. Some carried signs that looked hastily made, bearing such legends as I SAW SOMETHING, I AM SAYING SOMETHING and I AM ANTI-ANTICHRIST and, absurdly, I DIDN’T HAVE ANYTHING CLEVER TO WRITE.

  Their shouts died down when they saw the car approaching. Linus couldn’t fault them for the looks of shock on their faces. He was sure that if he were standing on the shore, watching a car driving along the surface of the ocean, he’d probably wear the same expression.

  The salt road ended at the beach near the docks. He brought the car to a halt on the sand, turning it off. The engine ticked.

  Silence fell.

  Then, at the front, the man from the ice cream shop (Norman, Linus thought with mild disdain) shouted, “They’re using magic!”

  The crowd began to roar in earnest once more.

  Helen was standing at the front of the crowd on the dock as if to block them from gaining access to the ferry. She looked furious, her face smudged with dirt. Merle stood next to her, arms across his chest, a scowl on his face.

  Linus and Arthur exited the vehicle, slamming the doors shut behind them. Linus was relieved to see the crowd wasn’t as large as it first appeared. There were perhaps a dozen people, including Helen and Merle. He wasn’t surprised to see Marty from the record shop in the crowd, wearing a neck brace. He held a sign that said YES, I WAS INJURED BY THE SCION OF THE DEVIL. ASK ME HOW! Next to him was the man from the post office. Linus wasn’t surprised. He never liked that fellow all that much to begin with.

  The shouts died once more as Linus and Arthur climbed the steps next to the dock, though they didn’t die out completely.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Linus demanded as he reached the dock. “My name is Linus Baker, and I am in the employ of the Department in Charge of Magical Youth. Yes, that’s correct. A government official. And when a government official wants answers, said answers had best be given as quickly as possible.”

  “They tried to swarm my ferry,” Merle said, eyeing the crowd and Arthur wit
h distaste in equal measure. “Said they wanted to get to the island. I wouldn’t let them.”

  “Thank you, Merle,” Linus said, surprised at the ferryman’s thoughtfulness. “I wouldn’t have expected—”

  “They refused to pay me,” Merle snapped. “I don’t do nothin’ for free.”

  Linus bit his tongue.

  “You shouldn’t have come,” Helen told Arthur. “I have this under control. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you or the children.” She glared at her nephew, who tried to slink back farther into the crowd. “Some people don’t know when to keep their mouths shut. Oh, you can try and hide, Martin Smythe, but I see you. I see you very well. I see all of you. And I have a long, long memory.”

  “I’m sure you have this well in hand,” Arthur said, voice even. “But it always helps to have people by your side.”

  Linus stepped forward. The sun was bright, causing him to sweat profusely. He glared at the group of people before him. He’d never been the intimidating sort, much to his consternation, but he wasn’t about to allow these people to do whatever had gotten stuck in their heads. “What is the meaning of this?”

  He felt a savage glee when the crowd took a step back as one.

  “Well? You seemed to have a voice just fine until we arrived. Anyone? Surely someone is willing to speak.”

  It was Norman who did. Linus wasn’t surprised. “We want them gone,” he growled. “The children. The orphanage. The island. All of it.”

  Linus stared at him. “And how do you expect to rid yourselves of an entire island?”

  Norman flushed with anger. “That’s—you see—that’s not the point.”

  Linus threw up his hands. “Then what, pray tell, is the point?”

  Norman spluttered before saying, “The Antichrist child. He almost killed Marty!”

  The crowd rumbled behind him in agreement.

  Norman nodded furiously. “Yes, that’s right. There Marty was, minding his own business when that—that thing came into town and threatened his life! Threw the poor sod against the wall like it was nothing. He’s permanently injured. The fact that he’s even walking is a miracle!”

  Helen scoffed. “Permanently injured, my arse.”