The House in the Cerulean Sea

by TJ Klune

  “Look at his neck brace!” the postmaster cried. “No one wears a neck brace unless they’ve been seriously hurt!”

  “Really,” Helen said. “Because that neck brace seems to be the exact one I had in my closet at home that I was given after a car accident years ago.”

  “It’s not!” Marty exclaimed. “I went to the doctor, and he gave it to me after telling me that my spine was mostly powder and I was lucky to be alive!”

  “That I believe,” Linus muttered. “You would be spineless.”

  Helen rolled her eyes. “Martin, there’s a tag on the back. It has my initials on it. You forgot to tear it off. We can all see it.”

  “Oh,” Martin said. “Well, that’s … merely a coincidence?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Norman said hotly. “We have all decided the children are a menace. They represent a danger to us all. We’ve abided long enough with their wickedness. What happens if they come for the rest of us, just as they did Marty?”

  “Did he tell you that he tried to take a small child into a locked room by himself in an attempt to exorcise him?” Linus asked. “Because I’m positive there are laws against kidnapping and attempted assault, regardless of who the child may be.”

  The crowd turned slowly to look at Marty.

  Marty found something awfully curious at the ground beneath his feet.

  Norman shook his head. “His actions were misguided, but the point remains the same. Are we not allowed to protect ourselves? You say they’re children. Fine. But we have our own children to worry about.”

  “Strange,” Helen said, coming to stand next to Linus. “Because not a single one of you is a parent.”

  Norman was getting worked up again. “That’s because they were too afraid to be here!”

  “Name one,” Helen said.

  Norman said, “I won’t have you trying to trick me. I know you don’t see it, Helen, and that’s on you. But we won’t allow our lives to be threatened when—”

  Linus laughed bitterly. “Threatened? By whom? Who in the world has threatened you aside from me?”

  “They have!” a woman cried in the back of the crowed. “By simply existing, they’re a threat!”

  “I don’t believe you,” Linus said. “I have been by their side for a month, and I have heard nary a whisper of a threat. In fact, the only time I’ve ever thought there was danger, aside from Marty’s ill-advised attempt against a child, was from you lot here. Say you crossed to the island. What would you do? Would you lay your hands upon them? Would you strike them? Hurt them? Kill them?”

  Norman paled. “That’s not what we—”

  “Then what are you doing? Because surely you have some idea. You have gathered yourselves in a crowd, working yourselves up in a tizzy. Your groupthink has poisoned you, and I hate to wonder what would have happened had you gained access to the island. I never thought I’d say this, but thank Christ Merle was here to refuse you passage on his ferry.”

  “Yeah,” Merle said. “I told you payment was required, but you refused!”

  “Honestly, Merle,” Helen said. “Learn to keep your mouth shut when you’re receiving soft praise, why don’t you?”

  “Disperse,” Linus said. “Or I will do everything in my power to make sure—”

  He couldn’t see who it came from. Someone in the middle of the crowd. He didn’t think it was Marty, but it happened quickly. A hand raised, and clutched in its fingers was a large rock. The hand pulled back before jerking forward, the rock flying toward them. Linus didn’t have time to consider who it had been aimed for, but Helen was in its path. He moved in front of her, his back to the crowd, shielding her. He closed his eyes and waited for impact.

  It never came.

  Instead, it was as if the sun had crashed to the Earth. The air grew warmer and warmer until it felt like it was on fire. He opened his eyes, his face inches from Helen’s. But she wasn’t looking at him. She was staring up above him in wonder, her eyes reflecting waves of fire.

  He turned slowly.

  Standing between them and the crowd was Arthur Parnassus, though not as he’d been.

  The phoenix had risen.

  His arms were spread wide away from him. The wings Linus had glimpsed briefly in the darkened cellar were stretched at least ten feet on either side of Arthur. Fire crawled up and down his arms and shoulders. Above him, the head of the phoenix pulled back, the rock held in its beak. It bit down, shattering the rock into tiny pieces that rained down in front of Arthur.

  There was fear in the people before them, yes, fear that wouldn’t be cured by such a display, even one as magnificent as this. But it was tempered by the same wonder he’d seen in Helen, the same wonder he was sure was on his own face.

  The wings fluttered, fire crackling.

  The phoenix tilted its head back and cried out, a piercing shriek that warmed Linus to his core.

  Linus left Helen standing on the dock.

  He circled Arthur slowly, ducking under one of the wings, feeling the heat of them on his back.

  Arthur was staring straight ahead, his eyes burning. The phoenix flapped its wings, little tendrils of fire spinning off. It cocked its head as it stared down at Linus, eyes blinking slowly.

  Without a second thought, Linus reached up and cupped Arthur’s face. His skin was hot, but Linus wasn’t afraid of being singed and blackened. Arthur would never allow it.

  The fire tickled against the backs of his hands. “There, there,” Linus said quietly. “That’s enough of that, I think. You’ve made your point quite well.”

  The fire faded from Arthur’s eyes.

  The wings pulled back.

  The phoenix lowered its head toward them. Linus looked up at it and gasped when the great bird pressed its beak against his forehead momentarily before it too was gone in a thick plume of black smoke.

  “You’ve gone and done it now,” Linus whispered.

  “It was time,” Arthur said. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and his face was pale. “All right?”

  “Quite. I’d like to avoid a rock upside the head if at all possible, so it’s much appreciated.” He dropped his hands, aware that they still had an audience. He was angry, angrier than he’d been in a long time. He started to turn to give them a piece of his mind, to threaten them within an inch of their lives, but stopped when Arthur shook his head. “You’ve had your say. Let me.”

  Linus nodded tightly, though he didn’t leave Arthur’s side. He glared at the crowd, daring any of them to throw another rock.

  Whatever fight had been in them was gone. Their eyes were wide, their faces pale. Their signs lay forgotten on the ground. Marty had removed his neck brace, probably because he’d wanted to look up and see the phoenix unleashed.

  Arthur said, “I don’t know you as well as I’d like. And you don’t know me. If you did, you would have known that attempting to harm me and mine is never a good idea.”

  Linus grew warm again, though the phoenix was gone.

  The crowd took another step back.

  Arthur sighed, shoulders slumping. “I don’t … I don’t know what to do here. I don’t know what to say. I’m under no impression that words alone will change hearts and minds, especially when those words come from me. You fear what you don’t understand. You see us as chaos to the ordered world you know. And I haven’t done much to fight that, given how isolated I’ve kept the children on the island. Perhaps if I’d…” He shook his head. “We make mistakes. Constantly. It’s what makes us human, even if we’re different from one another. You see us as something to be feared. And for the longest time, I’ve seen you as nothing but living ghosts from a past I’d give anything to forget. But this is our home, and one we share. I won’t beg. I won’t plead. And if push comes to shove, I will do what I must to ensure the safety of my wards. But I hope to avoid that if at all possible. Instead, I’ll ask for you to listen instead of judging that which you don’t understand.” He looked to Marty, who shrank back. “Lucy meant you
no real harm,” he said, not unkindly. “If he had, your insides would be on your outside.”

  “Perhaps a little less,” Linus muttered as the crowd gasped in unison.

  “Too right,” Arthur said. Then, louder, “Not that he’d ever do that. All he wanted was his records. He does love them so. Regardless of what else he is, he is still a child, as they all are. And don’t all children deserve to be protected? To be loved and nurtured so that they may grow and shape the world to make it a better place? In that way, they are no different than any other child in the village, or beyond. But they’re told they are, by people such as yourselves, and people who govern them and our world. People who put rules and restrictions in place to keep them separated and isolated. I don’t know what it will take to change that, if anything. But it won’t start at the top. It’ll start with us.”

  The crowd watched him warily.

  Arthur sighed. “I don’t know what else to say.”

  “I do,” Helen said, stepping forward. She was furious, her hands balled into fists. “You have the right to assemble peacefully. You have the right to express your opinions. But the moment it crosses the line into violence, it becomes a matter of legality. Magical youth are protected by laws, as all children are. Any harm that comes to them will be met with the swiftest of consequences. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll do my level best to make sure anyone who lays a hand on a child, magical or not, will wish they hadn’t. You may think you can shrug off anything Linus or Arthur says, but mark my words, if I even catch a whiff of further discord, I will show you why I’m not to be trifled with.”

  Norman was the first to react.

  He stormed off, pushing his way through the crowd, muttering to himself.

  The postmaster followed, though he glanced back over his shoulder, a stunned expression on his face.

  A few more walked after them. Marty tried to leave too, but Helen said, “Martin Smythe! You stay right where you are. You and I are going to have a very long conversation about proper etiquette in group settings and the penalties of lying. And if it was you who threw that rock, I’m going to drain your trust fund and donate it all to charity.”

  “You can’t!” Marty wailed.

  “I can,” Helen said primly. “I’m the trustee. And it would be very, very easy.”

  The crowd dispersed. Linus was startled when a few people muttered apologies toward Arthur, though they kept their distance. He expected news of what they’d seen to spread through the village rapidly. He wouldn’t be surprised if the story would eventually end up as Arthur having turned into a monstrous bird and threatening to burn their skin from their bones and destroy the village.

  Merle said, “I’ll take you back to the island, if you want. Half price.”

  Linus snorted. “I think we’ll be fine, Merle. But thank you for your generosity.” He paused, considering. “And I really mean that.”

  Merle grumbled under his breath about a salt road putting him out of business as he walked down the dock toward his ferry.

  Arthur was watching the people walk away toward the village. “Do you think they’ll listen?” he asked Helen.

  Helen frowned. “I don’t know. I hope so, but then I hope for many things that don’t always come to be.” She looked at him almost shyly. “Your feathers were very pretty.”

  He smiled. “Thank you, Helen. For all that you’ve done.”

  She shook her head. “Give me time, Arthur. Give all of us time. I’ll do what I can.” She squeezed his hand before turning to Linus. “Off, then? Saturday, right?”

  He blinked. In all the excitement, he’d forgotten his journey was almost at an end. “Yes,” he said. “Saturday.”

  “I see.” She looked between Arthur and Linus. “I do hope you find yourself back here again one day, Mr. Baker. It’s certainly … eventful, when you’re around. Safe travels.”

  And with that, she moved down the dock, grabbing Martin by the ear and pulling him away, much to his righteous indignation.

  Linus moved next to Arthur. The backs of their hands brushed together. “How did it feel?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “Stretching your wings.”

  Arthur turned his face toward the sun, lips quirking slightly. “Like I was free for the first time in a very long time. Come, my dear Linus. Let’s go home. I’m sure Zoe has her hands full. I’ll drive.”

  “Home,” Linus echoed, wondering just where that could actually be.

  They headed back toward the car. Moments later, they were on the salt road, the wind in their hair, the cerulean sea lapping at the tires.

  SEVENTEEN

  On Friday afternoon, there was a knock at the door of the guest house.

  Linus looked up from his final report. He’d been working on it most of the day. He’d only written a single sentence after the customary introduction.

  He stood from his chair and went to the door.

  He was surprised to find the children of Marsyas Orphanage standing on the porch. They were dressed as if ready for an adventure.

  “I have returned!” Commander Lucy crowed. “For one last expedition. Mr. Baker, I am asking you to join us. The perils will be great, and I cannot promise you’ll get out of this alive. I have received word there are man-eating snakes and insects that will burrow under your skin and chomp your eyeballs from the inside out. But the reward—should you survive!—will be more than even your wildest dreams. Do you accept?”

  “I don’t know,” Linus said slowly. “Man-eating snakes, you say? Sounds dangerous.”

  Lucy glanced back at the others before he leaned forward and whispered, “They’re not real. I’m just playing. But don’t tell the others.”

  “Ah,” Linus said. “I see. Well, it just so happens that I am an expert in man-eating snakes, especially in ways to avoid them. I suppose I should come along to make sure nothing happens to you.”

  “Oh thank God,” Chauncey sighed. “I didn’t want to get eaten today.”

  “Go change!” Talia said, shoving Linus back inside the house. “You can’t go dressed like that!”

  “I can’t? What’s wrong with—” He stiffened and slumped. “Oh no! I don’t think I can take another step! Is it the flesh-burrowing insects?”

  “Why are you like this?” Talia growled. “Phee! Help me!”

  Phee bellowed and ran forward, throwing her negligible weight against Linus. He snorted as he took another step toward the bedroom. “Much better, thank you. I’ll be out in a flash.”

  He listened to the children chatter excitedly about the upcoming adventure as he went into the bedroom. He shut the door behind him and leaned against it, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.

  “You can do this,” he whispered. “Come on, old boy. One last adventure.”

  He pushed himself away from the door and went to the closet.

  He found the adventurer clothes.

  He put them on.

  He still looked absolutely ridiculous.

  And for once, he found he didn’t care at all.

  * * *

  The adventurers traipsed their way through the jungle. They fended off cannibals that attacked with spears and arrows and thinly veiled threats to eat their spleens. They snuck by man-eating snakes hanging like thick vines from the trees. Commander Lucy was overtaken by insects that were going to burrow behind his eyes. He gasped and gagged and flailed around, finally collapsing against a tree, his tongue hanging from his mouth. It was only thanks to his troops that he was able to be revived at the last possible moment, living to fight another day.

  They eventually made their way to familiar ground, and in the distance Linus could see a copse of trees that hid the house of an island sprite. They came out of the tree line and onto the beach just as her voice boomed around them. “I see you have returned! You truly are foolish. You barely escaped with your lives the last time.”

  “Hark!” Commander Lucy cried. “You won’t get the best of us! We demand that you relinquis
h your treasures. We won’t take no for an answer!”

  “You won’t?”

  “No!” the children shouted.

  “No,” Linus echoed quietly.

  “Oh. Well, then. I suppose I might as well give up now. You’re far too strong for the likes of me.”

  “I knew it,” Lucy breathed fervently. He raised his hands above his head. “Men!” He glanced back at Talia and Phee. “And also women. Follow me to your just reward!”

  They did. Of course they did. They would follow him anywhere.

  Linus would too.

  They charged across the beach and into the trees.

  Linus sighed. He wasn’t going to charge anywhere. His charging days were pretty much over with. He wiped his brow and trudged toward the trees.

  He frowned once he reached the tree line. It had grown strangely silent. Six children should have been making much more noise. Especially these six children. He hesitated but then stepped into the trees.

  Paper lanterns had been hung from the branches. They were the same ones that had been hung in the gazebo. He reached up and pressed a hand against one of them. The light inside was bright, and he didn’t think it came from a bulb or a candle.

  They were waiting for him as he reached the house in the middle of the trees. Talia and Phee. Sal, Theodore, Chauncey, and Lucy. Zoe, the flowers in her hair green and gold.

  And Arthur, of course. Always Arthur.

  They held a sign out in front of them, a long roll of paper with painted words that read: WE’LL MISS YOU, MR. BAKER!!! There were handprints on it. Little ones for Talia and Phee and Lucy. A bigger one for Sal. A line that he thought came from Chauncey’s tentacles. And a drip of paint that looked like claws from Theodore.

  Linus took in a shuddering breath. “I … I didn’t expect this. What a wonderful thing you’ve all done. Look at it. Look at you.”

  “It was my idea,” Lucy said.

  Talia stomped on his foot.

  He winced. “Well, mostly all my idea. The others helped, though. A little.” He brightened. “But guess what?”

  “What?”