Surrendering (Swans Landing)

by Norris, Shana

  I lifted my head and met Artair’s gaze. He still knelt next to me, his mouth set in a straight line.

  “Are you happy now?” I asked him. I slipped from Mara’s embrace and stood, glaring down at the finfolk guard. “See what you did? Is this what you wanted, to come here and kill us?”

  Artair didn’t even look at me. “I never wanted anyone to be hurt,” he said softly.

  I laughed. “Well, that went according to plan, didn’t it?” I had the urge to kick him, punch him, beat him until he could feel what I felt. I wanted him to hurt, to know what it was like to lose someone you couldn’t save.

  “I did not wish to come here,” Artair said. “I was only following the orders of my king.”

  “Your king is dead,” Lake said, stepping into the circle. His pants hung in tattered rags around his waist and he dripped water onto the sand. His face was scratched with deep lines, like he had been clawed. The left sleeve of his shirt gaped open and he pressed his hand to a gushing wound, red streams falling between his fingers.

  Mara leaped to her feet, gasping. “What happened?”

  Lake shrugged as he looked down at his arm. “Shark,” he said simply. His eyes met Artair’s. “Your king couldn’t change. I took him out farther into the water to get him away from Josh. I expected him to swim and follow me back to shore. By the time I realized he wasn’t changing, he had already gone below the surface and out of sight.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “The shark attacked me first. When I fought it off, it went after Domnall.”

  Artair and the other finfolk guards bowed their heads, all silent.

  “So he wasn’t finfolk after all?” Sailor asked.

  “He was finfolk,” Artair said. “But some of our people mixed with the humans that once lived among us in Hether Blether. Some finfolk still carry the human genes. Domnall was one of the unlucky ones, without the ability to change.”

  My gaze flickered to Callum, who still lay on the sand, his face bloodied and bruised. His eyes were closed, his breathing ragged. “Does Callum know?”

  Artair shook his head. “Domnall was careful to keep everyone from knowing. Only I knew the truth. And our queen knew. She loved him despite his disability.”

  I ignored the comment about human genes being a disability. “What did he want with Finfolkaheem?” I asked. “Why did he come here?”

  “He wanted the finfolk to do to him what they did for you,” Artair said. “He wanted to be remade fully finfolk.”

  Silence fell over the beach. I turned my head, trying to keep from looking at the body of my mom still in the sand in front of me. Fury bubbled through me, but I felt tired, too exhausted to let it all out.

  “What do we do now?” Dylan asked. He glared at Artair. “What do we do with them?”

  “I say we do to them what they did to Silvia,” Mr. Connors growled. He grinned cruelly as he looked at the finfolk guard. Some people agreed with his statement, nodding and clapping.

  Mr. Moody scratched his chin. “Ain’t none of you as affected by what happened as that boy there,” he said, nodding at me. “So I say we let him decide. He’s earned it, by my reckoning.”

  I looked at Artair, who gazed back at me without flinching. His face was lined and I could see the fatigue and sadness in his eyes. He would take whatever punishment I gave him, I knew.

  But I just wanted the island back and I wanted everything to end.

  “Heal Callum and Lake,” I told him. “Then leave our island. Don’t ever come back.”

  Artair inclined his head once. He motioned to the other guards and they followed him across the beach to where Callum lay. Everyone watched in silence as the guards carried Callum to the water. Lake followed behind until they were far enough offshore that we wouldn’t hear them sing.

  They did for Callum and Lake what couldn’t be done for my mom. I stood on the shore, watching as the two men slipped below the water. They had done so much for me, this was just the smallest way I could repay them.

  “Why are you doing this, boy?” Mr. Connors asked, his beady eyes flashing. “They killed your mama. These people killed both of your parents.”

  I shook my head. “My mom told me what happened the night my dad died and the finfolk didn’t have anything to do with it. It was, as they’ve always said, an accident.” There was no need to tell everyone what my mom had done. I wanted to let her memory rest in peace. “Only one finfolk killed my mother, and he’s now dead too. We can’t keep blaming each other. Don’t you see that’s what’s caused all of our problems? We’re all Swansers here. This island belongs to all of us.” My shoulders dropped as energy drained out of me. “It’s time to move on.”

  Mara gave me an encouraging smile as she stepped to my side, slipping her arm through mine. Sailor pushed past Mr. Connors and stepped up to my other side, entwining her fingers in mine. Dylan did the same with her other hand.

  Elizabeth looked at her dad, biting her lip. Then she dashed across the sand to Dylan’s side, leaning her head against his shoulder.

  Mr. Moody hobbled across the sand. His eyes shone with unshed tears as he placed a hand on Sailor’s shoulder, his beard curling as he smiled.

  Others came too, finfolk and human. We formed a long line at the water’s edge, watching the finfolk in the water.

  * * *

  Sailor threw her arms around Callum when he swam close to the shore. His face was red where the bruises had once been, but he seemed okay and he was awake again.

  “Are you okay?” Sailor asked, checking him over.

  He nodded. “I’m fine.”

  Sailor handed him the prosthetic she had found lying on the beach and Callum strapped it to his leg.

  He looked back at the finfolk, who swam in the water behind him. Artair was the only one who made his way toward the shore, shedding his finfolk form as he rose from the water.

  He bowed to Callum. “My king.”

  Callum’s brow furrowed and he shook his head. “I am not your king. I was never meant to be.”

  Artair blinked. “We have no one to lead us now. We need a king.”

  “I’m sure you’re capable of leading yourselves,” Callum said. “You don’t need me or anyone else.”

  Artair looked agitated as Callum started to walk away. “But it is the way we have always lived. The finfolk of Hether Blether need someone to guide them.”

  Callum looked over his shoulder and said, “Then you do it.”

  Artair stopped, his mouth dropping open. “I cannot…”

  “You can do it just as well as I could,” Callum said. “You’re king now.”

  Mara raised her eyebrows. “That’s it? You can pass off your title to someone else just like that?”

  “Should I make a ceremony out of it?” Callum asked. He turned back to Artair, waved his hands around the man’s head and then bent down, grabbed a handful of sand and rubbed it on Artair’s cheeks. “By all powers born to me, I name you king of Hether Blether forever. There. Done. Good-bye, Artair.”

  Callum limped across the sand, Sailor at his side. A laugh bubbled out of me. I couldn’t hold it back. Mara covered her mouth with her hand, but she couldn’t hide her smile.

  Artair wiped at the sand on his face, then turned toward me. He inclined his head, bowing slightly.

  “I hope you will not think badly of us,” he told me. “I am very sorry for the loss of your mother and for the pain we caused your people.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t want your apologies. I just want you to go.”

  Artair nodded. “You have to understand that we all had our own hopes that would come from this journey. I followed the orders of my king, yes, but I also came to help my daughter.” He swallowed, his expression pained. “Iseabail is…” He hesitated, taking a deep breath.

  I thought of the time Sailor and I had seen Artair with his family at the beach. His wife had been in the water, swimming with their daughter. The finfolk woman had lifted the little girl out of the water and her feet kic
ked as she laughed above the waves.

  “She’s human,” I finished.

  Artair closed his eyes. “My wife’s grandmother was human. Our daughter does not have the ability to change.”

  “So you wanted the same thing Domnall did,” Mara said. “To have the finfolk remake her.”

  “I thought I did,” Artair said. “I believed Domnall when he told me humans were weak, that they were killing our island.” His gaze scanned over the crowd stretched out on the beach, human and finfolk. “But maybe we do not understand humans like we thought we did.”

  He bowed again and said, “You are welcome in Hether Blether any time you wish to come.”

  As I watched him disappear into the Atlantic, I said to myself, “I think I’ll stay right here.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Silence followed as I walked through every room of the house I had spent my life in. I had never taken much notice of the house. I knew it was falling apart, but it would never bother me much if I never looked too hard at it.

  Now I looked. I saw the layers of dust that coated the bookshelves, full of books that no one ever read. I saw the chipped and cracked figurines that had been broken for as long as I could remember. I saw the couch with the rip in the armrest where the stuffing was falling out. The faded pictures on the walls. The cabinet doors that hung crooked on their hinges. The mildew that grew on the wall by the refrigerator because the appliance leaked.

  I saw the cracked glass of the window in the front door. The carpet that hadn’t been vacuumed in months. The dishes stacked in the sink.

  I sat down on the couch, resting my head in my hands. The house had been decaying for a long time, probably even before my father died.

  But there was some good here. Memories and ghosts haunted my mind. My mom in fleeting moments of clarity, picking me up for a hug or playing with me on the floor. We used to build sprawling cities I had never seen with a mix of old boxes, stacked books, and plastic blocks. She used to take me for walks around the neighborhood, up to the dock where we’d watch the people getting on and off the ferry and talk about all the places we’d visit one day.

  And she would warn me to never go into the water. To stay as far from it as I could because there were things there that would hurt me.

  I closed my eyes and began to hum, singing the notes I’d heard the finfolk sing many times from my hideout within the trees at Pirate’s Cove. I had never joined them for song night, but I had learned the song through listening to it each month and could sing the notes as well as they did.

  As the song filled the air within the room, I lifted my head and opened my eyes.

  But there was nothing. The part of me that had been human wasn’t there anymore. My mom and my dad were gone from me forever.

  A knock at the door startled me and I let the song die. I sat on the couch, staring at the closed door. I could see a shape behind the curtain over the glass, but couldn’t make out who it was. Mara had wanted to come with me, but I had told her I wanted a few minutes to myself. That was probably her now, coming over anyway to keep me company.

  But when I opened the door, it wasn’t Mara. It was her dad.

  “Mr. Westray,” I said, blinking. “What are you doing here?”

  Lake ran a hand through his hair. “Please, Josh, call me Lake,” he said. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his cut off khakis. “Can I come in?”

  I stepped back and Lake walked into the house, looking around the room. My face flushed at the state of decay in the house. We rarely had visitors.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” I asked.

  Lake shook his head. “No, thank you. I just wanted to talk to you.”

  I swallowed. His tone made a tendril of fear creep through me. “Is everything okay? Is Mara okay?”

  “She’s fine,” Lake said. “This isn’t about her. It’s about you.”

  We sat down in the living room, me on the couch and Lake perched on the edge of a sagging armchair. He clasped his hands together, his elbows resting on his knees.

  “I want you to know,” he started, his eyes on the floor, “that I will be happy to do anything I can to help you if you need it. I don’t have much, but you’re one of us, both as a Swanser and finfolk. We won’t let you starve or go homeless.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “I think I’ll be staying with Sailor for a while. She said she’ll ask Miss Gale about it.” I was eighteen, legally an adult. No one needed to look after me, but I wasn’t eager to live in this house alone at the moment.

  Lake nodded. “Good. You should be with family.” He paused, dropping his gaze again. “I wanted to come apologize to you, Josh. For everything that’s happened.”

  “You don’t owe me an apology,” I told him. “You didn’t do anything.”

  But Lake twisted his hands around each other. “I feel like I’m somewhat responsible. I was friends with your dad. He used to come out on my boat with me to take notes about the fish population. He was always studying those fish. I think he knew more about what was coming than the rest of us could have ever guessed.”

  I smiled, imagining my dad out there on the water, recording all of the thoughts and theories that helped me save Swans Landing. He couldn’t have known that I would use his notes one day, but I liked to think that maybe he was writing them down for me, for the future.

  “The night your dad died,” Lake went on, “we were supposed to meet to practice his singing. He was human, but he could sing like the rest of us. It was really amazing. He wanted to be out on the water that night, but I convinced him to stay far enough away that he wouldn’t be able to hear the song too much, so maybe it wouldn’t affect him like it would have if he was closer. We planned to meet at the pier as soon as I was done singing.”

  He sucked in a deep breath, holding it for a moment, then letting it out. “But when I got there, it was too late. I don’t know, he must have fallen in. His body had already washed up on shore.” Lake looked at me with shining eyes. “I’m sorry, Josh. I tried, but I couldn’t save him.”

  I closed my eyes, not wanting to imagine my dad dead on the beach before I could even get to know him. My father’s ghost and the things that might have been had haunted me thousands of times. Now they all crashed down on me as the truth about that night finally settled into my head.

  I opened my eyes and looked back at Lake, who bit his lip, his hands clenched so tight his calloused fingers had turned white.

  “It’s not your fault,” I said. “You don’t owe me anything. You couldn’t know what would happen that night and you didn’t kill my dad.”

  “I feel like it’s my fault,” Lake said, his voice trembling a little. “If it hadn’t been for me, maybe he wouldn’t have been there.”

  Sucking in a deep breath, I said, “I know what happened that night. It wasn’t you, it was my mom. She told me the truth. She pushed him in because she thought he was there waiting for Coral.”

  Lake’s face crumpled and he buried his face in his hands for a long time. The room was silent, as was the world outside.

  After a while, Lake lifted his head and looked at me with red-rimmed eyes. “I never suspected your mom had anything to do with it. She was a good woman, Josh. She needed help, but there was a part of her that was still good. She loved you a lot.”

  I didn’t want to talk about my parents anymore. I stood and walked over to the kitchen, pulling a glass from a shelf. The water gurgled from the faucet as I filled the glass, shaking salt from the dirty shaker into the water.

  “I need to go back to Finfolkaheem soon,” I said, turning back to Lake. “We got rid of Domnall, but there’s something else my dad wrote about. Another theory he had that I think explains the declining fish population and the crazy weather. And maybe even the strange illnesses people are suffering. I need to find out if there’s a way to stop it.”

  Lake stood. “I’ll go with you. I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”

  I looked down at my glass, watching
the water ripple across the surface. “You don’t have to watch out for me, Lake. I’ll be fine.”

  He walked over to me and put his hand on my shoulder. “I know, but I want to. Not just for your dad, but for Mara. She cares a lot about you.” He smiled. “She has good taste. You’re a great kid, Josh.” He cleared his throat. “A great man.”

  I returned his smile. Maybe Lake Westray wasn’t as bad of a father as everyone thought.

  * * *

  I shifted the backpack stuffed with clothes and a few other items from my house up higher on my shoulder as I turned the corner onto the street where the Moorings lived. Sailor had offered to share a room with her mom so that Callum and I could share the third bedroom. I figured that once Miss Gale was back on her feet, Callum would probably have to find a new place to live. Maybe we could be roommates. My mom’s house had been paid for long ago with the money from my dad’s life insurance. So we’d just have to pay for electricity and water, and food and other necessities. If we could both get jobs, maybe we could make it work.

  It would be nice to have someone there with me, whenever I decided to go back home.

  I had to think about positive things or else I’d see my mom dying all over again in my head. She would be buried in the Swans Landing cemetery next to my dad. She already had a plot, so that was taken care of. I just needed to plan the funeral, call the pastor at the church, order a casket, talk with a lawyer about getting everything she had changed to my name as her legal heir, and…probably a million other things I hadn’t yet thought of.

  A figure stood in the road just ahead, drawing me out of my thoughts. As I drew closer, I recognized Mr. Connors. He hadn’t yet seen me, and he stood with his hands in his pockets, his gaze focused on the Mooring house.

  “Can I help you?” I asked sharply.

  He jumped, like I’d shocked him. The wind ruffled his dark hair and he narrowed his beady eyes at me. “Don’t sneak up on people, boy,” he said gruffly.