Merrows.
He stared at the candle.
All this time, Hughie Rua had been living in Tír na nÓg.
And the Tide Summoner along with him.
Fionn didn’t know if it was funny or maddening, but he laughed anyway. The sound hung in the air like a melody, and sung him to sleep with the candle tight in his fist.
This time, when he closed his eyes, he dreamt of adventure.
Chapter Ten
THE THIRD MUSKETEER
When Fionn awoke early the following morning, there was a clock ticking in the back of his mind. The countdown to the winter solstice had dwindled to one final day, but he felt emboldened by his late-night discovery. He uncurled his fist and smiled at the candle.
The Tide Summoner was within his grasp.
In the kitchen, someone had left a wicker basket on the table. Fionn was used to deliveries like this turning up every so often, either deposited on the doorstep or, if it was raining, left inside the door. He thought they might have stopped coming once his mother arrived during the summer, but they only grew larger, and none of them, his mother included, ever complained about it.
He rolled off the couch and wandered into the kitchen to inspect it. There were fresh eggs and orange juice with bits, a loaf of brown bread and a litre of milk. There were carrots and parsnips, and an uncooked chicken. A packet of crumbed ham. A block of orange cheese. A jar of French mustard – the expensive kind. A family-size chocolate bar. A big box of tea bags and two packets of biscuits – gingernuts and custard creams. There was a note hanging off the side:
A few extras this week, Rose.
‘Rose,’ he said, out loud.
Rose. Of course.
His phone buzzed, startling him.
It was a text from Sam.
There in 15. And believe I’m bringing SNACKS
Sam was waiting for Fionn down on the beach, skimming stones along the waves. Fionn jogged to meet him, his grin so wide it vibrated in his cheeks. By the end of the day, they would have the Tide Summoner in hand, and an army of Merrows to command. The Soulstalkers wouldn’t live to see the solstice. This one, or any more to come. Elizabeth Beasley would see what bravery looked like then, how good a Storm Keeper he could really be. He was going to save the island before it fell to ruin. He was going to make his family proud of him. He was going to make himself proud. ‘Are you ready for a pirate adventure?’
Sam yanked his scarf down. ‘I’ve been waiting my whole life for a pirate adventure. Of course I’m –’ His face fell as he caught sight of something over Fionn’s shoulder. ‘Oh no.’
Fionn heard her before he saw her, her trainers thumping across the damp sand, her laughter floating through the air. ‘Fiooooooon!’
Fionn whirled around just in time to catch Shelby Beasley as she flung herself at him. She squeezed the last morsel of air from his lungs, her hair streaming into his face and his mouth and his eyes until everything was the colour of sand. She pulled away, her braces winking at him when she said, ‘Hello, stranger! Miss me?’
‘Of course!’ Fionn couldn’t contain his happiness. The day had already brought untold possibility, and now his friend had returned from the mainland, a pocketful of adventure awaited the three of them. ‘I thought you weren’t coming for Christmas?’
‘We weren’t going to, but then my uncle called my dad in a fit yesterday even though my granny told him not to, and after a lot of panic about a bunch of Soulstalkers and a looming solstice from Doug, and some definite emotional spiralling from my dad, my mum decided we should all come and use our wits to help you stave off encroaching oblivion!’ She grinned at him. ‘So … surprise! My present is my presence. Have I missed anything else?’
The reunion was hurried, peppered with brief talk of the island’s growing population of Soulstalkers, the possibility of Morrigan returning, Fionn’s non-existent magic, and Tara’s new starring role as the island’s champion. Talk turned then to the Tide Summoner, and the Merrows that had been bonded to it – an army they all agreed was far better equipped to face an ancient, gathering evil than one that relied on the very mortal members of their own families and a bevy of candles that were in limited supply.
Mercifully, the Tide Summoner was closer than ever and, now armed with the freedom candle, Fionn was determined to take back control – to prove himself once and for all, and save the island without endangering its people.
As the conversation turned to the present day, and the task at hand opened before them like a storybook, one among them seemed suddenly and utterly unenthused.
‘Why are you scowling?’ Fionn asked Sam, when they had finished going over the particulars.
Shelby turned on him. ‘You’ve just found your third musketeer!’
‘I didn’t make enough sandwiches,’ said Sam sourly.
Fionn waved his concern away. ‘That’s all right. I’m not that hungry anyway.’
‘Well, you should have told me that.’ Sam folded his arms and pushed his bottom lip out. ‘I made three different varieties, and everything.’
‘I thought you said you didn’t make enough,’ said Fionn, bewildered.
Sam glanced sidelong at Shelby. ‘I meant I didn’t make enough for her.’
Shelby narrowed her eyes at Sam. ‘Are you jealous?’
Sam scoffed unconvincingly. ‘Why on earth would I be jealous of you, a near-stranger appearing out of nowhere and crashing my adventure with my best friend?’ He looked at Fionn, his eyebrows raised. ‘Don’t you think we should take a vote on this?’
Shelby pulled her hat down, tucking her hair behind her ears. ‘You’re right. We should vote. Fionn? Do you think we should let Sam come on our adventure?’
Sam’s eyes went wide. ‘You just got here! It’s our adventure!’
‘But I was here first,’ Shelby returned with practised nonchalance. ‘So, I get first dibs. Dibs!’
Sam rounded on her. ‘You can’t be serious!’
Shelby cackled wickedly. ‘Oh, lighten up, Patton. You’ll warm to me soon enough. I’ll grow on you.’ She beamed at him. ‘Like a rash.’
Sam looked at Fionn imploringly. ‘She’s a Beasley,’ he mouthed.
‘I can see what you’re saying,’ said Shelby. ‘I’m standing right in front of you.’
‘She’s fine,’ said Fionn to Sam. ‘She’s really brave.’
‘So am I,’ said Sam petulantly.
‘I didn’t say you weren’t brave,’ said Fionn.
‘You’re probably not as brave as me though,’ interjected Shelby. ‘I once tried to tackle a meerkat at Dublin Zoo.’
Sam stared at her. ‘How is that relevant?’
Fionn sighed.
‘Because I’m not afraid of anything,’ Shelby emphasised.
‘Meerkats are tiny,’ said Sam.
‘Not when you’re three they’re not!’
‘Well, last year, in London, I fought a mugger off with my flute,’ said Sam. ‘A flute that once belonged to my great-grandmother, Maggie Patton, by the way.’
‘If you’re so brave, where were you last summer when Fionn almost died in that cave?’
‘I was actually in Port Antonio visiting my nan,’ said Sam. ‘She lives halfway across the world on the island of Jamaica. There are moths as big as dinner plates there, and hummingbirds as small as egg-cups, and I’m not scared of either!’
‘Why would you be afraid of a hummingbird?’ scoffed Shelby. ‘While you were off playing Disney princesses with friendly birds, we were stuck over here getting beaten up by a storm!’
Fionn groaned. ‘Can you two give it a rest, please? The world is big and scary in lots of different ways, and you’re both incredibly brave, but we still do have a Soulstalker situation to worry about, you know.’
‘Look. I haven’t had a proper best friend since I moved back to this place,’ said Sam, kicking sand up on to his shoes. ‘And we’ve got a good thing going here.’
‘Newsflash – you can have more than one
best friend,’ said Shelby.
‘No, you can’t,’ said Sam, shaking his head. ‘Not while the world is ending.’
‘Oh, don’t be such a pessimist,’ said Shelby. ‘If you’re going to be all doom and gloom, you should just stay at home and write poetry.’
‘Oi, my dad’s a poet and he’s perfectly happy!’ Sam glared at her. ‘And at least he doesn’t go around giving people new faces for no reason.’
‘My mum is a cardiac surgeon,’ said Shelby pointedly. ‘And before you start on my dad, corporate accountancy is the backbone of this country.’
Fionn pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Can we all just be friends? We’re running low on time and I think if you two got to know each other, you’d get on like a house on fire.’
‘What is it exactly about a burning house that says good vibes to you?’ said Sam.
Shelby tried to trap her laugh but it seeped out through her fingers. ‘Oh no,’ she muttered.
There was a long silence, Shelby and Sam looking each other up and down, like adversaries in a boxing ring, until finally Shelby broke. ‘I like your coat,’ she said begrudgingly.
‘Thanks,’ said Sam a little stiffly. ‘It’s peacock blue. Very hard to get. I like your shoes. The sparkles are cool.’
‘I glued them on myself,’ said Shelby.
‘Cool,’ relented Sam.
‘Thanks,’ said Shelby.
And with that, the iceberg between them thawed just enough to see over it. The planning resumed in earnest. There were logistics to consider – three people and one candle among the most pertinent of concerns. The solution was a tenuous one, but after much deliberation over three free hot chocolates from Donal’s shop, coupled with the entire contents of Sam’s sandwich bag, the last remnants of Sonia Patton’s banana bread, and a packet of mints donated by Shelby, they decided what to do.
After a detour to the lifeboat station, they traipsed back up the headland, with three orange lifejackets and enough rope to moor a cruise-liner. They convened outside Tír na nÓg, where the sun squatted like a brass coin in a pale sky.
‘You sure this will work?’ Sam asked Shelby as she looped the blue rope beneath his lifejacket, knotting it expertly, before threading it through the other side.
‘I mean, the rope will hold. My gran taught me all sorts of sailor’s knots when I was small,’ said Shelby, her fingers nimble as she worked. ‘But I have no idea if it will work work …’
Fionn slipped his own lifejacket over his head, pulling the straps tight. ‘I think it will, since we’re all connected. The wind won’t be able to separate us.’
Shelby wound the rope around Fionn’s waist, creating the same intricate knot. Finally, she tied herself in. ‘There,’ she said, dusting her hands. ‘All done.’
Fionn removed the candle from his pocket and handed it to her. ‘Great. Let’s get going.’
Shelby’s fingers hovered over the candle. ‘What? Me?’
‘I can’t hold it in case I’m seen,’ Fionn reminded her. ‘There are way too many people in this memory. And besides, I need to be free to grab the Tide Summoner.’
‘Oh, OK. Right.’ Shelby closed her fingers around the candle. ‘So, I just light it?’
‘I thought you were brave,’ said Sam.
‘I am brave,’ she said quickly. ‘The rope just chafed my hands, and I’m not sure if I can grip the lighter properly. It’s just … Oh, I don’t know.’ She handed the candle to him, looking at her shoes when she added, ‘You should do it. You’re Maggie Patton’s great-grandson, after all.’
Sam took the candle. ‘You make an excellent point. I suppose I’ll rise to the occasion and lead us into our perilous adventure.’
The cottage door shut with a bang, and from the garden of Tír na nÓg came a noise like a shrieking goat. Bartley Beasley was halfway down the path, doubled over on himself with laughter. Tara was standing beside him.
‘Fionn,’ she said, her hand flying to her mouth. ‘What on earth are you three doing?’
‘Ehh …’ said Fionn.
Shelby looked around her. ‘Umm …’
‘Well …’ said Sam. ‘This is awkward.’
Bartley wiped the tears from his eyes, his pinched mouth straining against his cheeks. Defying all possible odds, his hair was even higher than the last time Fionn had seen him. It must have been at least four inches now, the tip of it swaying back and forth in the breeze. Of course, he wasn’t wearing a hat, his bouffant barnet being the Samson-like source of his obnoxious personality. ‘Shel, look at the state of you.’ He took out his phone and snapped a photo. ‘I’m definitely putting this online!’
Tara placed a hand on Bartley’s arm. ‘Don’t,’ she said in a low voice. ‘They’re our siblings. It’s embarrassing for all of us.’
How Tara had managed to forgive Bartley for stranding her in that Sea Cave remained a mystery to Fionn. They had gone down the steps together, and at the first sign of danger, Bartley had swum away and saved himself, leaving Tara at the mercy of the Sea Cave’s sinister current. If Fionn hadn’t found his way to her inside those dark tunnels, she might not have made it back at all. He could hardly stand to think about it.
It was like his mother always said: Rose-coloured glasses disguise red flags – and Bartley was draped in them. Fionn was all for second chances, but only for people who deserved them. It was quite clear to anyone with half a brain that Bartley was wholly and eternally irredeemable.
‘What is this crap?’ said Bartley, striding out to assess them at close range. ‘Are you going swimming or drowning?’ He picked at the rope. ‘Shel, can’t you do better than these morons? Come down to the school hall with us instead. Tara’s going to teach me how to use the candles.’ He smirked at Fionn. ‘You needed a leader, Boyle? Well, here I am. And just in time too, by the sounds of it.’
‘Fionn’s the Storm Keeper, Bartley,’ said Shelby, her finger raised in warning. ‘You have to show him some respect.’
Bartley snorted. ‘He can have my respect when he earns it. Do I look scared of him?’
‘No,’ interjected Sam. ‘But you do look jealous.’
Bartley rounded on him. ‘What would I possibly be jealous about, Patton?’
‘Well, clearly, we’re about to go on a very important mission,’ said Sam coolly. ‘One that you are not invited on.’
Fionn grinned at Tara. ‘Tell Mam and Grandad that I know where the Tide Summoner is, and I’m going to go and bring it back!’
Tara blinked at him. ‘Are you seriously still chasing that old shell?’
‘You mean the shell that’s going to save our island?’ said Fionn pointedly. ‘Yeah, I am.’
This time, Bartley opened his mouth to respond, but Sam interrupted him. ‘Sorry, Baz. You’d just stink up the journey with your poor attitude and ridiculous hairdo.’ He jabbed the candle at Shelby, who flicked the lighter open in one fell swoop.
In the blink of an eye, the three of them were catapulted away from their layer of Arranmore and into a different one entirely, leaving Bartley Beasley gaping after them like a slack-jawed fish.
Chapter Eleven
THE GRINNING PIRATE
The rope curled and straightened, whipping the air, like it was trying to break itself. They held on tight to it, their palms chafing as the wind tried to cleave them apart. The island seemed to give up then, squishing them back together and scooping them into its busy hands.
‘It’s working!’ shouted Sam.
Shelby’s laughter pealed into the sky. ‘I can’t believe it!’
The land morphed around them. The seasons blinked from winter to summer, summer to autumn, while the sun and moon flipped back and forth like a pancake. The months turned to years and the years turned to decades as the 1700s hurtled towards them with impossible speed.
They were pushed up and around the rim of the headland, to where the land turned jagged and uneven, and dark cliffs climbed high above stony beaches. Sam waved the candle back and forth, the f
lame devouring what little heat was left in the air as they were spun into an ice-cold winter morning that shook the island by its edges. They were released in the lap of a low-sloping cliff.
Overhead, the first rays of sunrise brushed the sky with amber and pink.
They clambered over craggy rocks and slimy seaweed, carefully picking their way down to the cove below, where the strand was slim and curving, like a crescent moon.
Fionn had never been to this beach before but there was something eerily familiar about it.
Then he remembered what it was, and the realisation stopped him in his tracks. ‘We’re close to Morrigan’s Sea Cave,’ he said, teetering on the edge of a rock. ‘The entrance is just beyond this cove.’
Sam clapped a steadying hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s 1728, mate. She’s fast asleep.’
‘Right. Yeah.’ Fionn’s shoulders loosened, and slowly, carefully, he resumed his descent.
By the time they reached the cove, an old storm was snarling at them from the horizon. A ring of purple clouds lumbered across the sea, hovering above three colossal rocks that speared from the ocean like carving knives.
‘Whoa,’ said Fionn, craning his neck.
‘Black Point Rock,’ said Shelby. ‘Haven’t you seen the sea stacks up close before?’
Fionn shook his head. ‘They’re so much bigger than I thought.’
‘My dad tried to climb them when he was a teenager and got caught on one of its spires,’ said Shelby, sliding down on to the sand and adding ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry’ as she pulled the others with her by the rope. ‘He broke three bones in his leg. It was Malachy who brought him back to shore. Used the wind to carry him over the sea.’
‘He really should have known better,’ said Sam. ‘My dad says Black Point Rock is cursed.’
Shelby shrugged. ‘Dad and Uncle Doug were always doing stupid stuff like that.’
‘Is everything here cursed?’ asked Fionn.
‘Miracles and curses. That’s the currency of Arranmore.’ Sam blew out a breath, his gaze pulled skyward to where the sheer cliffs now peered over them. ‘There’s a woman standing up on that cliff.’
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