“No. The kraken is only a story. But there are other creatures in the deep that have never been near land,” Morag insisted, drawing me back to the present with her raspy voice. “Just because men haven’t seen them doesn’t make them any less real.”
I faked a giggle, still unsure whether Morag was joking, or if she truly believed. Perhaps she thought she could scare me off with her stories so she might find an apprentice more willing to search the beach.
“I suppose you’ve seen them, though?” I frowned as I tried to read her expression.
“Maybe,” she said coyly. “Or I’ve read about them.” She pointed to a book resting on a rickety table. Gold letters, too faded to make out, adorned the book’s dark cover. Even in the low light, its frayed pages were distinctly yellowed. “You’re welcome to borrow that, if you think it would help you find what attacked your friend.”
“I see.” My skin prickled. Even with my sisters to protect, I wasn’t ready to face whatever fresh nightmares were nestled in those tatty pages, and wasn’t sure if I could trust the words inside a witch’s book. “I do love reading, but I don’t think that book is quite to my taste. It might frighten my sister.”
“Your sister? The girl who came here with you? The pretty one?”
The words echoed in my mind, chasing away all thoughts of sea monsters. “She’s quite lovely, yes. But I meant—”
“And have you ever looked in a mirror?” Morag leveled her gaze at me, but only for a moment.
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Did she mean that if I used a mirror more often, I might be able to fix my unsightly qualities? My sandy freckles. The slight bend in my nose. My small ears. Or did she mean a mirror would show me how lovely I was? Whatever her intention, I was content with my looks—the good parts and the flaws.
“Would you care to tell me what happened to your leg?” I murmured, putting on a polite smile. Morag deserved a reminder of her own imperfections. Lugh would be proud of me for asking, besides. Still, my eyes darted to the door as the silence between us grew. I was asking for trouble, talking back to a witch.
“An accident. Long time ago,” Morag said at last.
“What attacked you?”
“Nothing.” She was as curt and gruff as ever.
“But what—”
“When I was a girl, my foot got caught in a hunter’s trap. I tried to free it instead of waiting for help.”
My irritation vanished. “That must’ve been terrifying.”
When she said nothing more, I helped myself to another slice of pie and considered Morag’s story. If she’d been injured as a child, how had she lived all these years alone? How could she afford to pay me or buy flour and milk? My stomach lurched as I guessed the age of the flour she’d used to make today’s pie. It would have been from the last time Mam purchased supplies for her and hauled them up here, long before I began my apprenticeship.
“It was terrifying,” Morag muttered at last. “But I had a good friend who made sure I would be well provided for.”
“Who?”
“Your—that’s none of your concern.” The hard glint in Morag’s eyes was enough to persuade me to pry no further. “Now, for your next task, I’ll need you to find me some agrimony. Eight or ten stalks should do. They have—”
“Little yellow flowers. I know.”
“Good.” Morag slowly rose from her seat. “I need a handful of pennyroyal, as well. And mind you, don’t eat any.”
“I’m not a goat.” I didn’t want to know why she needed the poisonous plant. “Shall I start looking for it now?”
Morag’s eyes widened. “In the rain? No, the herbs can wait for a drier day, and you shouldn’t touch them with such filthy hands.” She glanced pointedly at the ash under my fingernails from cleaning her hearth. “Go. Spend time with your guest.”
The idea of running down the hill to see if Fynn had woken was tempting. But my family needed as much money as I could bring them. “Please, ma’am. I’d be happy to find the herbs today, if you’re willing to pay extr—”
“I’m not a ma’am, I’m a Morag. And I was young once too, you know. I realize young people can’t work all the time.” She smiled, but on her, the expression was eerie and sad. “Of course,” she snapped in her usual gruff tone, “I was never as clumsy as you. I never lost anyone’s bucket.”
I pushed my chair away from the table, my shoulders and back throbbing from the work I’d done.
“Go home.” Morag shooed me toward the door, a wild gleam in her eye. “While there’s still daylight, else the woods might swallow you up and never spit you back out!”
I called a farewell, and she slammed the door shut in answer. At least there was a certain familiarity to the routine developing between us.
A mild breeze greeted me as I left the forest behind. The rain had stopped. And though I skipped down the hill, my thoughts remained with Morag. Until I began calling, she’d been alone in her dark house with only piles of old rubbish for companionship. And, despite her choice to live far removed from the rest of Port Coire, there were rare moments when she struck me as lonely. But did she truly stay out of town because of her leg?
The shadow that sometimes crossed her face made me wonder if she remained in that cottage because she had something to hide behind her gruff words and spooky manner.
As I crossed the market, Lugh caught my eye, beckoning me toward the fountain. “Bridey! Finally!” he called, a grin lighting up his face. “I was starting to think you’d followed Nessa to Peel!”
I slowed my pace but didn’t change course.
We’d hardly talked since our wonderful kiss. I’d had too much else occupying my time, but I wanted to try kissing him again soon. Maybe. Had the kiss really been wonderful? Surely if it had, it would have crossed my mind before now.
“There’s a rumor you were involved in a daring rescue at the beach yesterday …” Lugh flashed me another dazzling smile. “I’d never have believed it! Tell me the tale before Cat gets hold of it and embellishes it with ridiculous detail.”
I shook my head. “Not today.”
Lugh’s face fell slightly. “All right. But I’ve been thinking of you, Bridey.” He gave me a look I couldn’t quite read. “Haven’t you been—?”
“Of course. All the time,” I said, perhaps too quickly. Lugh frowned. “I really can’t talk now, but come find me tomorrow, if you’d like, and I’ll tell you all about the rescue.” I started to smile in apology but must’ve hesitated a moment too long.
Lugh had already looked away, striking up a conversation with the nearest passers-by: two pretty dark-haired girls around our age.
I lingered at the edge of the market, wanting to explain why I couldn’t join him, yet I couldn’t put it into words. Something was pulling me toward home, reeling me in like a fish on one of Da’s hooks.
CHAPTER SEVEN
After a day spent sorting herbs for Morag and hopelessly scouring the woods for traces of Eveleen and Nessa—Lugh never sought me out—I longed to sit by the hearth. But I hadn’t even hung up my cloak when Mally pulled me into the kitchen. “Watch that for me, will you?” She pointed to the glowing stove, where a heavy pot of water was boiling. “I’m cleaning bandages for Fynn.”
“Where’s everyone else?” The house was quiet, save for Fynn’s light snoring.
Mally lifted her dough-covered hands and shrugged. “Da’s at sea, of course. Mam took supper to the Gills—they’ve both come down with a chill—and the girls went with her.” She flashed her perfect smile. “It’ll be just the two of us tonight. Mam made kippers, but …” Grabbing the bowl, she tipped it to reveal the ball of dough within. “I thought biscuits would do a better job of taking our minds off recent events.” Her smile flickered.
Nessa Daley had been one of Mally’s many friends.
“I knew you were my favorite older sister for a reason, Mal.” I walked over to the bowl and swiped a finger in the dough—oatmeal with currants. It had been Grandad
’s favorite.
Mally leaned close. “I miss him, too.” She glanced down at the counter. “I sometimes think that if Liss and Grayse had really gotten to know him, if they’d heard more of his stories like we did, they’d want to see the world with us.”
“Remember his tale of traveling through England with a circus, shoveling horse muck for pocket money?”
“Or the time he traveled to Egypt with a shipping company just to see the pyramids?” Mally grinned.
I laughed. “That one wasn’t true!”
“No,” Mally gasped. “He swore it was! Remember—” She stopped short as the water bubbled over.
I grabbed a spare rag to wipe up the spill. “Have you stopped to think of how much trouble we’re going through for a total stranger?”
Mally nodded. “Aye, but that lad out there could’ve died. His bandages need to be changed as often as we can manage.” A familiar gleam entered her eyes. “He’s rather handsome when he’s not running his mouth, isn’t he? If he were a few years older, and I wasn’t so serious about Artur, I’d try to find out if he tastes as good as he looks.”
“Mal,” I groaned. “He could be anyone! He could have ten wives for all we know. Or be an expert thief.”
“He’s an odd one. I’ll grant you that. The first time I tried putting balm on his wounds, he licked it off! Like he thought it was a treat! And he eats with his hands all the time,” Mally giggled and tossed her dark gold hair over her shoulder. “But I’m still right, Bry. Admit it. He looks de-li-cious.” She emphasized the words by tapping her finger against my nose, leaving traces of dough behind.
It was easy to forget Mally was twenty-one and not sixteen. If only she and I had been born a year apart, we could have planned our escape together.
Mally swept over to the stove. “Will you grab the tongs and pull out the bandages?”
“If I must.”
“Don’t tell me the witch’s apprentice is squeamish over clean bandages.” Mally failed to fight back a grin. “Fenella Kewish swore to me that you’re learning to pickle toads and carve bat hearts while the rest of us are sweeping and doing the wash. She saw you gathering flowers near the hill today, and she reckons Morag’s training you up to be the town’s new witch.”
Using the tongs, I yanked the bandages from the water and dropped them on a plate.
“Just because I know almost every plant on the Isle doesn’t make me any closer to being a witch than Mrs. Gill is.” I shrugged. “People here will believe anything. The wilder the tale, the better.”
Had the rumors about Morag ever drifted up to her cottage? Did she care? A gossip like Fenella Kewish making up stories about me didn’t give me pause, but if the town regarded me the way they did Morag … I’d move a lot farther away than up a hill.
Mally glided to the table. “Fenella’s also the one who claimed to have spotted me kissing twelve lads last summer.” She shook her head. “Some folks’ lives are so dull. If they spent more time kissing, and less time worrying about everyone else—”
“You’d never get another moment alone with Artur because you’d be too busy delivering babies.” I smirked as I slid into a chair.
“Artur!” Mally smacked a hand to her forehead. “I almost forgot. I promised to meet him tonight!”
“Where? It’ll be dark soon.”
Mally dabbed her face with a clean rag and combed her fingers through her hair. “That’s between him and me.” Her voice was light, teasing. “But listen, I need a favor.”
Favors for Mally usually involved organizing her wardrobe or braiding her hair. Nothing too taxing. “Name it.”
“I need you to change Fynn’s bandages.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“There are clean ones on the table by the sofa. It’s simple enough.” Mally whirled to the stove to check on the biscuits. “I’ll explain while we eat.”
Seeing Fynn naked as the day back on the beach had certainly been educational, but I couldn’t change his bandages while he was awake and talking. “Can’t it wait till you return, Mal? Please? I’m not skilled at caring for others the way you are. If there’s anything else—”
“Just changing the bandages is all.” Mally squeezed my shoulder. “You’ll do fine. I’ve been keeping the wounds clean, and they don’t smell. Unless …” She crouched by my chair, her lips curved with mischief. “You’re scared to try.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” I scowled at her. “I’m not scared. I’m the one who saved him, remember? I’m sure I’ll manage.”
When the biscuits came out of the oven, Mally hardly gave them a minute to cool before shoving one in her mouth. “Too hot!” she yelped. Her words were muffled by biscuit crumbs. She flung her apron over the back of a chair and breezed out of the kitchen.
The front door whooshed open and shut, leaving me alone with the ever-present murmur of the sea and Fynn.
The house wasn’t often this quiet, and the more I noticed the stillness, the more the skin on the back of my neck prickled. For all I knew, there could be someone or something lingering outside our windows, or in the water far below. A creature with dark scales and fins, waiting for me to be alone so it could drag me into the sea. Surely that’s what it had wanted to do at the harbor, before I shouted and Da frightened it away.
I didn’t intend to give it a second chance. Snatching up the biscuit pan, I strode into the main room.
Fynn’s blue eyes followed my movements. His hair stuck up in the back from being pressed against the stiff horsehair cushion. And he was shirtless, his chest lightly tanned, leading to a narrow waist and the outline of bony hips.
He waited until I had placed the biscuits in front of him before saying, “What’s this? You aren’t my usual nurse.”
“How observant of you.” Averting my gaze, I picked up the fresh bandages, which were right where Mally had said they’d be. He chuckled, and I fought the urge to join in, gesturing to the biscuits instead. “Help yourself.”
“I’ve already eaten. Your mother’s kippers were excellent.” Fynn tried to push himself upright, but collapsed against the cushion. “Besides, I’d rather talk to you.”
I raised my brows. “Lucky me.” Kneeling by the sofa, I took hold of the bandages. “Don’t bother sitting up. I imagine it’ll be easier on both of us for me to change these if you stay just as you are.”
“Thanks, but there’s nothing wrong with these bandages.” Fynn peered down his torso. The cloth around his middle was mostly white, but faint patches of pink showed through where I remembered the worst of his injuries to be.
“Liar,” I murmured.
He groaned. “I miss my usual nurse. She doesn’t have such a sour disposition.”
I shifted closer for a better look and adopted a stern expression. “You need to follow Mally’s instructions, or you’ll wind up a permanent resident on our sofa with wounds that won’t close.” More pink stained the bandages that disappeared into the waistband of Da’s borrowed trousers. “You’re quite the sight.”
“As are you.” Fynn extended a hand. The muscles in his stomach quivered as he strained to reach me. Not wanting him to re-open his ghastly injuries with the effort, I leaned toward him.
“What is it?”
He brushed his thumb across my nose, gentle and unhurried. My heart skipped like I’d just sprinted up the hill to Morag’s cottage. “You have flour on your face.” His fingers swiped across my cheek in long, slow strokes where Mally had tapped me with her fingers earlier. “Is that a Manx custom, wearing your food?”
Warmth crept into my cheeks. “If you’re curious, you’ll have to stay around long enough to learn our ways.”
“I’m already learning. Just today, I learned how to use a fork.”
Unsure if he was joking, I fought the urge to giggle and set aside the clean bandages to search for the salve Mally dabbed around his wounds. “If I were you,” I added, turning my head to hide a smile, “I wouldn’t tease the lass who’s about to dres
s your wounds—unless you like your bandages wrapped too tightly to take a proper breath.”
Fynn cocked his head, dark hair spilling into his eyes. “Should I have let you walk around with flour on your nose, then?”
Salve in hand, I crouched by the sofa again. “Hush. This will go quicker if you don’t talk so much.”
“But I still haven’t thanked you for rescuing me.” He rested a hand on my shoulder, and I froze. “It couldn’t have been easy hauling me off the beach. You’d have had an easier time carrying a dolphin.”
I glanced at the hand on my shoulder. “It was worth the struggle.” My palms were slick. “Have you recalled what attacked you yet?”
Fynn’s brows rose. “As I told your mother and your sister earlier—no.”
“I hope you’ll keep trying, though.” Without thinking, I’d leaned closer to him. “Before you showed up, a girl drowned. And now two girls from town have gone missing. The littlest detail might help us catch the culprit before it’s me or one of my sisters that goes over the cliffs and never comes home.”
“I’ll try to remember,” he said softly. “It’s the least I can do.” He shivered suddenly from head to toe, but kept talking through his discomfort. “For my brave rescuer.”
“Thank you.” Blushing furiously, I unscrewed the jar of salve. “I should see to your bandages now, or we’ll be at this all night.”
“I don’t have anywhere else to be.”
I started removing his old bandages. Little by little, his wounds were revealed, the flesh around them deathly white from the combination of salve and wrappings. I peeled away the layer just below his waist and hesitated. Should I unfasten his pants to reach the last portion of the wrappings, or slide my hand down his stomach and remove them by feel? If I touched him below the waist, my face would glow brighter than the coals in the hearth.
I rested my hand on the sofa and cleared my throat. “Do you mind if I—?”
His hand suddenly covered mine. The contact made my skin tingle, but not in the way it had when I’d touched his wounds on the beach. This reminded me of the sensation that came with holding Lugh’s hand lately.
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