“Look around you.” Fynn’s voice startled me, much louder than the slight hiss of the waves.
I tilted my head, studying the sky. Fat white clouds drifted along while a lone bird circled the sun. There was hardly any wind to speak of. The water moved in gentle ripples, nothing like the dark oceans in Mam’s recent paintings.
Bracing myself, I dropped my gaze, expecting to glimpse a dark shape slithering beneath us. But there was only the flowing skirt of my bathing dress, and Fynn’s legs kicking as he treaded water.
“This isn’t as horrible as I’d imagined.”
Suddenly, it struck me just how alone we were, and that made me as nervous as what might be hiding below. I tried to focus on the boy in front of me, the boy who believed me so effortlessly, and all the things I wanted to say to him. “Fynn, I—”
I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Promise me that, whatever happens—whatever you remember about your past—you’ll stay with me until we can leave this dismal little town and carve out a life for ourselves together.
Ridiculous.
As I raised my eyes to Fynn’s, his hand slid to the back of my neck, and he pulled me closer until our lips touched. Startled by the sudden warmth spreading down my body, I gasped against his mouth. He made a low noise, almost like a growl, but the sound was swallowed by another, firmer press of his lips to mine. I ran my hands along his back, feeling the tensed cords of muscle working to keep us afloat.
“You still confuse me.” There was a haunted look in his eyes, one of sorrow and longing and something almost feral.
“How is that possible?” I demanded. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“That’s just it. You’re here, and you taste so good, yet all I want to do is …” His tongue grazed my bottom lip, teasing my lips apart. I wasn’t sure how I knew what he wanted, but I did. He ran his tongue over my teeth, tasting of salt and dark sugar—maybe treacle.
How had I ever been cold out here?
Fynn’s fingers knotted in my salt-crusted hair and tugged, easing my head back to expose my throat. His lips left mine, leaving a kiss on my chin before moving to my neck. I closed my eyes, shutting out the sea, the sun, dulling my senses to everything but him.
Though I was floating in the seawater, I’d never felt so safe—until the roar of the waves broke through. I clutched Fynn’s shoulders, the warmth of the past moments quickly replaced by dread. Fynn smiled against my throat before the heat of his lips moved away.
“It would seem the current has found us. Are you ready to head to shore? We’ll ride the waves in. Hold tight.”
I squeezed his shoulders harder. His assurances didn’t stop me from wanting to vomit as the current, like a giant shepherd’s crook catching errant sheep, jerked us toward the breaking waves.
I struggled for breath as we rose with a swell, and nearly fainted when the large wave threw us into a mixture of soft sand and swirling sea foam.
“Bridey? Are you all right?” Fynn had landed a few feet away and slid across the sand toward me.
If I could walk into the sea, I could do anything. So this time, I kissed him. And though I bumped my nose against his in my haste, he didn’t seem to mind. His hands found my waist, pinning me in place.
Keeping my movements slow and deliberate, I ran my hands over the scars of the wounds that had brought him to Port Coire. His injuries seemed to belong to a more distant past. Together on the beach we were fierce, out of reach of the water’s threat. We’d faced down the ocean and emerged whole, with only sand in our hair to show for it.
I slid a hand farther down his stomach, and he made a low noise in his throat. “Did I hurt—?”
A shrill gull’s cry drowned out my question. Fynn and I leaped apart. And as the clouds parted to reveal the sun, I realized how much of the afternoon was already gone.
“Maybe we should go.” As I followed Fynn onto drier sand, a putrid odor, like spoiled milk, wafted under my nose. “Do you smell that?” I called above the crashing of waves.
He turned, scenting the wind like a hound, and made a face. “Something must’ve died.” He studied the water for a long moment before shrugging. “Probably a seal.”
“Still, I think it’s time we return home. Dusk will be here before long, and there’s the fossegrim to consider.”
“Dusk is a few hours off yet.” Without warning, Fynn flopped down in the last stretch of sand before the path, taking me with him. “We still have time.” He leaned in, like he wanted another kiss, but I put a hand on his chest and pushed him away.
“Promise me you won’t suddenly remember how much you loved your old life and leave me to rot alone in Port Coire.”
“I don’t have any proof to offer you,” Fynn said quietly, “other than my word: I intend to stay.”
“Then come with me to Morag’s. We didn’t exactly leave things on a friendly note yesterday, but perhaps she knows a spell to restore memories.”
“You couldn’t just take my word?”
I shook my head. “Please, Fynn.”
He frowned.
“If she can’t help, I’ll simply have to make my peace with the things I may never know about your past, just as I’m trying to make peace with the sea. Then I can kiss you again.” Lowering my eyes, I added, “I really want to kiss you again.”
“All right. I’ll go with you.” He slipped an arm around my waist and pulled me close.
I rested my head on his shoulder, watching the shifting tide. I thought of the last time I’d stood on this beach with Cat and Lugh, and shivered as I realized the three of us might never be together like that again. With Alis gone, with the way I’d hurt Lugh, our bonds had been forever altered. And there could be no reversing it.
I closed my eyes and listened to the wind, hoping it would carry away this constant ache of missing my friends, an ache that didn’t soften even with Fynn so near.
We stayed in the shadows of the cliffs until the sky turned a rich marigold. There was still plenty of time to walk home before the fossegrim could make its appearance. Sand fell from the skirt of my bathing dress with every step, and my throat ached from talking.
When the first row of houses came into view, I considered what we’d say if Mam had recovered from her latest headache enough to notice our bedraggled appearance. “Be careful not to let Mam ask you too many questions,” I advised. “She can smell a lie on a person like a shark scents blood. And—”
I forgot the rest of the words as sweet strains of music filled my ears. I paused, glancing toward the sunset sea. The melody seemed to be coming from across the water. Was someone practicing their fiddle on the beach?
“Bridey,” Fynn murmured.
His words washed over me as the fiddle’s melody ensnared my attention, my thoughts, and my heart. I longed to sit beside whoever made such beautiful music.
I walked to the edge of the cliff, shrugging off Fynn’s touch. The drop would be steep, but I would take the fall if it brought me closer to the maddeningly perfect music. My feet jerked forward as if pulled by invisible strings.
Come, come. Come to me. I’ve been waiting so long. Words swirled through my mind, chanted by an unfamiliar voice. Though devoid of rhythm, somehow I knew they belonged with the fiddle’s haunting tune.
“I can’t.” And yet, was there a reason not to go to the fiddler? Did I have a family? I couldn’t recall their names or faces … The fiddle sighed so sweetly. I forgot my name along with the rest. There was nothing keeping me here.
Just a few more steps, then I’d be falling free.
The music would catch me.
I twirled about, and my body felt so light, I realized I wouldn’t fall. I would fly. I was a seabird. I would soar with the melody until I landed in the fiddler’s arms.
My love, my life, you’ll make a beautiful—
“Bridey!” Fynn shouted. He wrapped his arms around my waist and yanked me away from the very edge, spinning me around until I no longer faced the sea. “Put your fingers in your ears!”
He grabbed my wrists and forced my hands up, pressing them hard against my ears.
As the dulcet tones of the fiddle faded, my desire to leap into the ocean vanished. A wave of cold horror spread from my head to my toes as I realized what I had been about to do.
Fynn lifted me over his shoulder with a grunt and ran toward town.
I glanced back in time to see a white figure hovering over the water. Its broad shoulders reminded me of a man, but no living being glowed like that. He appeared to be standing on the water’s surface, just past the waves, drawing a bow across a small stringed instrument as white as his skin and elegant clothing. This had to be the figure I’d seen from the window. The same spirit that took Grandad. The fossegrim.
“Turn back!” I demanded as Fynn kept running. “Turn back. We have to fight it!”
Fynn shook his head, refusing to stop until the shadows of houses blanketed us. He set me gently down and doubled over, panting.
“Why didn’t you turn back?” I collapsed in the grass, comforted by the firmness of the ground.
“We’re not ready,” Fynn said with a groan. “For one thing, how can we fight it if we have to keep our hands over our ears? And for another, we don’t know if it can be killed like an ordinary beast.” He turned, glancing toward the sea. A red stain blossomed along his side. “I thought the monster only came out after dusk. I never would have asked you to stay out for so long if I’d known this might happen.” He made a fist. “On second thought, I should go see if a good beating will finish that thing off right now. I almost lost you.”
“But you didn’t. And we need to get you home.” I reached for his hand with my shaking one, and he stilled, his eyes widening with pain as his rush of adrenaline finally ebbed away. In the process of saving my life, he’d reopened his nasty wounds.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Fynn draped an arm around my shoulders, allowing me to carry some of his weight, just as he’d done when I found him on the beach. Dusk fell around us as we struggled toward home, another ten or twelve houses up the lane.
More red stained his shirt with each passing moment, and it didn’t take us long to attract the attention of the few curious neighbors who weren’t yet snug in their homes.
“What happened to him?” Mrs. Kissack called, her words echoed by Mrs. Kinry. The two women stood in the Kinrys’ yard, no doubt having a suppertime visit. I wished they would stop gawking and offer to help.
“I’ll tell someone to send for a doctor,” a young lad across the lane offered, dashing away before I could stammer out a thank you.
“What happened?” Mrs. Kissack demanded again shrilly, her hand fluttering at her throat. “Who attacked you? Speak, lad!” She glanced from pale, shaky Fynn to me with wide eyes. “Bridey?”
My head and heart pounded. I’d almost leapt off a cliff, enchanted by a monster’s melody. Between the unabashed stares of Mrs. Kissack and her friend, and Fynn bleeding and gasping beside me, I was too shaken to carefully weigh my words.
“There was something in the sea—the beast that took my grandad. It almost got me, too.”
Someone gave a derisive cough, and my skin prickled. I longed to bury my words forever like the sea swallows a lost ship.
Mrs. Kissack threw me a pitying look I knew too well—the one she usually reserved for the very old and very daft. “You might want to reconsider your story before the doctor shows up, dear. He’ll need the facts to determine proper treatment.”
As if proving her right—though I knew he couldn’t help it—Fynn groaned, leaning harder on me, like his legs might soon give out.
“She’s madder than the witch on the hill,” Mrs. Kinry murmured from behind her handkerchief. “Mad as her grandfather who jumped off that cliff.”
“It’s not her fault!” Mrs. Kissack snapped at her friend as Fynn and I resumed our struggle toward home. These neighbors of ours wouldn’t be any help. “It seems Morag Maddrell has addled her brains. It’s exactly what I knew would happen if she kept the witch’s company. I told her mother as much just the other day, when I saw her at …”
I started humming, trying to block out their voices as I guided Fynn farther away. “We’ll be home soon,” I whispered.
“We should pray for her!” Mrs. Kinry’s booming voice chased us up the lane.
“I made a mistake.” Memories of the town’s merciless stares and whispers flooded my mind, echoes of the last time I’d tried to tell what had happened to Grandad. If I hadn’t been so shaken, I never would have let those words pass my lips today. “A terrible mistake.”
Fynn grunted to show he’d heard. His half-lidded eyes and the sweat beading on his forehead made me all the more desperate to get him safely home.
Mam met me at the door, taking the burden of Fynn’s weight and shouting for Mally.
Time seemed to slow, as though I were moving through a dream. I fetched clean rags, then put water on to boil in the kitchen.
Fynn had saved my life today, yet I was powerless to help him in return. I leaned against the sink, taking deep breaths, trying to fight off the shakiness that hadn’t left me since I was nearly lured over the cliffs. The salt air blowing through the open window cooled my flushed face as I listened to Fynn’s ragged breaths from the next room, but the murmur of the sea trickling in with the breeze sounded too much like laughter.
I slammed the window shut.
There was nothing to do now but pace the kitchen, fetch supplies for Mally when she called for them, and hope the lad who’d run off to send for help was as good as his word. Even so, it would take hours to find a doctor and bring him here.
“I think the bleeding’s stopped again.” Mally’s voice was faint and uncertain.
Wringing my hands, I tracked the moon’s journey across the sky, trying to ignore the feeling of a massive fist squeezing my chest every time Fynn made the slightest noise. My stubborn eyelids were growing heavy, but until I knew he was out of danger, I would fight the haze of sleep and keep my vigil with the moon and stars.
Someone pounded on the door.
“It’s nearly four in the morning!” Mam hissed. “Took the doctor long enough.”
I poked my head into the main room in time to watch her open the door. I blinked, wondering if I’d fallen asleep at the kitchen table and was only dreaming this moment, but the vision before me didn’t change. Instead of the tall, gray-haired doctor from Peel who usually came to us, Lugh was framed by the doorway, his fiery hair ablaze from the light of torches at his back. Behind him were several men, including his stern-faced father and Mr. Gill.
Lugh’s da opened his mouth to speak, but Lugh was faster. “My mam is missing. She took supper to my aunt, and she was supposed to come straight home after, but she never did.” In the torchlight, Lugh looked ill, his face hollow like it had been after last winter’s fever. “We checked with my aunt, and my mam never even made it there …”
“I’m so sorry,” Mam said at once, putting a consoling hand on Lugh’s shoulder. For a moment, I thought he would shrug her away, but he merely flinched, accepting the warmth of her touch. “Peddyr is at sea now. He can join the search party as soon as he’s ashore—”
“That’s not why we’re here,” Lugh interrupted, his voice strained. He locked eyes with me for the briefest moment, sending a shiver up my back as I glimpsed his haunted look, then dropped his gaze to the ground. “Thomase Boyd says he saw …” He paused, then squared his shoulders. “He saw Fynn sneaking around near my aunt’s house earlier. Around dusk, right when Mam would have been arriving there.”
I shook my head, my mouth too dry to speak. That was impossible.
“That’s right,” another voice said. Mally’s former suitor, Thomase, pushed through the small knot of men to stand beside Lugh. “And there’s another thing, too. My da and Mr. Nelson never came home from sea today. They promised to be back by suppertime. That comeover on your sofa—” Thomase clenched his fists and took a step across the threshold, scanning
the room for Fynn—“has a lot to answer for.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
The words rang out with force. Mally and I had spoken at the same time.
“Fynn was with me at dusk.” My face grew hotter as I added, “He was with me all day! Ask Mrs. Kissack or Mrs. Kinry. Plenty of people saw us. We were hurrying home. Fynn’s wounds—”
“Stop, Bridey,” Mally cut in, crossing her arms and looking daggers at Thomase. “We don’t have to defend ourselves, or Fynn, to these idiots.”
My gaze flitted over the faces of the other men in the search party. Mr. Gill had a supportive hand on Thomase’s back, as though he was so quick to believe the worst about Fynn—no surprise from him. Some of the other men had faraway looks, like they weren’t sure who to believe.
Lugh caught my eye again, mouthing an apology, but I wasn’t of a mind to accept it. I trusted Fynn, and that meant Lugh should, too. Believing Fynn could have anything to do with the disappearances was as bad as accusing me.
“Bridey,” Lugh murmured, but I focused all my attention on Mally and stuffed my hands in the crooks of my arms to hide how they were shaking.
“If you keep making false accusations, I’ll make sure you’re laughed out of town, Thomase Boyd.” Mally shook her head, still bristling. “Honestly. I don’t know what I ever saw in you. Now off with you. Go! Help Lugh find his mam instead of wasting time pointing fingers where they don’t belong. Or someone might break them!”
Mam stepped in front of Mally, blocking Thomase from taking another step inside. “That poor lad on our sofa is injured. There’s no way he attacked anyone. Good night to you all!” She started to shut the door in their faces, but before she closed it all the way, she called softly to Lugh, “I hope they find your mam soon, dear. I pray they do.”
After latching the door, she leaned against it, rubbing her temples.
Fynn shifted restlessly, and Mally hurried to his side.
I crept quietly into my bedroom, where Liss and Grayse had somehow managed to sleep soundly through our nighttime visitors’ raised voices. Climbing under the warm quilts, I snuggled against Grayse’s back.
Fear the Drowning Deep Page 13