“I’m certain I remember seeing a clump of pennyroyal over here,” I muttered, mostly to distract myself.
Fynn shot me a look. “Pennyroyal?”
I pressed my hands to my hair as a gust of wind blew strands into my face. “The flowers are bright purple and puffy like dandelions. You can’t miss them.”
He darted ahead, kicking rotten strawberries from his path. I bounded after him through the waist-high grass, glad to leave the quiet of town.
“Is this it?” He waved a fistful of spiky purple stalks. I nodded and hurried to join him. “You’re sure this is poison? It looks more like one of Mally’s wedding decorations.”
I crammed the flowers into my pocket. Smashed or not, they’d be effective. “I’m sure. Animals die if they eat it. People, too.” I paused to rub a stitch in my side while Fynn prowled the field.
“What else am I looking for?” he asked.
“Caper spurge. If the serpent gets a taste, he won’t be able to stop vomiting. It’s a tall plant with heart-shaped leaves. It should be bearing small green fruit this time of year.”
Fynn parted the grass, pulling up a reddish stalk of rhubarb. The plant’s leaves contained a mild poison that would do little more than give the serpent a stomachache.
“That’s no good. We’re trying to kill the monster, not give him indigestion!”
Breathing easier now, I combed through a part of the field Fynn hadn’t visited yet. Yellow heads of cushag bobbed in the wind, and strands of delicate bluebells brushed my knees, but a rotten odor lingered beneath their fragrance. My gaze fell on a dead mouse baking in the sun, and my throat tightened. I hurried in another direction.
“How about this?” Fynn held up more flowers for my inspection.
Shielding my eyes against the glare of the sun, I studied the blue petals in his hand. “No, no, that’s gentian. It’s used for healing.”
Fynn shrugged, tossing the flowers to the ground. “I thought all the pretty ones were poisonous.” He cut a path toward me, reaching my side in a few long strides.
A smile warmed my voice. “Only some.” I took his hand. “This way. I know another place we can try, but then we’ll have to bring whatever we’ve found to Morag. If Mally and Artur’s boat had any trouble, they could still be at sea right now …”
We exchanged a look, and Fynn nodded gravely. Without another word, I guided him toward the woods at the base of my favorite hill, but instead of beginning the climb, we continued straight through a thicket of young oak trees. “There’s a valley just up here,” I explained, ducking under a branch. “I haven’t been this way in ages, but I think we’ll find more herbs than we need there.”
“Bridey,” Fynn murmured as we picked our way through the tangled branches. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you since last night. You won’t like it, especially not after what the serpent did to those people, but I don’t think I have a choice.” He halted, turning to face me. “Your father asked me to go fishing with him tomorrow morning. An overnight trip.”
“What? When did he ask?” I demanded, taking a step closer. A gnarled root caught my foot and I stumbled, reaching for a branch to steady myself.
“Careful.” Fynn snagged me around the waist. “He asked at the wedding feast.”
I gripped his shoulders. “Well, you can’t go. Not when the serpent is so close. We have to keep Da ashore until Morag makes her poison and we’ve slain the beast.”
Fynn shook his head. “We both know there’s nothing we can say to keep your father on land. Fish are still scarce, and he doesn’t—”
“—believe in sea monsters,” I finished, bowing my head. Fynn was right. There was no stopping Da from sailing, no more than I could stop the sun from setting.
“The best I can do is go and try to keep him safe.”
“And who will keep you safe?” A startled thrush took flight as my voice rang through the trees. “The serpent nearly killed you once already!”
Fynn put a finger to my lips. “Maybe your father won’t want to go after what’s happened. But I thought I should warn you.” He touched his forehead to mine. “I’d die before I let anything hurt your father.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I muttered against Fynn’s finger. “Promise you’re coming back to me.”
“I will. If you promise me something in return.” He smiled and looked away, suddenly shy.
“Name it.”
“Teach me how to read.” He met my gaze again. “Once the serpent is dead.”
I peered deep into Fynn’s eyes, searching for a glimmer of teasing, but found none. “All right. I promise to teach you to read, if that’s what you wish.”
“It is. Though while we’re on the subject, there are a lot of things I wish I had …” Fynn bent his head and kissed me, running his tongue along my bottom lip. “Like your heart.”
I longed to say something clever, but with Fynn so close, I could barely stammer, “Well, then, take it.”
It had been only days since our last kiss, and yet, he clutched my arms as though we’d been apart for months. My heart pounded in my ears, a dizzying refrain, as his lips collided with mine again. He tasted of salt and sunlight and the hottest days of summer.
And when I returned the kiss, I tasted something far stronger: the swooping, soaring, intoxicatingly sweet rush of fearlessness. I wanted to stay just like this, our lips touching even as we gasped for breath, until I’d memorized his taste. Maybe then, I could carry that soaring feeling, and him, with me forever.
But the serpent couldn’t wait. We’d already wasted so much time standing there. “We need to take the herbs to Morag’s before the new curfew,” I murmured.
Yet as I untangled my hands from behind Fynn’s neck, something he’d said not long before drifted back to me: Nothing from the ocean is meant to survive on land forever.
“Remember,” I whispered as Fynn and I stood in the gloomy hallway early the next morning, listening to Da prepare to go to sea. “Be sure you aren’t the third boat out of the harbor. It’s bad luck, and that’s the last thing any of us needs.”
I laced my slender fingers between his larger ones. My eyes remained dry, but my pulse quickened every time I glanced at the two pairs of boots and weatherproofed cloaks Mam had set by the door. Until Morag’s poison was finished at sundown—she swore it took a full day to brew—there was nothing I could do to protect Fynn or Da, or anyone else.
I hated this restless feeling, waiting on others before I could act, worse than the idea of fighting another fossegrim.
Fynn lifted our joined hands and kissed the backs of mine, jolting me back to the present. “It’s only for a day and a night. I’ll be fine. It’s not as if the serpent attacks every boat. Your town would be missing a lot more fishermen.”
I shuddered. It was far from a comforting thought. Clutching the front of Fynn’s shirt, I whispered, “But if you do see the monster, go for its good eye.”
“And you,” he whispered back, his eyes as solemn as a funeral-goer’s, “promise me you won’t try to poison the serpent without my help.”
I opened my mouth to say yes, but the word stuck in my throat.
“Are you ready, lad?” Da’s gruff whisper cut through the dark house, sparing me from making a promise I couldn’t keep.
“Time to go,” Fynn replied. His lips brushed my cheek, sending a pleasant shiver through me. “I need a proper send-off.”
I turned my head, lips lightly touching his. “That can be arranged.”
A door creaked open behind us, and we jumped apart. Liss bustled down the hallway, jostling me as she passed.
“Sorry,” she mumbled sleepily, rubbing her arm like she was the one who’d been bumped. Already dressed for the day, she had a light shawl wrapped around her shoulders.
“Where are you off to? It’s early!” I whispered, mindful that Grayse was still asleep.
“Liss is going to sea with us, of course,” Fynn said. “She’s volunteered
to bait our hooks.”
“Oh, very funny.” Liss scowled. “I’m tutoring Martyn before his da opens shop. Today is his first day as official bookkeeper.” She ran her hands down her braids, checking for loose strands. “Mam knows.” I looked skeptically at her, and she frowned. “I did tell Mam. I’ll be back around noon.”
Liss started for the door, but paused and glanced over her shoulder. “Be safe out there today, Fynn,” she said before continuing on her way.
“Now,” Fynn said, “where were we?” He leaned in for another kiss, but I drew back to pull a knotted handkerchief from my pocket.
“You can’t forget this.”
“Thank you, but—what is it?” Fynn turned the handkerchief in his hands.
“Knots for wind.” I smiled as he continued to look at the bundle, puzzled. “Keep it with you whenever you’re on the boat, and the wind will always be at your back.” I toyed with one of the knots I’d tied the night before.
“Did Morag teach you that?” He gave a faint smile before tucking the handkerchief away.
“No, every girl on the Isle knows the magic knots. I made one for Da when I was small. He still carries it.”
Fynn leaned in for one last kiss, and seconds later, he and Da trudged out the door armed with fishing rods, tackle boxes, and a hamper packed by Mam—all the things Da didn’t keep stored in the boat with his nets and traps.
I joined her in the doorway, watching as Da and Fynn disappeared into the heavy mist.
“Cair vie!” I called as soon as I could talk around the lump in my throat. Da acknowledged the words with a wave, but Fynn paused.
Mam rested a hand on my back. “Use your English, bird.”
“Fair winds!” I shouted. But they had become nothing more than two blurry shadows fading into nothingness.
There was nothing to do now but wait for sundown.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Liss didn’t return home by noon. Or even more than an hour later. I huddled on the sofa with Grayse, watching Mam tread a path from the kitchen to the main room and back. Her pacing made my head spin.
“I could go to the Wattersons’ and see if she’s there,” I offered for what felt like the hundredth time. If Mam didn’t agree soon, I resolved to go anyway. There was nothing else for me to do until sundown, in any case.
Mam paused by an armchair, blinking at the dish rag she’d been clutching for an hour without using it. “No. Thank you. I’d best fetch her myself.” She started toward the peg that held her cloak.
“Don’t be cross, Mam.” Grayse nibbled the ends of her fingernails between words. “Liss probably forgot the time. Maybe she’s running home now.”
Mam turned, halfway through shrugging on her cloak. “Of course, little fish.”
Grayse might not have glimpsed the lie in Mam’s eyes, but I did.
Perhaps Liss was in danger. The thought made my skin crawl. But she had no reason to go near the sea today, not when she was so excited to meet her secret beau at his da’s shop. Liss was on an adventure with Martyn somewhere, no doubt, and things would go much better for her if I found her first.
“Watch your sister, Bridey,” Mam said, ushering me back to my senses.
I leaped up. “Why not take Grayse with you? You can search faster with my help. I’ll start at the Wattersons’ while you try elsewhere, and we’ll meet in the market.”
Mam’s shoulders slumped. “Very well. Grayse and I will go ask at the neighbors’, and we’ll meet you at the fountain in an hour. And Bridey—” She waited until I raised my eyes to hers. “No delays.”
I hurried north, my skirt swishing around my knees. An hour wasn’t long to check all the trysting spots Mally used to frequent, so starting at the Wattersons’ house seemed a sensible plan. Liss and Martyn might have mentioned something to his family about where they were off to.
Town was quiet in the afternoon gloom, but fires cast their ruddy light in the windows of most homes.
I rapped on the Wattersons’ door and fixed a pleasant expression on my face, turning my back to the sea. I could hear muffled voices inside, before heavy steps trudged toward the door. Seconds later, Martyn’s face appeared.
When he saw me, he smiled warmly. “Afternoon.” He clapped me on the shoulder, shooting pain through my bandaged arm. “How’s your wound?”
“Grand,” I gritted out, “when no one’s touching me.” Martyn’s smile turned sheepish. “Where’s Liss? She needs to come home now. She’s over an hour late!”
But Martyn’s brow furrowed. “She isn’t here.”
I stared. Was he always this thick? “Of course she is.” I peered into the house. “Li-iss!” I called in a singsong, my pulse quickening. “Do you have any idea what time it is? Mam’s beside herself!”
Martyn’s face slowly turned the color of clotted cream. “I haven’t seen her today,” he insisted. “I waited at the shop for hours, but she never came. I thought—I thought she was busy and couldn’t come. She’d warned me your mam might not let her out, given the news of those poor folk at the harbor.”
My fingers worried at my Bollan Cross. “When has Liss ever been too busy to keep her word? You didn’t think to look for her?”
“I didn’t think—”
“Didn’t think at all, did you?” The harshness of my words startled even me. I offered Martyn an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. Liss left at dawn and … if she’s not here …”
Martyn rubbed the back of his neck. “What can we do?”
I jumped off the front step and started running. “Go. Tell everyone Liss is in danger,” I called over my shoulder. “They won’t believe me, but they might listen to you!”
“Wait!” Martyn shouted. “Where are you going?”
“To help my sister, same as you!” When he still didn’t move, I urged, “Raise the alarm! Hurry!”
I veered left, heading for the spot where the fossegrim had attacked Cat. I hoped Liss was wearing her Bollan Cross. Nothing else could keep her from drowning if the serpent had dragged her underwater.
My pace slowed as the ground shifted from dirt to sand. I loped down the beach, stopping just shy of the waves. Eyes narrowed, I scanned the gray-blue horizon for a flash of blonde hair or the gleam of inky rubber skin. But aside from the whitecaps, the only things stirring were massive rainclouds hovering over the sea, not quite ready to unleash their fury.
I prowled the sand, watching the water. My toes dug into something soft that wasn’t sand. Heart sinking, I glanced at a familiar scrap of dyed wool lying among broken oyster shells. It was the shawl Liss had worn when she left the house this morning.
Clutching the familiar blue garment to my chest, I glowered at the water. “Take me next! If you want a fight, I’ll give you one!” My breath came in quick sobs. “I’m through being afraid. Come and claim me! Just leave my sister be.”
A gust of wind blasted loose sand around my ankles, but no half-blind serpent emerged to heed my challenge.
Whirling away from the ocean, I wrapped Liss’s shawl around my shoulders and dashed toward the market to meet Mam. I’d convince her we needed someone with a boat to call Fynn and Da in to shore. Fynn was the only person capable of helping Liss now.
He could go where Mr. Gill and his patrolmen could not, and find my sister.
“Hold on, Liss,” I whispered, hurrying over to Mam and Grayse. They stood near the fountain, talking to Mr. Gill, the water’s merry babble failing to disguise their low, urgent tones. “Please, hold on.”
I spent the rest of the long afternoon at home minding Grayse, playing games I wasn’t thinking about, and preparing food I didn’t touch, while Mam found someone to bring Da and Fynn back from sea. She didn’t understand why I was so frantic, but she agreed to have them fetched anyway. She seemed to have little faith in the search party Mr. Gill was gathering.
Grayse hardly said a word as we passed the dragging minutes, and every time something reminded her of Liss, her eyes brimmed with tears. Mam would have
been better comfort, but she’d begged me to take care of Grayse while she waited at the harbor.
“For my sake, please stay here. Stay safe. I can’t stand the thought of losing another daughter,” she’d pleaded.
I’d tied Liss’s shawl around Mam’s shoulders, pressing a stack of slightly stale biscuits into her hands before she departed.
By the time the front door creaked open, it was an hour or so before sundown. Morag would be waiting at the cottage with the poison. Grayse was sprawled on our bed, asleep early with her thumb in her mouth.
I scrambled off the sofa, peering past Mam as I hoped for a glimpse of Da and Fynn. “Where are they?”
“Almost here. I left to check on you girls the moment I saw their boat on the horizon.” Mam collapsed on the warm spot on the sofa I’d just vacated, and her hollow gaze said enough. Her hair and Liss’s shawl were damp, crusted with sand.
“Go rest with Grayse,” she whispered.
“But I’m not the least bit—”
“Go.” Her shoulders quaked, but her reddened eyes had no tears left to shed. Softer, she added, “All these years … Morag has been right to fear the sea. I’d never given it more than a passing thought, when all this time, I should have been guarding you girls against it.”
I put a hand on her arm, but before I could tell her how right she was, she seemed to snap out of a daze. She shook her head and loosed a breath of nervous laughter. “Oh, what am I saying? I’m out of my mind with exhaustion. Forgive me, Bridey … Sea monsters belong in bedtime stories, along with fairies who like to clean people’s houses.”
“But, Mam.” Perhaps I ought to tell her about her dreams. Maybe Morag was mistaken. Maybe Mam was ready to accept the truth.
“Go sit with Grayse!” Her tone told me she was far from ready after all. “I need you to keep her out of your Da’s way when he gets home. Now!”
Tiptoeing into the bedroom, I snuggled up next to a sleeping Grayse and stared out the window at the gray clouds swollen with rain. I had half a mind to climb through the window and run to Morag’s for the poison now, but I needed Fynn as much as I needed the deadly witch’s brew.
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