“Can you ask him?” I called after her as she disappeared around the corner.
I waited for the inevitable and exaggerated sigh. Then her answering yes. I opened the fridge to fetch another apple and held it under the water that rushed from the faucet. I chuckled quietly to myself as I recalled those first months here in the future. When Dianna brought me…home. Things like lighting, plumbing, hot showers each day, automobiles. I met them all with a curious mind, but it was her that made my transition to the future as good as it was. Dianna, my whole world. My other half. The woman who came to the past and saved me from the shackles of my former life.
And now she was stuck in the same wretched past she’d plucked me from. With no way home to us. My only solace was knowing that she was with friends. She was safe. But it wouldn’t stop me from finding a way to get her back.
Eventually.
I’d tried using the sun and the moon on the water trick the very day we returned. Just hours after I’d stepped through that portal with Arthur and Audrey. But either the sea didn’t see fit to send me back, or it simply didn’t work for everyone. Because I’d desperately bobbed on the water’s surface for hours. Waiting for the ocean to open up and swallow me whole. When I’d finally hauled the rowboat up on the beach behind our house, Constance was there to greet me with a look of concern.
“It should have worked,” she’d said, bewildered.
That was five days ago.
I filled the slogging hours by tending to the kids. Constance suggested keeping them home from preschool for a while until they could properly adjust to the events they surely couldn’t comprehend. But after these last few days, it was clear that Arthur and Audrey escaped unscathed. Their usual childlike cheer and wonder filled the house, and I breathed a sigh of relief nearly every minute. But tomorrow they were heading back to preschool, and I’d be left alone with my thoughts, my worries. The urge to flee to the past and save the woman I loved.
Just wait, Constance told me, the Keepers will find her a way back. It’s their solemn duty.
But I couldn’t wait. Every second was one too long without Dianna. And what if the witches had already told her there was no hope? No way back home. What then? Was I expected to just live out my days, always wondering, never knowing what happened to her? My fist clenched at my side as I retreated to that far corner of my mind where my worry for Dianna lived. Where I hid it from the children.
“Dad?” another voice spoke, once again pulling me from that spiral.
I blinked and smiled down at Arthur, immediately realizing that I’d gripped the edge of the small blade I held, and warm drops of red trickled down my wrist. With haste, I stuck my bleeding hand under cold water, while keeping that unbothered look for my son.
“Sorry, little man,” I said and grabbed some paper towel to wrap the wound that burned across my palm. With my other hand, I passed Arthur his bowl of apple slices.
He peered up at me questionably, while clutching the little bowl to his chest. Those big, dark eyes like that of a sweet doll. So perfect and innocent.
“You okay, Dad?” His stubby fingers reached out to grab my leg. “You gots an owie?”
I rustled the blonde curls atop his head and crouched down to his eye level. “Dad is fine, I just got a little cut. You go finish watching the movie with your sister before I get you ready for a bath, okay?”
His soft chin bounced up and down and I hugged him close. Breathed him in. My son. My boy. He and his sister were everything to me; the two greatest gifts Dianna had ever given me aside from her heart. As I watched him skip off around the corner to join his sister, my eyes stung with tears. Tears I would not shed because I knew their mother wouldn’t want them. She was fine. We were fine.
We just weren’t together.
After I got the twins to bed, tucked in, and sleeping soundly, I grabbed a sweater and headed down to the beach to clear my head. The sound of the waves and the smell of the cool night air always soothed my soul. If I closed my eyes long enough and pushed away the sounds of the modern world around me, I could almost remember what it felt like to stand on the deck of The Devil’s Heart.
I stuffed my hands in the pockets of my thick knitted sweater and the wound on my palm burned. I removed the makeshift bandage, thinking how Dianna would have done a much better job, and stuck my entire hand in the seawater. I winced at the sting, but it subsided soon enough, and I swirled my hand back and forth, letting the cool saltwater cleanse the gash.
The full moon lit up the surface of the ocean like liquid silver drops, and I focused on the dark, ethereal beauty of it rather than the utter agony I harboured inside. If this was even a fraction of what Dianna must have felt, so many years ago, when she’d been ripped from me and sucked back to the future...then she was much stronger than I. The uncertainty she was left with, not knowing my fate or anyone else of our crew. At least I had that–the knowing, the assurance that she was safe and sound with our friends.
Still…I’d once promised I’d drain the oceans to find her.
I couldn’t just sit and wait. What if the day never came that she returned to me? What if she was waiting on the other side, praying that I was coming to save her, and I never showed up? She’d come for me if the roles were reversed. A new fire burned in my gut, rising and spreading up through my chest. I had to at least try. I couldn’t wait, couldn’t be patient as Constance asked. I knew what I had to do. I just needed to get to the past first.
So, I headed back to the house and got to work.
***
The warm afternoon sun blared in through the large window in the dining room, melting the damp chill that hovered in the old house. I stood with a tea in hand, letting the steam waft up across my face as I stared out at the sparkling water in the distance. The twins were at preschool, leaving our beachside home in painful silence. But it gave me time to think, time to plot all the ways I could save Dianna.
The front door swung open and Constance walked in, carrying a tray of freshly baked goods and a bulky tote bag.
“Afternoon,” she greeted and set the tray down on the kitchen island. She looked at me expectantly. “Aren’t you leaving?”
I took a sip of my tea and placed it with a clink on the stone countertop. “Leaving?”
Constance checked her watch. “Didn’t you need me to watch the kids after school today?”
A rush of adrenaline sprang to life in my chest. “Yes!” I cursed under my breath and tossed the rest of my tea down the sink as I checked the clock. “I completely lost track of time.”
After weeks and weeks of rifling through the things in Dianna’s office, through the things that she shared with her mother, I’d found nothing that looked like a way to travel through time. Nothing except the contact for a man in Corner Brook who collected rare and obscure things from the sea. Trinkets from shipwrecks, old maps, photos, and–according to his website–some of the rarest pearls in the world.
I was hoping they’d be the elusive siren pearls, the ones that granted wishes. But I couldn’t say anything to Constance until I knew for sure. She’d warned me to stay put and let the witches help Dianna, warned me of the risks that came with messing with time.
“Best to get on the road now while you have a few good hours of sunlight left,” she said, already unloading the bakery treats she brought for the kids. “What time will you be back?”
I shrugged into my black leather jacket and plucked my bike helmet from the closet by the door. “Hopefully sometime late this evening.”
“Remind me what you’re doing, again?” she asked with a curious tone.
I smiled. A poor attempt to assure her I wasn’t up to anything. “Just doing some shopping.” I leaned over and pecked her cheek before turning toward the door. “Kiss the kids goodnight for me.”
“Be safe,” she called as I shut the door behind me.
I hauled my bike out from where it parked alongside the house and secured my helmet. After many failed attempts at teachin
g me to drive a car, Dianna thought a motorcycle would be a better fit. And she’d been right. Easier to drive, easier to manoeuvre, but I also found solace in the freedom it gave me. The wind in my face, my hair, airing out my thoughts as I flew down the highway to my destination.
After an hour and a half, I took a turn and exited toward Corner Brook. A neighbouring town that bustled with charm. It sat atop a hill and overlooked a large harbour. I recognized the landmarks–the mountains, the shoreline–I’d been there dozens of times. In the time of my past. Now, here in the future, Dianna and I often came to Corner Brook to do some shopping. Once, she’d taken me to Marble Mountain, the ski resort that sat next to the town, and she’d taken so much pleasure in witnessing my attempt to learn how to ski.
I shook away the pleasant memories as I dismounted my bike and set the helmet on the seat. I couldn’t afford to dwell on things like that, not when those memories so easily reduced me to the dark and emotional mess I refused to be.
Not when Dianna needed me.
I entered the little hole-in-the-wall antique shoppe that sat snugged in the middle of a row of various specialty stores downtown, and an old brass bell signalled my arrival. A middle-aged man appeared from behind a curtain that hung on the other side of a counter.
“Good day,” he greeted kindly and pushed up the glasses that edged down the tip of his nose. “Can I help you?”
“Yes,” I replied and sauntered around the store, crowded with trinkets and collectibles of all sorts. Old anchors, ship’s wheels, and other things from the turn of the century. It gave a homey feel, something familiar. Something I could relate to in this still-strange and modern world. “We spoke on the phone.” I reached out a hand to shake. “Henry White.”
The man brightened. “Oh, yes! The gentleman looking for rare pearls.” He dipped down below the glass countertop that divided us and fetched a small wooden box. He set it down in front of me and opened it. “Here we go. Some of the oldest and rarest ocean pearls in the world.”
I peered inside the box, fingered through the dozens. Black, cream, pink, grey. Every colour one would expect. But it wasn’t the colours I was looking for. It was that…feeling. That otherworldly sheen, the odd weight of them. Like cool tin. Slick with magic.
But these were just…pearls. Real ones.
I sighed disappointedly as I rolled a large grey one between my fingers.
“Not what you’re looking for?” the man asked.
I shook my head and returned the pearl to the box. “No,” I replied. Defeat heavy on my chest. “I’m afraid not.” I gave him a single nod. “I thank you for your time.”
“Well, if there’s ever anything I can do, anything I can find for you, you know where to contact me,” he assured cheerily.
I shook his hand and left the store, pausing a moment to take in a deep breath of fresh air. I was a fool to think this simple merchant would possess enchanted siren pearls, but the weight of pure disappointment still soured in my gut. This was my only lead.
I couldn’t go home yet. Not when my body was tense with the anger that pulsed through my veins. So, as my bike roared to life, I slipped on my helmet and took off. I drove up and down every winding road in Corner Brook. Parked down by the harbour and walked the entire length of the beach, cursing and yelling at the sea, before turning back again. The sun had long gone down. The kids would be in bed, and Constance was probably worrying.
So, I headed home. Empty-handed.
I took my time on the highway. Driving in the dark of night came with its risks, especially in Newfoundland. Moose often ran across the highway, appearing out of nowhere like silent beasts unknowingly causing car wrecks and taking lives.
When I finally pulled up to our home, something caught my eye in the headlight. A figure standing on the porch. I shut off the engine and ran over.
“Christ, Audrey,” I said, trying to remain calm, but panic seared my limbs. “What are you doing out here, princess?”
She just stood there, staring blankly at the space over my shoulder. Her floor-length nightgown dripped with water, soaked up to her knees, and her bare feet stood in a puddle of water. She must have been sleepwalking again. An unpleasant habit she’d gained upon our return from the past. I made a note to install some locks higher on the doors.
I shrugged out of my jacket and wrapped it around her entire body before scooping her up into my arms. She never woke, but immediately softened in my grasp as she molded to my warm chest. She was like ice in my hands.
I entered the house as quietly as I could. Constance was asleep on the sofa next to the woodstove, totally unaware. I didn’t blame her, though. This wasn’t the first time Audrey wandered in her sleep, and I knew she did it with an unnerving silence. I carried my daughter upstairs and set her on the bed while I grabbed some dry pyjamas from the dresser and an extra blanket from the closet she and her brother shared. Only when I removed her wet and sandy nightgown, and clothed her in fresh garments, did she wake.
“Daddy?” she murmured tiredly and rubbed at her eyes.
I sat next to her, the tiny mattress sagging under my weight. “You were walking in your sleep again,” I told her in a gentle breath. I wiped the damp hair from her confused face. “What were you doing outside?”
She blinked at me, then stared out the window. “The ocean was whispering to me.” She laid back on her pillow with a carefree yawn. “I had to go see what it wanted.”
My neck turned, and I shot my hard gaze out the window, almost glaring at the sea in our backyard. Panic pumped hot in my blood. When I looked back at my daughter, she’d already sunk back into a deep sleep. Her cherub-like face slack and soft. Content. I breathed a sigh of relief and leaned over to lay a kiss on her forehead. But when I pulled away, something around her neck caught the light of the moon that shone in from the window.
Two pearls. Secured around Audrey’s little neck with a thin braid of seaweed.
My heart sprang to life in my chest, refusing to settle down. Was that…what I thought it was? What I’d been searching for all this time? I removed the string from her neck, careful not to wake her, and rolled the pearls between my fingers.
The odd weight, the slick and otherworldly feeling of magic that coated them. This was it. Two pearls. One to leave, one to come back. I clutched them tightly in my hand. Finally, I could save Dianna, I could bring her home.
I’d wait until morning so I could make arrangements with Constance to care for the twins in my absence and to explain what I’d found. Because I was going back in time to save Dianna, and I wasn’t coming back without her.
Chapter Three – Dianna
I gripped the thick leather reins as my horse came to a halt at the treeline where the Keepers asked to meet. Late last night, while pacing the floors of my quarters at the Artair Keep, a piece of parchment floated in through the window and landed gracefully on the bed. When I unrolled it, I found only a simple instruction. Where to meet and what time.
And so there I was.
I laid awake all night, wondering what news the Keepers would have for me. What method of time travel did they find for someone like me? Someone without a soul. Or would they bear bad news? I considered that option, but then reasoned with myself. Surely, they wouldn’t make me ride across the moors just to deliver bad news. I liked to think they had the decency to come to me, in that case.
So, I held on to that flimsy hope of good news. Kept the sweet faces of my children at the forefront of my mind. Let the memory of Henry’s touch linger on my skin. It was the only way to stay grounded. To not the let agony of our separation weigh me down.
I waited a few more minutes as my horse calmly trotted up and down part of the treeline. Our breaths forming as mist and molding together before drifting upward to the sky. My skin bristled with the chill of the early evening, and goosebumps scoured up my back just as I caught the faintest glimpse of movement in the trees. A dark figure–no, three–slowly emerged and stepped into the moonlight that c
overed the lands.
“Dianna Cobham,” Ingrid spoke firmly. I couldn’t read her. “We have some questions.”
Something about her tone didn’t sit right in my gut. I focused on the faint lines of some intricate tattoo that covered her chest, poking up from the white long-sleeved tunic she wore. Simple things. Like one of the witches; her bald head and eyes blackened in circles of some kind of paint or dye. The three of them rode beautiful black stallions with intricate braids in their manes and tails. Raw beauty. The entire sight of them.
“What do you want to know?” I asked, calm-like.
Ingrid glanced between her two sisters. Then to me, with that stony look. “When ye traded yer soul, what were the exact terms?”
I swallowed nervously. “With the siren?” Ingrid nodded, and I writhed my hands together. “I traded it to save my husband from the siren’s grasp. Why? You’d already asked me this.”
She took a deep breath and crossed her arms. “And there were nae other terms? Just a…direct exchange?”
I shook my head. “What do you mean? What other terms?”
“Often, a siren or Fae will make a deal, but add a condition. A loophole that would allow ye to reverse the deal if ye so wished.”
I thought about it, about that fateful day in the siren’s den. “No,” I breathed. “I’m afraid not.” Ingrid leaned back and sighed. “What? What does that mean?”
She glanced at the other sister, one with a mess of long brown hair and a beautiful face. She just nodded at Ingrid.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Dianna,” Ingrid started. “We considered every possibility. But, ultimately, the only correct solution is for ye to get yer soul back from the Fae.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
She crossed her arms over her horse’s neck and leaned forward. “That’s up to ye. But I reckon it widnae come without a price. Another trade of some sort.”
The Cursed Sea Page 2