Deepest, Darkest
Page 20
“I learned that I could have just as much love for both of you, but I couldn’t love you exactly the same way—because even if you looked identical down to the last freckle, you were different. You needed a slightly different love from me than Cole did. And that’s okay. You can love two people in two totally different ways.”
“You’re saying I could have two dads,” said Tinn. “A goblin dad and a human dad.”
Annie sipped her tea. “Why not? Who wrote the rules about how many dads a person can have? Up until last year you didn’t have any dads at all. Maybe the universe is trying to make it up to you. If you’re not careful, we’ll have a dozen dads running around this place.”
Tinn allowed himself a half smile.
“Look, kiddo. It’s okay to let him and Cole have their own time,” Annie said. “But give him a chance, huh? No running away.”
Tinn nodded. “There’s something else I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”
“Uh-oh. Were you the culprit behind Auntie Shawna’s vase after all?”
“No. Not that. That was definitely Cole. It’s just . . . I’m realizing more and more that there’s a whole big world out there that I’m a part of. That used to scare me, but now . . . I mean, I’ll always be a part of this world, too, but I’ve been thinking . . .”
“You want to go on a Turas, don’t you?”
“I—what? How do you know about a Turas?”
“Chief Nudd spoke to me about it a few months ago.” She took a sip of tea.
“A few months ago? I only got to learn about it a couple weeks ago!”
Chuffy, offended by the outburst, slunk down from Tinn’s lap and plodded off into the kitchen.
“Well?” said Tinn. “What do you think about it?”
Annie stared deep into her tea. “Lots of cultures have something like it, I suppose. Good to have milestones. Nudd said that there’s no specific age for a Turas, though. It’s not about turning fifteen or eighteen or twenty.”
“It’s about the time being right and the goblin being ready,” said Tinn.
Annie pursed her lips. “And what if your poor mom’s not ready?”
Tinn shrugged and looked down at his feet.
“I suppose it doesn’t hurt to start thinking about it,” she said. “How soon did you have in mind?”
“I was thinking maybe at the end of the school year.”
“That’s next month!” said Annie. “No, sweetie, that’s too soon. I only just got my boys all together again. I thought you meant in a few years. Maybe after you graduate—before you go to college.”
“But what if the right time is . . . sooner than that?”
She pursed her lips, and her eyes looked anguished.
Tinn’s shoulders sagged. “You’re right. Never mind. It was stupid.”
Annie’s brow furrowed. “Not stupid. Just . . . too soon.”
“I understand.” Tinn pushed himself up. “I’m really tired. I think I’m gonna just go to bed.”
Annie nodded and kissed him on the forehead. “I’ll come tuck you in soon.”
Tinn closed the door and lay down in his bed. In the dark, he listened to the sound of Joseph Burton’s voice as it drifted through the walls. He was singing a muffled lullaby about brothers.
Tinn turned his head. Cole’s bed lay empty, aside from the cat, who had curled up on the pillow to nap. The sheets were rumpled where Cole had left them. That morning already felt like a million years ago.
Outside, the lullaby ended, and Tinn could hear the clunk of the back door and the soft cadence of his mother’s voice. Cole said something, and all three of them laughed. Tinn lay in the dark, alone, staring at the faded wallpaper.
Maybe it was the moonlight filtering in through the curtains, but the whole room felt smaller than he remembered—like a comfy sweater that just didn’t fit right anymore, no matter how much he squirmed.
The shadows shifted, and Tinn glanced up at the window. A bundle of light, like a fist-sized cluster of fireflies all stuck together, was wobbling on the sill outside the glass.
Curious, he stood up and crept across the room. The bundle of light seemed to notice his movement. It froze.
Tinn knelt down and stared at it through the glass. Up close, the light looked like a dozen paper-thin cobwebs, all glowing brilliant white and shifting around one another, quavering like tissue in the faint night breeze.
“What are you?” Tinn whispered aloud.
DIFFERENT, answered a familiar voice. The glow intensified, and Tinn stumbled backward onto the floor of his bedroom.
The light quivered and dimmed.
Nervously, Tinn stood and opened the window. He put out his hand and the Thing scampered onto his outstretched palm. Tinn felt warmth flooding through him—the aches and stings of the day ebbed, and even the burn on Tinn’s arm stopped throbbing from within its bandage.
“Whoa,” he breathed.
The Thing made a frustrated noise. THEY DO NOT OBEY LIKE THE SHADOWS DID, it moaned. I HAVE BEEN UNABLE TO CONSUME PREY ALL DAY. I HAVE TRIED. WATCH.
In a glimmering blur, it bounded onto Cole’s bed. Chuffy’s whiskers twitched and she opened one sleepy eye just as the Thing’s light swept around her like gossamer ribbons. There was a hiss and a scuffle, and then the cat sprang free and bounded under the chair in the corner—rather more nimbly than Tinn had seen her move in a long time. Her felted ears, he couldn’t help but notice, were suddenly free of the cuts and nicks she had earned over the years.
SEE, said the Thing, miserably.
“Did you just try to eat my cat?” Tinn said. “Not okay!”
SHE IS BETTER FOR IT.
“That’s not the point!” Tinn lowered his voice. “Look, I get that you’re confused, but you cannot stay here!”
BUT I NEED YOUR HELP, the Thing groaned. I DO NOT KNOW HOW TO BE WHAT I AM BECOMING.
Tinn stared at the sad pile of light. “Yeah? Me neither.” The glowing wisps bent and twirled around the Thing as it sank wretchedly into the quilt. “I’m sorry—but I have no idea how to put you back the way you were.”
I DO NOT WISH TO GO BACK.
Tinn hesitated. “Why did you come here?”
I NEED YOU TO SHOW ME HOW TO DO IT.
“Do what?”
BELONG.
Tinn glanced at the door and then back at the Thing.
“I’m really not the expert you’re hoping I am. And I mean it. You really can’t stay here.”
The Thing was silent. Its glow dimmed, and through the gossamer sheets of light, Tinn could see the creature underneath shivering.
“There’s nobody else,” Tinn said, “is there?”
The light pulsed feebly.
Tinn sighed and sat down beside the pathetic creature. “I’m sorry. I don’t know where you fit in,” said Tinn. “I’m not even sure where I fit in anymore.” He took a deep breath. “But maybe . . .”
The glow brightened a fraction.
“Maybe the time is right for us to help each other figure it out.”
Acknowledgments
The Oddmire series would not exist without my own goblin boys and all the joy and trouble they bring with them—nor would it exist without their mother, Kat, a force of nature.
I am also grateful to all the teachers who encouraged me and helped me find my voice when I was younger, and to all the skilled educators out there, finding new ways every day to help kids navigate their own strange and winding paths.
And thank you to my fantastic readers for coming along on this journey. Keep reading! I hope you find many more adventures to come—and that you make a few of your own along the way.
The Oddmire Series
Changeling
The Unready Queen
Deepest, Darkest
Other Books by William Ritter
Jackaby
Beastly Bones
Ghostly Echoes
The
Dire King
Published by
Algonquin Young Readers
an imprint of Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill
Post Office Box 2225
Chapel Hill, North Carolina 27515-2225
a division of
Workman Publishing
225 Varick Street
New York, New York 10014
© 2021 by William Ritter.
All rights reserved
Published simultaneously in Canada by Thomas Allen & Son Limited.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
eISBN: 9781643751658