If Linus’s life were a drama, the last week of his stay on Marsyas would have been cold and rainy, the gray clouds shifting overhead to match his mood.
But it was sunny, of course. The sky and the sea were cerulean.
On Monday, Linus sat in on the children’s classes, listening as they discussed the Magna Carta in the morning and The Canterbury Tales in the afternoon. Sal was quite vexed the stories were unfinished, which led Arthur to bring up the The Mystery of Edwin Drood. Sal vowed to read it and come up with his own ending. Linus thought it would be marvelous and wondered if he would ever get to read it.
On Tuesday from the hours of five in the afternoon to seven, he sat with Talia in her garden. She was fretting slightly over what Helen would think when she visited next week. She worried that Helen wouldn’t like what she’d grown. “What if it’s not good enough?” Talia muttered in Gnomish, and the fact that Linus understood her barely crossed his mind.
“I think you’ll find that it’s more than adequate,” he replied.
She scowled at him. “More than adequate. Gee, Linus. Thank you for that. I feel so much better already.”
He patted her on the top of the head. “We do need to keep the ego in check. You have nothing to fear.”
She looked around her garden doubtfully. “Really?” “Really. It’s the most beautiful garden I’ve ever seen.” She blushed under her beard.
On Wednesday, he sat with Phee and Zoe in the woods. He’d forgone a tie, and his shirt was open at his throat. He was barefoot, the grass soft underneath his feet. Sunlight filtered through the trees, and Zoe was telling Phee that it wasn’t just about what she could grow, but about cultivating what was already there. “It’s not always about creation,” Zoe said quietly as flowers bloomed underneath her hands. “It’s about the love and care you put into the earth. It’s intent. It’ll know your intentions, and, if they’re good and pure, there is nothing you won’t be able to do.”
That afternoon, he was in Chauncey’s room, and Chauncey was saying, “Welcome to the Everland Hotel, sir! May I take your luggage?” and Linus replied, “Thank you, my good man, that would be wonderful.” He handed over an empty satchel. Chauncey hefted it over his shoulder, his bellhop cap sitting crooked on his head. After, he made sure to tip Chauncey handsomely. It was what one did after having received first-rate service, after all. The saltwater on the floor was warm.
It was late afternoon on Wednesday, and Linus was starting to panic, a feeling settling over his shoulders like a heavy cloak that this wasn’t right, that he was making a mistake.
He had put his luggage on his bed with the intention of beginning to pack. He was leaving the day after tomorrow, and he told himself he might as well get started. But he stood in his room staring down at his bag. His copy of the RULES AND REGULATIONS lay on the floor near the bed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d picked it up. He asked himself why it’d been so important in the first place.
He didn’t know how much longer he would have stood there if he hadn’t heard the tapping on the bedroom window.
He looked up.
Theodore was perched outside, wings folded at his sides, head cocked.
He tapped his snout against the glass again.
Linus went to the window, sliding it open. “Hello, Theodore.”
Theodore chattered in response, greeting Linus as he hopped inside. His wings opened and he half jumped, half flew to the bed, landing near Calliope. His eyes narrowed at her, and he snapped his jaws. She stood slowly, arching her back as she stretched. And then she walked to Theodore
and lifted her paw to smack him across the face before yawning and jumping down from the bed.
Theodore shook his head, a little dazed.
“You deserved that,” Linus chided him gently. “I’ve told you not to antagonize her.”
Theodore grumbled at him. Then, he chirped a question. Linus blinked. “Come with you? Where?”
Theodore chirped again.
“A surprise? I don’t think I like surprises.”
Theodore wasn’t having any of it. He flew up to Linus’s shoulder, landing and nipping at Linus’s ear until he had no choice but to obey. “Cheeky little git,” Linus muttered. “You can’t just bite until people do what you— Ow! I’m going!”
The afternoon sun felt warm on Linus’s face as they left the guest house. He listened as Theodore babbled in his ear. As the seagulls called overhead. As the waves crashed against the cliffs below. The ache in his heart was sharp and bittersweet.
They entered the main house. It was quiet, which meant that either everyone was out doing their own thing, or Lucy was up to something terrible that would end in death.
Theodore jumped down from Linus’s shoulder, wings out as he landed on the ground. He stumbled over them as he hurried toward the couch, tumbling end over end. He landed on his back, blinking up at Linus.
Linus fought a smile. “You’ll grow into them yet. Quite a lot, I think.”
Theodore turned over and found his footing. He shook himself from his head to the tip of his tail. He looked back up at Linus, chirped again, and disappeared under the couch.
Linus stared after him, disbelieving what he’d just heard. He’d seen part of Theodore’s hoard—the one he kept in the turret—but this was more important.
Another chirp came out from underneath the couch. “Are you sure?” he asked quietly.
Theodore said he was sure.
Linus slowly went to his hands and knees and crawled toward the couch. Obviously he wouldn’t be able to fit underneath, but if he lifted up the skirt, he’d be able to see just fine.
So that was what he did.
He lay flat on his stomach and peered underneath the couch into Theodore’s lair, cheek pressed against the floor.
Off to his right, there was a soft blanket that had been fashioned into a nest. A small pillow—the size of Linus’s hand—sat atop it. Spread out around it were Theodore’s treasures. There were coins and rocks shot with quartz (much like the ones in Lucy’s room) and a pretty red-and-white shell with a crack through the middle.
But that wasn’t all.
There was a piece of paper that Linus could make out a few words:
Brittle and thin. I am held—
There was a dried flower that looked like the ones Linus had seen in the garden.
There was a leaf so green that only a sprite could have grown it. There was a piece of a broken record.
There was a picture that looked as if it’d been torn from a magazine, of a smiling bellhop, helping a woman with her bags.
There was a picture of Arthur as a younger man, the edges curled with age.
And next to it, piled lovingly, were buttons. So many buttons.
It’s the little things, I expect. Little treasures we find without knowing their origin. And they come when we least expect them. It’s beautiful, when you think about it.
Linus blinked against the sudden burn in his eyes. “It’s wonderful,” he whispered.
Theodore chirped that of course it was. He went to the buttons and nudged his nose into the pile as if searching for something. His tail thumped against the floor as he lifted his head.
In his mouth was a familiar brass button. He turned and walked toward Linus.
Linus watched as his jaw clenched. Theodore bit down onto the button before dropping it to the floor.
Linus could see the impressions of Theodore’s fangs in the brass. Theodore nudged it toward him. He looked up at Linus and chirped. “For me?” Linus asked. “You want me to take it?”
Theodore nodded.
“But that’s—” Linus sighed. “It’s yours.” Theodore nudged it toward him again.
Linus did the only thing he could—he took it.
He sat up from the floor, pressing his back against the couch. He stared down at the button in his hand, tracing a finger over the grooves from Theodore’s fangs. The wyvern poked his head out from underneath the couch and chirped up at him.
“Thank you,” Linus said quietly. “It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever given me. I’ll keep it for always.”
Theodore lay his head against Linus’s thigh.
They stayed there as the evening sunlight drifted along the wall.
 |
It was Thursday morning when the anger of men came to a head.
Linus was in the kitchen with Zoe and Lucy, who was bellowing at the top of his lungs along with Bobby Darin’s sweet, sweet voice. Linus was smiling, and he was laughing, though his heart felt like shards in his chest. Sticky buns were in the oven, and if he listened hard enough (though Lucy was doing his very best to make sure he couldn’t), he would hear the sounds of the others moving throughout the house.
“So many leftover pecans,” Zoe said. “I’m not sure we needed to—”
Linus startled when she dropped the bowl she was washing back into the sink, soapy water splashing onto the floor.
She stood stiffly. Her fingers twitched, her wings unfurling, moving hummingbird-fast.
“Zoe?” Linus asked. “Are you all right? What’s happened?”
“No,” she whispered as Lucy continued to sing, unaware. “No, not now.
They can’t. They can’t.”
Lucy said, “What? Who are you—”
Zoe turned around, little soap bubbles falling from her fingers and floating to the floor. Her eyes were brighter than Linus had ever seen before, filled with an otherworldly light, irises glittering like shattered glass. Not since Linus had known her had he been afraid of her, and this was still true. But he would be foolish to think that she was anything but an old and powerful sprite, or forget that he was merely a guest on her island.
He started toward her slowly, not wanting to surprise her in case she’d become unaware of his presence. Before he could reach her, Arthur burst into the kitchen, eyes narrowed. The room grew warmer, and for a moment, Linus thought he saw the flash of fire, though it might have just been a trick of the morning light.
“What is it?” he demanded. “What’s happened?”
“The village,” Zoe said, her voice soft and dreamy, her words almost like musical notes. “They’re gathering at the shore of the mainland.”
“What?” Lucy asked. “Why? Do they want to come here?” He frowned down at the pecans on the countertop. “They can’t have my sticky buns. I made them just the way I like them. I know sharing is a nice thing to do, but I don’t feel very nice today.” He looked to Linus. “Do I have to share my sticky buns?”
“Of course not,” Linus said evenly. “If that’s what they want, they’ll have to make their own.”
Lucy grinned, though it seemed nervous. “I made two for you, Mr.
Baker. I don’t want you wasting away.”
“Lucy,” Arthur said. “Would you please gather the others in the classroom? It’s almost time to begin your lessons.”
Lucy sighed. “But—” “Lucy.”
He grumbled under his breath as he hopped down from his stool. He paused at the kitchen doorway, glancing back at the three of them. “Is something wrong?”
“Of course not,” Arthur said. “Everything is perfectly fine. If you please, Lucy.”
He hesitated only a moment longer before leaving the kitchen, calling for the others, telling them that apparently sticky buns wouldn’t get them out of their lessons as he’d thought they would.
Arthur went to Zoe, gripping her by the shoulders. Her eyes cleared, and she blinked rapidly. “You felt it too.”
Arthur nodded. “Have they started to cross?”
“No. They’re … stopped. At the docks. I don’t know why. But the ferry hasn’t left the village.” Her voice hardened. “They would be foolish to try.”
A chill arced down Linus’s spine. “Who?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “But there are a few of them.” She looked past Arthur into nothing. “They’re angry. It’s like a storm.”
Arthur dropped his hands and took a step back. “You will stay here with the children. Go on as normal. Tell them nothing is amiss. I’ll deal with this myself. I’ll return as soon as I’m able.”
She reached for him, hands circling his wrist. “You shouldn’t have to do this, Arthur, not after what … let me go. I will—”
Arthur backed away from her slowly. “No. On the chance they still come to the island, the children will need you more. You can protect them better than I could. If it comes down to it, take them to your house. Close the forest behind you so that nothing gets through. Cover the whole island if you have to. We’ve talked about this, Zoe. We always knew this was a possibility.”
She looked as if she were about to argue, but subsided at the expression on Arthur’s face. “I don’t want you going alone.”
“He won’t be,” Linus said.
They turned to him in surprise, as if they’d forgotten he was there at all. He sucked in his stomach and puffed out his chest, hands on his hips. “I don’t know what’s going on, exactly, but I have a good idea. And if it has anything to do with the people in the village, then it’s high time I gave them a piece of my mind.” He thought he probably looked ridiculous, and his words didn’t have the weight to them he’d hoped, but he didn’t break their
gazes.
Arthur said, “I won’t have you in any danger, Linus. It would be best if you—”
“I can handle myself,” Linus said with a sniff. “I may not look like much, but I assure you I’m more than I appear. I can be quite stern when I need to be. And I’m a representative of the government. In my experience, people listen to authority.” This was only somewhat true, but Linus kept that little detail to himself.
Arthur sagged. “You silly, brave man. I know what you are. But if you would just—”
“Then it’s settled,” Linus said. “Let’s go. I don’t like cold sticky buns, so the sooner we deal with this and can return, the better.” He started for the doorway, but stopped when a thought crossed his mind. “How are we to cross if the ferry is on the other side?”
“Catch.”
He turned in time to see Zoe toss a set of keys toward him. He fumbled with them, but managed to keep them from falling to the floor. He frowned when he saw it was the keys to her ridiculous car. “While I appreciate the effort, I don’t see how this will help us. There is quite a bit of water between us and the village, and unless your car is a submersible, then I don’t know how this will be of any use.”
“It’s better if I don’t tell you,” she said. “It’ll only make you worry.” “Oh dear,” Linus said faintly. “I don’t know if I like the sound of that.”
She stood on her tiptoes, kissing Arthur on the cheek. “If they see you…”
Arthur shook his head. “Then they do. It’s time to step from the shadows and into the light. Past time, I think.” He glanced at Linus. “Someone wise taught me that.”
They left her standing in the sunlit kitchen, sticky buns warming in the oven.
|
The car bounced down the road, Linus’s foot pressing as hard on the gas pedal as he dared. His heart was racing, and his mouth was dry, but there was a sharp clarity to his vision. The trees seemed greener, the flowers that lined the road more brilliant. He glanced in the side mirror in time to see the forest closing off behind them with a low groan, covering the road with
thick branches. If one didn’t know what to look for, there appeared to be no way through.
Arthur sat in the passenger seat, hands folded in his lap. His eyes were closed. He was breathing slowly in through his nose and out through his mouth.
They reached the dock at the edge of the island without incident. The sea was calm, the whitecapped waves small as they fell upon the shore. In the distance, across the channel, Linus could see the ferry still docked at the village. He brought the car to a stop, the brakes squeaking.
Arthur opened his eyes.
“What now?” Linus asked nervously, sweaty hands flexing on the steering wheel. “Unless this car is a submersible, I don’t see how we can cross. And if it is, I must tell you I have no experience piloting such a vehicle, and we’ll most likely drown at the bottom of the sea.”
Arthur chuckled. “I don’t think we’ll have to worry about that. Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” Linus said. “Of course I do. How could I not?”
Arthur looked over at him. “Then drive, my dear Linus. Drive and see what that trust has gotten you.”
Linus looked ahead through the windshield. He took a deep breath.
He lifted his foot off the brake. The car began to roll forward.
He pressed his foot down on the gas. The car picked up speed.
His knuckles turned white as they left the last bit of road and hit the white sand of the beach. His throat closed as the ocean filled the windshield. “Arthur—”
Arthur said, “Have faith. I would never let anything happen to you.” He reached over and put his hand on Linus’s leg, squeezing tightly.
Linus didn’t slow. He didn’t stop.
The roar of the ocean filled his ears as the dry sand turned wet and the first spray of saltwater misted against his face. Before he could shout in
warning, the sea crackled in front of them, the water vibrating and shifting as if something just underneath the surface was rising. He closed his eyes tightly, sure they were about to have wave after wave rush over them, pulling them under.
The car rattled around them, the steering wheel jerking in his hand. He prayed to whoever was listening for guidance.
“Open your eyes,” Arthur whispered.
“I would really rather not,” he said through gritted teeth. “Staring death in the face is vastly overrated.”
“Good thing we’re not dying, then. At least not today.” Linus opened his eyes.
He was stunned when he saw they were on the sea. He twisted his head to look back, only to see the shore shrinking behind them. He gasped, struggling to breathe. “What on earth?”
He turned forward again. A white crystalline road lay before them, materializing from the ocean. He peered over the side of his door, looking down. The road beneath them was almost double the width of the car, snapping and crackling, but holding.
“Salt,” Arthur said, and Linus could hear the amusement in his voice. “It’s the salt from the ocean. It’ll hold.”
“How is this possible?” Linus asked in wonder. Then, “Zoe.”
Arthur nodded. “She is capable of a great many things, more than even I know. I’ve only ever seen her do this once before. We decided long ago to make use of the ferry, to keep the people of the village at ease. It’s better to deal with Merle when we have to, instead of inciting fear by a car crossing the water.”
Linus choked on a hysterical laugh. “Oh, of course. Just a road made from the salt of the ocean. Why didn’t I think of that?”
“You didn’t know it was a possibility,” Arthur said quietly. “But those of us who dream of impossible things know just how far we can go when pushed to do so.”
“Well, then,” Linus said faintly. “Let’s see how they like us being pushed, shall we?”
He pressed the gas pedal as hard as he could.
The car roared forward along the salt road.
|
They could see a group of people standing on the docks near the ferry. Some had their arms raised in the air, hands curled into fists. Their shouts were drowned out by the sounds of the car and sea, but their mouths were twisted, their eyes narrowed. Some carried signs that looked hastily made, bearing such legends as I SAW SOMETHING, I AM SAYING SOMETHING and I AM ANTI-ANTICHRIST and, absurdly, I DIDN’T HAVE ANYTHING CLEVER TO WRITE.
Their shouts died down when they saw the car approaching. Linus couldn’t fault them for the looks of shock on their faces. He was sure that if he were standing on the shore, watching a car driving along the surface of the ocean, he’d probably wear the same expression.
The salt road ended at the beach near the docks. He brought the car to a halt on the sand, turning it off. The engine ticked.
Silence fell.
Then, at the front, the man from the ice cream shop (Norman, Linus thought with mild disdain) shouted, “They’re using magic!”
The crowd began to roar in earnest once more.
Helen was standing at the front of the crowd on the dock as if to block them from gaining access to the ferry. She looked furious, her face smudged with dirt. Merle stood next to her, arms across his chest, a scowl on his face. Linus and Arthur exited the vehicle, slamming the doors shut behind them. Linus was relieved to see the crowd wasn’t as large as it first appeared. There were perhaps a dozen people, including Helen and Merle. He wasn’t surprised to see Marty from the record shop in the crowd, wearing a neck brace. He held a sign that said YES, I WAS INJURED BY THE SCION OF THE DEVIL. ASK ME HOW! Next to him was the man from the post office. Linus wasn’t surprised. He never liked that fellow all that much to
begin with.
The shouts died once more as Linus and Arthur climbed the steps next to the dock, though they didn’t die out completely.
“What is the meaning of this?” Linus demanded as he reached the dock. “My name is Linus Baker, and I am in the employ of the Department in
Charge of Magical Youth. Yes, that’s correct. A government official. And when a government official wants answers, said answers had best be given as quickly as possible.”
“They tried to swarm my ferry,” Merle said, eyeing the crowd and Arthur with distaste in equal measure. “Said they wanted to get to the island. I wouldn’t let them.”
“Thank you, Merle,” Linus said, surprised at the ferryman’s thoughtfulness. “I wouldn’t have expected—”
“They refused to pay me,” Merle snapped. “I don’t do nothin’ for free.” Linus bit his tongue.
“You shouldn’t have come,” Helen told Arthur. “I have this under control. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you or the children.” She glared at her nephew, who tried to slink back farther into the crowd. “Some people don’t know when to keep their mouths shut. Oh, you can try and hide, Martin Smythe, but I see you. I see you very well. I see all of you. And I have a long, long memory.”
“I’m sure you have this well in hand,” Arthur said, voice even. “But it always helps to have people by your side.”
Linus stepped forward. The sun was bright, causing him to sweat profusely. He glared at the group of people before him. He’d never been the intimidating sort, much to his consternation, but he wasn’t about to allow these people to do whatever had gotten stuck in their heads. “What is the meaning of this?”
He felt a savage glee when the crowd took a step back as one.
“Well? You seemed to have a voice just fine until we arrived. Anyone?
Surely someone is willing to speak.”
It was Norman who did. Linus wasn’t surprised. “We want them gone,” he growled. “The children. The orphanage. The island. All of it.”
Linus stared at him. “And how do you expect to rid yourselves of an entire island?”
Norman flushed with anger. “That’s—you see—that’s not the point.” Linus threw up his hands. “Then what, pray tell, is the point?”
Norman spluttered before saying, “The Antichrist child. He almost
killed Marty!”
The crowd rumbled behind him in agreement.
Norman nodded furiously. “Yes, that’s right. There Marty was, minding his own business when that—that thing came into town and threatened his life! Threw the poor sod against the wall like it was nothing. He’s permanently injured. The fact that he’s even walking is a miracle!”
Helen scoffed. “Permanently injured, my arse.”
“Look at his neck brace!” the postmaster cried. “No one wears a neck brace unless they’ve been seriously hurt!”
“Really,” Helen said. “Because that neck brace seems to be the exact one I had in my closet at home that I was given after a car accident years ago.”
“It’s not!” Marty exclaimed. “I went to the doctor, and he gave it to me after telling me that my spine was mostly powder and I was lucky to be alive!”
“That I believe,” Linus muttered. “You would be spineless.”
Helen rolled her eyes. “Martin, there’s a tag on the back. It has my initials on it. You forgot to tear it off. We can all see it.”
“Oh,” Martin said. “Well, that’s … merely a coincidence?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Norman said hotly. “We have all decided the children are a menace. They represent a danger to us all. We’ve abided long enough with their wickedness. What happens if they come for the rest of us, just as they did Marty?”
“Did he tell you that he tried to take a small child into a locked room by himself in an attempt to exorcise him?” Linus asked. “Because I’m positive there are laws against kidnapping and attempted assault, regardless of who the child may be.”
The crowd turned slowly to look at Marty.
Marty found something awfully curious at the ground beneath his feet.
Norman shook his head. “His actions were misguided, but the point remains the same. Are we not allowed to protect ourselves? You say they’re children. Fine. But we have our own children to worry about.”
“Strange,” Helen said, coming to stand next to Linus. “Because not a single one of you is a parent.”
Norman was getting worked up again. “That’s because they were too afraid to be here!”
“Name one,” Helen said.
Norman said, “I won’t have you trying to trick me. I know you don’t see it, Helen, and that’s on you. But we won’t allow our lives to be threatened when—”
Linus laughed bitterly. “Threatened? By whom? Who in the world has threatened you aside from me?”
“They have!” a woman cried in the back of the crowed. “By simply existing, they’re a threat!”
“I don’t believe you,” Linus said. “I have been by their side for a month, and I have heard nary a whisper of a threat. In fact, the only time I’ve ever thought there was danger, aside from Marty’s ill-advised attempt against a child, was from you lot here. Say you crossed to the island. What would you do? Would you lay your hands upon them? Would you strike them? Hurt them? Kill them?”
Norman paled. “That’s not what we—”
“Then what are you doing? Because surely you have some idea. You have gathered yourselves in a crowd, working yourselves up in a tizzy. Your groupthink has poisoned you, and I hate to wonder what would have happened had you gained access to the island. I never thought I’d say this, but thank Christ Merle was here to refuse you passage on his ferry.”
“Yeah,” Merle said. “I told you payment was required, but you refused!”
“Honestly, Merle,” Helen said. “Learn to keep your mouth shut when you’re receiving soft praise, why don’t you?”
“Disperse,” Linus said. “Or I will do everything in my power to make sure—”
He couldn’t see who it came from. Someone in the middle of the crowd. He didn’t think it was Marty, but it happened quickly. A hand raised, and clutched in its fingers was a large rock. The hand pulled back before jerking forward, the rock flying toward them. Linus didn’t have time to consider who it had been aimed for, but Helen was in its path. He moved in front of
her, his back to the crowd, shielding her. He closed his eyes and waited for impact.
It never came.
Instead, it was as if the sun had crashed to the Earth. The air grew warmer and warmer until it felt like it was on fire. He opened his eyes, his face inches from Helen’s. But she wasn’t looking at him. She was staring up above him in wonder, her eyes reflecting waves of fire.
He turned slowly.
Standing between them and the crowd was Arthur Parnassus, though not as he’d been.
The phoenix had risen.
His arms were spread wide away from him. The wings Linus had glimpsed briefly in the darkened cellar were stretched at least ten feet on either side of Arthur. Fire crawled up and down his arms and shoulders. Above him, the head of the phoenix pulled back, the rock held in its beak. It bit down, shattering the rock into tiny pieces that rained down in front of Arthur.
There was fear in the people before them, yes, fear that wouldn’t be cured by such a display, even one as magnificent as this. But it was tempered by the same wonder he’d seen in Helen, the same wonder he was sure was on his own face.
The wings fluttered, fire crackling.
The phoenix tilted its head back and cried out, a piercing shriek that warmed Linus to his core.
Linus left Helen standing on the dock.
He circled Arthur slowly, ducking under one of the wings, feeling the heat of them on his back.
Arthur was staring straight ahead, his eyes burning. The phoenix flapped its wings, little tendrils of fire spinning off. It cocked its head as it stared down at Linus, eyes blinking slowly.
Without a second thought, Linus reached up and cupped Arthur’s face. His skin was hot, but Linus wasn’t afraid of being singed and blackened. Arthur would never allow it.
The fire tickled against the backs of his hands. “There, there,” Linus said quietly. “That’s enough of that, I think. You’ve made your point quite well.”
The fire faded from Arthur’s eyes. The wings pulled back.
The phoenix lowered its head toward them. Linus looked up at it and gasped when the great bird pressed its beak against his forehead momentarily before it too was gone in a thick plume of black smoke.
“You’ve gone and done it now,” Linus whispered.
“It was time,” Arthur said. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and his face was pale. “All right?”
“Quite. I’d like to avoid a rock upside the head if at all possible, so it’s much appreciated.” He dropped his hands, aware that they still had an audience. He was angry, angrier than he’d been in a long time. He started to turn to give them a piece of his mind, to threaten them within an inch of their lives, but stopped when Arthur shook his head. “You’ve had your say. Let me.”
Linus nodded tightly, though he didn’t leave Arthur’s side. He glared at the crowd, daring any of them to throw another rock.
Whatever fight had been in them was gone. Their eyes were wide, their faces pale. Their signs lay forgotten on the ground. Marty had removed his neck brace, probably because he’d wanted to look up and see the phoenix unleashed.
Arthur said, “I don’t know you as well as I’d like. And you don’t know me. If you did, you would have known that attempting to harm me and mine is never a good idea.”
Linus grew warm again, though the phoenix was gone. The crowd took another step back.
Arthur sighed, shoulders slumping. “I don’t … I don’t know what to do here. I don’t know what to say. I’m under no impression that words alone will change hearts and minds, especially when those words come from me. You fear what you don’t understand. You see us as chaos to the ordered world you know. And I haven’t done much to fight that, given how isolated I’ve kept the children on the island. Perhaps if I’d…” He shook his head.
“We make mistakes. Constantly. It’s what makes us human, even if we’re different from one another. You see us as something to be feared. And for the longest time, I’ve seen you as nothing but living ghosts from a past I’d give anything to forget. But this is our home, and one we share. I won’t beg. I won’t plead. And if push comes to shove, I will do what I must to ensure the safety of my wards. But I hope to avoid that if at all possible. Instead, I’ll ask for you to listen instead of judging that which you don’t understand.” He looked to Marty, who shrank back. “Lucy meant you no real harm,” he said, not unkindly. “If he had, your insides would be on your outside.”
“Perhaps a little less,” Linus muttered as the crowd gasped in unison. “Too right,” Arthur said. Then, louder, “Not that he’d ever do that. All
he wanted was his records. He does love them so. Regardless of what else he is, he is still a child, as they all are. And don’t all children deserve to be protected? To be loved and nurtured so that they may grow and shape the world to make it a better place? In that way, they are no different than any other child in the village, or beyond. But they’re told they are, by people such as yourselves, and people who govern them and our world. People who put rules and restrictions in place to keep them separated and isolated. I don’t know what it will take to change that, if anything. But it won’t start at the top. It’ll start with us.”
The crowd watched him warily.
Arthur sighed. “I don’t know what else to say.”
“I do,” Helen said, stepping forward. She was furious, her hands balled into fists. “You have the right to assemble peacefully. You have the right to express your opinions. But the moment it crosses the line into violence, it becomes a matter of legality. Magical youth are protected by laws, as all children are. Any harm that comes to them will be met with the swiftest of consequences. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll do my level best to make sure anyone who lays a hand on a child, magical or not, will wish they hadn’t. You may think you can shrug off anything Linus or Arthur says, but mark my words, if I even catch a whiff of further discord, I will show you why I’m not to be trifled with.”
Norman was the first to react.
He stormed off, pushing his way through the crowd, muttering to himself.
The postmaster followed, though he glanced back over his shoulder, a stunned expression on his face.
A few more walked after them. Marty tried to leave too, but Helen said, “Martin Smythe! You stay right where you are. You and I are going to have a very long conversation about proper etiquette in group settings and the penalties of lying. And if it was you who threw that rock, I’m going to drain your trust fund and donate it all to charity.”
“You can’t!” Marty wailed.
“I can,” Helen said primly. “I’m the trustee. And it would be very, very easy.”
The crowd dispersed. Linus was startled when a few people muttered apologies toward Arthur, though they kept their distance. He expected news of what they’d seen to spread through the village rapidly. He wouldn’t be surprised if the story would eventually end up as Arthur having turned into a monstrous bird and threatening to burn their skin from their bones and destroy the village.
Merle said, “I’ll take you back to the island, if you want. Half price.”
Linus snorted. “I think we’ll be fine, Merle. But thank you for your generosity.” He paused, considering. “And I really mean that.”
Merle grumbled under his breath about a salt road putting him out of business as he walked down the dock toward his ferry.
Arthur was watching the people walk away toward the village. “Do you think they’ll listen?” he asked Helen.
Helen frowned. “I don’t know. I hope so, but then I hope for many things that don’t always come to be.” She looked at him almost shyly. “Your feathers were very pretty.”
He smiled. “Thank you, Helen. For all that you’ve done.”
She shook her head. “Give me time, Arthur. Give all of us time. I’ll do what I can.” She squeezed his hand before turning to Linus. “Off, then? Saturday, right?”
He blinked. In all the excitement, he’d forgotten his journey was almost at an end. “Yes,” he said. “Saturday.”
“I see.” She looked between Arthur and Linus. “I do hope you find yourself back here again one day, Mr. Baker. It’s certainly … eventful, when you’re around. Safe travels.”
And with that, she moved down the dock, grabbing Martin by the ear and pulling him away, much to his righteous indignation.
Linus moved next to Arthur. The backs of their hands brushed together. “How did it feel?” he asked.
“What?”
“Stretching your wings.”
Arthur turned his face toward the sun, lips quirking slightly. “Like I was free for the first time in a very long time. Come, my dear Linus. Let’s go home. I’m sure Zoe has her hands full. I’ll drive.”
“Home,” Linus echoed, wondering just where that could actually be.
They headed back toward the car. Moments later, they were on the salt road, the wind in their hair, the cerulean sea lapping at the tires.
