The House in the Cerulean Sea(18)

He’d surprised her. She tried to cover it up, and had he not known what to look for, he would’ve missed it. “What makes you think that?” she asked, voice even.

“You’re a caretaker.”

“That means nothing.”

“Your eyes.”

“Unusual, sure, but certainly not unique.”

“You carried my luggage—”

“Oh, I apologize. Had I known I was destroying your toxic masculinity, I wouldn’t have—”

“You’re barefoot.”

This caused her to pause. “I live near the ocean,” she said slowly. “Maybe I’m always barefoot.”

He shook his head. “The sun is high in the sky. The road must be extremely hot. And yet, you walked along it as if it were nothing. Sprites don’t like shoes. Too confining. And nothing hurts their feet. Not even heated asphalt.”

She sighed. “You’re smarter than you look. That can’t possibly be good.”

“Are you registered?” he demanded. “Does DICOMY know that you’re—”

She bared her teeth. “I was never in the system, Mr. Baker. My line is far older than the rules of men. Just because you have decided that all magical beings need to be tagged in the wild for tracking doesn’t give you the right to question me or my legal status.”

He blanched. “That’s— You’re right. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Was that an apology?”

“I think so.”

“Good. Don’t ask about my status again.”

“It’s just— I’ve never met an island sprite before. A water sprite, yes. And even a cave one once. It’s how I was able to recognize you. I didn’t know you existed.”

She snorted. “I’m sure there’s much you don’t know about existing, Mr. Baker. Look. There. We’re almost to the ferry.”

He followed where she was pointing. Up ahead, the sign he’d seen in the distance was approaching as they crested the hill. Above the picture of a palm tree and the waves of the ocean was the legend: VILLAGE OF MARSYAS.

“I’ve never heard of this place before,” he admitted as they drove past. “The village. Is it nice?”

“Depends on your definition of nice. To you, probably. To me, no.”

They reached the top of the hill. Below them, along the edges of the ocean, was a cluster of brightly colored buildings nestled amongst tall trees that had been bent over time with the winds. He could see houses spread out into the forest, all in pastels and thatched roofs. It looked like he always dreamed a place near the ocean would. It caused his heart to ache.

“We won’t stop, so don’t ask,” she warned him. “They don’t like it when we do.”

“What do you mean?”

“Not everyone is as progressive as you, Mr. Baker,” she said, and he knew he was being mocked. “The people of Marsyas don’t appreciate our kind.”

That surprised him. “Sprites?”

She laughed again, but the bitterness was heavy. “All magical beings, Mr. Baker.”

It didn’t take long to see what she meant. As soon as they pulled onto the main thoroughfare, heading through the village, people on the streets and in the shops turned toward the sound of the car. Linus had been on the receiving end of many looks of disapproval in his life, but never ones filled with so much hostility. People in board shorts and bikinis and rubber flip-flops turned to glare at them openly as they drove through. He tried waving at a few of them, but it didn’t do any good. He even saw a man inside what looked to be a seafood shanty reach up and lock the door as they drove by.

“Well, I never,” Linus said with a sniff.

“You get used to it,” Ms. Chapelwhite said. “Surprisingly.”

“Why are they like this?”

“I don’t pretend to know the minds of men,” she said, hands tightening on the steering wheel as a woman on the sidewalk appeared to shield her chubby, squawking children away from the car. “They fear what they don’t understand. And that fear turns to hate for reasons I’m sure even they can’t begin to comprehend. And since they don’t understand the children, since they fear them, they hate them. This can’t be the first time you’ve heard of this. It happens everywhere.”

“I don’t hate anything,” Linus said.

“You lie.”

He shook his head. “No. Hate is a waste of time. I’m far too busy to hate anything. I prefer it that way.”

She glanced at him, her expression hidden behind her sunglasses. She opened her mouth—to say what, he didn’t know—but appeared to change her mind. Instead, she said, “We’re here. Stay in the car.”

She parked at the edge of a pier. She got out before Linus could say another word. There was a man standing next to a small ferry, tapping his foot impatiently. Behind him, Linus thought he could see the faint outline of an island. “It’s getting late,” the man snapped at Ms. Chapelwhite as she approached, voice drifting over to Linus. “You know I can’t be at the island after dark.”

“It’s fine, Merle. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

“That’s not as comforting as you seem to think it is.” He spat over the edge of the pier into the water before looking over her shoulder at Linus. “That’s him, then?”