The House in the Cerulean Sea(27)

“I was just having some fun,” Lucy muttered, scuffing his shoe against the porch. “I’m hellfire. I am the darkest parts of—”

“You still need to have a bath after supper,” the voice said, and Linus felt his heart skip a beat. “Perhaps we could save the hellfire and the darkest parts for tomorrow.”

Lucy shrugged. “Okay.” And then he ran past Linus into the house, shouting for Talia and Chauncey. “Did you see what I did? He was so scared!”

Linus looked off the porch.

There, standing in the grass, was a man.

He was unlike anyone Linus had ever seen before. He was spindly. His light hair was a mess, sticking up at odd angles. It was starting to gray around his temple. His dark eyes were bright and glittering in the near-dark. His aquiline nose had a bump in the center, as if it’d been broken once long ago and never set right. He was smiling, hands clasped in front of him. His fingers were long and elegant as he twiddled his thumbs. He wore a green peacoat, the collar pulled up around his neck against the sea breeze. His slacks appeared too short for his long legs, the hems coming up above his ankles, revealing red socks. He wore black-and-white wing tip shoes.

“Hello, Mr. Baker,” Arthur Parnassus said, sounding amused. “Welcome to Marsyas Island.” His voice was lighter than Linus expected, almost as if there were musical notes behind each word. “I do hope your trip was most pleasant. The ocean can sometimes be rough in the crossing. Merle is … Merle. He’s from the village, after all.”

Linus was flabbergasted. He remembered the blurry photograph from the file. In it, Mr. Parnassus had been standing against a blue background, and he hadn’t been smiling. But there had been a jovial arch to his eyebrow, and Linus had stared at it for longer than was probably proper.

He looked younger in person, far younger than his forty-five years suggested. He was as fresh-faced as the young people who came into DICOMY with their shiny degrees and ideas about how things should be done rather than how they actually were. They quickly learned to fall in line. Idealism had no place in government work.

Linus shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. It wouldn’t do for someone in his position to sit here gawking at the master of an orphanage. Linus Baker was nothing if not a consummate professional, and he had a job to do.

“Do you often greet your guests with threats of death and destruction, Mr. Parnassus?” he asked sternly, trying to regain control of the situation.

Mr. Parnassus chuckled. “Not usually, though it should be said we don’t have many guests. Please, call me Arthur.”

Linus was tense, listening to the babble of voices behind him. He felt uncomfortable having someone like Lucy behind him, out of sight. “I think Mr. Parnassus will suffice. I will be Mr. Baker during the course of this visit. From you and the children.”

Mr. Parnassus nodded with barely concealed delight. Linus couldn’t be sure what, exactly, about this situation necessitated such a response. He wondered if he was being mocked somehow and felt a wave of anger roll over him. He managed to push it down before it could contort his expression.

“Mr. Baker it is, then. My apologies for not welcoming you in person upon your arrival.” He glanced at the house over Linus’s shoulder before looking back at him. “I was otherwise detained with Lucy, though I suspect he attempted to conceal your presence from me.”

Linus was gobsmacked. “He can … do that?”

Mr. Parnassus shrugged. “He can do many things, Mr. Baker. But I expect you’ll find that out for yourself. It is the reason you’re here, isn’t it? Phee informed us of your arrival, and Lucy decided he’d welcome you in his own special way.”

“Special,” Linus said faintly. “That’s what you call it.”

He took a step toward the porch. “This is an unusual place, filled with things I don’t believe you’ve witnessed before. It would be best if you put your preconceived notions behind you, Mr. Baker. Your visit will be much more enjoyable if you do.”

Linus bristled. “I’m not here for enjoyment, Mr. Parnassus. This is not a vacation. I’m here as ordered by the Department in Charge of Magical Youth to determine if Marsyas Orphanage should remain as is, or if other actions should be taken. You would do well to remember that. The fact that the children were running amok with no supervision isn’t the best start.”

Mr. Parnassus barely seemed affected. “Running amok, you say? Fascinating. And I’m aware of what it is you’re here for. I just don’t know if you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He zigged when Linus expected him to zag. “You gave Theodore a button.”

Linus blinked. “Pardon?”

Mr. Parnassus was at the bottom of the steps. Linus had barely seen him move. “A button,” he repeated slowly. “Brass. You gave it to Theodore.”

“Yes, well, it was the first thing I found in my pocket.”

“Where did it come from?”

“What do you mean?”

“The button, Mr. Baker,” he said. “Where did the button come from?”

Linus took a step back. “I don’t … I don’t quite know what you mean.”

Mr. Parnassus nodded. “It’s the little things. Little treasures we find without knowing their origin. And they come when we least expect them. It’s beautiful, when you think about it. He loves it dearly. That was very kind of you.”