The House in the Cerulean Sea(30)

Linus had this record. He loved it so.

As Bobby Darin sang about watching ships from golden sands, Linus moved through the dream, fingers tracing along the books on the table. He barely glanced down at the titles, entranced by the telltale scratch of a record spinning.

He came to two swinging doors, portholes in their center.

He stood on his tiptoes, peering through them.

The kitchen was bright and airy. It was bigger than any kitchen he’d ever seen before. He was sure the entire guest house could fit inside, with room to spare. Lights hung from the ceiling surrounded by glass globes like fishbowls. He could see a gigantic refrigerator next to an industrial-sized oven. The granite counters were sparkling clean, and—

His jaw dropped.

Ms. Chapelwhite was moving through the kitchen, feet barely touching the floor. Her wings glittered behind her, much brighter than Phee’s had been. They fluttered with every step she took.

But it was the other person in the kitchen that caught Linus’s eye the most.

Lucy was standing on a stepstool in front of the counter. He had a plastic knife in his hand and was chopping a tomato, dropping the pieces into a large pink bowl to his left.

And he was bouncing along with Bobby Darin. As the orchestra swelled mid-song, drums beating, trumpets blaring, he shook his entire body in time with the music. Bobby came back in, saying he knew without a doubt, his heart would lead him there.

And Lucy was rocking his head back, bellowing the words as he danced.

Ms. Chapelwhite was singing along with him, twirling in the kitchen as she moved in and out of sight.

It was a feeling of unreality that washed over Linus then, a discordant wave that felt like it was sucking him down. He couldn’t catch his breath.

“What are you doing?” a voice whispered.

Linus let out a strangled yelp and turned to find Phee and Talia standing behind him. Phee had cleaned herself up, her red hair like fire, her freckles more pronounced. Her wings were folded against her back.

Talia had changed into a different outfit, though it was remarkably similar to the one she’d been wearing before, sans cap. Her long, white hair hung down on her shoulders, the same luxuriant color as her beard.

They both stared up at him suspiciously.

Linus didn’t know what to say. “I’m…”

“Spying?” Phee suggested.

He stiffened. “Absolutely not—”

“We don’t like spies here,” Talia said ominously. “The last spy who tried to infiltrate our house was never heard from again.” She leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Because we cooked him and ate him for supper.”

“You did no such thing,” Mr. Parnassus said, appearing out of nowhere. Linus was beginning to understand it was something he did. At some point, he’d removed his coat. He now wore a thick sweater, the ends of which fell over the backs of his hands. “Because we’ve never been so lucky as to have a spy. A spy suggests someone capable of infiltration without displaying their intent. Anyone that has come here has made their intentions perfectly clear. Isn’t that right, Mr. Baker?”

“Yes,” he said. “Quite.”

Mr. Parnassus smiled. “And besides, we don’t harm our guests. Certainly not to the point of murder. That would be rude.”

That didn’t make Linus feel any better.

“Beyond the Sea” gave way to Bobby singing about wanting a girl to call his own so he wouldn’t have to dream alone.

“Shall we?” Mr. Parnassus asked.

Linus nodded.

They all stared at him.

It took him a moment to realize he was blocking the door. He stepped aside. Phee and Talia pushed through to the kitchen. Mr. Parnassus called over his shoulder, “Theodore! Supper!”

Linus heard a loud scuffling coming from the living room. He looked beyond Mr. Parnassus in time to see Theodore burst out from underneath the couch, tripping over his wings. He growled as he flipped end over end, tail smacking against the floor. He lay on his back for a moment, breathing heavily.

“Slow and steady, Theodore,” Mr. Parnassus said kindly. “We’d never start without you.”

Theodore sighed (possibly—Linus couldn’t be sure) and righted himself. He chirped as he gingerly stood on his back legs, folding his wings behind him with great care, first the right, and then the left. He took a tentative step forward, claws sliding on the wood floor before he found a grip.

“He prefers to fly everywhere,” Mr. Parnassus whispered to Linus. “But whenever it’s time to eat, I ask him to walk.”

“Why?”

“Because he must get used to his feet on the ground. He can’t spend all his time on wings. He’ll tire, especially being so young. If he ever finds himself in danger, he needs to learn to use his legs as well as his wings.”

Linus was startled. “Danger, why would he—”

“How many wyverns are left in the world, Mr. Baker?”

That shut Linus up quickly. The answer, though he couldn’t be exact, was not many.

Mr. Parnassus nodded. “Precisely.”

Theodore took his exaggerated steps toward them, head cocked to the side. When he stood at their feet, he looked up at Mr. Parnassus, chirped, and spread his wings.

“Yes, yes,” Mr. Parnassus said, leaning down to run a finger along his snout. “Very impressive. I’m proud of you, Theodore.”