The House in the Cerulean Sea(34)

Linus thought to disagree, but he didn’t think it would do any good. Especially in the light of an obviously traumatized child. And while Mr. Parnassus wasn’t wrong exactly, he didn’t like when someone else spoke for him.

Mr. Parnassus continued. “His job is to make sure I’m doing my job correctly. And what is my job?”

“To keep us safe,” the children intoned. Even Sal.

“Precisely,” Mr. Parnassus said. “And I like to think I’m good at it.”

“Because you’ve had practice?” Chauncey asked.

Mr. Parnassus smiled at him. “Yes. Because I’ve had practice. And if I have my say, you will never be separated.”

That was a challenge, and Linus didn’t care for it one bit. “I don’t think it’s right to—”

“Who’s ready for dessert?” Ms. Chapelwhite asked.

The children began to cheer.





SEVEN


Mr. Parnassus led Linus down a long hallway at the top of the stairs. “The children’s rooms,” he said, nodding at the doors on either side of the hall. There were signs hung from each of them with the names of the children: Chauncey and Sal on the right. Phee and Talia on the left. He pointed toward a hatch in the ceiling. The outline of a wyvern had been drawn on it. “Theodore’s nest is up in the turret. He has a small hoard up there, but his favorite place is under the couch.”

“I’ll want to inspect them,” Linus said, making a mental note of the layout.

“I figured you would. We can arrange for that tomorrow, seeing as how the children will be getting ready for bed shortly. Either Ms. Chapelwhite can show you while the children are in their studies, or we can do it before, and then you can join us in the classroom.”

“What about Ms. Chapelwhite?” Linus asked, staring at the etchings of trees into the wood of Phee’s door as they passed it by.

“She was here long before we ever were,” Mr. Parnassus said. “The island is hers. We’re merely borrowing it. She lives deep in the woods on the other side of the island.”

Linus had so many questions. This island. This house. This man. But another was more prominent, given the number of doors he’d counted. Near the end of the hall, four remained. One was marked as a bathroom for the girls. The other was for the boys. A third door had ARTHUR’S OFFICE written in a legend on it. “And Lucy? Where does he stay?”

Mr. Parnassus stopped in front of the office and nodded toward the remaining door. “In my room.”

Linus’s eyes narrowed. “You share a room with a small boy—”

“Nothing untoward, I assure you.” He didn’t sound offended by the implication. “There was a large walk-in closet that I had converted into a room for Lucy when he came to stay with us. It … it’s better for him if I’m near. He used to have such terrible nightmares. He still does, sometimes, though they aren’t as vicious as they used to be. I like to think his time here has helped. He doesn’t like being far away from me, if he can help it, though I am trying to teach him independence. He’s … a work in progress.”

Mr. Parnassus opened the office door. It was smaller than Linus expected, and crammed full, almost uncomfortably so. There was a desk set in the middle, surrounded by stacks of books, many of which leaned precariously. There was a single window that looked out over the ocean. It appeared endless in the night. In the distance, Linus saw the flashing wink of a lonely lighthouse.

Mr. Parnassus shut the door behind them, nodding for Linus to take a seat. He did so, taking out a small notebook that he always carried in his pocket, filled with notes he kept on each of his cases. He’d been lax in his duties here so far, kept off-kilter by the very idea of this place, but that would do no longer. He’d always prided himself on the copious notes he took, and if he was to give weekly reports as Extremely Upper Management requested, he would make sure they were the best he’d ever written.

“Do you mind?” he asked, pointing at a stubby pencil on the desk.

“Of course,” Mr. Parnassus said. “What’s mine is yours.”

Something fluttered in Linus’s stomach. He thought it must have been something he ate. He opened his notepad and licked the tip of the pencil, an old habit he’d never been able to break. “Now, if you please. Let’s discuss—”

“Sal is our newest arrival,” Mr. Parnassus said, as if Linus hadn’t spoken at all. He sat across from Linus in the chair behind the desk, steepling his hands under his chin. “Three months ago.”

“Oh? I suppose I did read that in his file. He seems nervous, though I suppose teenagers often are in the face of authority.”

Mr. Parnassus snorted. “Nervous. That’s one word for it. Did you also read in his file that these three months are the longest he’s ever stayed in one place since he was seven years old?”

“I … no. I don’t suppose I got that far. I was distracted by … well. The enormity of this assignment.”

Mr. Parnassus smiled sympathetically. “They didn’t tell you what you were walking into, did they? Extremely Upper Management. Not until you got here.”

Linus fidgeted in his seat. “No. Only that it was classified.” Also that the children were problematic, but Linus didn’t know if he should say that aloud.