The House in the Cerulean Sea(39)
Back in the bedroom, he remembered the warning from Mr. Parnassus about how Chauncey liked to hide under beds to scare people. He couldn’t quite see the dark space underneath as it was hidden by the quilt that hung nearly to the floor.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m overthinking things. Of course he’s not there. That’s ridiculous.”
He turned to go to the bathroom to perform his nightly routine.
He was in the middle of brushing his teeth, toothpaste in a glob on his generous chin, when he turned and marched back to the room. He fell to his knees, lifted up the quilt, and peered under the bed.
No monsters (children or otherwise) were hidden underneath.
“There,” he said through a mouthful of toothpaste. “See? It’s fine.”
He almost believed it.
By the time he’d donned his pajamas and crawled into bed, he was sure he was going to toss and turn for the remainder of the night. He didn’t sleep well in strange places, and learning everything he had today wouldn’t help. He tried to read RULES AND REGULATIONS (because no matter what Mr. Parnassus said, he absolutely did not have it memorized), but he found himself thinking of dark eyes above a quiet smile, and then there was nothing but white.
EIGHT
He blinked his eyes open slowly the next morning.
Warm sunlight filtered in through the window. He smelled salt in the air.
It felt like a lovely dream.
But then reality burst through, and he remembered where he was.
And what he’d seen.
“Oh dear,” he muttered roughly as he sat up in the bed, rubbing a hand over his face.
Calliope lay curled at the edge of the bed near his feet, tail swishing back and forth, eyes closed.
He yawned as he pulled the comforter back, putting his feet on the floor. He stretched, popping his back. Regardless of the situation he’d found himself in, he had to admit he hadn’t had such a good night’s sleep since he could remember. Between that, the morning sunlight, and the distant crash of the waves, he could almost pretend that this was nothing but a well-earned holiday, and that he was—
Something cold and wet wrapped around his ankle.
Linus screamed as he jerked his legs up. In his fear, he miscalculated his own strength, and his legs went up and over his head as he somersaulted backward and off the other side of the bed. He landed on the floor on his back with a jarring crash, breath leaving his lungs in a spectacular fashion.
He turned his head toward the underside of the bed.
“Hello,” Chauncey said, eyes dancing on the end of their stalks. “I’m not actually trying to scare you. It’s almost time for breakfast. We’re having eggs!”
Linus looked back up toward the ceiling and waited for his heartbeat to slow.
Department in Charge of Magical Youth
Case Report #1 Marsyas Orphanage
Linus Baker, Caseworker BY78941
* * *
I solemnly swear the contents of this report are accurate and true. I understand per DICOMY guidelines that any discoverable falsehoods will result in censure and could lead to termination.
This report, and the ones to follow, will contain the observations I’ve made throughout each week of my investigation.
Marsyas Island and the orphanage herein are not what I expected.
It should be noted that the files given to me for this assignment are woefully inadequate, leaving out pertinent facts that I believe could have prepared me for what this investigation will entail. Either parts of the files were missing or they have been redacted. If it’s the former, then this is a serious breach of conduct. If it’s the latter, my temporary classification level should have negated that. I would recommend a review of protocols for all classified level four assignments in the future, to make sure no other caseworker walks into a situation without the required knowledge.
My apologies if this comes across as demanding. I merely believe more should have been provided.
The Marsyas Orphanage isn’t what I thought it would be. The house itself is foreboding, though it appears to be well-maintained. It is large, and the interior is cluttered, although in a way that makes it feel like a lived-in home rather than the sanctuary of a hoarder. Aside, of course, from the actual hoard that belongs to the wyvern Theodore, but I have yet to see what that consists of, exactly.
The children each have their own rooms. In these first few days, I have seen the interiors of those belonging to the gnome Talia (the walls are adorned with more flowers than appear to be in the entirety of the garden), the sprite Phee (I do believe her bed is actually a tree growing through the floorboards, though for the life of me, I can’t figure how that’s possible), the … Chauncey (there is standing saltwater on the floor that I’m assured gets swabbed out once a week), and Theodore (he has built a nest in the attic that I was only allowed to see once I gave him another button; since I didn’t have a spare, I had to snip one from one of my dress shirts. I assume I will be compensated for this).
I have not seen the room belonging to Sal yet. He doesn’t trust me, and actually appears to be terrified of me, though through no fault of his own. He rarely says a word in my presence, but given his history, I can understand why. A history, I might add, I was not privy to as his file mostly discusses the abilities of his shift (leaving, of course, the most important part out). While this is certainly fascinating, I would suggest that it’s not enough. I’m told this is his twelfth orphanage. This information would have allowed me a better understanding upon my arrival.