The House in the Cerulean Sea(46)

The doors to the bedrooms on the second floor were shut on either side of him, with the exception of Chauncey’s. Linus was about to pass his room when he stopped, hearing Chauncey talking inside. He peeked through the slightly open door to see Chauncey standing in saltwater in front of a full-length mirror near the window, a porter’s cap on his head between the stalks of his eyes. “How do you do, Mr. and Mrs. Worthington?” Chauncey asked, one of his tentacles lifting the cap as he bowed low. “Welcome back to the Everland Hotel! May I take your luggage? Oh, why thank you for noticing, Mrs. Worthington! Yes, I did get a new uniform. Only the best for Everland. I do hope you enjoy your stay!”

Linus left him to it.

He wondered if it would be too much to get Chauncey a coat to complete his costume. Perhaps he could see if there was something in the village—

No. That wasn’t what he was here for. He was here to observe and nothing more. He couldn’t influence the orphanage. It wouldn’t be proper. The RULES AND REGULATIONS were specific about such matters.

He thought he heard movement behind Sal’s door, but it was shut tight. Best not to attempt to say hello. He wouldn’t want to frighten the poor boy.

In addition to having never seen inside of Sal’s room, he had yet to go through the last door in the hall. Mr. Parnassus hadn’t invited him before today, though Lucy had on numerous occasions, much to Linus’s chagrin. He knew he’d have to inspect both before he left the island, but he’d been putting it off this first week, something he shouldn’t have done.

He stood in front of the door for a long moment, before taking a deep breath and raising his shaking hand to knock.

Before he could, the door unlatched and opened just a smidge.

Linus took a step back. There didn’t seem to be any light coming from inside.

He cleared his throat. “Hello?”

No response.

He steeled his nerves and pushed open the door.

The late afternoon sun had been bright when he’d walked inside the house, the sea air warm. But the interior of the room reminded him of being back in the city, dark and cold and dank. He took a step inside. And then another.

And then another.

The door slammed shut behind him.

He spun around, heart in his throat. He was reaching for the door when candles flared to life around him, spouts of fire reaching up two feet or more.

“Welcome to my domain,” a child’s voice rang out behind him. “You have entered here at my invitation.” The voice cackled. “Bear witness to the true depth of my power! I am Lucifer! I am Beelzebub, the prince of devils! I am—”

“—going to find yourself with a loss of privileges if you should decide to continue,” Linus heard Mr. Parnassus say.

The candles snuffed out.

The darkness faded.

Sunlight poured in through the window.

Linus blinked against the bright light.

Mr. Parnassus sat in a high-backed chair near the window, legs crossed, hands in his lap, an amused expression on his face. There was an empty chair across from him, undoubtedly for the boy who lay on his back on the thick rug.

“He heard you coming,” Mr. Parnassus said with a shrug. “I cautioned him against it, but since this is his time to do as he wishes, I thought he shouldn’t be stifled.”

Lucy looked up at Linus, who was plastered against the bedroom door. “I am who I am.”

“Quite,” Linus said, his voice a squeak, barely able to peel himself from the door.

The room itself was large and spacious. There was a four-poster bed set against the far wall, made of dark wood, ornate vines and leaves carved into the posts. There was a desk, far older than the others in the house, covered in reams of paper and stacks of books. An unlit fireplace sat opposite the bed. If Linus hadn’t just been frightened half out of his mind, he would have thought it would be perfect for cold winter nights.

“Would you like to show Mr. Baker your room?” Mr. Parnassus asked Lucy. “He’d probably like to see it very much. Wouldn’t you, Mr. Baker?”

No. No, he wouldn’t. Not very much at all. “Ye-es,” Linus said. “That certainly seems … doable.”

Lucy turned over on his stomach, propping his chin in his hands. “Are you sure, Mr. Baker? You don’t sound so sure.”

“I’m sure,” Linus said firmly.

Lucy picked himself up off the ground. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Mr. Parnassus sighed. “Lucy, you’re going to give Mr. Baker the wrong idea.”

“And what idea would that be?”

“You know what.”

Lucy threw his hands up. “I’m just trying to build anticipation. Expect the unexpected! You told me that life is meant to surprise you. I’m trying to surprise him.”

“I think you’re setting yourself up for nothing but disappointment.”

Lucy’s eyes narrowed. “And whose fault is that? If you’d have listened to my decorating ideas, there would be no room for disappointment. There would only be joy.” He glanced at Linus. “Well, for me.”

Mr. Parnassus spread his hands in a placating gesture. “I don’t think having severed human heads is conducive to a good night’s sleep or the health and sanity of Mr. Baker, even if they were to be made of papier-maché.”