The House in the Cerulean Sea(64)

I’m thinking of a day trip, perhaps. To test the waters. I’ll need to bring it up to Mr. Parnassus, of course. I think it would do the children good, and hopefully allow the villagers to see their fears are unfounded. If Arthur says no, I suppose I’ll have to abide by it.

Such a strange fellow Arthur is. He cares for the children. That much is clear. While he doesn’t follow RULES AND REGULATIONS to the letter (possibly not at all), I think there is merit to what he does. The children all care about each other immensely, and I believe that is in no small part due to Arthur.

Still, he is an enigma. For all that I’ve learned about this place, I feel as if I know him the least. I will need to rectify that, I think.

For the children, of course.

Talia showed me more of her garden today. Gnomes are quite proficient in horticulture, but she seems to outshine even the very best and …





* * *



It was a Tuesday in Linus’s second week at on Marsyas when Calliope decided she needed to be chased, after committing theft.

It certainly wasn’t something Linus wanted to do; it was after lunch and he was sitting on the porch in the sun, dozing quite peacefully. He still had a few moments before he needed to return to the main house to sit in on the children’s studies, and he was using that time wisely.

And then there was the idea of chasing a cat at all. Linus, for all that he was capable of, didn’t like to chase anything. Chasing implied running, and Linus had decided long ago that running wasn’t something he liked very much. He never understood those who woke up even before the sun had risen, donned their fancy expensive sneakers, and went running on purpose. It was most unusual.

But then Calliope burst out of the guest house, hackles raised and eyes wide, as felines sometimes did for mysterious reasons. She looked at him wildly, tail up in a rigid line, claws digging into the floorboards.

And she had one of his ties in her mouth.

Linus frowned. “What are you—”

Calliope bolted off the porch toward the garden.

Linus almost toppled over as he stood from his chair, managing to stay upright by the grace of God. He watched as Calliope ran, the black tie trailing behind her. “Hey!” he shouted. “Damn cat, what are you doing? Stop this instant!”

She didn’t stop. She disappeared behind a hedge.

For a moment, Linus thought about letting her go. It was just a tie, after all. He actually hadn’t worn a tie this week. It was much too warm, and Phee had asked why he always wore one. When he told her it was proper for someone in his position to wear a tie, she’d stared at him before walking away, shaking her head.

But it absolutely wasn’t because of Phee that he’d forgone his tie on Sunday for the first time. And then when Monday had come around again, he’d decided it certainly wasn’t necessary, at least for the time being. Once he returned to the city, he’d have to wear one, of course, but now?

It wasn’t like he was being supervised.

Who would know?

(Phee did, apparently, if her smirk was any indication.)

But still. That tie had cost him more than he cared to think about, and just because he wasn’t wearing it now didn’t give Calliope the right to take it from him. He’d need it when he went back home.

And so he chased after his cat.

He was sweating by the time he made it to the garden. A man of his size and shape meeting with wind resistance made running that much more difficult. And sure, maybe he wasn’t running exactly, but jogging was just as bad.

He entered the garden, calling after Calliope, demanding that she show herself. She didn’t, of course, because she was a cat and therefore didn’t listen to anything anyone told her. He looked under hedges and in flowerbeds, sure he’d find her crouching, tail twitching as she gnawed on his tie.

“I don’t know why island life has made you this way,” he said loudly as he pushed himself up from the ground, “but I promise you things will change when we get back home. This is unacceptable.”

He made his way farther into the garden, reaching a part he hadn’t yet seen before. It wrapped around the side of the house and was much denser than what Talia had shown him so far. Here, the flowers looked wilder, their blooms bright, almost shocking. The sun was on the other side of the house, and the shadows were plentiful. There were many places for a cat to hide.

He stepped around an old tree, the limbs gnarled, the leaves folded and saw—

“There you are,” he said with a sigh. “What on earth has gotten into you?”

Calliope sat on her haunches, tie lying on the ground at her feet. She looked up at him with knowing eyes. She meowed again, a sound he still wasn’t used to.

“I don’t care,” he replied. “You can’t steal my things. It’s impolite, and I don’t like having to chase … after … you…”

He blinked.

There, behind Calliope, was what appeared to be a cellar door at the base of the house. The foundation was made of stone, and the doors were thick and wooden. He stepped forward with a frown, seeing what appeared to be scorch marks upon the doors, as if there had been a fire behind them once upon a time. He thought for a moment, trying to remember if he’d ever been told there was a basement to the house. He didn’t think he had, and aside from Sal’s room, he’d seen what he thought was almost every inch of the house. If this was a basement, there was no entrance to it inside.