The House in the Cerulean Sea(77)

There came another roar from up the stairs. It sounded as if something monstrous had awoken.

Linus sighed. He didn’t know why he decided now was a perfect time to test his mettle. “Stay here with them?” he asked Zoe.

She looked like she was about to object, but then nodded instead. “If that’s what you want.”

What Linus wanted was to still be asleep in his bed, but that was out of the question. He said, “It is. Do you think you need to take them out of the house?” He eyed the furniture floating around them warily.

“No. He won’t harm them.”

And for reasons Linus couldn’t quite explain, he trusted her. Trusted them.

He smiled at the children weakly before turning toward the stairs.

“Mr. Baker!”

He glanced over his shoulder.

Chauncey waved at him. “I like your pajamas!”

“Um. Thank you, that’s very— Would you put your arm away? You don’t get tips for paying compliments!”

Chauncey sighed and dropped his tentacle.

Talia stroked her beard. “Remember, if you see anything … strange, it’s only a hallucination.”

He swallowed thickly. “Oh. That’s … wonderful advice. Much appreciated.”

She preened.

The banister on the stairs felt like it was vibrating under his hand as he took step after step. The pictures and paintings on the walls spun in lazy circles. He heard sharp blasts of music—bits and pieces of a dozen different songs that he recognized. There was big band and jazz and rock ’n’ roll and echoes of the day the music died, the Big Bopper and Buddy Holly and Ritchie Valens singing around him in ghostly voices.

He reached the top of the stairs. All the doors aside from the one at the very end were open. He took another step, and they all slammed shut at once. He gasped, taking a step back as the hallway began to twist, the wood creaking. He closed his eyes, counted to three, and opened them again.

The hallway was as it always was.

“Okay, old boy,” he muttered to himself. “You can do this.”

The doors stayed closed as he passed them by, though lights flickered behind them, illuminating the floor in quick bursts. The music was louder as he approached the door at the end, and it was as if every record ever made was being played at the same time, a screeching cacophony of sound that caused Linus’s teeth to rattle in their sockets.

He had the ridiculous notion of knocking as he reached the last door, but shook his head. He took a deep breath as he put his hand on the knob and twisted it.

The music died as the door opened.

Linus thought he caught a flash of orange light out of the corner of his eye, but it faded before he could figure out where it’d come from.

Lucy’s bedroom door was wide open, hanging slightly off its hinges.

Lucy himself stood in the center of the room, hands outstretched away from him like wings, digits straining. The records that had adorned his walls circled around him slowly. Some had cracked and splintered. His head had fallen back and his eyes were open, but they were blank and unseeing. His mouth was open, and the cords stuck out from his neck.

Arthur was kneeling before him, a hand cupped around the back of Lucy’s neck. He glanced at Linus, eyes widening slightly, before he turned back to Lucy. He began to whisper something that Linus couldn’t quite make out, but the tone was soft and soothing. He squeezed Lucy’s neck slightly.

Linus took a step closer.

“—and I know you’re scared,” Arthur was saying. “And I know sometimes you see things when you close your eyes that no one should ever see. But there is good in you, Lucifer, overwhelmingly so. I know there is. You are special. You are important. Not just to the others. But to me. There has never been anyone like you before, and I see you for all that you are, and all the things you aren’t. Come home. All I want you to do is come home.”

Lucy arched his back as if electrified. His mouth opened wider, almost impossibly so. That roaring sound came again, crawling out from his throat. It was dark and twisted, and Lucy’s eyes flashed red, a deep and ancient thing that caused Linus’s skin to crawl.

But Arthur never let him go.

Lucy relaxed, slumping forward. Arthur caught him.

The sashes in the windows stopped fluttering.

The records fell to the floor, some of them breaking into small pieces that scattered along the floor.

“Arthur?” Lucy asked, voice breaking. “Arthur? What happened? Where am— Oh. Oh, Arthur.”

“I’m here,” Arthur said, pulling him into a hug. Lucy buried his face in Arthur’s neck and began to sob, his little body shaking. “I’m here.”

“It was so bad,” Lucy cried. “I was lost, and there were spiders. I couldn’t find you. Their webs were so big, and I was lost.”

“But you did find me,” Arthur said lightly. “Because you’re here. And Mr. Baker is here too.”

“He is?” Lucy sniffled. He turned his face to look over toward the door. His face was blotchy and streaked with tears. “Hello, Mr. Baker. I’m sorry if I woke you. I didn’t mean to.”

Linus shook his head, struggling to find the right words. “No need for apologies, dear boy. I’m a light sleeper as is.” He was anything but. His mother always said a stampede of wild horses wouldn’t be able to wake him. “I’m just pleased you’re all right. That’s the most important thing of all.”