The House in the Cerulean Sea(99)

He had put his luggage on his bed with the intention of beginning to pack. He was leaving the day after tomorrow, and he told himself he might as well get started. But he stood in his room staring down at his bag. His copy of the RULES AND REGULATIONS lay on the floor near the bed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d picked it up. He asked himself why it’d been so important in the first place.

He didn’t know how much longer he would have stood there if he hadn’t heard the tapping on the bedroom window.

He looked up.

Theodore was perched outside, wings folded at his sides, head cocked. He tapped his snout against the glass again.

Linus went to the window, sliding it open. “Hello, Theodore.”

Theodore chattered in response, greeting Linus as he hopped inside. His wings opened and he half jumped, half flew to the bed, landing near Calliope. His eyes narrowed at her, and he snapped his jaws. She stood slowly, arching her back as she stretched. And then she walked to Theodore and lifted her paw to smack him across the face before yawning and jumping down from the bed.

Theodore shook his head, a little dazed.

“You deserved that,” Linus chided him gently. “I’ve told you not to antagonize her.”

Theodore grumbled at him. Then, he chirped a question.

Linus blinked. “Come with you? Where?”

Theodore chirped again.

“A surprise? I don’t think I like surprises.”

Theodore wasn’t having any of it. He flew up to Linus’s shoulder, landing and nipping at Linus’s ear until he had no choice but to obey. “Cheeky little git,” Linus muttered. “You can’t just bite until people do what you— Ow! I’m going!”

The afternoon sun felt warm on Linus’s face as they left the guest house. He listened as Theodore babbled in his ear. As the seagulls called overhead. As the waves crashed against the cliffs below. The ache in his heart was sharp and bittersweet.

They entered the main house. It was quiet, which meant that either everyone was out doing their own thing, or Lucy was up to something terrible that would end in death.

Theodore jumped down from Linus’s shoulder, wings out as he landed on the ground. He stumbled over them as he hurried toward the couch, tumbling end over end. He landed on his back, blinking up at Linus.

Linus fought a smile. “You’ll grow into them yet. Quite a lot, I think.”

Theodore turned over and found his footing. He shook himself from his head to the tip of his tail. He looked back up at Linus, chirped again, and disappeared under the couch.

Linus stared after him, disbelieving what he’d just heard. He’d seen part of Theodore’s hoard—the one he kept in the turret—but this was more important.

Another chirp came out from underneath the couch.

“Are you sure?” he asked quietly.

Theodore said he was sure.

Linus slowly went to his hands and knees and crawled toward the couch. Obviously he wouldn’t be able to fit underneath, but if he lifted up the skirt, he’d be able to see just fine.

So that was what he did.

He lay flat on his stomach and peered underneath the couch into Theodore’s lair, cheek pressed against the floor.

Off to his right, there was a soft blanket that had been fashioned into a nest. A small pillow—the size of Linus’s hand—sat atop it. Spread out around it were Theodore’s treasures. There were coins and rocks shot with quartz (much like the ones in Lucy’s room) and a pretty red-and-white shell with a crack through the middle.

But that wasn’t all.

There was a piece of paper that Linus could make out a few words: Brittle and thin. I am held—

There was a dried flower that looked like the ones Linus had seen in the garden.

There was a leaf so green that only a sprite could have grown it.

There was a piece of a broken record.

There was a picture that looked as if it’d been torn from a magazine, of a smiling bellhop, helping a woman with her bags.

There was a picture of Arthur as a younger man, the edges curled with age.

And next to it, piled lovingly, were buttons.

So many buttons.

It’s the little things, I expect. Little treasures we find without knowing their origin. And they come when we least expect them. It’s beautiful, when you think about it.

Linus blinked against the sudden burn in his eyes.

“It’s wonderful,” he whispered.

Theodore chirped that of course it was. He went to the buttons and nudged his nose into the pile as if searching for something. His tail thumped against the floor as he lifted his head.

In his mouth was a familiar brass button.

He turned and walked toward Linus.

Linus watched as his jaw clenched. Theodore bit down onto the button before dropping it to the floor.

Linus could see the impressions of Theodore’s fangs in the brass.

Theodore nudged it toward him. He looked up at Linus and chirped.

“For me?” Linus asked. “You want me to take it?”

Theodore nodded.

“But that’s—” Linus sighed. “It’s yours.”

Theodore nudged it toward him again.

Linus did the only thing he could—he took it.

He sat up from the floor, pressing his back against the couch. He stared down at the button in his hand, tracing a finger over the grooves from Theodore’s fangs. The wyvern poked his head out from underneath the couch and chirped up at him.