Fear the Drowning Deep(42)

I slid a hand farther down his stomach, and he made a low noise in his throat. “Did I hurt—?”

A shrill gull’s cry drowned out my question. Fynn and I leaped apart. And as the clouds parted to reveal the sun, I realized how much of the afternoon was already gone.

“Maybe we should go.” As I followed Fynn onto drier sand, a putrid odor, like spoiled milk, wafted under my nose. “Do you smell that?” I called above the crashing of waves.

He turned, scenting the wind like a hound, and made a face. “Something must’ve died.” He studied the water for a long moment before shrugging. “Probably a seal.”

“Still, I think it’s time we return home. Dusk will be here before long, and there’s the fossegrim to consider.”

“Dusk is a few hours off yet.” Without warning, Fynn flopped down in the last stretch of sand before the path, taking me with him. “We still have time.” He leaned in, like he wanted another kiss, but I put a hand on his chest and pushed him away.

“Promise me you won’t suddenly remember how much you loved your old life and leave me to rot alone in Port Coire.”

“I don’t have any proof to offer you,” Fynn said quietly, “other than my word: I intend to stay.”

“Then come with me to Morag’s. We didn’t exactly leave things on a friendly note yesterday, but perhaps she knows a spell to restore memories.”

“You couldn’t just take my word?”

I shook my head. “Please, Fynn.”

He frowned.

“If she can’t help, I’ll simply have to make my peace with the things I may never know about your past, just as I’m trying to make peace with the sea. Then I can kiss you again.” Lowering my eyes, I added, “I really want to kiss you again.”

“All right. I’ll go with you.” He slipped an arm around my waist and pulled me close.

I rested my head on his shoulder, watching the shifting tide. I thought of the last time I’d stood on this beach with Cat and Lugh, and shivered as I realized the three of us might never be together like that again. With Alis gone, with the way I’d hurt Lugh, our bonds had been forever altered. And there could be no reversing it.

I closed my eyes and listened to the wind, hoping it would carry away this constant ache of missing my friends, an ache that didn’t soften even with Fynn so near.

We stayed in the shadows of the cliffs until the sky turned a rich marigold. There was still plenty of time to walk home before the fossegrim could make its appearance. Sand fell from the skirt of my bathing dress with every step, and my throat ached from talking.

When the first row of houses came into view, I considered what we’d say if Mam had recovered from her latest headache enough to notice our bedraggled appearance. “Be careful not to let Mam ask you too many questions,” I advised. “She can smell a lie on a person like a shark scents blood. And—”

I forgot the rest of the words as sweet strains of music filled my ears. I paused, glancing toward the sunset sea. The melody seemed to be coming from across the water. Was someone practicing their fiddle on the beach?

“Bridey,” Fynn murmured.

His words washed over me as the fiddle’s melody ensnared my attention, my thoughts, and my heart. I longed to sit beside whoever made such beautiful music.

I walked to the edge of the cliff, shrugging off Fynn’s touch. The drop would be steep, but I would take the fall if it brought me closer to the maddeningly perfect music. My feet jerked forward as if pulled by invisible strings.

Come, come. Come to me. I’ve been waiting so long. Words swirled through my mind, chanted by an unfamiliar voice. Though devoid of rhythm, somehow I knew they belonged with the fiddle’s haunting tune.

“I can’t.” And yet, was there a reason not to go to the fiddler? Did I have a family? I couldn’t recall their names or faces … The fiddle sighed so sweetly. I forgot my name along with the rest. There was nothing keeping me here.

Just a few more steps, then I’d be falling free.

The music would catch me.

I twirled about, and my body felt so light, I realized I wouldn’t fall. I would fly. I was a seabird. I would soar with the melody until I landed in the fiddler’s arms.

My love, my life, you’ll make a beautiful—

“Bridey!” Fynn shouted. He wrapped his arms around my waist and yanked me away from the very edge, spinning me around until I no longer faced the sea. “Put your fingers in your ears!”

He grabbed my wrists and forced my hands up, pressing them hard against my ears.

As the dulcet tones of the fiddle faded, my desire to leap into the ocean vanished. A wave of cold horror spread from my head to my toes as I realized what I had been about to do.

Fynn lifted me over his shoulder with a grunt and ran toward town.

I glanced back in time to see a white figure hovering over the water. Its broad shoulders reminded me of a man, but no living being glowed like that. He appeared to be standing on the water’s surface, just past the waves, drawing a bow across a small stringed instrument as white as his skin and elegant clothing. This had to be the figure I’d seen from the window. The same spirit that took Grandad. The fossegrim.

“Turn back!” I demanded as Fynn kept running. “Turn back. We have to fight it!”