Fear the Drowning Deep(52)

“He cares for me. He wouldn’t hurt me.” The words left my lips with the swiftness of conviction, though I wasn’t sure I believed them. I wanted Morag to tell me I was right, that it was possible for glashtyns to love human girls instead of drowning them.

But she merely arched her brows. On someone else’s face, the expression would have been comical, but her eyes were too unnerving to make me laugh. “Seems to me he already has. Hurting is what true loves do best.”

I thought of the things I’d shouted at Fynn, and tears again filled my eyes.

“Inside with you!” Morag snapped, drawing me from my muddled thoughts. “If you carry on watering the ground like that, I’ll have weeds cropping up all over the yard. And then you’ll have to pull them.”

Caught between another sob and a bubble of laughter, I hiccupped. “No, thank you. But I know your foot wasn’t stuck in a hunter’s trap, and we have much to discuss about monsters. As you said, there’s no stopping me.” I attempted a grin.

“If you want to hear about my foot, come inside. I have a tea to calm your nerves.” Morag stepped aside, gesturing to the dim interior of the cottage. “You don’t want to confront the boy while you’ve got a face like a boiled lobster.”

“Excuse me?” I rubbed my cheeks.

“You heard me, lobster-girl. Come in. If he cares a whit about you, he won’t have gone anywhere.”

I didn’t want to admit she had a point, so I followed her inside.

She puttered around, clinking dirty dishes as she searched for mugs. I looked about, hoping to see what Morag had done with Mam’s painting. Either stacks of tattered cloth and old furniture had swallowed it, or it was gone. “Where’s the gift I brought you? The awful painting from Mam.”

“I burned it.”

“Oh. I can’t say I blame you.” It seemed a shame to have burned Mam’s work, but I knew Morag’s reasons.

She frowned as she poured our tea, splashing something deep amber into hers. After a moment’s hesitation, she added a generous splash of the amber liquid to mine as well. “There you are.” She pushed a mug toward me, then took a deep drink from hers. “I never thought I’d have to tell this story again.”

There was a hollow ring to her voice, and for the first time I noticed the purple smudges under her eyes. “Take your time,” I said softly.

Morag frowned but launched into her story. “When I was a girl, perhaps a year or two older than you are now, I went to catch fish for supper. The sky had been dark all day, so I thought the storm would continue to hold off, but I was wrong.” She paused, biting her lower lip. “The rain started. I made for shore, but a giant serpent reared out of the sea. It sank its teeth into my leg and tried to drag me from my boat, but I had a spear—”

“And you jabbed the serpent in the eye,” I finished.

It was exactly as Mam had painted it.

Morag’s face paled. “Tell me how you know that.” Her voice came out a whisper. “Oh, of course. Your mother. She didn’t mention that particular dream to me.”

“It was her newest painting.” I gazed into my steaming mug, picturing the fear in the younger Morag’s light eyes. They looked much the same now.

Morag met my gaze and took a deep breath before continuing. “It would seem you know the truth of her dreams, then.”

My hands clenched around my mug, but I ignored the sting of the hot porcelain against my palms.

I thought of the selkies and mermaids wrapped in garlands of pearls. Gooseflesh rose on my arms and legs. “Why haven’t you warned the town? Think of the lives you could’ve saved!”

Morag’s reply was almost too soft to hear. “Don’t you think I’ve tried? Why do you think they mock me so?”

I bit my lip, knowing all too well how that felt. “One of us has to tell Mam about her dreams, at least!”

“No, girl. It’s much kinder not to.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mureal isn’t strong like us.” Morag smiled sadly. “Strong like you, rather.” She bowed her head and sighed. “She has an ability few possess, a bond with the sea not unlike the connection some have with the spirit world. But it makes her delicate. To learn that her visions are more than dreams would surely undo her. You, on the other hand, won’t fall to pieces just because there’s a grindylow in the harbor or a fossegrim on the beach. You have a great ability to acknowledge the hidden and carry on living.”

I shook my head. Morag made it sound as though I were the type who could see the boy she’d kissed turn into a sea monster, shrug, and go fix supper. Silence settled over the cottage, thick and stale as the air around us.

Finally, I cleared my throat. “Why did the serpent attack you? Is there more than one? Does it eat people, or just kill for pleasure?”

A muscle jumped in Morag’s cheek, but she continued staring into her tea. “This is why I didn’t wish to talk about the monsters with you. I gave you the book. That should be enough to satisfy your curiosity.” She drained the rest of her mug before settling her unfocused gaze on me. “I don’t have the answers you seek and I can’t help you. All I know about the serpent is that its bite will make you plead for a swift death.”

“Then, can you tell me how to find and kill a fossegrim?”