Fear the Drowning Deep(55)

“That’s not fair,” I said, biting my lip. “I’ve tried to visit since your mam went missing. All you had to do was open the door.”

Lugh turned, bringing his face close to mine until our noses touched. “You’re right. I didn’t want to see anyone. You understand.” When I nodded, he swallowed. “But you’re not exactly the girl I used to know, and I miss her. I thought—I thought you had felt the same way about me.”

I lowered my gaze, feigning interest in a discarded handkerchief being pushed across the ground by the wind. He had a point. Before Fynn’s arrival, when I’d thought of embraces, lips locked, hearts racing, I’d thought of Lugh. But not anymore.

“He’s stolen my heart,” I blurted. “I’m so sorry.” Heat crept into my face as I watched the handkerchief twirl. “I used to think about us, too. Rather a lot. But I can’t change how I feel. If Fynn had never come here …”

Lugh touched my cheek. “You don’t understand, Bry. It’s all right if you don’t want to be my girl, but that doesn’t mean you can stop being my friend.” His eyes glistened. “Cat misses you, too. She hasn’t been right since Alis disappeared.” He shook his head. “You still matter to your friends, no matter what the rest of this stupid town thinks. I only hope you can say the same of us.”

I tried to form words, but my throat resisted. Instead, I threw my arms around him. Lugh stiffened, but after a moment, his hands pressed against my back.

“I’ll be a better friend. Just give me time.” My insides writhed like I’d downed a bucket full of Morag’s beloved snigs. “Everything’s been so strange lately.”

Lugh’s sigh gusted through my hair. “I know. Nothing’s felt right since that girl washed up on the beach. I keep hoping my mam and the others will turn up one afternoon with a grand excuse for where they’ve been, but I know they won’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re gone. Dead. I can just feel it.”

“Oh, Lugh.” I laid my head on his shoulder, like I’d done countless times since we were small, and willed myself not to cry for his sake. “I miss them, too.”

“You don’t know the worst of it,” he murmured into my hair.

“Don’t I?” I thought of the fossegrim’s song, of the way my feet had nearly marched me over the cliffs. Of Fynn’s stubborn wounds, and of the serpent’s razor teeth. To kill the fossegrim, I’d have to find a spear and let it try to lure me to my death again. I couldn’t let Fynn fight it while he was still injured.

That is, if he hadn’t already sped out of Port Coire, and my life, for good.

“She was with child.”

Lugh’s words jarred me from my thoughts. “Your mam was—?”

“Aye. That’s why she’d gone to my aunt’s for supper. To share the good news.”

I pressed my trembling hands to the sides of his face. His eyes held the same haunted look shared by everyone in town these days. “I promise you, I’ll make things right. I’m going to find out what happened to your mam, and to the others, and make sure the guilty party never harms another soul.”

Lugh frowned. “How can you promise that? Bridey, do you know something about the disappearances? Who’s behind them?”

“Nothing you would believe.”

“If you’re planning to do something daft—”

“No more questions,” I said quietly, stepping back and nodding toward the tavern. “Just trust me. And I’d best hurry. I’m trying to find Fynn. But will I see you and Cat at the wedding?” I shook my head. “Mally picked a terrible time to fall in love.”

“That she did. But I wouldn’t miss the wedding for anything.” Lugh squeezed my shoulder. “And I’ll try to make things right with him. With Fynn. If you trust him, so do I.”

I smiled. “Thank you.” I wished I had something more to offer Lugh, something stronger than comforting words. My hand brushed over the Bollan Crosses bulging in my pocket. “Here, I want you to have this. Give one to Cat, too, would you?” I untangled strands from the mess and handed them to Lugh.

He studied them, frowning. “How many of these awful things are you carrying around?”

I adjusted the sleeves of my blouse. “Seven, now.”

“Is this some new English fad?” Lugh turned a cross over in his hands. “They don’t seem to be very well-made.”

“No, they’re no fad. But they just might keep you from drowning if you find yourself someplace where swimming for your life won’t save you.”

Lugh narrowed his eyes. “Does this have anything to do with your story about your grandad? Because, Bry, it’s past time to—”

“Look, if you care for me as much as you say you do, you’ll wear it. Please. I can’t lose you, too.” As I turned and ran the short distance to the tavern, Lugh called a farewell. I waved over my shoulder. “Be safe! Don’t go near the water! And I’ll see you at the wedding.”

Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the heavy tavern doors.


The fug in Ms. Katleen’s was even thicker than the humid, storm-charged air outside. The stench of dark ale, mildew, and salt crawled down my throat, banishing all desire for food. If I closed my eyes, I could pretend I was back in Morag’s cottage.