Fear the Drowning Deep(71)

But Martyn’s brow furrowed. “She isn’t here.”

I stared. Was he always this thick? “Of course she is.” I peered into the house. “Li-iss!” I called in a singsong, my pulse quickening. “Do you have any idea what time it is? Mam’s beside herself!”

Martyn’s face slowly turned the color of clotted cream. “I haven’t seen her today,” he insisted. “I waited at the shop for hours, but she never came. I thought—I thought she was busy and couldn’t come. She’d warned me your mam might not let her out, given the news of those poor folk at the harbor.”

My fingers worried at my Bollan Cross. “When has Liss ever been too busy to keep her word? You didn’t think to look for her?”

“I didn’t think—”

“Didn’t think at all, did you?” The harshness of my words startled even me. I offered Martyn an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. Liss left at dawn and … if she’s not here …”

Martyn rubbed the back of his neck. “What can we do?”

I jumped off the front step and started running. “Go. Tell everyone Liss is in danger,” I called over my shoulder. “They won’t believe me, but they might listen to you!”

“Wait!” Martyn shouted. “Where are you going?”

“To help my sister, same as you!” When he still didn’t move, I urged, “Raise the alarm! Hurry!”

I veered left, heading for the spot where the fossegrim had attacked Cat. I hoped Liss was wearing her Bollan Cross. Nothing else could keep her from drowning if the serpent had dragged her underwater.

My pace slowed as the ground shifted from dirt to sand. I loped down the beach, stopping just shy of the waves. Eyes narrowed, I scanned the gray-blue horizon for a flash of blonde hair or the gleam of inky rubber skin. But aside from the whitecaps, the only things stirring were massive rainclouds hovering over the sea, not quite ready to unleash their fury.

I prowled the sand, watching the water. My toes dug into something soft that wasn’t sand. Heart sinking, I glanced at a familiar scrap of dyed wool lying among broken oyster shells. It was the shawl Liss had worn when she left the house this morning.

Clutching the familiar blue garment to my chest, I glowered at the water. “Take me next! If you want a fight, I’ll give you one!” My breath came in quick sobs. “I’m through being afraid. Come and claim me! Just leave my sister be.”

A gust of wind blasted loose sand around my ankles, but no half-blind serpent emerged to heed my challenge.

Whirling away from the ocean, I wrapped Liss’s shawl around my shoulders and dashed toward the market to meet Mam. I’d convince her we needed someone with a boat to call Fynn and Da in to shore. Fynn was the only person capable of helping Liss now.

He could go where Mr. Gill and his patrolmen could not, and find my sister.

“Hold on, Liss,” I whispered, hurrying over to Mam and Grayse. They stood near the fountain, talking to Mr. Gill, the water’s merry babble failing to disguise their low, urgent tones. “Please, hold on.”


I spent the rest of the long afternoon at home minding Grayse, playing games I wasn’t thinking about, and preparing food I didn’t touch, while Mam found someone to bring Da and Fynn back from sea. She didn’t understand why I was so frantic, but she agreed to have them fetched anyway. She seemed to have little faith in the search party Mr. Gill was gathering.

Grayse hardly said a word as we passed the dragging minutes, and every time something reminded her of Liss, her eyes brimmed with tears. Mam would have been better comfort, but she’d begged me to take care of Grayse while she waited at the harbor.

“For my sake, please stay here. Stay safe. I can’t stand the thought of losing another daughter,” she’d pleaded.

I’d tied Liss’s shawl around Mam’s shoulders, pressing a stack of slightly stale biscuits into her hands before she departed.

By the time the front door creaked open, it was an hour or so before sundown. Morag would be waiting at the cottage with the poison. Grayse was sprawled on our bed, asleep early with her thumb in her mouth.

I scrambled off the sofa, peering past Mam as I hoped for a glimpse of Da and Fynn. “Where are they?”

“Almost here. I left to check on you girls the moment I saw their boat on the horizon.” Mam collapsed on the warm spot on the sofa I’d just vacated, and her hollow gaze said enough. Her hair and Liss’s shawl were damp, crusted with sand.

“Go rest with Grayse,” she whispered.

“But I’m not the least bit—”

“Go.” Her shoulders quaked, but her reddened eyes had no tears left to shed. Softer, she added, “All these years … Morag has been right to fear the sea. I’d never given it more than a passing thought, when all this time, I should have been guarding you girls against it.”

I put a hand on her arm, but before I could tell her how right she was, she seemed to snap out of a daze. She shook her head and loosed a breath of nervous laughter. “Oh, what am I saying? I’m out of my mind with exhaustion. Forgive me, Bridey … Sea monsters belong in bedtime stories, along with fairies who like to clean people’s houses.”

“But, Mam.” Perhaps I ought to tell her about her dreams. Maybe Morag was mistaken. Maybe Mam was ready to accept the truth.