“You wouldn’t dare,” Miss Marblemaw said.
“Uh-oh,” Chauncey said. “You really shouldn’t have said that.”
Phee’s wings began to flutter as she lifted off the ground, rising until she was face-to-face with Miss Marblemaw, her hair a crown of fire. Without looking away from the inspector, Phee leaned forward until her nose touched Miss Marblemaw’s. “Try me,” she said in a flat voice. “Touch any of us again, and it’ll be the last thing you do before I plant you in the park and let dogs use you as a toilet.”
“DICOMY will hear of this,” Miss Marblemaw said, the skin under her left eye twitching dangerously. “They’ll hear about all of this, and not even Arthur Parnassus will be able to talk his way out of this one.”
“Good,” Linus said coldly. “Because I’ll be sure to make everyone aware that you put your hands on someone without their permission. And I don’t believe we’ll have to go far for witness corroboration.”
People began to nod around Arthur, though they gave him a wide berth. He didn’t blame them for that; his fire was still running along his arms and hands, under control but only just. But then another figure appeared beside him, unafraid. “They knew,” Helen whispered to him. “Talia and Phee. I don’t know how, but they knew.”
Miss Marblemaw bristled. “I acted because I thought a human was in danger. Anyone would have done the same.”
“Except we didn’t,” J-Bone said. “Because we know them.” He glanced at David, expression softening. “Thanks to the little hairy dude with knife hands, I was able to fulfill a lifelong dream of getting chased by a yeti. How many people get to say that? Well, probably more than just me, but still! I got to, and it was even better than I hoped it’d be. Let’s hear it for having dreams realized thanks to a yeti named David!” He began to cheer loudly, clapping his hands hard.
The other children joined in. Zoe and Linus too. Then the crowd began to cheer until it was a roar, Helen as loud as anyone. Arthur lent his own voice to the wall of noise as his fire dissipated.
As Miss Marblemaw looked on furiously, David began to smile.
The ride home would have been uncomfortable had Merle not agreed to take her back himself. “Leave it to me, Mr. Parnassus,” he grumbled, eyeing Miss Marblemaw with disdain as they stood on the dock, the ferry behind them. “I’ll get her over.”
“If there were to be an unavoidable delay,” Arthur said, “I would completely understand.”
“Oh, aye,” Merle said with a nod. “It happens. Sea can be fickle.” He spat a thick wad into the sea. “Price has gone up, too, wouldn’t you know. Summer season, and all that.” He tilted his head toward Arthur. His breath smelled faintly of onions and tobacco. “Heard she gave you some trouble in town.”
“Rumor mill working overtime, I see.”
“That it does,” Merle said. “Kids all right?”
“I don’t know,” Arthur admitted. “I hope so. Children can be remarkably resilient when they need to be. I just wish it didn’t have to come to that.”
“Why are you letting her go back?” Merle asked. “Seems to me, you should give her the boot. Kids safer that way.”
An enigma, Merle was. Caustic, grouchy, and more than a little obtuse. And yet, he’d refused to bring the reporters to the island. He was asking after the children he usually only had the stink-eye for. It’s started, Arthur thought in wonder. Change, the voices of the few building to an unending roar.
“Keep your friends close, keep your enemies closer,” Arthur replied. “Believe me when I say Harriet Marblemaw will never find herself in that position again. She has made an enemy of me this day, and I won’t soon forget.”
Merle nodded. Then, in a lowered voice, he said, “If you need help hiding a body, I’m your man. The sea is very, very big.”
“Thank you, Merle. Your kindness is not only welcome, but a salve to the soul after the events of today. But worry not; I have plenty of children who know how to hide a body.”
Under David’s thick hair, the skin of his wrist was bruised, the clear outline of fingers in darkening shades of violet. It didn’t hurt very much, he claimed, and since his body was already freezing, there was no need to put an ice pack on it.
That did little to comfort Arthur. David seemed to have bounced back quickly, laughing at something Chauncey said by the time they arrived back on the island. Arthur hadn’t lied when speaking of the resiliency of children, but he wished such things were never tested. Trauma had a way of manifesting itself in the unlikeliest circumstances, and Arthur and Linus would keep a close eye on David to make sure any potential triggers were avoided.
Linus and Zoe fed the children an early supper while Arthur stood on the porch, watching the road. As the sun began to set, Miss Marblemaw appeared over the rise, huffing and puffing, her skin slick with sweat, the peacock feathers drooping against her face.
She stopped when she saw him. He didn’t call out to her, didn’t raise his hand in greeting. He just stared.
She jutted her chin at him, and then went to the guesthouse, slamming the door behind her.
She didn’t appear again for the rest of the evening.
That night, no matter how Arthur tossed and turned, sleep remained elusive.
Dad, Lucy had called him, easily and without forethought, as if it weren’t the most transformational moment of Arthur’s life. Dad.
When asked earlier how they’d known David was in trouble, it was Sal who spoke for them before climbing out of the van. “Lucy called for us.”
Linus and Arthur had exchanged a perplexed glance, Zoe looking just as confused. “What do you mean, ‘called’?” she asked.
“We heard him,” Sal had said. “In our heads. He told us David was in trouble.”
“Lucy?” Linus asked quietly. “Is that true?”
“Yep,” Lucy had replied. “They’re my brothers and sisters. Of course they heard me. Why wouldn’t they?”
Arthur rose from the bed, smiling at the way Linus snuffled and snorted in his sleep. “Lovely man,” he whispered, pulling the comforter up and over Linus’s shoulder. Calliope lifted her head, her gaze following him. She leaned into his touch when he scratched behind her ears. He was about to head into his office to catch up on work when something flashed outside the window, a low light that bloomed twice more.
He went to the window, and even though it was a terrible angle, he thought he saw the source of the light coming from the gazebo in the garden.
Pulling on his robe, he first checked Lucy’s room. The boy was asleep, snoring loudly, lips flapping. Next to his bed, lying on a slowly melting block of ice, David, little trails of cold fog streaming from his lips. Arthur let them be, closing the door before stepping out into the hall. He checked on each of the children, peeking his head in. Sal was sleeping on his stomach, face down into the pillow. Theodore slept on his back, head curled into his side. Chauncey floated on saltwater, his tentacles loose around him. Talia slept in her burrow, leaves fluttering with every exhalation.
Phee wasn’t in her room.
Refusing to let panic take over, he went downstairs and through the front door, stepping off the porch and turning right. He followed Talia’s garden path until he came to the gazebo. There, sitting on one of the benches, Phee, wearing her sleep clothes but apparently wide awake, tongue sticking out between her teeth in concentration. As Arthur looked on, she raised her hands in front of her, palms facing each other, fingers crooked like claws, a tangle of dirty roots floating between. Her forehead grew lines as she strained. A moment later, another flash of light—white, soft. When the light faded, a small sapling hovered between her hands, the roots twisted and dangling. She snatched it out of the air and set it on top of a pile of similar saplings sitting off to her right. On her left, more roots.
Arthur cleared his throat, and Phee jumped, only relaxing when she saw who had interrupted her. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, climbing the three steps into the gazebo.
