“I say, Mr. Parnassus! I’m speaking to you!”
Arthur held up a hand toward her. “Miss Marblemaw, I’ll be with you after I’ve—”
“Was that you?” she demanded, stopping a good distance away from him, panting. “The fire. The sky. Was. That. You.”
“It was,” Arthur said evenly. “Part of being a phoenix means releasing energy every now and then. And I did so, safely away from everyone and everything. No one was hurt, nothing was damaged.”
“Tell that to the window,” she said triumphantly, pointing her finger at the second floor.
They all looked up to find the window intact, the glass free of smudges or streaks.
“I saw it,” she snapped. “I saw it with my own two eyes! Glass in the grass! Shards that could pierce and stab! And I have proof.” She reached into her pocket. When she pulled it out, she extended it toward Arthur and opened her hand. Upon her palm sat a gold-and-brown shell.
“That’s not proof,” Chauncey said with sage-like wisdom. “That’s a snail’s house.”
Miss Marblemaw gaped down at the shell before crushing it in her hands. “I know what I saw,” she hissed as powdered shell slipped between her fingers. “And I know what you are. You won’t be able to hide forever, Mr. Parnassus. By the time I’ve finished with this place, you’ll never—”
“Oh, do be quiet,” Zoe said.
“Ooh,” the children said.
Miss Marblemaw glowered at Zoe. “And you. I don’t know who you think you are, but I am a representative of the government, which means I have complete and total power here. I won’t have an unregistered person telling me what to do. You’re lucky you haven’t been arrested for—”
Zoe moved past the children, gliding down the steps without touching them. She landed on the ground, and as Miss Marblemaw squared her not-so-inconsiderable shoulders, Zoe’s eyes turned completely white, opaque, her voice taking on a deep timbre, wings glittering in the early morning light. “I said, be quiet. I’m done hearing you speak to us as if we give a damn about what you say. You are on my island, and after your conduct in the village, you’re lucky you’re still standing of your own volition.”
“Threats!” Miss Marblemaw barked in response. “That’s all you have. They won’t work! You can’t—”
“We’ll be with you shortly,” Zoe said. “Until then, why don’t you return to the guesthouse?” She raised her hand toward Marblemaw. Before the inspector could react, Arthur felt the air shift around him—thick, almost corporeal—and then Marblemaw shrieked as she slid backward through the dirt, arms waving wildly. Leaving divots in her wake, Marblemaw hit the porch steps of the guesthouse, the backs of her feet dragging up the wooden steps, her body slanted backward, almost parallel with the porch. The second before she crashed into the door, it opened out, the hinges creaking. Marblemaw regained control the moment she crossed the threshold, rushing toward them, only to have the door shut in her face.
“There,” Zoe said. “That should hold her.”
“Until she tries to break a window,” Linus said.
“I got it!” Lucy said. He scrunched up his face, and then relaxed. “Done and done! Now all the windows are made of plastic ten inches thick! I’ve never had a hostage before. When do we get to negotiate for a helicopter?”
“Not a hostage,” Arthur said. “She’s merely enjoying the wonder that is Chauncey’s turndown service.”
“I left a mint on her pillow,” Chauncey said. “I hope she doesn’t eat it because I want to.”
Before Arthur could reply, Zoe was there, running her hands up and down his arms, his sides, his shoulders. “You’re fine,” she muttered, eyes returning to their normal color. “You’re fine.”
“I am,” he said gently. “I wouldn’t leave you, dear.” He kissed her forehead as she clutched him. “But I fear the time we’ve all prepared for is upon us.” Zoe let him go, but she didn’t go far, her hand in his, gripping tightly, a welcome touch.
“What happened?” Sal asked.
“Children,” Arthur said. “Classes for today have been canceled—”
For the second time in twelve hours, an explosion occurred. Only this time, it was not a thing of fire and feather, but one of extraordinary jubilation. Sal and Theodore grinned while Chauncey wailed in happiness. Talia and Phee pumped their fists in the air as David decided that dancing was an appropriate response to such welcome news, wiggling his hips, eyes bright and cold.
“—but fear not,” Arthur continued. “We’ll work doubly hard in the coming days to make up for it.”
Talia, with her arms still in the air, asked, “Are we happy or mad?”
Phee said, “I … I don’t know?”
“Your hearts,” Arthur said, and the children fell quiet. “Your tremendous hearts. They’ve carried you far, inexorably linking us together. There is nowhere I’d rather be.”
“What is it?” Sal asked. “What’s happened?”
“It has come to our attention that a certain inspector has come to our home under false pretenses,” Arthur said. “She is not here, as she claimed, to ensure your safety and happiness.”
“What a shocking development,” Talia said. “Who would’ve guessed?”
“Not me,” Chauncey said. “I thought she just needed a hug.”
“I like you,” Phee said, patting his shoulder.
“Unfortunately, I don’t believe a hug will solve the issue,” Arthur said. “No, it’s beyond that now.”
“Uh-oh,” Chauncey whispered, stalks shrinking until his eyes rested atop his head. “We’re doomed.”
“What does she want?” Sal asked, voice hard.
Arthur shook his head. “I don’t want you to concern yourself with—”
“You do that,” Sal said, pushing his way to the front of the children. “You always do that. You take it all on yourself because you think we can’t handle it.”
“Sal,” Linus said, “it’s not that simple. There are things at play here that are complicated even to us.”
