“I believe that can be arranged. You’ve earned it.”
He took off down the dock, his little feet smacking against the wood. Just when Arthur thought they’d seen the last of him without biscuits in his mouth, he stopped and turned around. “You know,” he called to them, “I always hated the word ‘master.’ Maybe it’s time we left it behind?” And with that, he took off once more, visions of warm biscuits undoubtedly on his mind.
Zoe burst out laughing. “Your children.”
Arthur smiled. “Aren’t they wonderful?” He extended his arm toward her. “Your majesty.”
She punched him gently on the biceps. “Shut it, Parnassus. Call me that again, and I’ll banish you.”
“I believe that.”
She took his proffered arm.
FIFTEEN
Word spread—and spread quickly—about the banishment of the DICOMY inspector from Marsyas Island. This was not unexpected; Arthur, Linus, and Zoe thought that would be the case. Regardless of the shroud of silence the government believed it acted under, it was not immune to springing a leak. A small one, but in Arthur’s estimation, it functioned as a crack in a great stone dam, a weakness that would only grow stronger. He wondered if it’d been Doreen Blodwell’s doing, wherever (and whoever) she was.
As such, reporters returned to the village with a vengeance, all but demanding access to the island. Per Helen, Merle flat out refused to ferry anyone across, saying the children had had enough interruption.
The Baker-Parnassus family had emerged victorious over Miss Marblemaw, but it was a temporary win. Rowder had shown she was willing to do anything to get her claws on Lucy. She wouldn’t let Miss Marblemaw’s banishment stop her. With such a thing hanging over them, Arthur thought the mood on the island would be muted, heavy.
It was anything but.
The children. The children, bless them, were proud, excited, full of vim and vigor, the likes of which Arthur hadn’t seen before. In the days that followed the departure of the inspector, summer-warm mornings and afternoons seemed endless, the children spreading their wings, the pall of the DICOMY inspection falling away. They laughed and ran and learned and played and created and made comments that would cause even the heartiest men to shiver.
Chauncey asked if he could clean the guesthouse as practice for the hotel. Linus volunteered to help, only to have the blobby boy ask if he was trying to get him fired? Linus was not, and therefore agreed to let Chauncey handle it on his own.
Theodore nearly wept when Linus returned a familiar brass button. Taking it gently in his claws, he immediately went to his hoard under the couch, tail sticking out and thumping against the floor as he chirped and clicked happily to himself.
Talia, ever the hard worker, decided that the scene on the dock needed to be replicated in shrubbery form. She spent the weekend growing and molding the bushes until she got them exactly as Lucy described. Granted, she only had Lucy’s telling to go on, so Arthur was not surprised when she revealed her work, only to have the shrub version of Lucy eating Miss Marblemaw, bits of leaves and sticks poking out of his shrubby mouth. It was quite the sight, and everyone agreed it was the best bit of garden art they’d ever had the pleasure to witness.
Phee and Arthur took to the skies, a sprite and phoenix crisscrossing high above the island. Before long, they were joined by Theodore, who alighted upon the phoenix’s back, laughing in that lovely way he had. Tilting his head back, he let loose a stream of green fire, and Phee swirled around it, her wings glinting in the sunlight.
Sal had decided he wanted to learn more about the day-to-day operations of the island. Joining Arthur in his office, they pored over records and books, Sal learning about the significant investments Arthur had made over the years with the monies he’d been awarded, and everything else needed to keep the island … well, afloat. Sal kept Arthur on his toes with clever questions, and as they worked late into the night, Sal asked if they could keep going for just a little longer. Who was Arthur to refuse?
David was as relaxed as Arthur had ever seen him. The few days before the inspector had arrived had only offered them glimpses into the yeti. Now that she was gone, he blossomed even more, an inquisitive boy with a mind like a steel trap. Nothing got by him, and they spent a glorious afternoon watching David carve an ice sculpture with nothing but his claws. Granted, he did so as part of a play he’d written, directed, and starred in, a bittersweet tale of an ice sculptor slash retired master thief who gets involved in One Last Job. The play itself was breathtaking, full of twists and turns (the true villain? Greed), and when David finished, thunderous applause followed, none louder than Arthur’s.
Lucy was the exception, proving to be quieter than normal. When asked if anything was amiss, he was quick with a smile and an off-color joke, but Arthur—who perhaps knew him best—wasn’t fooled. He kept a close eye on Lucy, making sure he was ready and available if and when his son decided to give voice to his thoughts.
It felt like healing, in a way, this, for all of them. None were so foolish as to think they’d heard the last of DICOMY, but in the days following Miss Marblemaw’s banishment, a peace returned to the island that had gone missing these last weeks. The suffocating weight of her presence receded like the waves listening to the moon.
Arthur and Linus themselves kept busy, one eye trained on the horizon, watching, waiting. Zoe spent her days navigating the shores of the island from dawn until dusk. When Sal asked what she was doing one evening as she was visiting him in his room, she replied, “Relearning. Listening. Planning.”
Arthur stood outside Sal’s room, a tea tray in his hands, not yet having made himself known.
“Lucy said Turnip called you ‘your majesty,’” Sal said.
Zoe hesitated, but it was brief. “Yes. He did.”
Of all the questions Sal could’ve asked—What? How? Why?—he went in a direction Arthur should have expected, especially from Sal. “Is that what you want?”
Zoe said, “I…” Then, “For centuries, I’ve hidden myself away. I’ve allowed my anger to define me, to mire me in cynicism. It wasn’t until…” She chuckled quietly. “It wasn’t until your dad came back that I realized I wasn’t living. I was in stasis, frozen.”
“And he brought the fire,” Sal murmured.
“He did,” Zoe agreed. “But it was more than that. He brought all of you, and I finally understood what life was supposed to be like. Color, joy. Togetherness. Knowing people are there to have your back even when you’re at your darkest.”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
“No, I don’t suppose I have. And even yesterday, I don’t know what answer I’d have given you. Being forced to hide changes us in ways we don’t always realize, but that time is over now. For you. For the other children. For Linus and Arthur. For Helen. And for myself, too. I needed healing the same as you, though our history is different. I don’t know that I’m quite there yet—and maybe I’ll never be—but that doesn’t mean I can’t try. And I’m going to because you all have taught me how.”
“We had a pretty good teacher,” Sal said, and as Zoe laughed, Arthur closed his eyes and smiled.
The end—for it could not be described as anything but—came on an early Sunday afternoon toward the end of June in the tiny seaside village of Marsyas. Deciding they needed a day in town after surviving the previous day’s adventure—Talia’s turn, and she’d wanted to rehome the group of feral pixies who had been eating their way through her garden—they piled into the van for a day in the village, the children’s pockets full of their allowance, waiting to be spent on whatever caught their eyes.
The group of reporters immediately swarmed them as the Baker-Parnassuses’ van drove off the salt road onto the beach. Cameras flashed and shuttered, questions shouted, most asking if there was any truth to the rumor that Arthur Parnassus and Linus Baker had defied the will of DICOMY. David slid open the nearest window, leaned his head out, and roared loudly. The reporters scattered as the children laughed hysterically.
“See?” David said. “Scared them but didn’t hurt them. It’s not that hard.”
“That you did,” Linus said. “Well done, you.”
David preened as the others reached over the seat to pat him on the shoulder.
Given the events of the past few weeks, Arthur and Linus didn’t let them separate as they normally did. Instead, they parked behind Helen’s shop—Zoe and Helen inside, where they’d meet up later for lunch—and moved as a single group, the children leading the way.
The reporters kept their distance, obviously wary, but that didn’t stop them from following the family around town, taking picture after picture, Talia and Lucy posing dramatically. Every now and then, one would shout a question, but it always went ignored. They weren’t allowed to follow the group into any of the shops, the staff locking the doors behind them, letting the family peruse at their leisure.
It was a good day, a quiet day, a day they all needed without even realizing it. The sun was bright, the sidewalks crowded, people laughing and waving as they shopped or headed for the beach.
