“Maybe later.” I stacked our plates in the sink and cast a sideways glance at the table, but Fynn had wandered off. Listening to the chatter in the other room, I started scrubbing dishes.
As I worked, I gazed out the window over the sink, my thoughts drifting like the waves. White foam sprayed up from the rocks as usual, but—what was that shape hovering over the dark water? It was tall and broad-chested like a man, yet filmy—incandescent. I blinked, trying to get the image to sharpen into focus, but when I searched for the figure again, it had disappeared. Had I just seen a ghost? Grandad’s ghost? Or worse, the apparition that had called him out of this life and into the next? If this was what had lured Eveleen and Nessa from their homes, it was a wonder they hadn’t died of fright on the spot.
Blood rushing in my ears, I pressed my nose to the chill glass pane and held my breath. Nothing remotely human reappeared. Perhaps my tired eyes were conjuring images in the sea spray, though I thought not. But if I shouted for Mam and Da now, they’d stick me in bed and have Mr. Gill phone a doctor. Even if they tried looking out into the nighttime sea, with my luck, whatever I’d seen wouldn’t show itself again.
Covered in gooseflesh, I abandoned my dish washing and went in search of Fynn. He stood on the far side of the main room, studying one of Mam’s older paintings—a likeness of me as a toddler. Mam had captured me playing in the ocean on a calm day, my hair like a small white-capped wave as I bobbed among the blue.
“I’d love to see such a beautiful image now,” Fynn murmured. “Whatever happened to make you hate the sea so, it must have been dreadful. You don’t seem to be afraid of many things.”
“I wasn’t always afraid. And nothing happened to me.” I spoke around a lump in my throat. I longed to tell Fynn what I’d just seen, but the thought of him questioning my sanity overwhelmed all desire to mention it. “I just know there are some things best left alone, and the sea is one of them. I’m surprised you don’t agree, after washing up half-dead.”
Without thinking, I rested my hand on the top of Mam’s horrific new painting. Someone had turned it to face the wall.
“Is that your mother’s latest masterpiece?”
It was odd, the way he said mother instead of mam, but his neat, careful pronunciation intrigued me. “It’s rubbish, really. Nothing interesting.” I hoped the disdain in my voice would be enough to keep Fynn from wanting a peek.
He gripped the edge of the canvas. “I’ll just have a quick look.”
As he turned the painting toward us, the color drained from his face. Silently, he studied every inch of the serpent and its blood-stained teeth, which were longer and sharper than I remembered. Fynn slowly exhaled.
“Fynn, what is it?” When I’d waited long enough for an answer, I laid a hand on his shoulder. “Do you need to lie down?”
His cobalt eyes met mine. “I’m fine, thanks.”
I slid my hand over his back in soothing circles. “No you’re not. What’s the matter?”
“The painting startled me.”
There had been a slight hesitation before he spoke, and I wondered if he was being entirely truthful. My hand stilled on his back. “If you’re lying to me, Fynn, I swear I’ll find out some—”
“I’m sorry.” He leaned forward, so close we could have attempted another kiss. “I confess, it more than startled me. I wasn’t expecting to see anything so …” He stared at the creature. “Foul.”
I reached for his hand. Again, I considered telling him what I’d glimpsed out the kitchen window. But it was late and dark, and the misty figure wasn’t the first such thing I’d imagined in the waves. It could easily have been sea spray, blown into a strange shape by the wind, and made into a man by my nervous mind.
The other possibility was too much to contemplate at this hour.
“Where did your mother see that creature?” Fynn turned the canvas to face the wall with unnecessary force.
“She didn’t. She paints a lot of unusual things from her dreams. See?” I pointed to one of her mermaids, then to the inky-black water horse swimming beneath a boat, and yawned widely. “If you’re sure you’re all right, I think I’ll be off to bed.”
“Good night, Bridey. Sleep well.” Fynn brushed his thumb over the top of my hand. My skin was still tingling as I fell asleep.
Something crushed my lower leg, jarring me awake. I groaned as Liss climbed over me. Rubbing my leg, I listened for Grayse’s rhythmic breathing. By some miracle, she slumbered on.
I silently cursed Liss as I squinted into the dark. There was no starlight to help me make sense of why she was heading for the door at such a late hour. She always took care not to wake me when she got up to use the outhouse. Was she sick?
“Liss,” I whispered. “Wait for me.”
I slid out of the warm blankets, the fog of sleep releasing its hold. It seemed I’d closed my eyes only moments before to revisit my near-kiss with Fynn.
The bedroom door creaked open.
“Liss, wait!” There was no time to find my slippers. I crossed the cold floor in pursuit of my sister.
Liss waited for me in the hallway. Even in the shadows, her frown was visible.