Fear the Drowning Deep

“Pray. Latch our windows, lock our doors, and keep a closer eye on our girls. Hopefully, the glashtyn will go away when it finds no more victims here.”

Cat’s mam sniffed. “It’s already taken more than enough from me, this monster, if it’s real as you say. My husband has contacted our Parish Captain, and I’m certain he’ll investigate. Whether this is the work of beast or man, the authorities will stop it.”

“I’ve never heard,” Ms. Elena said slowly, “of a man slaying such a beast. But you must do whatever brings you peace, of course.”

Gathering my courage, I turned the corner. Ms. Elena’s eyes widened. “I heard everything,” I whispered, glancing between the two women. “And I saw something in the water last night, probably an hour before Alis disappeared. Out our back window—”

“Bridey!” Cat’s mam seemed to wake from a daze, and put a trembling arm around my shoulders. “It’s so good of you to come.”

“I left the house as soon as Da told me about …” I swallowed hard. “About Alis.” I flicked my gaze back to Ms. Elena as she began hobbling away into the kitchen. “Ms. Elena, wait! I think I saw the glashtyn, too.”

“Keep your voice down!” Ms. Elena paused, arching her wispy white brows. “If you really believe, you’ll listen to an old woman and lock your doors and windows.” She narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing me. “You’re just the beast’s type, I’d say. Don’t be the next victim, Bridey Corkill.”

She turned away as a red-haired woman touched her arm and murmured something to her.

In the silence, Cat’s mam huddled against me, as though she needed my support to keep standing. “I hope Elena’s wrong,” she said. “But I don’t know what to believe anymore. I’d never have thought, for instance, that Alis would leave her bed in the middle of the night, and fall from …” She swayed slightly, and I held her up while she took deep breaths.

As we slowly made our way to the nearest chair, I searched the crowd again, but there was still no sign of my friend. Once I’d found someone to fetch Mrs. Stowell a cup of strong tea, I asked, “Where’s Cat?”

The words brought fresh tears to her eyes. “I’m afraid she’s asked for privacy.”

“But she’ll want to see me.”

Mrs. Stowell motioned toward the back of the house, and I made my way toward Cat’s room. Yet when I twisted the knob of her closed door, it wouldn’t budge.

Resting my forehead against the smooth wood, I called, “Cat, it’s Bridey! Let me in!”

I was answered with a wave of sobs.

“Please, Cat! Tell me how I might help.” If one of my sisters vanished, I would certainly want Cat by my side through the ordeal. Still, she did not answer. I waited, listening to the rain pound the roof.

“I’m going to Morag’s now, if you won’t let me in. I need to do something more than standing here.”

If I lingered in this hallway much longer, I might see Lugh again, might get a deeper look at the hurt in his eyes. Hurt I’d put there. I didn’t know if I could stand the sight.

The time had come to find out if Morag truly believed in the sea monsters she’d described to me, and if she did, what powers she might have to stop them. Maybe I couldn’t bring comfort to Lugh or the Stowells, but I could try to prevent the killer in the sea from tearing another family apart.

“I don’t care what you do! I don’t care about anything right now, unless someone has a way to bring Alis back.” A pillow thumped against the door. “Just go.”

“I’ll make things better,” I whispered to her closed door. “You’ll see.”

The trouble was, I didn’t quite believe the words myself.





CHAPTER ELEVEN



No one smiled or waved as I crossed the nearly deserted market square on my way to Morag’s. The few folk not at Cat’s house or mulling things over by the comfort of their own hearths went about their business with bowed heads, some casting anxious glances over their shoulder as they tended their gardens or swept their steps.

“Poor little Alis. The search party hasn’t found a thing, and not for lack of trying,” Mr. Cretney remarked to his wife as they repaired a broken shutter.

“But who could be behind all these disappearances? Not any of my neighbors, surely!” Mrs. Cretney dropped a handful of nails as I hurried past. “Do you think the old witch has finally figured out how to work a curse on this town?”

I pressed my lips together and looked away.

“I haven’t a clue, dear,” said Mr. Cretney.

I pointed toward the cliffs, though I doubted either of them would understand that no signs of Alis or Eveleen or Nessa had been found because they’d been taken somewhere unreachable. Nothing kept secrets like the sea.

Ms. Elena’s words drifted back. Don’t be a victim, Bridey Corkill. I didn’t intend to be. With any luck, Morag would know something to aid in my search for the town’s monster, whatever it was.

As I ran to the witch’s house, the bright sky and twittering birds seemed to mock me. The sky should have looked thunderous, the birds silent out of respect for our sorrow.

Sarah Glenn Marsh's books