“But what if there are things out there you’re not prepared for?”
Something about the way Fynn looked at me made me want to tell him all my secrets. It felt … dangerous. I’d never shared so much of myself with anyone. And yet, I couldn’t resist. Steeling myself against the painful possibilities of his reaction, I whispered, “Suppose I’d overheard someone say they think there’s a sea monster in Port Coire?”
In the mouth-dry, hands-shaking moment of silence that followed, I snuck a peek at Fynn. His posture was rigid, but he hadn’t scoffed or turned away. He watched me steadily. “Does that sound … mad to you?”
“A sea monster?” His voice was higher than usual. “Why would someone say such a thing?”
My stomach sank. “Lugh would have listened,” I muttered as I started to turn away. “He would have at least considered the possibility.” Though Lugh had never once said he believed my story about Grandad. He’d protected me from the stares and whispers of others, but he never thought there was anything in the water.
“I believe you,” Fynn declared, locking eyes with me. “After being attacked and seeing those giant crabs in the market, I’d say those who don’t believe in the possibility of monsters are the mad ones.”
“You do?” I touched his arm, which felt warm and solid as ever. This was no dream. “You swear it? Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“Thank you.” I wished I could give him something more than whispered words of gratitude, but short of bringing him the moon, I doubted there was any way to repay him for the trust that meant everything to me.
“There’s no point in trying to warn my parents. I’ve tried in the past,” I added a moment later, my head still spinning. Fynn nodded. Breathing a little easier, I asked, “Have you ever heard of a glashtyn?”
His fingers dug into my skin. “No.”
“Ouch! Are you trying to leave a mark?”
He dropped his hands to his sides. “I’m sorry. I’ve never heard that word.”
“Never mind. I’m—” I took a deep breath. “I’m just trying to find answers. I’m scared of who we’ll lose next. Alis is gone. What if it’s one of my sisters next time? Or Cat?”
“You can’t think like that.” Fynn rested a hand on my back. “Being afraid for them won’t help them.”
“You’re right.” I raised my eyes to his. “I want to find the monster that’s making people disappear, and stop it. But it’s in the sea, and I haven’t swum in years. I don’t know if I remember how. If something drags me below, I’m doomed. I want to protect my sisters, but I can’t even save myself.”
“Come for a swim with me in the shallows. Tomorrow morning.” Fynn’s eyes gleamed with an unearthly light. “All the disappearances have happened at night, so we should be safe in daylight.” I shook my head, already uneasy, but he pressed his point. “Once you’re in the water, the motions of swimming will come back to you.”
“You don’t understand. I can’t!”
He gave me a puzzled look. “Help me, then. Tell me why an islander like you can’t swim.”
Fynn didn’t breathe a word as I explained about Grandad. “You’re stronger than you think, Bridey,” he said at last. “You can swim, no matter what painful memories are haunting you. And I’ll be right there with you to scare off any unwanted creatures. We’ll guard each other.”
I hesitated. Fynn seemed so sure of everything, even without his memories. If I went to the beach again, I’d surely embarrass myself horribly in front of the boy I wanted to impress most. But my desire not to be a victim, as Ms. Elena put it, was stronger.
The time had come to get my feet wet again.
“Tomorrow,” he added, watching me with a frown. “Or the offer’s gone.”
I narrowed my eyes at him and sighed. “You strike a hard bargain.” I extended my hand to shake. “But first, we need to find our monster.”
Fynn’s hand gripped mine, warm and steady. But not even his nearness could distract me just then. I hurried to retrieve Morag’s book from exile.
Holding my nose to avoid the musty smell, I sank to the floor and cracked the cover. The tome had probably made a dent in her savings.
Fynn sat down across from me, frowning. “Morag said that book’s an index of every sea creature?”
I nodded, skimming the words on the first page. Beasts of the Deep. This wasn’t so different from my beloved Non-Native Birds of the British Isles.
Each page concerned a specific sea creature. Information was printed in blocky writing. Multiple sketches of each beast adorned the margins of the text.
I flipped past the Bishop-Fish—a fish with the face of a wizened man and a head shaped like a bishop’s cap “last seen in Germany, in the year 1531.” I briefly glanced at Giglioli’s Whale, which looked like an ordinary whale except for its double dorsal fin and sickle-shaped flippers.
“Don’t you want to have a look?”