Shaking my head, I rushed to the nearest table, scattering napkins and plates in my search for anything metallic and sharp. There was a platter of leftover goose. Clumps of flowers. An empty bread basket. A hog’s rump with a carving knife stuck in the side. I pulled the steel blade out and hid it in the folds of my dress.
Peering through the crowd, I found Da in the shadow of the carpenter’s shop, sipping a mug of ale. I could run to him now and tell him Cat was in trouble. I could press the knife into his hands and explain what he needed to do. Follow him, wringing my hands, while I helplessly watched the rescue.
Drawing a deep breath, I turned away from the party. Fynn was already on his way, and he was a stronger swimmer than Da. And the fossegrim was mine to challenge. The constant dread of losing anyone else I loved would end tonight.
I tore past the bakery and the tavern, patting the lumpy Bollan Cross hidden under my dress. It lent me silent reassurance as I rushed by Fynn’s discarded jacket.
When the earth beneath my feet changed from packed soil to sand, an eerie chant echoed in my ears. The sky darkened to lavender, making the filmy figure hovering in the waves easy to spot. But there was no sign of Fynn or Cat in the murky water. Roseen stood alone on the beach, arms wrapped around her waist.
Come to me, a voice crooned. I’ve been waiting so long.
The last time I’d heard this melody, it had made all rational thought impossible. My legs had jerked forward of their own accord. But with the cross around my neck, my mind was clear and my feet only moved as I told them to. If I lived through this, I’d have to tell Morag how well her charm worked.
Let me hold you, my treasure, an hour or two.
Mouth dry, knees banging together, I crossed the sand, heading straight for the crashing surf.
At the water’s edge, I froze. Facing down the sea had been so much easier with Fynn at my side. With no one to walk beside me, my courage fled in the thundering waves.
The wind picked up, knocking a swell sideways and revealing a glimpse of dark, curly hair.
Cat.
If I didn’t move quickly, my best friend would forever belong to the sea. The salty waves had already taken enough from me.
Stomach lurching, I staggered into the water. I clutched the carving knife with both hands, terrified a wave would knock me over and I’d lose the blade. Roseen called out, but I didn’t turn to acknowledge her. If Fynn didn’t reach Cat soon, she would drown.
We’ll dance in the waves to your heart’s delight.
Chill water crept up my legs, soaking my dress. I shivered, kicking to untangle myself from something slimy, then continued slogging against the current. The fossegrim floated just beyond the peaks of the waves, pulling a bow tenderly across a small fiddle. He was still too far away. I still couldn’t swim, and the water would close over my head before I reached him.
My love, my life, you’ll make a beautiful wife.
I fumbled with the knife as a wave smacked me square in the chest. The ocean numbed my fingers. I wondered how I could ever get close enough to the monster. But I’d die before I let this creature have Cat.
“I’ll do it! I’ll marry you!” I shouted over the anguished cries of seabirds. Concealing the blade behind my back, I planted my feet in the mucky sand and willed myself not to think about what might scuttle over them.
The fiddle’s sweet notes faltered. The fossegrim raised his colorless eyes to meet mine and a smile stretched across his pallid face. He glided over the water, his wavy hair and ruffled shirt blowing in the breeze.
That was a good sign. He looked transparent as a ghost, but if the wind could touch him, so could I.
“Bridey!” Fynn’s call was clear above the roar of the water.
I tried to answer, but the words died in my throat as the fossegrim surged forward. Up close, he wasn’t so handsome. His face and neck were mottled green and gray, his eyes milky like something left to decay at the bottom of the ocean. The clothes he wore hung in tatters off his gaunt frame, and clawlike hands curled around his fiddle. The instrument’s body appeared to be carved from driftwood, and its strings resembled fine braids of blond human hair. If this was what Lugh’s mam and the girls had seen when they leaped from the cliffs, it was no wonder they’d panicked and drowned.
The creature spread its bony arms and hissed a single word: come.
Now was my chance. I held the carving knife at my side beneath the water, careful to keep it out of sight of the fossegrim. I crept forward until he and I were more than close enough to touch.
The fossegrim lifted a hand, palm open. I flinched, anticipating a blow, but he merely ran a long, thorny finger down my cheek. My skin burned, and the odor of smoke invaded my nose and throat—the stench of rotten meat sizzling over flames, of gutted fish, and spoiled milk.