The murmurs grew louder, making it nearly impossible to hear Mr. Gill above the din. “Not Brice,” a man groaned. “Not my oldest friend.”
“Murders in the harbor?” a woman shrilled. “I think it’s time we gather our things and leave this town before we’re murdered, too.” She paused for a moment, then snapped, “I don’t care if we go to the poorhouse! Poor is still better than dead, last I checked.”
“What if it’s me, next? I have to protect my baby.” An older girl with dark hair clutched her belly, her face pale as a gull’s wing. Lugh looked like he might be sick. Not only had he lost his mam, but Mr. Nelson had been a great friend to his family.
“Do you need some air?” I asked Lugh. He didn’t seem to hear me.
The conversations had become a shouting match.
“Would everyone just be quiet!” Da was on his feet, shoulders shaking. Silence descended on the house. “Better,” he grunted. “Now, let Danell finish.” Da sat again, folding his hands in his lap, and nodded at Mr. Gill.
“Yes. Well.” Mr. Gill coughed. “Thank you, Peddyr.” His expression darkened as he surveyed the crowd. “As I was saying, seven deaths on our shores in one summer is the greatest tragedy in the history of Port Coire.” He eyed each of us as sternly as though we’d confessed to the murders. “Someone in our fair town has developed a thirst for blood, and we need to decide how we’re going to stop the offender before he strikes again.”
I shook my head, filled with unease at the thought of a hunt for the murderer. Now that I’d slain the fossegrim, there was no culprit for Mr. Gill to condemn.
“How were they killed?” Da demanded.
Mr. Gill mopped his brow with a handkerchief and sighed. “We aren’t certain. Their bodies were in a terrible condition, made worse by time and the water. We’ll share full details with the authorities so they can determine the cause of death, but the reason I’ve called you all here is to discuss how we can keep our community safe in the meantime.”
Adam Radcliff stood, arms folded across his barrel chest. “It looked like something—or someone—ate them.” He swallowed. “Well, ate parts of them, anyway.”
“That’s enough!” Mr. Gill snapped. “You’ll frighten the women and—”
“Whoever it was left their heads, and a few fingers behind. And several of these.” Adam locked eyes with Mr. Gill as he held up what looked like a long, red-stained piece of bone. “I apologize if I’ve upset anyone. But sharing these details may help us find the killer.”
Gooseflesh covered my sweaty skin. That was no ordinary bone shard.
It was a serpent tooth, just like the one that stabbed Lugh’s foot on the beach. The serpent had eaten the fossegrim’s victims. I thought of Fynn’s tale about fighting the serpent for a drowned girl to eat, and wondered if the serpent attacked those poor people once the fossegrim lured them into the water. Not that it mattered.
I thought I’d saved our town, but I was wrong.
What mattered now was stopping the serpent before it made a meal of anyone else, on land or at sea.
“We must seek out the murderer today!” someone cried, to scattered applause. “We can’t continue to live in fear!”
“This is the work of the Little Fellas!” a woman argued. “They’ve put a curse on Port Coire, and we’ll all have to make a sacrifice if we’re to break it!”
“What kind of sacrifice?”
“Enough babble!” With a rustling of skirts Ms. Elena shuffled to Mr. Gill’s side. She peered into the crowd of faces until her eyes found mine. “I’ve been silent far too long. No man would do anything this hideous. Nor would the Little Fellas.”
She raised her paper-dry voice over the murmuring of the crowd. “The Little Fellas live for their tricks and revels. They might curse the life of a lone mortal who crosses them, but they aren’t killers.”
Mr. Gill made a noise like a dying goose. “Now see here, this isn’t a children’s tale! There’s a dangerous—”
“No, you see here, Danell. I remember when you were this high,” Ms. Elena motioned to her knee, “and I gave you a thrashing for making birdcalls during the Sunday sermon. You’re still a little boy who needs to shut his mouth and listen.” She paused, breathing deeply. Mr. Gill’s face turned white and red and purple all at once. “We must look to the sea. There’s a monster, called forth from the deep—”
“Sea monsters again? Ha! The old woman’s as mad as Bridey Corkill.” Mrs. Kissack rose to her feet and pointed an accusing finger at me, as though I’d somehow caused Ms. Elena to stand up and support my claim.
Every head in the room turned toward me, and I dropped my gaze to the floor.
“Danell Gill is right,” a deep voice said. “There’s a murderer in our midst, lads, and we need to do something. I have to protect my family! Who’s with me?”