Brightly (Flicker #2) (13 page)

Just before seven o’clock in the morning, Filo gave up on sleep. Throughout the night, he managed only snatches of sleep interrupted by dreams of swirling water and green light. Each time he woke, he was shaking.

When he dragged himself out of bed and slipped into the downstairs bathroom with a bundle of fresh clothes under his arm, the house was silent, filled with pale morning light.

The bathroom was clean and friendly-looking, a world away from the cramped bathroom at Flicker. He thought of the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling and the mirror above the sink that had been cracked for years. That had never bothered him before—but suddenly, in the peaceful Brightly house, his own life looked dingy.

He showered quickly and got dressed. The water was warm and the bathroom was bright, but standing under the showerhead had still turned his mind back to last night. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw mermaids.

Filo stepped outside through the kitchen door. On one side of the house, the sea stretched out endlessly beyond the edge of the cliff. On the other side, the trees were aglow with the morning light rising behind them. The sea murmured in a tongue he couldn’t understand, but otherwise, the island was quiet. He started down the path that that led to Nemo Cove.

The silence of the forest unnerved him: He was used to ever-wailing police sirens, to the rumble of cars in the street below the apartment, to the general sounds of life. This strange quiet made him feel like the only person left alive.

On a whim, he followed a split in the trail that the group had passed by last night. The narrow trail led to a piece of shore that he hadn’t seen yet. Patches of tall yellow grass dotted the sand, along with logs of pale, skeletal driftwood. A towel was spread across the sand with a bundle of clothes and a pair of shoes piled on top of it, but there was nobody around.

Dark, rounded shapes bobbed in the sparkling water, slick and gleaming, just far enough from the beach that Filo couldn’t make out exactly what they were. He froze, thinking of merfolk—but the more he watched the shapes as they dove and surfaced, circling one another almost playfully, the more unlikely that seemed.

Filo perched on a driftwood log, studying the rhythmic tossing of the waves. Being so close to the sea sent a tingling weakness through him. The longer he stayed here, the more intense the feeling became.

The sea pulled at his magic, though not as strongly as when they’d been on the boat. Aboard
Eudora,
with salt water on all sides and below, Filo had felt lightheaded and shaky, as if his insides were being swirled around. Relief came only when he set foot on land.

A single shape was swimming toward the beach; as it approached, it became clear to Filo that it was human.

Henry emerged from the water wearing only a pair of dark green swim trunks. As he waded onto the beach, rivulets of water running down his body and his dark skin gleaming where the light touched, he spotted Filo and grinned.

For half a second, Filo didn’t react, just stared at Henry. Then he felt the back of his neck turn inexplicably hot and he fixed his gaze on the sand.

“You’re up early,” Henry called, scooping up the towel he must’ve laid out and rubbing it through his hair. “Exploring the island?”

“You could say that.” Filo stood. “What are you doing out here?”

“Swimming,” Henry replied easily, as he pulled on a loose-fitting T-shirt. The fabric clung to his damp skin. “With the seals.”

“You’re not worried about the merfolk?”

“No. It’s early enough that they’re probably still sleeping, and even if they’re not, sunlight dries them out. They prefer deep water. During summer, you don’t usually see merfolk until late afternoon at the earliest. And if they did come around, the seals would know it before I did—and
I’d
know because the seals would hightail it out of here.”

“The merfolk attack the seals, too?”

“It’s really the selkies that they don’t like,” Henry said. “But even merfolk have a hard time telling selkies from regular seals sometimes, so they’ll go after any seals they spot. What they catch, they eat.”

Farther out, the seals were still chasing each other through the water. Filo had read about selkies: shapeshifting faeries that were indistinguishable from true seals while in the water, but could take on a human form by removing their sealskins on land. He’d never seen one in person. “Which ones are selkies?”

“Out there?” Henry asked, following Filo’s gaze. “None. The selkies have kept their distance for the last few months. The merfolk don’t know that, though, so they keep chasing. Those are just seals.”

“They seem to like you.”

Henry shrugged modestly. “I, uh, have a way with animals.”

“Like, they follow you around and do what you ask?” Filo ventured, thinking of the seals and the cu sith Lee had told him about. “Like you can talk to them?”

“That’s right.”

“Ah. You’re one of those, then.”

“One of what?”

“An animal talker. I’ve read about people like you. It’s a variation of the gift of tongues, but what you have is rarer.” He paused. “Why didn’t you use it to talk to the merfolk?”

“It doesn’t work. Merfolk aren’t animals. They’re people. I can’t make them talk to me, and these ones don’t want to—not like the old colony.”

Filo arched his eyebrows. “You went swimming with them, too?”

“No, that would be dangerous. Merfolk don’t always understand personal boundaries, and sometimes they forget that humans can’t breathe underwater.”

“Yeah,
conveniently
forget,” Filo drawled.

Henry blushed. “I really wasn’t expecting them to do that to you. I thought we’d be fine as long as nobody went in the water. If I’d thought for one
second
that they would get grabby, I never would’ve—”

“Forget about it,” Filo said, cutting Henry off. “It’s done. What were you saying about the old colony?”

For a moment, Henry looked like he wanted to say something else. Then he shook his head. “I never swam anywhere near the merfolk. I didn’t even get in the water when they were around. But I’d sit on the rocks at night and watch them swim. Some of them knew a little English, and I could talk to them a bit. I think they kind of like humans. At least, they think we’re interesting.”

They started up the path to Brightly in silence. Maybe Filo’s ears were playing tricks on him, but he thought the birdsong was a little more spirited with Henry around.

Filo tilted his head back to watch the sunlight stream through the branches. He didn’t look at Henry when he said, “I should probably thank you for last night. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did.”

“Well—” Filo risked a glance at Henry, who was watching him with serious green eyes. “Thanks, anyway.”

“Any time.”

“How did you cast that spell underwater?” Filo asked, a moment later. “I tried, but the water pulled my magic apart like it was nothing. I can’t even get
close
to the shore without feeling it.” The sensation was retreating as they walked inland, but Filo could still feel the water, fainter, like invisible fingers picking at the threads that held his magic together.

Henry looked mystified. “The water really bothers you that much?”

Somewhat reluctantly, Filo nodded. “Even heavy rain,” he admitted. “I don’t know how you can stand it.”

“I’m used to it, for one thing,” said Henry. “I’ve lived on this island my whole life. I don’t notice the water the way you do, not when I’m not trying to work magic. If you lived by the sea long enough, I’m sure you’d build a tolerance.”

“And how about casting that spell?”

Henry shrugged. “Water washes spells away,” he said. “Even mine. Its natural inclination is to disrupt the magic it comes in contact with. But water—moving water, especially—does have magic of its own. It’s an element, like wind and fire and earth. The sea is full of energy. When you’re in the water, you can draw on that energy, use it to bolster your spell and hold it together. It takes practice, but it’s possible.” He glanced at Filo. “I could teach you, if you like.”

“I don’t think I’ll be volunteering to go into the sea anytime soon.”

“Fair enough.”

They lapsed into silence until they reached the house. Henry hung his towel over the porch railing before going inside.

Clementine was at the kitchen counter, busy with the coffee pot. She looked up at the sound of the screen door creaking open. “Where have you two been?”

“The beach,” Henry replied simply, pulling several mugs out of a cupboard and turning to the coffee pot. He glanced at Filo. “Want some?”

“I’m fine.” He lingered near the screen door, watching the trees through the mesh.

A scratching sound at the door drew his attention.

“Let him in, will you?” Henry said.

Filo obliged, opening the door. A large gray cat sauntered into the kitchen, meowing loudly as Henry fetched a bag of dry cat food from the pantry and shook some into a bowl.

“Henry, will you get that cat out of here?” Clementine complained, as the cat head butted her shins before turning and falling ravenously upon the bowl Henry had set down. “Feed him on the porch or something!”

“If he bothers you that much, you go sit on the porch,” Henry replied.

“Just for that, you’re making breakfast yourself.”

Henry snorted. “Like you were gonna make it anyway.”

Clementine just lifted her chin and breezed out of the kitchen. The cat finished eating and began gamboling around the kitchen. It rubbed itself against Filo’s legs; somewhat grudgingly, Filo bent and scratched the cat behind its ears.

“By the way,” Henry began. “Last night, when you said you’d need to study the merfolk language before you could communicate with them—did you mean that? Do you really think you can figure it out?”

“Maybe,” Filo allowed. The cat had leaped onto the counter and was staring at him with baleful yellow eyes. After a moment, Filo surrendered and began to stroke the cat. “It’s a dialect of Old Faerie. If I can find another source, it shouldn’t be too hard to get a basic grasp of it.”

“Another source?”

“Someone else who speaks the language,” Filo clarified. “If I listen to it, I can pick it up. I just need something to study from. Why do you ask?”

Henry smiled. “I think I might know someone who could help us.”

Wiping the sweat from her brow, Lee consulted the book of runes that lay open at her feet and silently thanked whoever had invented high SPF sunscreen and wide-brimmed hats. She’d been at this house for hours, painstakingly sketching and carving runes on the front and back doors. Alice was working alongside her; Jason and Clementine were busy at the next house.

When Lee first voiced her plan this morning, Clementine had been skeptical. It had taken both Alice and Jason to assure her that Lee knew what she was doing. At last, when Clementine was thoroughly convinced, they set to work.

Lee’s plan was to turn the thresholds inside-out, to redirect the threshold’s attention so that it held the curse energy in. The curse victims were so saturated by magic that the threshold wouldn’t see a difference between unattached energy and energy that had bonded with a human target. It would raise an invisible barrier to stop that magic from leaving. Healthy people would be able to come and go, but victims of the curse would be confined to their homes as long as the spell was in place—which meant that those who lived alone wouldn’t have to be tied up at night just to keep them from hurling themselves into the sea.

Lee was confident that she could do it. She knew her way around runes and wards. In fact, the first task Filo had set after they’d returned from the coronation revel last fall was to reseal the wards at Flicker. Together, they placed dozens of runes around all the doors and windows. The runes were first sketched in chalk, then carved into the wood, and finally sealed with blood and magic.

“Where do you think they went?” Alice asked.

“Who?”

“Filo and Henry.”

“I don’t know. Henry said something about a faery he wanted to talk to.”

Alice frowned. “Filo took off pretty quickly, didn’t he?”

“I just thought he was eager to get to work.”

“It doesn’t sit right with me,” Alice said. “We don’t know these people. Filo almost drowned last night, and now he’s running around in the woods with a stranger.”

“He just wants to learn that language as quickly as possible. Can you blame him?”

“No,” Alice replied. “I just wish he’d be more careful. We have no idea where he is right now. If he never came back, we wouldn’t even know where to start looking. He could get dragged into the sea by another mermaid, and we’d never know.”

Lowering her chisel, Lee asked, “What’s really bothering you?”

“Aside from mental images of Filo’s corpse washing up on the beach?” Alice twisted a piece of chalk between her fingers. She didn’t quite look at Lee. “This last year since I’ve been back…. It’s been better than it has been in a long time. Everything’s starting to go back to the way it was between all of us, but without all of that dread that used to hang over us. Plus you, of course.”