Chapter 18

The next day,when I'm helping Dad in the kitchen, I almost bring up Brody Lambert's escape from justice, but decide it's best to let it go for now. The less Dad knows, the better. I don't want him to see how unsettled I am, how the island has gotten under my skin. How everything I've ever believed—the world I've constructed for myself—feels on the verge of collapse.

I'm in too deep. And by deep, I tell myself it's the salttain and its strange properties—not the boy who rose from the ocean wearing only seaweed as a bathing suit.

I'm relieved when Dad informs me that he plans to spend the day writing, so I'm on my own. He warns me to be careful and I stifle a laugh. Nothing is safe on this island…neither the people nor the plant life.

Certainly, not the sea life.

I still have research to do. This island may warp the boundaries of science and logic as I understand it, but that doesn't mean science has no role to play.

I cringe at the prospect of encountering Brody or Wade, but I need to find out what I can about those glyphs that keep turning up everywhere. Maybe Liam erased the earlier pictures, but the image from my expedition and the ones I drew on the sand are still on my phone.

Down at the General Store, arriving guests for the Sea House mill around the dock. I scan the crowd for any sign of Lamberts—or O'Donnells. I can't help but wonder if King Kelp managed to find some more appropriate garb and report for work…if he's still incognito or if he quit his job.

When I spot Liam's gorgeous dance partner from the party behind the counter, wearing the same ridiculous cap Brody had on the first time I saw him, I'm relieved. Brody's the last person I want to see. One of them, anyhow.

"Hi?" she says when I enter, her large green eyes narrowing—more like a question than a greeting. Did she notice us together that night?

"Hey," I say, as nonchalant as possible. Maybe with Aurora out of commission, all the Island girls want a piece of— I stop before I can complete the thought and plunk my money on the counter for the internet session and a lemonade.

The skimpy Wi-Fi allows me to email my phone images to myself, then plug them into a reverse image search on the computer. A bunch of nonsense comes up, until I stumble on an old article in a UK newspaper, The Guardian. Apparently, divers found similar symbols on the rocks at the bottom of the North Sea, off the eastern coast of England. The area is purported to be the location of a sunken landmass called Doggerland.

The carvings on Salttain resemble ones from a real-life Atlantis. How is that possible?

I guzzle the last of my lemonade and keep reading. But I don't find anything else, even in Mom's myriad databases from the Bouchard Institute. I need to return to the cove where I first found the carvings and called up the salttain. I'm going to get answers, whether they fall within the bounds of science—or beyond.

* * *

After dinnerand a dull conversation with Dad about how badly his writing is going, and where I bite back on the urge to joke about his being a literal ghostwriter. I wait until he passes out in his armchair.

Outside, fireflies blink in the blackness of the cool night air. The Lady Skirts shimmer softly. I reach the Baileys' boat dock, enter the shed and, casting my iPhone's flashlight app, find the gas pump and fill a container with fuel. Calling on my limited experience, I manage to start the engine and steer the boat through the still water of the inlet.

I'm not waiting around for Liam to show up. I'm the one who summoned the damn plant, not him or anyone else on this island of weirdos and crackpots.

Tyler was insistent on getting me here. My dad claims the people on Salttain go back for generations. Are we a missing leaf on their strange family tree? Could Tyler and I be related? A creepy idea, but still…

Despite my anxiety, my muscles unwind as I guide the craft across the black waves by instinct and the distance between me and the shoreline grows wider. Once I'm around the bend in the coastline, near the rocky coves that ring the island's eastern end, I turn on the headlamps.

The creak of the deck boards freezes the blood in my veins. I shriek, spin around, then breathe a quick rush of relief. Liam, fully clothed but soaking wet, a long knife gleaming in an old-fashioned scabbard, is silhouetted against the blue-black night. My heart stutters, but I force coolness into my voice, determined not to give him the satisfaction of knowing he's scared the crap out of me. And I'll be damned if I let him know how my temperature spikes whenever he shows up.

"What the hell? You're a pirate now?"

Liam's hand falls to his knife. "I tried to tell you that people here play for keeps. It's only a matter of time before they realize you were able to find some salttain. That puts you in grave danger."

I don't have to fake my outrage when he's treating me like a pitiful damsel in distress. "So now you're my protector—or are you guarding your investment?"

He scowls. "You shouldn't have gone alone."

"Really? First you ask me to help Evan, then you disappear. I had no idea where you were—if you were dead or alive. Which reminds me…where were you? You have the nerve to tell me I'm the one keeping secrets."

His Majesty, the Seaweed Sphinx, clams up, and I know that's all I'm getting. Frustrated, I return to captaining the boat, but his presence hangs over me like a second moon, distracting me from my focus. Damn him. I hate to admit to myself that I'm glad he's here.

The boat chugs on and Liam sits on the bench, alternating between watching me and scrutinizing the waves as if he expects a predator to leap from the water and eat us. Finally, after a half hour of silence, we moor the boat to the remnants of a destroyed dock and wade through the shallows to the rocky coastline. Liam keeps a respectful distance. I'm still not sure why he's really here—whether to protect me, help me, or steal the next bit of salttain I manage to summon.

We climb onto dry land. Vibrations grip the soles of my feet, stronger than the last time. I resist the urge to look at Liam, but I can't shed my awareness of him. The energy that pulses in the space between us is palpable.

I think of us, miniscule beings on a tiny ball floating in the midst of the cosmos. All the science books I've pored over, all the lab reports I've written pale in comparison to the reality of this place. The mystery of this island feels so much bigger than both of us.

I sink to the ground, close my eyes, and listen to what it has to say.

It replies with a thrum that shudders through my bones. I allow its warmth to soak through me and listen for the message embedded in the sensation. Then I rise from my crouch to pace a broad meadow, searching for a sign—or something.

Liam sniffs the air, skulking around my periphery. In the faint light, I make out the multitude of glyphs scratched into the rock slabs that pock the tall grass. Some symbols are worn away while others seem freshly carved. I squat, press my hands to them, and wince. The pulse is strong, more like a jolt than a low-level current. "The vibrations are more intense here than elsewhere on the island."

Liam whispers reverently, "You feel them."

I squint at him. "Do you?"

"In this place, yes. Others—feel them everywhere."

"Like Wade," I say. "He said he felt me through the ground."

"He said that?" Liam scans the area around us. "It's worse than I thought."

"What's worse?"

"Nothing," he snaps.

I lay a hand on his arm. "Listen. Maybe if you'd just explain what's actually going on here, these science skills of mine you're so quick to dis can help us."

He tugs his arm away as if my touch burns him. "I can't."

Embarrassed and annoyed, I clasp my hands behind my back. He didn't have to pull away like that. "Fine. Then tell me what the symbols are for. What do they do? Also, have you ever heard of a place called Doggerland?"

"So many questions," he mutters. "I don't know what that is. But there are…rules here. And consequences for telling…er…Landsiders too much. I-I'm already in enough trouble as it is."

"For what? Picking berries?" I smile, but Liam doesn't return it. "How about we play twenty questions? If I guess right and you nod, it's not as if you told me."

Liam studies me as if he's just met me for the first time. "No visitor to this islandhas ever noticed or cared before," he says. "They come to the resort to eat, surf, and leave. No Landsider ever wants to stay long."

I study the sharp contour of Liam's cheekbones, the still-damp black curls that frame his face. Beneath that surface, sorrow runs like an underground river. The haunted look in his eyes reminds me so much of Tyler on our last night, I look away. "Yeah, well," I say, "it wasn't like I was expecting a mystery adventure myself. I wanted to, you know, get away and keep a promise to a friend before starting college in the fall."

"College," Liam echoes softly, "that must be nice."

I slant my head and for a moment, think I see moisture in his eyes. "I'll let you know when I get there. My whole life I've been pressured to jump through hoops. Being here has been—liberating."

"Liberating for you," he says, looking away. "This is my life."

I stare at his profile for a beat, this island boy with a heavy soul, and wonder what it will take for him to open up. If I'll ever get him to trust me. "How can you get in trouble for explaining things to me?"

Liam whips back around, eyes wide. "Haven't you already seen enough to know that things don't work the way you're used to here? Salttain is governed by a different set of rules—and exacts its own brand of justice."

The wind picks up in a whistling gust, stealing any response I might have offered. But I have no good one. I think of Aurora's beating, how Liam was chased into the water. No one faced any consequences, and no one was concerned for his well-being. Since then, Liam's been in hiding. To the outside observer, Salttain appears to be lawless. Unless, I realize, the rules are applied differently—lenient for some, harsher for others. I think of my dad and his reluctance to explain anything to me and wonder what so-called rules are keeping him in line.

"We're safe inside the warded zones." Liam interrupts my thoughts in a matter-of-fact tone, any trace of vulnerability gone. "No one can track us here."

"Warded zones? Like magic?"

"You're getting warmer," he says, his face unreadable.

More riddles from the Seaweed Sage. I shake my head and drop into my zone—the reliable ability to focus on a problem no matter what chaos surrounds me. The memory of the symbols etched outside the walled garden flickers into my mind. "So I get nineteen more questions? The symbols are wards. Did you know I could find the salttain because I discovered your weird garden, even though it was warded? Who made these wards, anyway?"

Liam huffs out a sigh. "Seventeen. Focus on what we need to do instead of interrogating me about everything."

I want to press him, but instead, breathe in to ease the tightness in my chest. "I think," I say, "I need to move to a different spot."

Liam's brow furrows, hand resting on the handle of his knife. "I'll come, too. I can keep an eye out for intruders."

But it doesn't feel right. "I think I'm supposed to be alone. I'll be fine. You stay here and keep watch."

His eyes narrow. "That's not a good idea."

"If you want this to work, you need to do what I tell you. Don't ask me why. Sound familiar?"

Liam whistles out a long breath. "Everything's a struggle with you. Just stay inside the warded areas."

"But how will I even know?—"

"You'll know."

That's all the explanation I get. Turning my back to him, I head into the high grass.