CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I skim the rest of the journal, looking for any reference of the cove. The entries revert back to their youthful exuberance upon Annie’s departure. Victor either moves past his feelings quickly or chooses not to confront them again.

The change in Elias, however, is notable. Victor writes that his mentor dies the day he wakes and finds his Fairy has flown. Victor even shows a little remorse for their tryst, writing that I would tear the heart from my breast that I might never have stolen even a drop of what wasn’t mine.

Quite romantic, really. He might have made an excellent poet had he chosen not to pursue the visual arts. No mention of the cove, though, and that’s what really matters to me.

The entries continue. Elias is a shell of himself , no longer angry and no longer passionate. He changes his behavior toward Victor, treating him like a son more than a student. Victor is grateful for his affection but fears that Elias has lost all that makes him who he is.

The entries continue in a similar vein until the final entry. Victor never records any mention of Elias’s suicide. He also never mentions his hidden cove or how one might find it. I sigh in frustration and prepare to look through the rest of the papers in the desk when my eyes fall to the inside of the journal’s binding. There I find, scrawled in ink, the following.

1. Go where the fairies bathe

2. Walk to the treasure

3. The door will be hidden in shadow. Enter it.

4. Do not fear the path. Brave it, and you will reach heaven.

This is it. This is a step-by-step instruction of how to get to his cove. I pump my fist joyfully and rush from the room. I don’t have a flashlight, but my phone’s light is bright enough that it should work if I’m careful.

I pull it from my pocket and start toward the cove, but I stop when I see the time. It reads four-thirty. I’ve spent over three hours in the art closet. That can’t be, though. I spent an hour looking through paintings and perhaps another hour looking through the journal. It’s not an especially thick book, so it can’t have taken me as long as that to go through all of it.

I look back at the staircase and bite my lip softly. Evelyn will be here soon, and I don’t want Celeste to be by herself. I don’t want to share this evidence with either of them until I know for sure that it will reveal Victor’s whereabouts.

But I don’t want to wait any longer. If Victor is there, then I might be able to convince him to return home. If he is injured, I might be able to help him. At the very least, I can bring news of him to Celeste. Perhaps I can even get him to tell me about Annie and help me know where to look for her next.

I stand to gain too much to allow this opportunity to pass me by. I’ll simply have to hurry.

I start down the path, placing each step carefully. I slip once on a loose step, but I catch the banister before the stumble sends me falling down toward the sea.

I reach the beach after perhaps ten minutes. I am now where the fairies bathe.

I take my slippers off and wade into the water. I should probably have changed into my bathing suit before I went out here, but it’s too late to turn back. Besides, I have little time.

It takes me a while to find the quartz and amethyst "treasure." There is no moon in the sky, and the light from my phone reflects off of the water, not the crystals buried underneath. After several minutes of wandering in circles, though, I catch a dull purplish gleam under the surface and breathe a sigh of relief when I realize I've found the place.

Now to find the door hidden in shadow. This will be even more difficult since the night is already dark.

Well, Victor would be looking for this place during the daylight when the treasure would sparkle brightly. Anything facing that treasure would reflect some of their light back, so it wouldn’t be hidden in shadow. The “door” must be behind the treasure.

I step carefully over the treasure and find myself on a shelf of rock two feet higher than the rest of the inlet. The water that was at my waist is now only halfway to my knees.

I move forward. Ahead of me is a pitch-black void. A cold wind seems to emanate from that void, as though the shadow is warning me that I have reached it during its time of strength.

But I press on. There is a young girl up in that house who needs her father, and the answer to a thirty-year-old mystery may await me on the other side of this door. I walk until my light reveals a jagged hole in the rock. I stoop down and shine my light into the hole. It disappears without reflecting on anything.

I move carefully and enter the tunnel. The water level remains low, and when I lift my light above me, I see that the ceiling is twelve feet above me. I can walk without fear of bumping my head.

I proceed about seventy yards when my light shines on the opposite opening. Thirty more yards brings me to the end of the tunnel, and I step through and find the cove. It is small, only ten yards long and the same amount wide. The cave continues overhead past the edge of the water into the open ocean.

The surf is more powerful here than in Fairy Cove, but still moderated significantly by rocks a few dozen yards past the entrance.

I have found haven.

I look around. Visually, the place is not that impressive beyond the fact that it’s a beach in a cave. There are no shimmering crystals, and the sand is coarser than the fine silt of Fairy Cove.

But it’s hidden, and to a sensitive young man suffering under the force of Elias’s personality and the pain of watching the woman he fancies choose another, it could easily be a haven.

More importantly, I find evidence of a campfire. There is ash and charcoal on the ground. I approach closer and find a few crumbs of beef jerky. They are old and stale, but not that old. This cove has been used recently.

I feel a leap of excitement. Victor was here! Almost certainly, he was here after the incident in his studio.

I must tell the police. They must know that he’s still alive and somewhere close.

I dial the number, but the phone has no signal. I’ll have to go back through the tunnel first.

I turn to leave, but I stop when I see the back wall.

Victor may not have been able to capture my sister’s beauty on canvas, but he captured it well enough on granite. Heat climbs my cheeks as I look upon her form in a way I never desired to see her, but my eyes can’t look away. Victor has chosen abstract art as a means to transcend reality, but what I see before me is transcendent because it is real. I should not be surprised if Annie stepped from the wall and greeted me.

She is beautiful. She was always so beautiful. I look at her, and my mind drifts back.

I feel a pang when I see her kiss him, but at least this time, I don't fool myself into thinking he might fancy me. They separate, and John whispers something into her ear. She laughs and slaps him playfully on the shoulder before skipping toward the house.

“She’ll open her legs for him soon,” an unpleasant voice to my left says. “If she hasn’t already.”

My wistful smile twists into a frown. “There’s no need to be unpleasant, Mother. I’m sure you were young and in love once.”

She laughs bitterly. “I was young and obsessed with sex once. As for love? That didn’t happen until your father.”

I sigh and leave my place by the window. There’s no talking to Mother when she’s like this. Which means there’s no talking to Mother ever.

“It’ll happen for you one day too, Mary. You’re plain and sensible, so you think it won’t happen, but it will. Be careful when it does. It seems sweet at first, but that sweetness will suffocate you. And by the time you learn that love is only a precursor to hate, it’s too late to stop.”

This is just too much. I spin on my heel to snap at her.

And water floods my mouth. I flinch and flail my arms, falling to the ground as the water drags me backwards. I cough and spit and gasp and look up just in time to see another wave coming toward me.

I shriek and close my eyes just before the wave hits me. It throws me back into the rock, and it is only luck that keeps my skull from slamming into Annie’s image.

The water recedes, and I rush for the tunnel. The water has risen to my chest. The tide! The tide has come in!

I wade forward as fast as I can. Another wave comes and floods the tunnel, dashing me once more against the rocks.

When the wave recedes, I see light ahead. I swim toward it, weeping with fright, but beneath the fright, I realize that it’s after dawn. I’ve somehow managed to daydream again. How long was I standing in front of that drawing?

The water floods the tunnel again. It carries me toward the door, but I crash against the entrance. A sharp pain courses through my head when I strike it on the rock.

I don’t waste time trying to assess how badly I’m hurt. I just pull myself through the tunnel and into Fairy Cove.

The water is tumultuous. The tide has risen above the rocks and is now unleashing the full power of the ocean on me. The calm of the night is an odd contrast with the violence of the morning. It’s as though the ocean is mocking me, flaunting the danger I’m in despite the illusion of safety that daylight should bring me.

I was just out here in the morning! It was calm! How have the tides changed so rapidly?

No time to dwell on that. I swim toward shore, diving under the waves when they retreat and letting the momentum carry me forward when they arrive.

It’s painfully slow progress. Salt stings my eyes, and I don’t know if it’s blood or the water. My arms and legs burn with effort. I don’t know if I’ve lost my phone or if it’s in my pocket, but even if the water hasn’t ruined it, there’s no chance of calling for help and less chance that it would arrive in time.

I struggle forward, and my hands nearly grasp the banister, now partly submerged in the water. I sob with desperation and reach again.

A hand grasps mine and pulls me from the water. I scream and fall into the arms of Sean O’Connell.

“Mary! What the bloody hell are you doing out here? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

I fling my arms around him and cling tightly to his shoulders. I try to speak, but I can only sob.

He wraps me in his embrace and says softly, “It’s all right, Mary. It’s all right.”

I close my eyes and bury my face in his neck. Slowly, the terror recedes. I’m safe. He’s got me.