Chapter Eleven

ELEVEN

To say the following days were an exercise in patience would be an understatement, even if patience was something Arthur had in abundance. Linus, too, though a little less so.

The children were another matter entirely.

Take Thursday morning, for example. At exactly half past seven, Miss Marblemaw swept into the house in a cloud of dusky perfume that smelled of wilted flowers mixed with the stench of self-importance. Clipboard firmly in hand, she entered the kitchen to find a group of children (and a forty-seven-year-old yeti) cheering on a wyvern as he attempted to beat his record by swallowing seven whole hardboiled eggs in the space of two minutes.

Unfortunately for Miss Marblemaw, she startled poor Theodore as he worked on his sixth egg, so much so that it shot from his mouth and hit her square in the forehead. Bits of egg and yolk plopped to the floor as Theodore chirped his apologies.

“Wow,” Lucy said. “That was eggcellent.”

“Eggxemplary,” Talia agreed.

“Come on, guys,” Phee said. “It’s not fair to have an inside yolk when Miss Marblemaw won’t get it.”

“I want to try egg-based humor too!” Chauncey said. “Okay. Hold on. Give me a second.” His face scrunched up as he concentrated.

“Good morning, Miss Marblemaw,” Arthur said as she haunted the entryway to the kitchen, plucking egg off her shoulders. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Playing… with food,” Miss Marblemaw muttered, scribbling on her clipboard. “Lack… of… manners. Of course, I’m not surprised that—”

It was about this time that Calliope decided to introduce herself to Miss Marblemaw. Given that she’d been busy the day before—Linus had found a dead mouse in his favorite pair of loafers that night—she hadn’t yet made her acquaintance with their new guest.

She did so by entering the kitchen, tail high above her. With a slow lift of her head, she looked up at Miss Marblemaw.

The two stared at each other for a long moment, both sets of eyes narrowed.

Miss Marblemaw looked away first. “As I was saying, just because you live in… this place, doesn’t mean you can’t show good manners that—”

Calliope began to make low hitching noises, her body quivering.

“What’s wrong with it?” Miss Marblemaw said with a grimace. “Does it have mange? Rabies? That won’t look good on a report. Surely, you—”

The hairball that Calliope expelled on top of Miss Marblemaw’s shoe was extraordinarily impressive in scope. At least three times the size of one of Theodore’s buttons, it landed with a wet plop, sliding off the side to the floor, leaving a trail of mucus and saliva in its wake.

Having made her introductions, Calliope left Miss Marblemaw behind, rubbing against Sal’s legs, meowing her displeasure at the woman who was hopping from one foot to the other, promising swift reprisal against such disgusting felines.

“Good girl,” Sal whispered as he patted his lap. Calliope jumped up, bumped her head against Sal’s chin, then settled in his lap, her purr a low, broken rumble.

“I got it!” Chauncey cried. “I was having an eggxistential crisis because I couldn’t eggxactly think of something to say. After eggstensive eggxamination, I have found the most eggstraordinary egg joke! The reason we all eggsist! Ready? Here goes! Why did the new egg feel so good? Because he just got laid!” He burst into peals of laughter, clutching his sides.

“Ah, yes,” David said, for some reason wearing Chauncey’s sun hat while shoving pancakes into his mouth at an impressive rate. “Adult humor. I approve, because I’m an adult. Arthur, I have some stock options to review with you. Remind me later.”

“Of course,” Arthur said, sipping on his tea. “I look forward to it.”

“Miss Marblemaw?” Lucy asked. “Did you have a good sleep?”

She blinked as she lifted her head, the wet hairball lying on the floor next to her shoe. “The mattress was too soft, but then most things around here seem to be, so I’m not surprised.”

“Oh,” Lucy said. “So, nothing crawled out from underneath your bed in the middle of the night and towered above you, but you were frozen in fear as the gaping maw got closer and closer to your face, so much so that you could smell the fetid breath of the monster who wanted to tear out your throat and consume your soul? Nothing like that?”

Miss Marblemaw sniffed. “Even if there was, I would have grabbed it around the neck and disposed of it without hesitation. After all, that is what one does when dealing with interruptions.”

Lucy blinked in surprise. “Really? That’s… huh. All right, I guess there’s always next time. Does anyone wanna bet me how much syrup I can drink before it starts oozing from my tear ducts? Last time, we got up to three bottles—”

“You let him drink three bottles of syrup ?” Miss Marblemaw demanded.

“Of course not,” Arthur said. It had been four bottles. “Miss Marblemaw, why don’t we let the children clean up after breakfast, and you and I can discuss the lesson plans you requested while Linus handles the morning classes. I’m sure you’re as eggcited as we are to see what we’ve created. It’s really quite impressive, if I do say so myself.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she said. And with that, she whirled around and left the kitchen behind.

“Why didn’t she have breakfast?” Chauncey asked, one eye turned toward where Miss Marblemaw had been standing, the other on Arthur. “Doesn’t she know it’s the most important meal of the day? Poor inspector. I bet she’d feel better if she had some pancakes.”

“This is a start,” Miss Marblemaw admitted begrudgingly an hour later. “That being said, I would be remiss if I didn’t say that I have some serious concerns.”

“Do you?” Arthur asked, sitting back in his chair. “And what would those be?”

“Where to begin?” Miss Marblemaw flipped through the pages on her clipboard, marked up extensively. “Let’s start with what I saw before coming to the island. Are you aware of the reporters in the village?”

“I am,” Arthur said.

“Have you spoken with them?”

“I have not.”

“Good,” Miss Marblemaw said. “A bit of advice: don’t. Reporters only cause trouble.”

“Is that right? And here I thought they reported.”

Miss Marblemaw ignored him. “And that’s to say nothing of the village itself. It seems to me to be a hotbed of anti-government sentiments. How often do you take the children there?”

“Whenever they wish,” Arthur said. “So long as it doesn’t interfere with their schooling.”

“And you don’t see the problem with that?”

“I do not,” Arthur said easily. “After all, they can’t learn everything in a classroom on an island. Real-world experience is not only beneficial, but it helps them to adapt.”

“Adapt for what?” Miss Marblemaw asked. Then, without wait ing for an answer, she continued. “I do hate to think you’re giving these children false hope. Regardless of how much Marsyas has devolved given current leadership, that doesn’t mean you should continue to—”

“Give the children hope? A sense of community? A place for them to feel comfortable enough to learn and grow and make mistakes, only to learn from them? What should I not be doing, Miss Marblemaw?”

“Lying,” Miss Marblemaw snapped. “You shouldn’t be lying to them, much like you continue to lie to me.”

“That’s a serious accusation,” Arthur said. “I assume you have evidence to support it.”

She sniffed. “In due time. First, I don’t see any of the approved reading material that DICOMY has listed as being beneficial to a child’s development.”

“Yes,” Arthur said. “I found the list to be lacking in substance.”

“Strange. I wasn’t aware that your opinion on required material carried much weight.” She flipped through two or three pages. Then, “Unfortunately, I’m not seeing in my notes where you were given permission to deviate from DICOMY protocol.”

“Be that as it may, you’ll notice they seem to be thriving without having to read Learning Your Place in the World: A Guide to Following the Law or A Satyr Discovers the Joys of Obeying . To be fair, both books have pacing issues, not to mention they’re a little dry.”

“I didn’t know you moonlighted as a literary critic,” Miss Marblemaw said, making another note. “You seem to be a man of many hats.”

“Parents usually are,” Arthur said, steepling his hands under his chin. That word: parent. So simple and yet so excitingly profound.

“Well, not quite a parent yet, are we?” She folded her hands on top of her clipboard, pen still clasped between her fingers. “After all, no adoption has been approved. You are, as of this moment, nothing more than the master of an orphanage, employed by the very body you seem to be at odds with.” The pen tapped against the clipboard once, twice, three times.

Arthur shrugged. “Love what you do, and you’ll never work a day in your life. Isn’t that how the saying goes?”

“Things are changing,” Miss Marblemaw said airily. “Why, even ten years ago, a single man attempting to adopt children would raise more than a few eyebrows.”

“Would it?” Arthur asked. “How curious. I suppose those eyebrows will just have to stay as is, seeing as how I am not single, as you know.” He smiled. “In fact, we have wonderful news. Linus proposed, and I said yes.” He held out his hand, the ring flashing in the light. He caught himself staring at it every now and then, marveling over how heavy it was for such a small thing, a constant reminder that he was loved.

She blinked in surprise. “Really? You…” She shook her head, followed by something Arthur did not expect. “That’s… congratulations.”

He paused. She almost sounded like she meant it. “Thank you. I appreciate your well wishes.”

“When is the wedding?”

Arthur chuckled. “We haven’t gotten that far yet. Soon, I hope.”

She stared at him for a moment, then looked back down at her clipboard, clearing her throat. “You are straying from the required reading. In addition, the lesson plans and individual reports you’ve provided on each child indicate that while all are excelling—though I question that—you are not adhering to the curriculum approved by DICOMY.”

“A curriculum that hasn’t been updated since I was a child,” Arthur said. “One of the textbooks DICOMY provides—all twelve hundred pages—has a section devoted to the best practices of subservience to humans. If you cannot see the issue with telling children to be deferential to others simply because of who they are, then there is a problem.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “How are we supposed to get anywhere if you won’t work with me? All I want to do is my job. To help .” She smiled at him. “I think you and I can find common ground in that we both want what’s best for the children. After all, DICOMY cares.”

“So you’ve said numerous times,” Arthur said, settling his hands on the desk. “But forgive me if I don’t take your word at face value, given my own experiences with DICOMY.”

She hesitated. Then: “I can’t speak to that. I wasn’t there. But what I can speak to are my years of experience as a DICOMY employee. Though you may not see it, DICOMY has changed the face of magical children as we know it. Why is it so difficult for you to make sure the children understand how many people we’ve assisted through the years?”

“The world is a weird and wonderful place. Why must we explain it all—”

“So that it can be cataloged and studied, and any potential threat neutralized.”

He sat forward abruptly. “ Neutralized? If you think I’m going to sit here and let you—”

“You misunderstand me, Mr. Parnassus,” she said. “Perhaps I used too-strong language, but the spirit remains the same. I want to protect as many children as I can. Surely you feel the same.”

“I do,” Arthur said. “Though I have a feeling we’re coming at it from different directions.”

“If that is the case,” she said, “then why does it matter how we achieve our goals if we’re working toward the same thing?”

Arthur sighed. For a moment, he’d thought perhaps Marblemaw might be different. Not Linus—no, no one could ever be him—but something close to him. He’d given Linus the benefit of the doubt, and that had changed their lives forever. Was it too much to think Marblemaw could have been the same?

“I wish I could believe that,” he said slowly. “However, I’ve seen much evidence to the contrary that vehemently shows DICOMY cares not for those under its watch.”

“Which is why I think we could all do with a fresh start,” she said, smile widening. She was clever. He’d remember that. “After all, I don’t see the point of letting the past dictate the future.”

The phoenix lifted its head, eyes narrowed. Arthur felt the heat of it, and put it into his voice. “The past of each of the children you come into contact with cannot and should not be ignored. To suggest otherwise is not only dangerous, but cruel. You cannot take it from them. It is part of them, warts and all.”

Miss Marblemaw pursed her lips. “Being a parent means—”

He cocked his head. “Two minutes ago, I wasn’t a parent, but now I am? Please, Miss Marblemaw. Be as consistent as possible.”

“ Being a parent means being ready for any and every eventuality. Have you considered your options if and when, for example, Lucy decides on his own he doesn’t like the world as it is? What if he decides to remake it as he sees fit?”

“He’s seven years old,” Arthur snapped, anger bubbling underneath the surface.

“So was Nero, at one point. Genghis Khan. Ivan the Terrible. While I’m not suggesting he’ll do what they did, how can we know for sure? There is so much unknown about who he is and what he is capable of. No matter what you do or how hard you try, even you can’t say with any certainty that he won’t turn toward a path of darkness.”

“You’ve spoken with him once,” Arthur reminded her. “That’s nowhere near enough time to build a foundation based upon objective evidence. But since you brought it up, it comes down to the idea of nature versus—”

“Nurture,” she said. “I know. A false dichotomy. The reality is that nature and nurture do not exist as separate entities. They exist in reciprocity.”

“And yet, studies have shown that trauma in the form of abuse changes the physical brain to be hypersensitive to future stress, which can often lead victims of abuse to respond excessively to even the smallest stressors. By doing the exact opposite of nurturing, one runs the risk of creating or exacerbating trauma.”

“Which is precisely why I’m here,” she said, shifting her weight in her chair. “To determine if you are capable of handling such… charges. Mr. Parnassus, surely you can see that my job is to ensure the safety of the children.”

“So you say,” Arthur demurred. “Objective evidence, and all that.”

Miss Marblemaw shook her head as if disappointed. “I am not the enemy. Regardless of what you think of me or what I represent, I hope you understand that. My job is the children, nothing more.”

He laughed quietly. “I don’t believe that for a moment.” He raised his hand as she started to speak. “Whether you believe that is another matter entirely, and one I’m not wanting to litigate currently as I doubt we’d reach any consensus. Either you will be who you claim to be, or you won’t.”

“Are you angry, Mr. Parnassus?” she asked, clutching the clipboard tightly. “Feeling a little hot under the collar?”

Yes, he was, but then he realized what she was doing, and laughed at the absurdity of it all. “Miss Marblemaw, are you trying to make me bring out the phoenix? If you’re that curious, all you need to do is ask, and I’d be happy to show you.”

She changed tack. “David,” she said. “He’s not an adult. I don’t know how or why you expected me to believe that. Either you think me a fool, or you are nowhere near as intelligent as certain circles seem to think you are.”

“Both could easily be true,” Arthur said.

“Do you have any proof that David is the age you claim?”

Before Arthur could come up with a semi-believable lie— to question a yeti’s age is to commit a serious faux pas —a flood of warmth burst under his hand. Without reacting, he moved his hand slightly to the left. There, in a familiar messy scrawl, letters forming in red ink. Four words, followed by a smiley face with devil horns on the top: OPEN YOUR TOP DRAWER!

Arthur cleared his throat and did just that. There, sitting on top of a tray of pens, pencils, and paperclips, a small stack of photographs that hadn’t been there only a few minutes before when he’d gone in search of a pen in preparation for the meeting with Miss Marblemaw.

There were four photographs in total—the colors washed out, the edges curled in a sepia-toned haze as if seen through a dream. The first photograph showed a ten-year-old version of Arthur standing in the village near the dock. On either side of him were his friends, the other children in the orphanage, the sun blazing above them. He remembered this moment. They’d gone to town, the master in a rare good mood. The letter and the cellar were three months away. The master had taken the photograph with a boxy Polaroid camera, the picture sliding out the front. He’d given it to Ronnie to shake, and they’d all watched as the image formed as if by magic. They hadn’t said as much, of course. That way lay madness.

Two things stuck out at Arthur: the first being that this photograph should not exist. The master had torn it to shreds in a fit of pique after one of the other children had mouthed off about something Arthur couldn’t recall.

The second was the fifth figure, standing next to Arthur, hairy arm slung over his shoulders.

David.

The next photo showed Arthur at age fifteen, sitting in a window nook, a book forgotten in his lap. The frozen moment had caught him with his head tilted back, laughing silently. David sat across from him, smiling widely.

The third photograph was Arthur at around thirty or thereabouts. In a pub he’d never been to before, sitting on a stool, a half-empty pint in front of him. Seated next to him, David with five empty pint glasses, head rocked back as he laughed.

The fourth and final picture was of Arthur and Zoe, standing in front of the house. The repairs looked almost finished, and next to Zoe was David, white hair blotted with what looked to be blue paint, the same color Arthur had used on the walls in the upstairs hallway.

“Would you look at that?” he murmured. “Will these do?”

She snapped the photographs from his hand, holding each one an inch or two from her face, turning it this way and that as if she could determine their validity by sight alone. “How did you do this?” she demanded, flipping through the pictures again and again.

“With a camera,” Arthur said.

She stood abruptly, chair scraping along the floor. “I have to… go do… something that requires my immediate attention. I will return in exactly one half hour. I expect to meet with each child individually upon my return.”

Curious, this: her reaction was not what Arthur expected. But then, it could be said that trying to understand the motivations of anyone in a government role was an exercise in futility. Still, it was odd. At the hearing, Rowder had successfully gotten Arthur to reveal the phoenix. But not before going on at length about a certain child in particular. Perhaps he should let her in on the event ahead, just to see what she would do.

She had made it to the door when Arthur said, “Saturday.”

Miss Marblemaw paused, her hand on the doorknob. She didn’t turn around. “What about Saturday?”

“There is to be an adventure. Every Saturday, one of the children gets to decide the outing we’ll all take part in.”

“Whose turn is it this week?”

He grinned sharply at her back. She claimed not to experience fear. He wondered how true that was. “Lucy.”

Her shoulders tightened but she otherwise gave no reaction. “I see. I will be in attendance, of course.”

“Of course,” Arthur said. “I’m sure it’ll be a day you won’t soon forget.”

True to her word, Miss Marblemaw invited each of the children into Arthur’s office, saying they weren’t to be interrupted. Arthur, as it happened, did not find this to be acceptable. But before he could tell her just that, Talia patted his hand and said, “I’ve got this.”

With that, she followed Miss Marblemaw into the office, shutting the door behind her.

Ten minutes later, the door opened once more, Talia walking out, eyes sparkling. In the office, Arthur heard three ferocious sneezes in quick succession, followed by the wet honking of a nose into a tissue. “She’s really allergic to pollen,” Talia said. “I should’ve emptied my pockets before going in. Oops.”

“Quite,” Arthur said as she hugged his leg.

Chauncey went next, bellhop cap firmly in hand, saying he wanted to regale Miss Marblemaw with stories of his journey to become the best bellhop the world has ever known. Whether he succeeded was in the eye of the beholder. Arthur thought he had. Miss Marblemaw, on the other hand, did not seem to appreciate the fact that Chauncey could now make ink.

Next was Theodore, and though Arthur offered to translate, Miss Marblemaw (smears of ink across her chest) declined. Precisely six minutes later, Theodore left the office, head held high, a gold button trapped firmly between his fangs. The button looked suspiciously like the ones that adorned Miss Marblemaw’s coat. Arthur stuck his head into the office to ask her if she was ready for Phee, but Miss Marblemaw must not have heard him, glaring down at the loose threads on her coat where a button had been.

Phee’s meeting lasted twenty-six minutes. When she came out of the office, she said, “All she did was rant and rave about thieving dragons.”

“Strange,” Arthur said. “I didn’t know we had any dragons.”

“That’s what I told her, but she wouldn’t listen.”

Lucy went next. The meeting lasted three minutes. When he came out, he shrugged and said, “She didn’t want to listen to me talk about sticky buns and Hell. I’m so sad for her.”

“Anything else?” Arthur asked.

Lucy looked up at him, a strange light in his eyes. “What else could there be?”

Sal went last, and without a word to Arthur. Instead, he nodded, and then went into the office, shutting the door behind him. Forty minutes later, the door opened and Miss Marblemaw was smiling . “Thank you, Sal,” she said. “That was an illuminating conversation.” Her smile faltered when she saw Arthur standing in the hall, but it was brief. “I appreciate that you take this so seriously. You get one official courtesy point.”

“Thank you,” Sal said. “I know you only want to help.”

After she disappeared back into the office, Arthur fell in step beside Sal as they moved down the hallway. “Are you all right?”

“I am,” he said. “Stabbed her with kindness.”

“The best kind of stabbing, or so I’m told.”

“David?”

“Safe for now,” Arthur said as they reached the top of the steps. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about photographs in my desk, would you?”

Sal paused, lips quirking. “How did they get there?”

“As if by magic. I notice you didn’t ask what the photographs showed.”

“Did they help?”

“They did.”

“Huh,” he said. “How about that?” He descended the stairs, whistling.

Bright and early Saturday morning, the residents of Marsyas Island piled into a maroon van, their excitement palpable. Adventure called, and those lucky enough to answer did so with a wide-eyed exuberance only found in the young and the young at heart.

And then there was Miss Marblemaw.

“What is she wearing ?” Phee asked, face plastered against the window as the inspector made her way from the guesthouse toward the van.

For once, Arthur didn’t have a ready answer, but only because Miss Marblemaw appeared to have gotten into a ferocious battle with a peacock and somehow emerged victorious. That was the only explanation for the colorful feathers of varying lengths that formed a collar around her neck, the ones at the back of her head rising dramatically above her. The feathers were attached to a long black coat cinched tightly at the waist.

“Is it mating season?” Chauncey asked. “Her plumage is on full display.”

“That’s one word for it,” Linus muttered.

“If she starts dancing toward you as she brings you shiny rocks, run in the other direction,” Phee said.

“Who wears a coat in summer?” David asked. “Is she hiding secrets?”

Theodore chirped and clicked, and Sal patted his head. “No, bud. She can’t fly.”

“She’s almost here!” Lucy whisper-shouted. “Everyone act normal!”

Right when Miss Marblemaw opened the sliding door and stuck her head in, Talia said, “And that’s the reason I decided to devote myself to the Lord.”

“Wow,” Chauncey said. “That sure was a neat story, Talia. Miss Marblemaw! We didn’t even see you there. Welcome! If any birds attack you, don’t worry! It’s mating season.”

Miss Marblemaw pulled her head out of the van, tilting her face toward the sky. “ Birds could attack me?”

“Maybe,” Lucy said. “But you look like you could hold your own, so I wouldn’t be too worried if I were you. And look! I saved you a seat. Isn’t that fun?” He patted the space next to him, smiling widely.

Miss Marblemaw looked back into the van, a sour expression on her face. “I don’t suppose there’s a second vehicle.”

“There is not,” Linus said pointedly. “If you’re coming with us, get in.”

She did exactly that, heading for the row in the back where Lucy waited for her. Lucy winked at Arthur in the rearview mirror before exclaiming, “You did it! I knew you could. Sit right next to me. There you go. Oh, look! Our legs are touching. Linus, we need travel music. Can you give us some tunes?”

“Any requests?”

“You’ll know it when you hear it.”

Linus began to flip through the stations and had only turned the knob slightly to the left before a familiar pluck of guitar strings filled the van. A moment later, a rockabilly named Gene Vincent sang about how he’s led an evil life, so they say, but he’ll hide from the Devil on judgment day.

“Righteous!” Lucy crowed as he began to dance in his seat without a care about where his elbows might land. Before long, everyone (excluding Miss Marblemaw) joined in, singing, move, hot rod, move me on down the line.

The village was bustling, crowds of people on the sidewalks in colorful summer wear and large hats, carrying tote bags and coolers filled to the brim with snacks and drinks as they walked toward one of the two public beaches available to those who chose Marsyas as their vacation destination.

Others milled about in front of store windows, ooh ing and ahh ing about overpriced trinkets made of shells and cloudy sea glass, and row after row of freshly made fudge: peanut butter (delicious!), walnut (exemplary!), mint (toothpaste!), and orange creamsicle (revolting!). Crowds gathered in front of mobile carts, some selling funnel cakes with powdered sugar sprinkled on top, others hawking jerk chicken on wooden skewers. An enterprising young woman stood above a wool blanket spread out on the sidewalk at her feet, shouting that she had kites for sale, get your kites here!

No reporters in sight, which was a relief. Though their numbers had dwindled since the aftermath of the hearing, Helen told Arthur and Linus that a few of the more insistent journalists had stuck around, hoping for a sighting of the residents of Marsyas Island, and perhaps a quote or three. Luckily enough, after receiving a tip from an anonymous caller who claimed something cataclysmically magical was occurring two hours to the north, the reporters had piled into their vehicles and sped from the village. The directions were vague enough that the anonymous caller—who could it have been?—did not expect anyone to return until at least early evening.

Arthur pulled the van into the mostly empty lot behind Helen’s gardening store, parking next to her truck. The children all tried to leave the van at once, Theodore of the mind that beings with wings got to leave first. Phee agreed. Lucy did not, saying that if he didn’t get out of the van first, he was going to bring about the End of Days. As it turned out, most of the travelers in the van were used to such bons mots and didn’t pay him any mind.

Miss Marblemaw did, however, furiously scribbling on her clipboard. “Lucy,” she asked as he climbed over her, “what did you mean by End of Days?”

Lucy almost fell out of the van, but stopped himself at the doorway. “Why?”

“I’m a detail-oriented person. I want to make sure I understand everything.”

“Do you?” He leaned forward, face inches from hers. “You know, they say the devil’s in the details. Isn’t that funny?” With that, he jumped out of the van.

“Today is going to be exhausting,” Linus said as he pushed open the door.

As ever, Lucy was full of surprises.

Standing at the center of attention, he proudly announced that since it was his day, he got to decide what everyone was doing. Rather than something horrifying and/or life-threatening, Lucy told his captive audience that today, he’d planned something special for each of them. Phee and Talia would get to see some new (and definitely not poisonous) plants that Helen had gotten in.

Chauncey was given the chance to show Linus where he worked at the hotel, and what Chauncey’s day-to-day entailed in the exciting role of a bellhop. Chauncey practically shouted at Linus that he couldn’t wait to show him the break room where there was a microwave, a refrigerator, and a wall calendar from seventeen years ago that showed goats wearing hats. Miss August, as it turned out, was his favorite as she was brown and white and wore a daring pillbox hat that really complimented her snout.

For Sal and Theodore, a trip to the library where both would have access to the rare-book section, to be followed by a visit to the antique store where the proprietor had recently discovered an entire jar filled with buttons in storage, and had set it aside for the wyvern to peruse should there be any treasures hidden within.

“As for me, I’ll be hanging out with David and Arthur,” Lucy said as Miss Marblemaw frowned. “We’re going to have whiskey sours and talk about babes.” He suddenly frowned and ran over to Linus, tugging on his shirt. “ Psst . Linus . What kind of babes do I like?”

“You can like whoever you want,” Linus said, patting his head.

Lucy looked relieved as he ran back to the others. “And by babes, I mean anyone who looks awesome. I don’t know who it’ll be yet, but when I do, you’ll all be the first to know.”

“Why are we still standing here?” Talia demanded. “I’ve been promised new plants. You don’t want to see what happens when a gnome loses their patience. Last time one did, it led to the Dark Age.”

“Is that true?” Linus whispered to Arthur.

“It could be,” Arthur murmured. “The fall of Rome and upsetting a gnome? It certainly sounds like an age of darkness to me.”

“And that leaves Miss Marblemaw,” Lucy said, and all the children turned their heads toward her slowly, a practiced move that caused the inspector to take a step back. Lucy seemed to catch on to this, taking a step forward, giggling when the inspector took another step back. “Miss Marblemaw,” he said in a singsong voice. “You get to decide who you want to go with. Isn’t that exciting? What will it be? Plants with Talia and Phee? Books and buttons with Theodore and Sal? Bellhopping with Linus and Chauncey? Or, ” he said, taking yet another step toward her, “will you throw caution to the wind and follow me into the depths of despair?”

“Despair!” the children chanted, including David, who joined in, shouting with the best of them. “Despair! Despair!”

Miss Marblemaw huffed out an irritated breath as she glared at Arthur and Linus. “You allow the children to go off on their own?”

“We do,” Linus said. “It teaches them responsibility and time management, and gives them the opportunity to interact with our community.”

“Which means they mingle,” Miss Marblemaw retorted, clipboard clasped against her chest, “with humans .”

“And?” Arthur asked. “It sounds as if you believe they should be segregated.”

“ Bup, bup, bup! ” she trilled loudly. “We don’t use that word, given the negative connotations behind it. Rather, DICOMY performed focus group research and came to the conclusion that ‘voluntary separation’ sounds much better than ‘seg’—that other word.”

“Your tax dollars hard at work,” Linus muttered. Then, in a louder voice: “We will use neither, thank you very much. And as a DICOMY-sanctioned inspector, your role here is to observe and report back to your superiors. Anything above and beyond that is outside of your purview.”

She narrowed her eyes, the children’s heads on a swivel as they looked back and forth between them. “I do hope none of the children find themselves in a dangerous situation, especially when they don’t have adult supervision.”

“Let’s try this again,” Arthur said. “Talia and Phee will be with Helen and Zoe. Chauncey will be with Linus. Lucy will be with David and myself. That leaves Sal and Theodore without supervision. Sal is fifteen years old and both have proven they are more than responsible enough to go out on their own.”

“For now,” Miss Marblemaw said with a haughty sniff. She looked at the children as if she had discovered a new, perpetually wet insect with a thousand legs. Tapping her pen, she let the silence drag on, even as Arthur knew she’d already made her decision. “I will accompany Mr. Parnassus.”

“Lucky us,” Arthur said. “Children, we’ll meet in front of the ice cream parlor in exactly two hours. Please don’t be late. What do we say? Punctuality is not just about being on time.…”

“It’s also about respecting your commitments,” the children said.

“Yeah, that,” David said, bouncing on his heels. “Commitment!”

“And we’re off!” Arthur cried.

Naturally, Lucy led them directly to Rock and Soul, the record shop owned and operated by one Mr. J-Bone (not his real name; no one—not even J-Bone himself—could remember what it was). On the walk to the shop, Lucy regaled David with stories of visits past, the musical discoveries he and J-Bone had made, and the time a former employee tried to exorcise him in the back room.

“What was that?” Miss Marblemaw asked.

Lucy smiled up at her. “Exercise. We did lunges and jumping jacks.”

“Hmm,” she said, pen flying across the page.

“Is he nice?” David asked as they approached the record store, speaking for the first time since they’d left the parking lot. “J-Bone, I mean.”

Arthur was about to intervene—regardless of the lie they were attempting to pull off, David was still a child, and his comfort was of the utmost importance—but Lucy got there first. He held out his hand, wiggling his digits. David hesitated only a moment before closing his hairy fingers around Lucy’s. “He’s great,” Lucy said. “I wouldn’t take you to see someone mean, unless we were getting revenge.”

David nodded, looking relieved. “Okay. Thanks. Still trying to get used to all of this.”

“ And, ” Lucy said, “I told J-Bone that we’d come and visit today, and he promised to set the air conditioning as cold as it will go so you don’t get too hot.”

“Why?” David asked.

Lucy rolled his eyes. “Because I want you to listen to dead-people music with me, duh. Oh, and one other thing: when we go in, we need to say ‘righteous’ a lot. That’s what J-Bone does, and he knows everything that’s cool.”

“He doesn’t know me,” David said nervously. “So he doesn’t know everything cool.”

Lucy gaped at him. “That… that meant two things! Holy crap, where have you been all my life? Come on, I can’t wait for J-Bone to meet you. It’s gonna be righteous .” He tugged David down the sidewalk toward the door.

“How odd,” Miss Marblemaw said.

“What is?” Arthur asked, glancing back over his shoulder at her.

“That an adult like David would be so concerned with meeting someone new. One might even say he acted… childlike.”

“Yes,” Arthur said. “I suppose that’s what happens when you’ve lived your entire life being told you’re a monster. Strange how that works. Trauma, as you’re hopefully aware, manifests itself in different ways—some big, some small—and can extend across a lifetime. The fact that you’re trivializing it says more about you than it does about him. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a desire to hear some dead-people music.”

He felt her gaze boring into his back.

“Far out !” J-Bone said, suitably impressed at the sight of David’s retractable claws. “Like, knives on demand. Bet you never have to worry about finding something to cut your bagels. Talk about a blessed life.”

Lucy and David stood in front of J-Bone, a tall and lanky fellow who grinned down at them as he leaned against the counter. For reasons known only to him, J-Bone wore a paisley scarf over a red robe with golden tassels, his long gray-and-black hair pulled back into a braid that rested on his left shoulder. Pink plastic sunglasses sat atop his head, one of the lenses missing.

When Arthur entered the shop, J-Bone lifted the bottom of his robe to reveal orange socks with little red flames on them. “Big Bird!” he cried. “Check out my feet gloves. Thought you’d get a kick out of them.”

“I do,” Arthur said. He extended his leg, placing his foot next to J-Bone’s to show off his purple socks adorned with tiny black records.

“Sock bros!” J-Bone cheered, pulling Arthur into a back-slapping hug that Arthur returned in kind. He was about to pull away when J-Bone stiffened as the door opened, the bell overhead tinkling. “Who’s the square?” he whispered as he stepped back.

“That’s Miss Marblemaw,” Lucy said. “She’s here to make sure Arthur and Linus aren’t sacrificing us in a blood ritual. She works for the government.”

“That right?” J-Bone said, scratching his jaw. “She got a warrant?”

“A warrant?” she asked. “Why would I need a warrant?”

“Uh, no reason,” J-Bone said, eyes darting side to side. “If you happen to see certain… glassware for sale, it’s for tobacco and nothing else.” As if he thought he was invisible, he reached back and grabbed a pungent glass pipe, shoving it in his pocket.

“Yes,” Miss Marblemaw said. “By your appearance alone, I’d have thought the same thing.”

“What’s that for?” David whispered to Lucy.

“Grass,” Lucy said. “Linus said J-Bone likes lawns.”

“Oh. That… makes sense. I think?”

“Hey, little devil dude,” J-Bone said, bending over, hands on his knees. “You’ll never guess what I got in.”

Lucy’s eyes widened as he began to bounce on the tips of his toes. “You didn’t .”

“Sure did,” J-Bone said. “Ella Fitzgerald. Billie Holiday. Live at the Newport Jazz Festival.”

“No. Way. The one where Ella did ‘Air Mail’ and—”

“Gave a scat performance to end all scat performances? That would be the one.”

Lucy threw up his arms. “Yes! Yes . Finally! You know, anytime I want to wipe out the entire universe, I remember that humans made music and then I think that maybe, just maybe, you weirdos have something to offer after all.”

“Gnarly,” J-Bone said. “I’m totally down for saving the universe through music. Like, there you are, this little bundle of rockin’ chaos, and then there’s me, the savior of all mankind. Take that, Dad!”

“Yeah,” David said. “Take that, J-Bone’s dad!”

“I like the cut of your jib, hairy dude with knife hands,” J-Bone said. “To the record player!”

“To the record player!” Lucy cheered, adopting J-Bone’s gait, a sort of slide-n-sizzle, more dancing than walking. David attempted admirably to do the same, but ended up skipping instead, following J-Bone and Lucy to the left wall, where three record players had been set up for patrons to listen to music while they shopped. Going to the cabinet underneath the middle record player, J-Bone pulled out a gold-and-brown sleeve, Ella and Billie in profile on either side. “Some other killer jams on here,” J-Bone said as he pulled the record out. “Ella covering the Gershwins, Duke Ellington. Billie’s got Herbie Nichols on the piano for ‘Lady Sings the Blues,’ and it’s so cool, it’s like ice.”

“Like me,” David said.

J-Bone blinked. Then, “Hell yeah, little hairy dude with knife hands. Exactly like you. In fact, you might even be cooler than that. You know, being a yeti and all. Fun fact! Thought I met a yeti once, but it turned out to be a hairy footstool. To be fair, I was extremely high on—”

Arthur cleared his throat pointedly.

“—life and all it has to offer,” J-Bone said easily. “So it was an honest mistake.”

“Yeah, it happens,” David said. “I mean, that’s righteous.”

J-Bone beamed at him. “Look at you, David! We’ll make a hep cat outta you yet, just wait and see. Now, are you ready to be transported to Newport? Trust me when I say your life will never be the same.” He set the record on the player and lowered the needle. The record hissed and crackled, and then a moment later, tinny cheers were followed by Ella laughing and saying “Thank you!” as the piano kicked in, along with the tsst tsst tsst of the snare and hi-hat.

And Ella began to scat, a brilliant improvisation that caused Arthur’s nerves to calm and his heart to swell, especially when Lucy and J-Bone started scatting along with her nonsensically, more sound than rhythm.

At first, David looked unsure, but as soon as the music began, his eyes widened slowly, his mouth hanging open. When J-Bone and Lucy began to scat with Ella, he turned his head toward them, starting to bounce a little. And then Ella threw in, “ When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore, ” causing David to laugh as he shook his rear in an awkward shimmy, his thick white hair flailing around him.

“That’s it!” J-Bone cried. “Feel it! She is a queen . Do be do whaaaaaaa .”

“Arthur!” Lucy called. “You wanna dance too?”

He did, more than almost anything. Without looking at Miss Marblemaw, Arthur slid one foot out in front of him, the hem of his trousers halfway up his calf. He snapped once, twice, and as Ella brought them toward the big finish, he shouted, “Da da didilee dop do bap !”

“Aw,” Lucy said. “It’s so cute when you try. We’ll have to practice more. J-Bone, play it again!”

After replaying the song seven more times, Lucy proclaimed Arthur and David to be scat masters, and reminded them that it had nothing to do with feces, which Arthur appreciated. After all, they had enough shit to deal with.

David grew more comfortable the longer they stayed in the shop. Though he kept a careful eye on Lucy and Arthur as if to make sure they wouldn’t leave him behind, he started sorting through records, asking J-Bone which ones were his favorites. Lucy sat on the floor next to Arthur, both looking for hidden treasures.

Miss Marblemaw followed J-Bone, attempting to ask him questions about his interactions with Lucy, and if he’d ever felt that his life had been threatened. Politely, J-Bone said, “I’m not a narc, and I’m assisting a customer. I’ll be with you shortly. Thanks for your patience!” With that, he turned back to David, who had picked up a record. “The Clovers? Man, that is choice . Most people dig ‘Love Potion No. 9,’ but don’t sleep on ‘One Mint Julep.’ So smooth, it’ll make you feel like you’re being spread on toast.”

Certain that David was in good hands, Arthur looked back at Lucy, who was studying a record sleeve with a concentration he normally reserved for attempting to create sentient mud men. “Lucy,” Arthur said.

Lucy looked up. “I don’t think I have this one. How many records can I get today?”

“You already have records at home you haven’t listened to yet. How many more do you think you need?”

“Well, when you put it that way… thirty more should be sufficient.”

“Three,” Arthur said.

“Twenty-nine and a half.”

“Two.”

“Three it is!” Lucy said. “I knew you’d see it my way.” He pulled out another record, discarding it almost immediately before going after another.

“Lucy,” Arthur said again. “Can I ask you a question?”

Attention firmly fixed on the records, Lucy shrugged and said, “Sure.”

“Today was your day to pick the adventure.”

“Wow, your memory is extraordinary. How do you do it?”

“And yet, instead of thinking about what you wanted to do, you went and planned a day for each of your brothers and sisters.”

“But I am doing what I want to do,” Lucy said, looking up at him. “We’re at the record shop.”

“I get that,” Arthur said. “But what I’m asking is why ?”

“Oh,” Lucy said. “That’s easy. Remember when we talked about being a monster or being good?”

“I do. You were quite upset with me.”

“Maybe,” Lucy said, grabbing another record and holding it close to his face. “But I thought about it. Like, a lot . I was still sort of mad at you, but then I thought about what makes me happy.”

Arthur nodded. “And what did you decide?”

“That I like when other people are happy, and it makes me feel good when I get to be part of it,” Lucy explained. But because he was still Lucy, he added, “Not everyone, just the people I like. For some reason, it makes the spiders in my head go to sleep. Not forever, but for a little while.”

“And why is that, do you think?”

Lucy shrugged. “I dunno, but I like how quiet it is.”

“Why did you invite David?”

“Because I knew Miss Marblemaw would follow him, and if David is with us, I can make sure she’s not being mean to him.”

“You wanted to protect him,” Arthur said.

“Sure,” Lucy said. “Being new is scary, and having her here makes things worse. But if he’s with us, then nothing can happen to him.”

“You’re not upset with him anymore?”

He paused. Then, “Don’t think so. And even if I was, he booped me on the nose. You can’t be mad at someone who does that. It’s, like, the law or something.”

“You astonish me,” Arthur said. “In all the best ways possible.”

“That’s because I’m amazing.” He pointed a finger at Arthur. “But just because I want to make people happy doesn’t mean I can’t do other things too.”

“Like what?”

Lucy leaned toward him, eyes glinting red. “ Monster things,” he whispered. “Do you think that when Miss Marblemaw finishes her inspection she’ll let me have her skull if I ask nicely? It’s not like she’s using it very much.”

“That’s certainly one way of putting it,” Arthur said. “But why don’t we keep that between us?”

“I can do that,” Lucy said with a sly smile. “ If I can get four records.”

“Five,” Arthur said. “And that is my final offer.”

“You’re so righteous,” Lucy said. “Give me some skin, you cool cat.”

Who was Arthur to refuse such an offer?

Later, Arthur would tell himself it was inevitable, that it was always building to something . The hearing, David, Miss Marblemaw, the thinly veiled threats from the government: all of it a confluence, creating a perfect storm in broad daylight. The moments in his office—the brief instances where Miss Marblemaw showed proof of her humanity—were a lie, and though he hadn’t let himself believe her, he had hoped she’d be different.

Perhaps her admitted absence of fear should have been his first clue: though David’s time on the island had been short, the yeti had already taught Arthur that a bit of fear could be healthy. What must it feel like to fear nothing? Wasn’t fear a part of the human condition?

He couldn’t help the darker thoughts. What if people who lacked fear were despised and tracked like animals? Surely Miss Marblemaw would have a thing or two to say about that. Or, she might even try to hide it from the world. In ways, so alike, and yet now she was about to prove him wrong in the worst possible way.

Arthur was with Lucy, picking out the fifth record he wanted to purchase. J-Bone and David had made it to the rear of the store, though Arthur could still hear David asking question after question, J-Bone never tiring of answering.

Miss Marblemaw—out of sight, out of mind. Arthur hadn’t seen her in a while, but then he was distracted by Lucy’s constant chatter about how this record is a banger, but this one is bangeriffic, a marked distinction.

Arthur said, “Is there anything above bangeriffic? That doesn’t seem possible—”

A strangled cry, followed by the thudding of feet. Arthur’s head jerked up to see J-Bone hurtling down the middle of the record shop, yelling at the top of his lungs. Behind him, waddling monstrously with claws outstretched, David, lips curled up in a ferocious snarl, fangs on full display. J-Bone hit the front door, causing it to fly open, bouncing off the side of the shop. David followed him outside.

“Are they playing tag?” Lucy asked. “I want to play tag!”

“I don’t—” Before he could finish, Miss Marblemaw swept through the record shop, coat trailing behind her, a twisted expression on her face, furious.

Arthur shot to his feet as Miss Marblemaw burst outside.

Without hesitating, Arthur bent over, scooping up Lucy in one fluid motion as he ran for the door, blood rushing in his ears. For his part, Lucy rolled with it, climbing around Arthur to his back, arms around his neck, little feet digging into his sides.

The sun blinded him the moment he left the record shop. Blinking rapidly to clear his vision, Lucy’s breath hot in his ear, Arthur skidded to a stop, bumping into people who had gathered on the sidewalk, all looking at something in the street. Pushing his way through the crowd, Arthur felt his rage boil over when he saw what everyone was staring at.

Miss Marblemaw, in the street, hand like a vise around David’s wrist. She towered above him, coat billowing around her ankles. David struggled against her, but her grip was firm. “How dare you chase humans,” Miss Marblemaw snapped down at him. “You could have killed that poor man!”

“Don’t worry,” Lucy whispered in his ear. “I’ve called them. They’re coming.”

“What? Who are you—”

“Hey!” J-Bone snapped from the other side of the street. “We were playing around! Get your bloody hands off him!”

Miss Marblemaw faltered, but it was brief. “It does not matter .” She jerked David’s arm again, and David whimpered, eyes glassy as he struggled to get away. “This… this thing is an animal! Animals have instincts . You run, their prey drive kicks in, and—”

“Remove your hand from him immediately before I burn it off.”

Miss Marblemaw turned toward Arthur slowly, a strand of her hair plastered against her forehead. “Another threat, Mr. Parnassus? Are you sure that’s an appropriate response? Especially in front of so many witnesses.”

“You’re scaring him!” J-Bone yelled.

Miss Marblemaw looked down at David, who dug his feet into the ground, trying to break free. She leaned forward and said, “What childlike fear for one who hasn’t been a child in decades.” Her grip tightened.

Arthur took a step forward as Lucy slid from his back. People around him gasped as flames began to spread along his shoulders, his arms, his hands, crackling, snapping. The phoenix screamed in his chest, wings spread wide, its eyes a pair of burning stars.

But before the phoenix could erupt, Lucy tugged on Arthur’s shirt, making him look down. “This is what she wants, Dad.”

Dad, Arthur thought through fire.

A shadow momentarily blotted out the sun, and Miss Marblemaw yelped when a wyvern dove toward her, wings folded at his sides. She ducked, and David jerked free, stumbling back against—

Sal, standing in the street, eyes cold as Theodore alighted upon his shoulder. On his left, Phee and Talia, the former holding David’s wrist as ice cubes fell from his eyes and shattered on the concrete, the latter glaring daggers at Miss Marblemaw. On Sal’s right, Chauncey and Lucy. Behind them, as furious as Arthur had ever seen him, Linus, who glanced at Arthur, nodded, and then turned his focus back on Miss Marblemaw.

Talia stepped forward as the inspector pulled herself to her full height. She continued walking until she was only a foot away from Miss Marblemaw. The top of Talia’s cap barely reached her waist. Talia looked her up and down, and said, “DICOMY is dumb, but I can’t believe they’d send someone so stupid. Linus wasn’t stupid, so why are you?”

“You do not get to speak to me that way,” Miss Marblemaw said, face twisted and almost purple. “I am your elder, and therefore your better.”

“Actually, I’m older than you,” Talia said. “So that makes me your elder. As such, a bit of advice: I’d be careful if I were you. Some of us are more powerful than we look.”

Miss Marblemaw glowered down at Talia. “The Antichrist is—”

“Oh, not me,” Lucy said with a grin. “I mean, not just me. She’s talking about Phee.”

Miss Marblemaw blinked. “The forest sprite? Surely you jest. What is she going to do? Grow a tree?”

“Funny you should mention trees,” Phee said, joining her sister in front of Miss Marblemaw. Through his fire, Arthur saw the inspector take an answering step back. “Because the last time people hurt my family, I turned them all into trees. Their flesh became bark. Their blood turned into pitch. Arms, branches. Fingers and toes, leaves.”

“You wouldn’t dare, ” Miss Marblemaw said.

“Uh-oh,” Chauncey said. “You really shouldn’t have said that.”

Phee’s wings began to flutter as she lifted off the ground, rising until she was face-to-face with Miss Marblemaw, her hair a crown of fire. Without looking away from the inspector, Phee leaned forward until her nose touched Miss Marblemaw’s. “Try me,” she said in a flat voice. “Touch any of us again, and it’ll be the last thing you do before I plant you in the park and let dogs use you as a toilet.”

“DICOMY will hear of this,” Miss Marblemaw said, the skin under her left eye twitching dangerously. “They’ll hear about all of this, and not even Arthur Parnassus will be able to talk his way out of this one.”

“Good,” Linus said coldly. “Because I’ll be sure to make everyone aware that you put your hands on someone without their permission. And I don’t believe we’ll have to go far for witness corroboration.”

People began to nod around Arthur, though they gave him a wide berth. He didn’t blame them for that; his fire was still running along his arms and hands, under control but only just. But then another figure appeared beside him, unafraid. “They knew,” Helen whispered to him. “Talia and Phee. I don’t know how, but they knew.”

Miss Marblemaw bristled. “I acted because I thought a human was in danger. Anyone would have done the same.”

“Except we didn’t,” J-Bone said. “Because we know them.” He glanced at David, expression softening. “Thanks to the little hairy dude with knife hands, I was able to fulfill a lifelong dream of getting chased by a yeti. How many people get to say that? Well, probably more than just me, but still! I got to, and it was even better than I hoped it’d be. Let’s hear it for having dreams realized thanks to a yeti named David!” He began to cheer loudly, clapping his hands hard.

The other children joined in. Zoe and Linus too. Then the crowd began to cheer until it was a roar, Helen as loud as anyone. Arthur lent his own voice to the wall of noise as his fire dissipated.

As Miss Marblemaw looked on furiously, David began to smile.

The ride home would have been uncomfortable had Merle not agreed to take her back himself. “Leave it to me, Mr. Parnassus,” he grumbled, eyeing Miss Marblemaw with disdain as they stood on the dock, the ferry behind them. “I’ll get her over.”

“If there were to be an unavoidable delay,” Arthur said, “I would completely understand.”

“Oh, aye,” Merle said with a nod. “It happens. Sea can be fickle.” He spat a thick wad into the sea. “Price has gone up, too, wouldn’t you know. Summer season, and all that.” He tilted his head toward Arthur. His breath smelled faintly of onions and tobacco. “Heard she gave you some trouble in town.”

“Rumor mill working overtime, I see.”

“That it does,” Merle said. “Kids all right?”

“I don’t know,” Arthur admitted. “I hope so. Children can be remarkably resilient when they need to be. I just wish it didn’t have to come to that.”

“Why are you letting her go back?” Merle asked. “Seems to me, you should give her the boot. Kids safer that way.”

An enigma, Merle was. Caustic, grouchy, and more than a little obtuse. And yet, he’d refused to bring the reporters to the island. He was asking after the children he usually only had the stink-eye for. It’s started, Arthur thought in wonder. Change, the voices of the few building to an unending roar.

“Keep your friends close, keep your enemies closer,” Arthur replied. “Believe me when I say Harriet Marblemaw will never find herself in that position again. She has made an enemy of me this day, and I won’t soon forget.”

Merle nodded. Then, in a lowered voice, he said, “If you need help hiding a body, I’m your man. The sea is very, very big.”

“Thank you, Merle. Your kindness is not only welcome, but a salve to the soul after the events of today. But worry not; I have plenty of children who know how to hide a body.”

Under David’s thick hair, the skin of his wrist was bruised, the clear outline of fingers in darkening shades of violet. It didn’t hurt very much, he claimed, and since his body was already freezing, there was no need to put an ice pack on it.

That did little to comfort Arthur. David seemed to have bounced back quickly, laughing at something Chauncey said by the time they arrived back on the island. Arthur hadn’t lied when speaking of the resiliency of children, but he wished such things were never tested. Trauma had a way of manifesting itself in the unlikeliest circumstances, and Arthur and Linus would keep a close eye on David to make sure any potential triggers were avoided.

Linus and Zoe fed the children an early supper while Arthur stood on the porch, watching the road. As the sun began to set, Miss Marblemaw appeared over the rise, huffing and puffing, her skin slick with sweat, the peacock feathers drooping against her face.

She stopped when she saw him. He didn’t call out to her, didn’t raise his hand in greeting. He just stared.

She jutted her chin at him, and then went to the guesthouse, slamming the door behind her.

She didn’t appear again for the rest of the evening.

That night, no matter how Arthur tossed and turned, sleep remained elusive.

Dad, Lucy had called him, easily and without forethought, as if it weren’t the most transformational moment of Arthur’s life. Dad.

When asked earlier how they’d known David was in trouble, it was Sal who spoke for them before climbing out of the van. “Lucy called for us.”

Linus and Arthur had exchanged a perplexed glance, Zoe looking just as confused. “What do you mean, ‘called’?” she asked.

“We heard him,” Sal had said. “In our heads. He told us David was in trouble.”

“Lucy?” Linus asked quietly. “Is that true?”

“Yep,” Lucy had replied. “They’re my brothers and sisters. Of course they heard me. Why wouldn’t they?”

Arthur rose from the bed, smiling at the way Linus snuffled and snorted in his sleep. “Lovely man,” he whispered, pulling the comforter up and over Linus’s shoulder. Calliope lifted her head, her gaze following him. She leaned into his touch when he scratched behind her ears. He was about to head into his office to catch up on work when something flashed outside the window, a low light that bloomed twice more.

He went to the window, and even though it was a terrible angle, he thought he saw the source of the light coming from the gazebo in the garden.

Pulling on his robe, he first checked Lucy’s room. The boy was asleep, snoring loudly, lips flapping. Next to his bed, lying on a slowly melting block of ice, David, little trails of cold fog streaming from his lips. Arthur let them be, closing the door before stepping out into the hall. He checked on each of the children, peeking his head in. Sal was sleeping on his stomach, face down into the pillow. Theodore slept on his back, head curled into his side. Chauncey floated on saltwater, his tentacles loose around him. Talia slept in her burrow, leaves fluttering with every exhalation.

Phee wasn’t in her room.

Refusing to let panic take over, he went downstairs and through the front door, stepping off the porch and turning right. He followed Talia’s garden path until he came to the gazebo. There, sitting on one of the benches, Phee, wearing her sleep clothes but apparently wide awake, tongue sticking out between her teeth in concentration. As Arthur looked on, she raised her hands in front of her, palms facing each other, fingers crooked like claws, a tangle of dirty roots floating between. Her forehead grew lines as she strained. A moment later, another flash of light—white, soft. When the light faded, a small sapling hovered between her hands, the roots twisted and dangling. She snatched it out of the air and set it on top of a pile of similar saplings sitting off to her right. On her left, more roots.

Arthur cleared his throat, and Phee jumped, only relaxing when she saw who had interrupted her. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, climbing the three steps into the gazebo.

She shrugged, looking back at her saplings. “Thinking.”

“Is that right? Sounds serious.” Given that the air was unseasonably cool, he removed his robe and settled it around her shoulders, fussing over her until she slid her arms through the sleeves. “Can I ask what you’re thinking about?”

“Trees,” she said dryly.

“And you felt the need to make them in the middle of the night.”

“Why not?”

“Why not, indeed. Well, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to watch, if I’m not interrupting.”

Phee nodded and got back to work. They sat in silence, the only sound coming from the low fizzy pop! each time a tree came into existence. The more she made, the stiffer she got, her shoulders near her ears, the corners of her mouth turning down. Though he desperately wanted to ask, he waited. Phee would come to it, in her own time.

And that proved accurate ten minutes later when she set down a new sapling, looked at Arthur, and said, “I would do it again.”

“Do what?”

“Turn people into trees if they try and hurt us.”

He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Would you?”

“Yes,” she said, looking down at her hands. “I know that doesn’t make me a good person, but—”

“You are a good person,” Arthur said fiercely. “One of the very best I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. Just because you feel a certain way about those who might try to do you harm doesn’t negate any other part of you. If anything, it makes you human.”

She made a face. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far. Rather be a sprite than a human any day.”

“I thought as much, and I’m glad to hear it. But even if you’re angry, that doesn’t give you the right to hurt other people.”

“Even if they want to hurt us?”

Arthur hesitated, picking and choosing his words carefully. “I would expect you to protect yourself. Or others, if it came down to it. But I would also ask you to think of the repercussions of your actions.” He sighed. “Though, I might not be the best guide in that regard. I doubt Lucy would take too kindly to being told he couldn’t threaten murder on a daily basis, even if he doesn’t do anything about it.”

Phee snorted. “Yeah, let me know how that conversation goes.” She paused. “Would you do anything differently? If you had to do it again?”

He resisted answering immediately, wanting to give her question the weight it deserved. Eventually, he said, “No. I wouldn’t. Even with all I’ve been through, with all I’ve seen, I wouldn’t want to be anything other than what I am. If I had to do it all over again just to arrive at this very moment, I would. Over and over again.”

“Because you love us.”

Dad, Lucy had called him. “With everything I have.”

She nodded, looking out into the garden. “We know that. All of us do. David is starting to learn that too. It may take him some time, but if you want my opinion, you should talk to him about staying here. Permanently.”

“You think he’d accept?”

“I don’t know. But neither will you until you ask. And I’m getting really irritated with Linus’s birt gift because there’s a picture missing. It looks incomplete.”

“Maybe both things can be rectified at the same time,” Arthur said. “After the inspector leaves, of course. I won’t have her anywhere near him again, nor will I allow her to intrude on such a private family moment.”

“She’s not going to stop,” Phee said, looking at him again. “Miss Marblemaw.” She cocked her head. “But you know that already, don’t you? Especially after she told you she couldn’t get scared.”

“I do,” Arthur admitted. “But I had hoped that she’d… It doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t worry about—”

“Uh, yeah, no. This is about me. It’s about all of us. We’re in this together.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close, his face in her hair. “Tell me,” he whispered to her. “Whatever your heart desires, please, tell me, and I’ll do my very best to make it a reality.”

She pulled away in a huff. “I don’t need anything. That’s not how caring works. You don’t do something and expect to be rewarded, right?”

He nodded.

“Then why should I be any different? Doing the right thing isn’t about accolades or recognition.”

“Then why do it at all?” he asked, wanting to hear her answer.

She flushed, picking at a loose string on the robe. She was embarrassed, but powered through it. “You do it because maybe someone will see and do the same for another, and then that person will help someone else.” She lit up, slyly glancing at Arthur. “Like your ripples in a pond.”

He slid from the bench to the floor of the gazebo, on his knees before her. Reaching up to cup her face, he said, “You marvelous girl. I am a much better person having known you.”

She turned her head, kissing his palm before he pulled his hands away. “I lied. I thought of something I want.”

He snorted, sitting back on his heels. “And it shall be yours.”

She studied him, looking momentarily nervous, something he rarely saw in her. He waited until she worked her way through it and said, “It’s not a big deal. You can say no if you want.”

“If it’s a big deal to you, then it is to me. Tell me, please.”

She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Can… can I fly with you?”

He couldn’t speak, stunned. Of everything he thought she’d ask for, this hadn’t even crossed his mind.

She mistook his shock for reluctance. “It’s okay,” she said. “You don’t have to.” She shook her head. “Sorry. We… we talked about it. After you told us what you are. But we weren’t sure if you wanted to talk about it anymore.”

“Why would you think that?” he asked gruffly.

“Because you don’t let the phoenix out very often,” she said. “You keep it hidden away, like a secret. And we get why. After what you went through here”—she said it hurriedly, with a wince—“it must be hard to even think about the phoenix. And after what that nasty woman made you do at the hearing, I guess you don’t want to—”

He stood, extending his hand. She took it without hesitation, allowing him to pull her up. Leading her down the gazebo steps, he squeezed her hand and said to his daughter, “It would be my honor.”

The fire came, then, the phoenix rising with a piercing cry. Flames overtook Arthur, but they did not burn Phee. They could never. He was hers, and she was his. He would rather die than harm her, or any of them. As he sank into the phoenix, his mind shifted, changed, the troublesome thoughts of humanity falling away. His vision sharpened as he and the phoenix became one, a crystal clarity impossible with human eyes. All told, it took less than ten seconds for the fire to consume him, and he spread his wings, an impressive span of fiery orange and blood red. His tail feathers fanned wide, stretching, reveling in the freedom. Towering above Phee, he lowered his head, snapping his beak at her playfully. Phee gasped, stroking the small golden-red downy feathers between his eyes.

“Holy crap,” she breathed. “You’re huge !”

He snapped at her again, hopping on two black feet, his talons digging into the soil. He circled around her, nudging her back. “Okay, okay,” she laughed. “I’m going. We’ll race to the sandbar at the back of the island. On three, ready? Three!” And with that, she shot off into the air, her wings buzzing above her cackle.

Arthur crouched low and launched himself into the air, spreading his wings. They caught an updraft, lifting him higher and higher. Daughter, he thought in his alien mind as she darted away from him. My daughter .

They flew into the night, a sprite and a bird made of fire. At one point, she flew below him on her back, legs crossed, hands folded behind her head. Making sure he was looking down at her, she faked a yawn, stretched, and said, “Huh. I was sure you’d be faster. Must be getting old. Watch this!”

She folded her wings against her and began to fall toward the darkened sea. He followed after her, wind buffeting his face, ruffling his feathers. The moment before Phee hit the water, she twisted around, her wings snapping open. She hurtled forward, leaving a wake in the ocean behind her, small whitecaps that rolled before disappearing.

Not to be outdone, the phoenix—and Arthur, for they were one and the same—burned the air around him, and in a burst of speed shot past Phee, who shouted after him, “That’s not fair! Using rockets is cheating !”

They hooked around the island, and the sandbar came into view, a long stretch of semi-firm ground. Hearing the buzz of Phee’s wings behind him, Arthur pulled back a little, allowing her to pass by him and hit the ground first, leaving divots in the sand behind her as she skidded to a stop. As Arthur landed, Phee jumped up and down, fist pumping in the air. “I won! I won! I won !”

Arthur spread his wings, tilting his head back. The scream that tore from his throat was one of pride—in his daughter, in all his children—and Phee yelled along with him, a battle cry of youth.

Later, as the sun rose, Phee sat against him, one wing wrapped around her as she blinked slowly, trying to stay awake. She yawned as the sun crested the horizon, illuminating her hair so that she, too, appeared to be on fire. “You should bring out the phoenix more,” she said as her eyes closed. “It’s part of you. Why hide it away when we want to see you fly?”

And then she slept, her breaths slow, even.

“Fly,” the phoenix said only once, a low, guttural sound lost to the wind coming off the sea.