Chapter Thirteen

THIRTEEN

The children waited on the porch, most still dressed in their pajamas. Zoe stood behind them, yellow flowers opening and closing in her hair, her concern evident. Calliope sat on the railing, eyes half-closed, tail swishing over the side.

Chauncey waved, yelling, “Hey! Hi! Good morning! Things exploded, and we didn’t do it! Isn’t that crazy ?”

“The craziest,” Linus called. “We’ll head on inside and—”

“Mr. Parnassus .”

He turned his head to see Harriet Marblemaw marching toward him, dust kicking up around her shoes. For once, she was sans clipboard, her hands in fists at her sides. David growled at her, a low rumble that cut off when Calliope wound her way between his legs. He looked down at her in shock as she stretched up his side, one of her paws touching his hip. Shhh, that paw said.

“I say, Mr. Parnassus ! I’m speaking to you!”

Arthur held up a hand toward her. “Miss Marblemaw, I’ll be with you after I’ve—”

“Was that you?” she demanded, stopping a good distance away from him, panting. “The fire. The sky. Was. That. You .”

“It was,” Arthur said evenly. “Part of being a phoenix means releasing energy every now and then. And I did so, safely away from everyone and everything. No one was hurt, nothing was damaged.”

“Tell that to the window, ” she said triumphantly, pointing her finger at the second floor.

They all looked up to find the window intact, the glass free of smudges or streaks.

“I saw it,” she snapped. “I saw it with my own two eyes! Glass in the grass! Shards that could pierce and stab! And I have proof .” She reached into her pocket. When she pulled it out, she extended it toward Arthur and opened her hand. Upon her palm sat a gold-and-brown shell.

“That’s not proof,” Chauncey said with sage-like wisdom. “That’s a snail’s house.”

Miss Marblemaw gaped down at the shell before crushing it in her hands. “I know what I saw,” she hissed as powdered shell slipped between her fingers. “And I know what you are. You won’t be able to hide forever, Mr. Parnassus. By the time I’ve finished with this place, you’ll never—”

“Oh, do be quiet,” Zoe said.

“Ooh,” the children said.

Miss Marblemaw glowered at Zoe. “And you . I don’t know who you think you are, but I am a representative of the government, which means I have complete and total power here. I won’t have an unregistered person telling me what to do. You’re lucky you haven’t been arrested for—”

Zoe moved past the children, gliding down the steps without touching them. She landed on the ground, and as Miss Marblemaw squared her not-so-inconsiderable shoulders, Zoe’s eyes turned completely white, opaque, her voice taking on a deep timbre, wings glittering in the early morning light. “I said, be quiet. I’m done hearing you speak to us as if we give a damn about what you say. You are on my island, and after your conduct in the village, you’re lucky you’re still standing of your own volition.”

“Threats!” Miss Marblemaw barked in response. “That’s all you have. They won’t work! You can’t—”

“We’ll be with you shortly,” Zoe said. “Until then, why don’t you return to the guesthouse?” She raised her hand toward Marblemaw. Before the inspector could react, Arthur felt the air shift around him—thick, almost corporeal—and then Marblemaw shrieked as she slid backward through the dirt, arms waving wildly. Leaving divots in her wake, Marblemaw hit the porch steps of the guesthouse, the backs of her feet dragging up the wooden steps, her body slanted backward, almost parallel with the porch. The second before she crashed into the door, it opened out, the hinges creaking. Marblemaw regained control the moment she crossed the threshold, rushing toward them, only to have the door shut in her face.

“There,” Zoe said. “That should hold her.”

“Until she tries to break a window,” Linus said.

“I got it!” Lucy said. He scrunched up his face, and then relaxed. “Done and done! Now all the windows are made of plastic ten inches thick! I’ve never had a hostage before. When do we get to negotiate for a helicopter?”

“Not a hostage,” Arthur said. “She’s merely enjoying the wonder that is Chauncey’s turndown service.”

“I left a mint on her pillow,” Chauncey said. “I hope she doesn’t eat it because I want to.”

Before Arthur could reply, Zoe was there, running her hands up and down his arms, his sides, his shoulders. “You’re fine,” she muttered, eyes returning to their normal color. “You’re fine.”

“I am,” he said gently. “I wouldn’t leave you, dear.” He kissed her forehead as she clutched him. “But I fear the time we’ve all prepared for is upon us.” Zoe let him go, but she didn’t go far, her hand in his, gripping tightly, a welcome touch.

“What happened?” Sal asked.

“Children,” Arthur said. “Classes for today have been canceled—”

For the second time in twelve hours, an explosion occurred. Only this time, it was not a thing of fire and feather, but one of extraordinary jubilation. Sal and Theodore grinned while Chauncey wailed in happiness. Talia and Phee pumped their fists in the air as David decided that dancing was an appropriate response to such welcome news, wiggling his hips, eyes bright and cold.

“—but fear not,” Arthur continued. “We’ll work doubly hard in the coming days to make up for it.”

Talia, with her arms still in the air, asked, “Are we happy or mad?”

Phee said, “I… I don’t know?”

“Your hearts,” Arthur said, and the children fell quiet. “Your tremendous hearts. They’ve carried you far, inexorably linking us together. There is nowhere I’d rather be.”

“What is it?” Sal asked. “What’s happened?”

“It has come to our attention that a certain inspector has come to our home under false pretenses,” Arthur said. “She is not here, as she claimed, to ensure your safety and happiness.”

“What a shocking development,” Talia said. “Who would’ve guessed?”

“Not me,” Chauncey said. “I thought she just needed a hug.”

“I like you,” Phee said, patting his shoulder.

“Unfortunately, I don’t believe a hug will solve the issue,” Arthur said. “No, it’s beyond that now.”

“Uh-oh,” Chauncey whispered, stalks shrinking until his eyes rested atop his head. “We’re doomed.”

“What does she want?” Sal asked, voice hard.

Arthur shook his head. “I don’t want you to concern yourself with—”

“You do that,” Sal said, pushing his way to the front of the children. “You always do that. You take it all on yourself because you think we can’t handle it.”

“Sal,” Linus said, “it’s not that simple. There are things at play here that are complicated even to us.”

“I don’t care,” Sal said, never looking away from Arthur. “If this is about us, then we have the right to know what it is. You can’t protect us forever.”

His greatest fear laid bare. And didn’t he want to push back? Didn’t he just want to tell Sal that he was still a child, fifteen years old, yes, but not a man? Oh, he did, and it bubbled in his throat, danced along his tongue. He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Zoe squeezed his hand. “Listen to him,” she said quietly. “Trust him.”

But Arthur was on the cusp of panicking. “I know I can’t protect you forever. But that doesn’t mean I won’t still try . None of you should ever have to know what it feels like to be—”

“Unwanted?” Sal asked. “Unloved? Despised? We know what that feels like. We may not have gone through what you did, but that doesn’t make our experiences any less important.”

“I’ve never thought as much,” Arthur said sharply. “Never. Not once.”

Sal nodded, taking a step forward. Behind him, the other children watched, waited. “Good. Because you can’t know everything. You can’t be everything, even if we want you to be.”

Arthur cocked his head, squinting at Sal. “Explain, please. Explain why I should consider putting you anywhere remotely close to the crosshairs.”

“Because we’re already there,” Sal said. “We have been for a long time. It may not be about all of us equally”—a knowing look, and once again, Arthur wondered how anyone could have seen Sal as anything but a born leader—“but we’re in this together. And even then, we might do things differently.”

“Why?” Linus asked.

“Because you can’t be everything to us,” Sal said. “No matter what you’re capable of, the power both of you have, you can’t understand certain things. I have to navigate three worlds. Being human. Being magical. Being Black. Can you help with two of those? Yeah, you can. But you know nothing of the last. You can’t . That’s something I need to figure out. Luckily, I don’t have to do it alone.”

“You don’t,” Zoe agreed.

“Bigotry comes in all forms,” Sal said, “not just against magical people. It wasn’t too long ago that you and Linus couldn’t get married, and look at you now.” And then he broke the world. “You have to trust me. Trust us . We may be kids, but we’re your kids, Dad. You made us all believe we could do anything. Now you have to trust us to do that.”

It was Arthur’s turn at incoherence, and he proved to be up there with the best of them. “I—you—how is that—you aren’t—oh, dear.”

“You’ve broken him,” Linus said. “I never thought I’d see the day when—”

“He’s Dad,” Talia said. “And you’re Papa. We’ve all decided, so you can’t go switching.”

“I wanted to call you Pappy, but I was outvoted,” Lucy said sadly.

“Oh,” Linus whispered as he wiped his eyes over a watery smile. “I see.”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur told Sal in a hoarse voice. “I should be listening more than I have been. You’re…” He sighed. “You’re right, of course. There are things you’ll do and be in life that I won’t be part of. That still doesn’t mean I won’t worry every second of every day.”

Sal laughed, shaking his head. “That’s because you’re our father.” His smile faded slightly. “But even then, I have to figure out some things on my own. I need to make mistakes and learn from them. I’m a kid, but I won’t be for long.” He glanced back at his brothers and sisters. “ We won’t be for long. Isn’t it time we showed people what we’re made of?”

“The best stuff.” Linus sniffled. “That’s what you’re all made of. The very best.”

“Are you sure?” Arthur asked. “I will only ask this once. Are you sure ?”

Sal didn’t hesitate. As the other children nodded behind him, he said, “We’re sure.”

Arthur looked at Zoe, who smiled. He looked at Linus, who said, “You heard our children. They’re sure.”

Pride and fear warred within him, but it was a battle Arthur wanted no part of, especially when the victor had yet to be decided. Shoving it down as far as he could, he said, “Harriet Marblemaw is working for Jeanine Rowder, the woman from the hearing. We knew as much but have now come into information that indicates subterfuge.”

“My favorite kind of fuge,” Lucy breathed. “Next to vermifuge, which is medicine that expels intestinal worms.”

Linus burst into tears. “You were listening in your vocabulary lessons!”

“Of course I was,” Lucy said. “I’m literally a devil. Words are how we bargain for souls, duh.”

Lucy didn’t try to squirm away when Linus scooped him up into a hug, peppering his face with loud smacks. When Linus tried to set him back down, Lucy clung to him, and Linus switched arms, holding him close. Lucy laid a head on his shoulder.

“She is going to try and take us away,” Phee said.

“She is,” Arthur said. “But she will not succeed.” And though he knew he shouldn’t, he added, “You have my word.”

“And mine,” Zoe said.

“Mine too,” Linus said as Lucy blinked slowly against his throat.

“Why?” Sal asked. “What does she want?”

Arthur hesitated. “What people in power always want: more power. Rowder thinks she can use you all to get what she wants. To remake the world until everyone is subservient.”

Talia sighed. “It’s so hard being this popular all the time. Like, we get it. You’re obsessed with us. Calm down.”

Theodore leapt from the porch, alighting on Sal’s shoulder. He leaned forward, head tilting to the side as he looked at Linus. He chirped a question.

“Yes,” Linus said. “Your button is still in my pocket. I will defend it with my life.”

Theodore nodded, then turned to Arthur, head tilting the other way, followed by three chirps, two clicks in quick succession, ending with an upturned growl.

The question made Arthur heartsore. “A certified adoption is just a piece of paper. You are my son, and nothing will ever change that.”

“Parnassus-Baker or Baker-Parnassus?” Phee asked. “Dad was here first, but I think I like the sound of Phee Baker-Parnassus better. Rolls right off the tongue.”

“Chauncey Baker-Parnassus,” Chauncey said, trying it on for size. “Yep! That works for me.”

“All in favor?” Sal asked.

“Aye!” the children crowed.

Except for one.

“David?” Arthur asked as the yeti ducked his head. “Do you have something to say?”

David shifted his weight from foot to foot, wringing his hands in front of him. “I haven’t been here very long.”

“You haven’t,” Arthur agreed. “But you are part of this just as much as the rest of us.”

David gnawed on his bottom lip.

Linus stepped forward, still carrying Lucy. Wind swept through his hair, and Arthur was struck by this man, this former stranger who had come to an island and found a home he did not expect.

“We’re asking,” Linus said, “if you want this to be your home too. To stay with us.”

“However,” Arthur said, “if you decide your future lies elsewhere, we will do everything we can to make sure you find your place, wherever that may be. I won’t lie to you, David. The road ahead will be fraught, but if you choose to stay, we will belong to you just as much as we belong to the others.”

David looked up at him with cautious wonder. “You’d be my dad too?”

“Yes,” Arthur said. “It would bring me unparalleled joy. I say that not to sway you into making a decision one way or the other, but to remind you that you are loved, here, now, and forever. You will always have a place here with us.”

David glanced around at the others, Talia giving him a thumbs-up. When he looked back at Arthur, he frowned. “I can’t call you Dad,” he said. “Not… not yet. I…” He sniffled. “I want to, but…” He shrugged helplessly.

“You’re not ready,” Arthur finished for him. “And David, the time may never come when you feel comfortable with that, and no one will think less of you because of it. I can’t—and won’t—replace your father, or your mother. Though I never had the pleasure of knowing them, I choose to believe they live on in you. How proud they must be of you.”

A single ice cube fell to the ground. “And I can still call Jason and B whenever I want?”

“Whenever you want,” Linus said. “In fact, we’ll invite them to the island, if they can get away from their responsibilities for a little while. If not, then Arthur or I can very easily take you back to the city to visit them. All you need to do is ask, and we’ll plan a weekend out of it.”

“Can they go too?” David asked, tossing a thumb over his shoulder.

Linus paled. “Uh. Yes. Sure. Why not? It’s not as if I have nightmares about all of you riding a city bus.”

Lucy squished his face. “Aw, Papa dreams about us. That’s adorable.”

Suddenly dry-eyed, David gave a sly smile that he had undoubtedly learned from Lucy. “And you have to build me a stage so I can perform my plays.”

“Absolutely not,” Linus said. “ We will build you a stage. Everyone will help.”

“Can we use magic?” Lucy asked.

“Yes,” Arthur said. “In fact, from now on, I will insist upon it.”

“Hell yes, ” Lucy crowed, causing Linus to wince.

“David?” Sal asked. “What do you think?”

He didn’t take long to answer. David, the boy yeti who’d thought he had to perform to be accepted into a magic school, puffed out his chest, hands on his hips. “What are we standing around here for? We have work to do!”

Talia tackled David first, knocking him flat on his face. Lucy wriggled down Linus’s side and joined her. Sal and Theodore sank down next to them, both grinning. Phee rolled her eyes, but sat on David’s legs. Chauncey—as he was wont to do—lay on top of them, cocooning them in green.

As they laughed and chattered excitedly—David loudest of all—Arthur, Linus, and Zoe looked on. “What are we going to do?” Zoe asked.

It was Linus who answered. “We’re going to protect our home. They want a fight? They’ve got one.”

It was Sal’s idea, and since he had the backing of the six other children, Arthur, Linus, and Zoe were outvoted.

“We’re not going to banish her,” Sal told them as they sat in the sitting room, watching him pace back and forth. Behind him was Linus’s birt present, still missing a photograph near the bottom. They’d have to see to that as soon as possible. “At least not yet. That’ll only trigger a quicker response from DICOMY, and we don’t want them to know what we’re doing until we’re ready.”

“But what if they come after us later?” Chauncey asked. “Do I need to get my battle helmet again?”

“Let me worry about that,” Zoe said. She held up a hand before Sal could reply. “I’m not trying to keep anything from you. I’m… hmm. For now, let’s just say I have a plan in mind, but there are a few more things I need to consider because once it’s done, it cannot be undone.”

A glissando of uneasy excitement trilled up him, toe to tip, a rickety flourish from piano keys made of bone and ice. Zoe spoke of deep magic, something he’d never seen from her before. Though he knew her to be powerful, he’d heard tales of the might of sprites, descended from fairies who had once called this world home. As far as anyone knew, true fairies—tricksters all, or so it was said—had disappeared centuries before. Most thought them extinct, hunted down and murdered until none were left. Others believed they’d left this world for another, moving through the fabric of reality with ease. Phee had already demonstrated her potential, but Zoe, for as long as Arthur had known her, hadn’t shown what he thought her capable of. It seemed as if that time was nearly over.

Sal nodded begrudgingly. “I trust you, Zoe. If you need our help with anything, please ask.”

“I might take you up on that,” she said. “Once I know more, you will too. That’s a promise.”

“Sal,” Linus said. “What are you thinking?”

Sal looked at the other children, who nodded at him encouragingly. “David gave me the idea.”

“I did?” David asked.

“Yeah, man,” Sal said. “You talked about how you liked being a monster. You don’t want to hurt people, just scare them.”

“I would never hurt anyone,” David said quickly, popping his knuckles. “Honest.”

“We know,” Sal said. “But with how they’ve weaponized fear, I think it’s time we gave the government a taste of their own medicine, starting with Miss Marblemaw. She says she can’t experience fear. I say we put that to the test. They insist we’re monsters? Maybe we should show them just how monstrous we can be.”

“Are we going to kill her?” Lucy asked, head cocked. Before Arthur could answer— no —Lucy continued. “Because I don’t think we should.”

Arthur and Linus exchanged a glance of surprise. This was a curious turn of events, especially coming from one who advocated death and destruction with the same glee as he did his sticky buns. “While I’m relieved to hear that, may I ask what brought you to that decision?”

Lucy shrugged. “That’d only give the people who hate us reason to hate us more. And besides, I like being nice.” His eyes flooded with red, voice deepening. “ Sometimes .” The red disappeared, and his voice returned to normal. “It makes my spiders sleepier when I do things to help others. I bet this will make them sleep for weeks .”

“Lucy’s right,” Linus said. “And while I admit to having concerns about how best to proceed, I think it’s high time Miss Marblemaw gets put in her place, without killing or maiming. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” everyone said at the same time.

“Stab her with kindness!” Chauncey yelled.

“Tell us,” Arthur said. “Leave nothing out.”