Fall 2025 - Somewhere Beyond the Sea - Part 9 - pages 267 - 297

Somewhere Beyond the Sea, Part Nine.

The ride home would have been uncomfortable had Merurl not agreed to take her back himself. "Leave it to me, Mr. Parnasses," he grumbled, eyeing Miss Marble Maw 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, I," Merl 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."

"Bet it does," Merurl 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?" Merl said asked. "Seems to me you should give her the boot. Kids safer that way."

An enigma. Merl was caustic, grouchy, and more than a little obtuse. And yet he refused to bring the reporters to the island. He was asking after the children he usually only had the stink eye for.

"It 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 Marblemma will never find herself in that position again. She has made an enemy of me this day, and I won't soon forget it."

Merl 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, Merl. Your kindness is not only welcome, but a sav 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 and 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 Chanty 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 Lionus would keep a close eye on David to make sure any potential triggers were avoided.

Lionus and Zoe fed the children an early supper while Arthur stood on the porch watching the road. As the sun began to set, Miss Marblemma 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 guest house, 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 S who spoke for them before climbing out of the van. "Lucy called for us."

Lionus and Arthur had exchanged a perplexed glance. Zoe, looking just as confused. "What do you mean called?" she asked.

"We heard him," S had said. "In our heads. David."

"He told us David was in trouble."

"Lucy?" Lionus 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 [clears throat] rose from the bed, smiling at the way Lionus snuffled and snorted in his sleep. "Lovely man," he whispered, pulling the comforter up and over Lionus's shoulder. Collapy 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. S was sleeping on his stomach, face down into the pillow. Theodore slept on his back, head curled onto his side. Chanty floated on saltwater, his tentacles loose around him. Talia slept in her burrow, leaves fluttering with every exhalation. Fee 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 turn came to the gazebo. There, sitting on one of the benches, Fee, 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 them. 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 twisting 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 Fee 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. Fee 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. [snorts] Though he desperately wanted to ask, he waited. Fee would come to it in her own time. And that proved accurate 10 minutes later when she sat down. sat set down a new sapling, looked at Arthur, and said, [snorts] "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 [snorts] thought as much and I'm going to hear 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 so to being told he couldn't threaten murder on a daily basis, even if he doesn't do anything about it."

Fee 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. [snorts] "We know that, all of us do. David is starting to learn that, too. It may take him some time. But if we 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 But neither will you until you ask. And I'm getting really irritated with Lionus's Bert 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," V said, looking at him again. "Miss Marble Maw. 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'd hoped that she'd it doesn't matter. You shouldn't worry about uh Yeah. No, that is 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 ha 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? [snorts]"

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 slightly, glancing at Arthur like your ripples in a pond.

He slid back from the be 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. [snorts] He wanted 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 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 asked 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 wse. "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 [snorts] 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."

Then fire. The fire came. Then the phoenix rising with a piercing cry. Flames overtook Arthur, but they did not burn fee. 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 10 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 this freedom. Towering above Fee, he lowered his head, snapping his beak at her playfully. Fee 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 her on two black feet, his talons digging into the soil. He circled around her, nudging her back. "Okay, okay," she laughed. "I'm going. will 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 buff buffeting his face, ruffling his feathers. The moment before Fee hit the water, she twisted around, her wings snapping open. She hurdled forward, leaving awake in the ocean behind her small white caps that ruled 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 Fee, 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 semifir ground. Hearing the buzz of Fe'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, Fee jumped up and down, fist pumping in the air. "I won. I won. I won."

[clears throat] 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 Fee yelled along with him, a battlecry of youth.

Later, as the sun rose, Fee 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.

Chapter 12.

Breakfast on Sunday morning was always a boisterous affair. Lionus had decided that it had been far too long since he'd made pancakes and created a stack after precarious stack, thick slabs of butter melting across the top. On the record player, Thirsten Harris and the Sharps wailed about his little bitty pretty one. "Come on and talk it to me, loveydovey lovely one. Come sit down on my knee." By the time they sat down, still in their pajamas, of course. It was Sunday after all. Arthur could almost pretend it was a normal weekend and that everything was as it should be.

This was shattered when David winced, reaching for the plate of link sausages. Talia was handing over to him. He took it from her gingerly, favoring his wrist. "David," Arthur said, causing the yeti to jerk his head up and almost dropped the plate. "How are you this morning?"

"I'm alive," David said, which is good. "I had another sleepover with Lucy."

"He doesn't snore," Lucy said, rolling a pancake into a thin tube and trying to suck up syrup to no avail.

"So I let him keep all his blood on the inside. And for that we're all grateful," Lionus said. "David, how is your wrist?"

Immediate silence. Everyone froze waiting. Aside from David, that is. He lifted his arm, bending his wrist back and forth. "Hurts a little," he admitted, gazed down at the table. "She's stronger than she looks."

"So am I," Talia muttered, stabbing a sausage with her fork. "I'd like to see her try and grab me without my permission."

"As would I," Arthur thought. "Why did she do that?" Chanty asked, a pancake attached to each of the suction cups along his arms. He tried to shake them off, but they held tight. "David was just playing with D Jbone."

"I don't know," Arthur said, but she was wrong. "David, I'm very sorry about that that happened. She had no right to."

"Why do you do that?" David asked, squinting at Arthur.

"Do what? Apologize when it's not your fault. You didn't do anything to me, so why are you apologizing?"

"Because someone has to," Arthur said.

"But why is it always you?" S asked. "You didn't do anything to David. You didn't do anything to us aside from give us a home and let us be happy. Why do you have to be the one to apologize when it's Miss Marblemma who did something wrong?"

"Yeah," Lucy said. "She should be in here ruining our breakfast with an apology."

Arthur looked to Lionus for help, only to be surprised when he said, "I agree with them." While an apology is all well and good, David and S made an important point. "An apology stems from ownership of an action that can be considered wrong or offensive." "You didn't either."

"I'm trying to help them survive," Arthur snapped, causing everyone to look at him with wide eyes. "These people are callous, destructive, cruel, because cruelty is the point. You think anyone in Dcomi or DICOM cares about an apology? They don't. But if they at least can hear it from me, I think."

"Then why did you try and get them to apologize to you at the hearing?" V asked.

Arthur deflated, his anger returning to a low simmer. It was getting harder to control, and that worried him. I a sausage bounced off his forehead, landing on the table in front of him. Arthur was about to remind Lucy that they didn't play with their food, but his words lodged in his throat when he saw it wasn't Lucy, it was S.

"Stop it," he said as Theodore bobbed his head in agreement next to him. "Stop trying to act like you're doing this alone. You're not. You have us. You have Lionus. You have Zoe and Helen and almost everyone in the village. You taught us to own up to our mistakes, and we do," Arthur deflated, head pounding. "But you also taught us not to take on the mistakes of others as if they're our own. S continued. You said that there are too many people out there who want us to apologize for everything, even existing. So why are you giving them the satisfaction when it wasn't your mistake?"

"It's not like they can hear me," Arthur said, feeling strangely defensive.

"But we can," S said. "And what does that look like to us? I'll [clears throat] tell you. It looks like you're scared of them. It looks like you're letting them off the hook."

"S," Lionus said. "We appreciate your thoughts on the matter. But this is more complicated than just that."

"S's right," Arthur said. And Lionus looked at him with a sad smile. "Not pity, just understanding. All of you are. I think." He shook his head. "I don't know what to think to be honest. I'm feeling a tad frazzled as of late, but that's no excuse. I shouldn't have snapped when I did. For that, I will apologize."

"I didn't mean to make things hard," David muttered, hands in his lap. "I can go if it'd be easier," he sniffled, ice forming in the corners of his eyes.

"You didn't," Arthur said. And that sounded suspiciously like an almost apology. Something I've recently learned isn't always necessary. "David, you have done nothing wrong. Nothing. You are smart and curious, and I highly doubt I'll ever meet someone with the stage pres presence you have. Your offer to leave has been received, considered, and denied. No, you will stay here because this is where you belong." He looked at each of the children in turn. "This is where all of us belong. And you're absolutely correct. Miss Marble Maw owes David an apology for her actions yesterday. I will see to it first thing this morning."

"Ooh," Talia whispered into a pancake that gave me the goop good shivers. "Can I be your backup muscle? I'll bring three different kinds of shovels so she knows we're s we're being serious." Theodore asked if she was going to hit Miss Marblema upside the head with the shovels.

"Nah," David said only Lionus and Arthur realizing he'd understood Theodore without his translation text. "Everyone knows that you have to kneecap someone. Hitting them in the head might kill them. Hit them in the knees and they can't run after you. Tickity boo."

"Wow," Lucy breathed. "I like the way you think."

"Why don't we see how Arthur's talk with Miss Marblemma goes before we choose violence?" Lionus saidalia. "I seem to remember you saying I owed you two hours of weed pulling this morning. So why don't we let Arthur handle our guest and we can see to that."

"Well played, Baker," Talia said, "I don't feel manipulated in the slightest."

"You're getting better."

"Thank you."

"Last one to eat all their syrup, get sent to the edge of the universe," Lucy bellowed, and what followed shant be described here. Suffice it to say, it ended with Theodore hanging from the ceiling. Chanty trying to lick other people's syrup. Talia pouring syrup directly into her mouth from the bottle. Fee wielding four sausages as weapons. [snorts] S getting a pancake to the face. David standing on his chair and announcing that this was the best breakfast ever. Lucy accusing Lionus of cheating, which Lionus firmly denied, even though his napkin was suspiciously coated with syrup. And Arthur watching, watching with a light in his soul. and droplets of orange juice in his eyebrows, courtesy of a garden gnome that burned brighter than any star.

After washing up, Arthur dressed in black slacks and a dress shirt, buttoned up to the top. His socks were canary yellow, adorned with little trees. After all, when one prepares for battle, one must look the part. He left the house behind, smiling as he heard Talia supervising in her garden, telling Lionus to put his back into it between the weeds because the weeds weren't going to pull themselves. Lionus Lionus's answering grumble was too quiet for Arthur to hear clearly, but he could guess at what was said.

It didn't look as if anyone was home in the guest house. The door was shut, blinds drawn across the front windows. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of Miss Marblemma since she'd trudged up the road after Merl fied her back to the island. Part of him, a small foolish part, hoped that after yesterday's events, Miss Marblemma had packed up her meager belongings and departed for greener pastures. But he knew that even if she had, it wouldn't be the last they'd hear from her. Arthur Parnasses could be described as many things, but stupid wasn't one of them. He knew deep down, no matter what he said, chances weren't in his favor that Miss Marblemaw would respond with anything resembling an apology. He had to keep his anger in check should that prove to be the case. It was what she wanted. Same as router during the hearing to make him lose control, to have evidence that no child should be left in his care for fear of him erupting in fire, laying waste to anything and everything around him.

"Stabber with kindness," he murmured to himself as he approached the house. Plastering a bland smile on his face, Arthur knocked on the door and waited. No response. He knocked again a little harder this time. Nothing. He tried the doororknob. Locked. To be expected, the set of spare keys was back in the house, but if push came to shove, a measly lock wouldn't stop him. Privacy was important, but Miss Marblemma Maw had made such made such courtesy a non-starter. He knocked again and when no one answered, stepped off the porch. Considering calling for Zoe to see if she could locate Miss Marble on the island, Arthur first moved around the side of the house. Windows closed, blinds shut here, too. The back of the house was set against a small bluff, a rocky trail leading down into the woods and toward a small beach on the northwest side of the island. They rarely used this beach, seeing as how it was more black rocks than white sand, but it had its charms, otherworldly though they might be. Making a decision, Arthur slid down the trail deftly, leaving a cloud of dirt behind him. At the bottom, he bent over, brushing the dust from his shoes and socks. It took 10 minutes to reach the beach through the trail in the woods. Birds called, insects buzzed, and the sun warm morning promised an even hotter afternoon. Sunlight dappled the forest floor through the thick canopy, and as Arthur rounded the last bend before the beach, he froze briefly when he heard a voice that should not have been on the island.

"It's not as if it's difficult, Harriet," Janine Routder said as Arthur moved behind the thick trunk of a palm tree, peering around it out to the beach. "That you're unable to do what I've asked is not only troublesome, it reflects poorly upon you. Perhaps I was wrong to place my faith in you." Miss Marblemma was alone on the beach, standing in front of a large gray boulder on the rock, the metal briefcase she'd brought to the island. but it didn't look as if it had before. The interior lining of the lid was pulled down, revealing a screen with a green sheen to it. Router's face almost the same color as Chony's. A top the screen a tiny satellite dish spun in a slow circle beeping every few seconds.

"I'm trying," Miss Marblemar replied, sounding more than a little pathetic. "You don't know what it's like here. It's nothing like I was told it would be."

"These children are trying," router repeated, the screen rolling with wavy lines. "You're trying. I didn't send you here to try, Harriet. I sent you there to do what others before you could not. You assured me you were up to the challenge, and yet here you are with evidence to the contrary. You've been there for 4 days. Time is running short. You're sure you weren't followed?"

Miss Marblemma turned her head from side to side, Arthur pulling back behind the tree. "No," she said finally, "I wasn't. I don't know why I couldn't do this in the house."

"You know why," Routder said. "For all we know, the Phoenix has taken a tip from us and bugged the hell out of that house. It's what I would have done, and I wouldn't have gotten caught."

Miss Marble's expression grew pinched. "How was I to know they'd check the light bulbs? You were the one who told me to put it in there in the first place."

"You should have," Router said coldly. "I told you not to underestimate them. Regardless of what else the phoenix is, he's clever, which makes him dangerous. And having the weapons at his disposal means it's up to us to stop him."

"The children," Miss Marble Mos said.

"Yes," Router said, "I don't care what else you have to do in order to have the antichrist removed, but you will do it. I will have him if it's the last thing I do."

Though the sun blazed down upon him, it felt as if Arthur had stepped into David's room again. skin and blood like ice, an electric shiver arcing up and down his spine. "Are you certain that this is the best course of action?" Miss Marblemma asked, and Arthur's fury lessened. "Not by much, but enough to consider her words carefully. She sounded unsure or something so close to it that it didn't make a difference. He would could work with that. It might take time. Not that they had much, but maybe he could convince her that.

"I'm certain," Router replied. "More than I've ever been in my life. I've seen what people like them are truly capable of, and I fear for all of our futures. Never before have we been on a pre precipice like we are now," her eyes narrowed. "And need I remind you, without me, you wouldn't be an inspector. You'd still be in the mail room toiling away. I lifted you up, put my faith in you. I made you what you are, and this is the thanks I get." She shook her head. "Maybe I was wrong about you."

"No," Miss Marble Mos said quickly, leaning forward. "I can do it. I know I can."

"Spit it out, Harriet. You're wasting precious time."

"What if you're wrong?"

"Yes," Arthur thought through fire. "Yes, I'm not," Router said flatly. "You were at the hearing. You heard what everyone else did. Arthur Parnasses is a liar, but more than that, he's a magnetic liar. Whatever he says, you mustn't believe. An animal backed into a corner will do whatever it can to survive. He is no different. We must ensure the children aren't being brainwashed by whatever he decides is the issue dour. Are you going to tell me you did everything you could when he unleashes his army upon the world? Could you live with yourself knowing you could have stopped it before it began?"

Miss Marblemma hesitated. Arthur breathed in. Arthur breathed out.

She said, "No, I couldn't."

Arthur closed his eyes. "Good," Router said. "Now about the Antichrist."

"Why can't I just take him in the night?" Miss Marblemma asked. "Sedate him and remove him while everyone sleeps."

"Are you out of your mind?" Router asked incredulously. "He'd know immediately. There wouldn't be enough of him of you left to bury. But if [snorts] I sedate the child, he won't. I'm not talking about the Antichrist. You bloody fool. Arthur Parnasses would burn you to the ground before you made it three steps from the orphanage. No, we do this by the books. Say whatever you must in your reports to get it done, Harriet. Given the complexities of this situation, I alone have the final decision as to the removal. But mine won't be the only eyes on your reports. Make it count. Legally, of course."

"I will," Miss Marble Moss said. "But-"

"But what?" Router growled. "Out with it, Harriet. I don't have all day to sit here and listen to you whine on and on. Plans are in motion, and they will not fail because of your ineptitude."

"But I just I have to ask, Miss Router, why would the Antichrist listen to you at all? Why would he do anything you wanted him to? What's stopping him from killing all of us and returning to the island?"

"That's where the other children come into play," Router said, and a print of Arthur's hand burned into the tree, the bark blackening, smoking. "By your account, he's close with them. He considers them his brothers and sisters, as if a monstrous thing could ever understand family values." She laughed, a low, throaty thing. "He cannot, as he's a demon hellbent on destroying everything we hold dear. But on the off chance there's a sliver of light in the rotting carcass of his soul, then he'll do whatever I tell him to keep the other children safe. Imagine having an endless reservoir of magic at the government's command. Why continue to fight the good fight when we can just as easily place our will upon the world with a gentle hand and a well-placed threat to the devil himself? Never again will we be questioned for our actions. Not even when every magical being is under our government control through the Antichrist."

Lucy had thought the same thing. And yet, as a boy of seven years of age, he was making a different decision. He chose joy. He chose happiness. He chose others above himself, even knowing he had the power to do whatever he wished. "Why could a child do what adults could not?"

"Not everyone will agree with you," Miss Marble Moss said, clearly uncomfortable. "Most of all, Arthur Parnasses and Lionus Baker, you saw what Parnasses can do, and I fear that's only scratching the surface."

"You're right," Arthur thought coldly. "I've barely begun to show you what I'm capable of."

"Which is why I entrusted you with this," Router snapped. "Removing the children is the first step. The media is already playing their part by continuing to push the photograph of the bird breaking free in Nether Netherwick. [snorts] We couldn't have planned it better if we tried. The world knows him for what he is now. And when we announce we've removed the children, everyone will understand that we saw something. We said something. And we did something that no one else before us could do. We protected the children who needed us most. You have 10 days, Harriet. Do not disappoint me. You know what will happen if you do."

The screen went black. Miss Marble reached up and closed the briefcase. Arthur left her on the beach. He did not remember walking back through the woods. He did not remember climbing up the trail, slipping and skinning his palm. He did not remember passing by the shuttered guest house. He did not hear Lionus and Talia chattering away in the garden. He did not feel the creek of the porch steps beneath his feet. He did not smell the scent of polish, lemon crisp, that caused wood to gleam. He did not see anything but a narrowed tunnel, the edges, the edges as ragged as the harsh breaths he took. He made it to the bedroom and shut the door, leaning his forehead against it. In his chest, a snarling star of fire, flame flares snapping like a whip. Rage, horror, fear, all of it merging, amassing into a misshapen, sentient lump of oily black. Nearly blind with panic, he turned and his heart stuttered in his chest.

"Hope," his mother said, standing near the window, "is the thing with feathers." She faced away from him, her straw-coled hair cascading down her back. She wore a lavender dress, the [clears throat] one he remembered vaguely, from his youth, because it had pockets, according to her, a good dress always had pockets. "Anger," she said without looking at him, and he wasn't so far gone that he thought her real rather than memory. But it was a close thing. "It builds on top of old wounds, on scar tissue. It grows and grows until it becomes all you know." He'd been there before. This conversation was one of the few he could remember. A precious treasure bored hoarded in the furthest recesses of his mind. He had a part to play, and play it he would. When he spoke, it was not as a man, but as a child. "How do you stop it?" Though he could not see her face, would he even recognize it if he did? He knew she was smiling. He could hear it in her voice when she said, "With hope, little bird. With hope, because hope is the thing with feathers."

"I have feathers," he said excitedly. "And then, 'Mother, I'" But she was gone, gone, gone, years gone, decades gone. and how he had grieved the loss of her, of his father, of the only life he'd ever known, a life with laughter and gazing at the stars and flying higher and higher until he thought he could touch the sky. With the last of his strength, Arthur stumbled over to his chair, collapsing into it, chest teething, eyes burning. He raised his hand to his face as his shoulders began to tremble.

He floated through the rest of the day, unable to shake the high-pitched buzzing noise in his ears, a sound that made him feel as if he were being pulled beneath the sea, dragged down to black depths where darkness lived. The buzzing only grew as the day wore on. Arthur lost to it. There were moments of clarity, brief though they were smiling when Talia and Lionus came back in the house for lunch, their knees and hands caked with dirt. nodding when Shanty explained in great detail how he spent his morning with David and Lucy and that they'd pretended to be gigantic beasts knocking over buildings made of wooden blocks, praising S and Theodore for their cataloging of the Wyvern's horde with little labels to show why they were important. Exclaiming over a leaf fee had grown in the shape of Helen, stout, strong, colorful, and a perfect representation of its counterpart.

Miss Marblemma arrived late afternoon, her clipboard clasped firmly in her hands, appearing no more nervous than she had been the day before. She asked after Zoe, reminding Arthur that she would interview the island sprite, and any efforts to keep that from happening would be considered an act of subtuge. As she droned on and on, Arthur wondered what she'd think if he lit her on fire right then and there. Would she scream? Would she plead for her life? Would she beg and beg and beg until her vocal cords melted and smoke stream from her mouth? "It's not as if I've had issues hiding the body," he thought wildly. She'd be nothing but ashes.

"Mr. Parnaces," the haze parted, and he saw Miss Marblemma glaring at him. Obviously, having said his name more than once, they were in his office. He couldn't remember coming here. He forced a smile, hoping it would be enough. "What was that? Are you even listening?" She spat. "I expect you to take this seriously, Mr. Parnasses."

"Oh, I am," he assured her. "You want Zoey. All you have to do is ask. I'm sure she'd be delighted to speak with you."

"As she should be," Miss Marblemma said with a sniff. "Now on to other matters. I've noticed that Sal and Theodore are," he stood from his chair. "Excuse me, Miss Marblemma. Something requires my attention. I must see to it immediately." He walked around the desk, the buzzing sound absolute, his brain a hive of crawling wasps with poison slick stingers. He had almost made it to the door when Miss Marble Maw grabbed his wrist, her grip firm. "We are in the middle of a discussion," she told him, "Please take a ste seat until we're finished."

He looked down at his her hand on his arm. David trying to pull away, whimpering as she yelled in his face, "Have you ever hit a kid?" No. Slapped them. No. Put their fingers in a drawer and closed the drawer so hard it it he lifted his head and let the phoenix rise behind his eyes. He didn't know what she saw, but instead of being afraid, she looked merely curious, as if a great firebird appeared before her on a daily basis. As he leaned toward her, Arthur said could see himself reflected in her eyes. He looked furious. "Remove your hand," he said in a low voice. "And if I ever see you touch anyone on this island without their permission again, there is nowhere on this earth you could run that I wouldn't find you."

She pulled her hand back slowly. "Another threat, Mr. Parnasses."

"It is," he said, "and I mean every word."

She didn't speak again. No matter what he did, he couldn't stop the fury from growing. It latched onto him. A black shroud wrapped snugly around his shoulders. "Sticky understanding, knowing come into the darkness where it's safer," it whispered. "They think you a monster. Why not give them what they ask for?"

How long? How long had this been part of him? How long had it been building since Miss Marble Ma's arrival? No, it was before that. The hearing, the bug in the hotel room agreeing to appear in the first place? Or was it further back than that? Did it start with Lionus? After all, he had been one of them. Yes, he'd been the seen the error of his ways. But it had taken him years, 17 to be exact. Years of child after child, of orphanages, with masters who understood their jobs, with masters who did not. Why hadn't he done more? Why hadn't he acted sooner? But then, of course, there were the children. each of them with their history, their trauma, their stories of abuse and survival, as if any child should have intimate knowledge of such things. And he took it from them as best he could, shouldering the weight of it, letting them heal, letting them grow, letting them live. And what of the others? What of all those he helped over the years, all those he couldn't get to in time? Was it their fault? Or was it the masters who took him in after testifying? The masters who weren't scared of him? the masters who thought ignoring him would be beneficial for all. Was it when he was a scared and lonely child forced to relive every each and every terrible day during questioning? Perhaps it was when he was pulled out of the cellar into the sunlight for the first time in six months, blinking against the brightness that had nothing to do with his fire. Or maybe it was the cellar itself, the tick marks on the walls. Maybe it was the first time the master had slapped him across the face for speaking out of turn, or when he was taken by strangers after his parents died, each of them telling him he had nothing to fear, that he would be cared for by people who understood him. Maybe it was the death of his parents, first his father, then his mother, catastrophic events that ruined him in ways he couldn't expect. Could it have started then? He thought that might very well be the case. a lifetime. Then it had been with him for a lifetime. He didn't know what went that meant. He didn't know what to do.

Supper, though he barely touched his food. The children talking, talking. Zoe sitting to his right, her knee bumping against his. Across the table, Lionus, quiet, foreheadlined, glancing at Arthur every now and then with increasing frequency. Arthur smiled. Lionus did not.

After in the sitting room, David performed his one yeti play. Pi Dirk Dasher on the hunt for the beast. Costume changes. Lioness taking Jason's role. Gasps, laughter, applause when David bowed, looking stunned at the cheers being lobbed at him. His wrist seemed fine now. And didn't that just be dull? Either David didn't feel it anymore, though that memory was undoubtedly seared into his mind, wasn't it? Or he was trying to push through it. Regardless, David burned sleep. Each of the children in their beds warm and safe. Chanty with toothpaste on the corner of his mouth, wiped clean with Arthur's thumb. "Oh, come on. I was saving that for later." A gentle kiss on his head between his eyetocks. And as Arthur turned to leave, Chanty said, "Arthur." He stopped. Everything stopped. For a moment, he was himself again, free of the fires of rage. "Yes, Chanty," he said without turning around, knowing he was in the eye of the storm. "Are you all right? You've been quiet today."

He did the one thing he promised he'd never do. He lied to one of his children. "I'm fine, just thinking my thoughts."

"Good thoughts or bad thoughts?" Perceptive, but then they all were.

"Thoughts?" He said, unable to lie again. "Sleep, chanty. Tomorrow is another day."

And it was, wasn't it? another day and then another and then another where the screws were being tightened where the shadow of the government stretched long and he wanted to go to Lucy. Wanted to open the door to his room. A closet. A closet might as well have been a seller. Master by any other name. "Dad. Dad. Dad was still a master after all. And say, 'You were right. We can't win. Do what you have to. Don't hurt anyone, but take their fear away. Take their anger. Take their hatred, their bigotry, and remake the world as it should be.'" It was close, far closer than it should have been. His hand was on the door knob. Hearing the low, sweet tones of dead people music just inside. Buddy Holly singing that "you say you're going to leave, you know it's a lie, cuz that'll be the day when I die."

"Arthur." He whirled around, the buzzing sound like a great lumbering machine destroying everything in its wake. Lionus stood there just in the doorway, looking concerned, unsure, worried. So worried that Arthur almost laughed.

"What is it?"

"These people," Arthur said, wild peaks and valleys as his voice rose and fell. "These people, they take and they take and they take. Nothing stops them. Not you, not me, not anything we do or say. They will keep coming. There's nothing we can do."

Properly spooked, Lionus took a step towards him, hand spread as if gentling a dangerous animal. And oh, was that the wrong move. "Don't," Arthur said, taking a step back, shaking his head. "I don't want to be touched."

"All right," Lionus said, lowering his hands. "Tell me what happened. Tell me how to help."

Now he did laugh, a harsh grading sound that was as foreign as it was shocking. "What happened?"

Have you not been paying attention? They're trying to take my children from me."

"They won't," Lionus said. "We won't let them."

Arthur scoffed derisively. "And what are we going to do if they try? Are you going to pick up arms and defend them? Are you going to give your life so that the children might have a chance to know a world without prejudice? Because that's what I'm willing to do."

"You know I would," Lionus said, "and I would do anything for them, for you."

"Why?" Arthur demanded. "Why here? Why now? Why none of the other children you encountered? Why did you do nothing to help them?" He shouted. "Why didn't you save them?"

Many things happened at once. Fire blooming along his hands, his arms, a pressure building in his chest without end. And Lionus, eyes wide, reflecting fire light, taking a step toward him without fear. And music spilling out into the room as Lucy opened the door. All at once, too much.

And the phoenix, the phoenix rose up and up, bursting through blood and bone, flesh and memory, until it towered above Lionus. Lucy head bent to keep from scraping against the ceiling, only to find Lionus standing in front of Lucy. To protect him from me, Arthur and the Phoenix thought at once. The pressure intensified, his heart and lungs wrapped in a molten band of metal. And the Phoenix screamed long, loud, before turning and crashing through the window. Shards of glass illuminated in orange red glittering as he unfurled his wings into the sky, wings pumping. A trail of fire left in his wake, muscles straining, he rose higher and higher, the stars melting, streaking across a black canvas. And he opened his beak to scream again, only to have a white hot fire pour from his mouth. Higher, higher. The horizon now curved, oxygen thin, causing him to gasp again and again. An apex as far as he could climb. And he cried out once more as he was consumed. He detonated in a massive explosion that lit up the night sky as if the sun had arisen a new. The phoenix blasted apart, feathers and fire shooting off in every direction. He'd taken to the sky as a bird. He fell toward the ocean as a man. As fire rained down around him, Arthur plummeted to the island. The island off to his right. The ocean, a wall of blue black rushing to meet him. Movement below. The churn of a vortex spinning faster and faster. A column of water burst from the sea, hurtling toward Arthur. He sucked in a breath, ribs creaking, and then he was surrounded by water. His descent slowed as he lowered into the ocean. Bubbles flooded around him, making it impossible to see. He didn't know up from down, and time once again became soft, malleable.

As he sank into the ocean, something bumped against his nose. He opened his eyes, blinking against the sting of salt. A fish floated in front of his face. Gray, a black eye on either side of its head. Small fins on either side and one on the top. Not the biggest fish he'd ever seen. Not the nor the smallest. Strangely, he recognized it. Him. Frank, he thought in Shanty's voice, bellowing at the sea. Frank's mouth opened and closed, gills working. He bumped Arthur's nose again and pulled back. And then he darted down between Arthur's legs, swirling around the night, then the right, then the left. From the depths below, more fish appeared. The same species as Frank. At first, a handful, then a dozen, two dozen, three, then hundreds of gray fish swimming in a circle around him, faster and faster. The sea around him began to spin in a whirlpool, the fish becoming paint streaks of iridescent gray. But instead of being pulled further into the depths, he began to rise. It started out slow at first. Then the speed picked up, and Arthur closed his eyes against the st salt water slamming against his face, his lungs screaming for air, lights flashing in the darkness behind his lids.

As he breached the surface, he attempted to suck in a great gasping breath. But before he could, he kept rising, flipping end over end, and landing hard on his back on a beach. Nude sand finding its way into all his nooks and crannies almost immediately. He sat up in a heady days, mind still sparking and crackling, the phoenix muing weakly inside him, ready to lapse into healing unconsciousness. A fish poked its mouth up from the water, opening and closing. In a horse voice, Arthur said, "Thank you, Frank. I won't forget your kindness." Frank leapt from the water, moonlight crashing, catching his scales, and then he disappeared into the sea.

Arthur began to laugh. He laughed and laughed, arms wrapped around his middle. The first tear was a surprise, the second a warning, and then the floodgates opened. He wept for the children, both known and unknown. He wept for each raised fist. He wept in bittersweet joy, in ferocious heartbreak. He wept at the unknown knowowable mysteries of this universe. And for the first time, Arthur Franklin Parnasses wept for himself.

Lionus was uh Lionus found him sitting under a tree, knees drawn up against his chest. The tree an old cranky palm that seemed to enjoy drooping coconut dropping coconuts on unsuspecting heads grew above the beach Frank had bought brought him to. Off to the right in the distance the house on the cliff lit up like a lighthouse. A warm beacon in the dark.

"There you are," Lionus said, huffing as he crested the hill, face red, hair a mess as if he'd been running his hands through it. "You gave me such a fright."

"Did I hurt you?" Arthur asked in a dull voice.

Lionus sighed. "You foolish man, look at the state of you." He pulled off his robe and kneelled before Arthur, rubbing the water away as best he could. Once finished, he settled the robe on Arthur's shoulders, fussing over it, making Arthur move move around until it was cinched around his waist, his rear now protected from spiky grass. "You're going to catch a cold," Lionus muttered, rubbing his arms and his shoulders.

"Where will you be then?"

"You worried too much."

"So I've been told," Lionus said still. "Someone has to."

Arthur flinched, the words a sharp rebuke.

"Oh, stop it," Lionus said with a roll of his eyes that reminded Arthur a fee. "I wasn't talking about you, and you know it. You worry enough for all of us. And no, you did not hurt me. You didn't hurt anyone. Even the window is already fixed."

"Lucy," Arthur whispered.

"Yes," Lionus said, grunting as he moved to sit next to Arthur, who for one whose blood ran with fire, found himself colder than he'd ever been in his life. Lionus wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close. Arthur's wet hair pressed against his cheek, his jaw, thought spun in a violent storm, and it took Arthur a long time before he was able to grab hold of one. It struggled to break free, but he held on with all his might. Above an endless sea and below a sea of stars, Arthur said the one thing he feared above all else. "Perhaps they're right. Maybe I'm not fit to be a father."

Lionus didn't answer right away. He stared off into nothing. I sad, smile a little sadder. Eventually, he said, "You never got the chance to just be what? Always helping." Lionus said, "Always thinking about others. Ever since you were a child, you put the needs of everyone else above yourself. Attempting to mail a letter for someone to come save you and your friends after you did your best to help those in need find a home where they would be safe. But you didn't stop there, did you? No. You bought the same bloody house that by rights you should have raised to the ground. You didn't, though. Instead, you did what you always do. And even with these children, these remarkable children, and even with Zoe and Helen and me and the entire world with their damnable, judgmental eyes upon you, you still persist. You still push on. You help because that's who you are as a person. But" Arthur whispered, knowing it was coming. "But," Lionus said, jostling him a little. "When do you help yourself?"

Arthur's eyes burned and he could not speak. Lionus kissed the side of his head. "I see what they say about you. Even if you try and hide it from me, I see the good, the horrible, all of it. And no matter what I read or hear, I always think, 'Well, yes, but does that mean they really know him?' Of course not. How could they know you need a nightly cup of tea before bed or you can't sleep? How can they know that you sometimes put a flower on my pillow because it reminded you of me? They can't. They can't know that you put your blood, sweat, and tears into an act of unmitigated selflessness in making this house a home. They can't know how you play freeze tag with the children using the entire island as part of the game. They can't know how you teach them to be proud of themselves, to have a sense of self-worth. They can't know the way Lucy looks at you as if you hung the moon and the stars. The way Fee brightens up whatever whenever you enter the room, even if she denies it. The way S is learning to stand on his own as a leader because you taught him how. The way Theodore has never felt voiceless knowing you took the time to learn his language. The way Chanty continues to be well chanty, sunshine and blobby form. The way Talia knows that no matter what she will always have someone to explain, exclaim FL over flowers with. And even David, the way he talks about you, Arthur did this and Arthur did that. They can't know any of it, Arthur. Even with their power, they can't know all that you are. But I do."

Arthur clutched Lionus tighter, shoulders shaking softly. Lionus said, "You've been strong your entire life. You've had to be unfairly, unjustly. But I also think I think you also believe you're still alone at times that you have to shoulder everything on your own. You don't. You have me. I can help you carry the weight of it. I can be your rock. I can't do what you lot can. But Lucy once told me there is magic in the ordinary. I must be pretty magical then. But only because I know when I look over there you'll be fit to be a father. B. I've never met anyone in my life more fit than you. Any child would be lucky to have you. And I won't hear anyone saying otherwise. Not on my watch. No, sir. You want to have a go at Arthur Parnasses? Well, you're going to have to deal with me first. And though I may not look it, I can be quite scrappy when I need to be."

And that was it. That was all it took. Arthur broke. Full body sobs. But it was different from how it had been after he was helpfully tossed from the sea with assistance from a fish named Frank. Here now, surrounded by Lionus Baker, Arthur felt warm, safe, loved. As Lionus whispered words of calm and peace, Arthur sank into the storm and let it blow him away.

Sunrise broke above the sea. Clouds of flame. Seagulls caught on the w. Blacktipped wings spread wide. Waves crashed. A low familiar rush, the scent of sea salt and brine thick.

"Arthur said, "The explosion."

Lionus startled from a deep doze, lips smacking. "Begg pardon?"

"The explosion," Arthur said again. "Did you see it?"

"Yes," Arthur said with Lionus said with a shiver. "I suspect most people did, or at least the aftermath. It rattled the entire island. The phoenix is it?" He swallowed thickly. "Gone."

"Resting," Arthur assured him. "But there's more." He told Lionus what he'd heard on the beach, hiding behind a tree. The longer he spoke, the more Lionus's mouth twisted down, his eyebrows rising higher and higher. By the time Arthur had finished, Lionus was a apoplelectic, barely able to string together a coherent thought. "How How dare she? Who does she think she is? Why? I never Oh, I can't believe it. No." He shook took a deep breath, letting it out slow. "No, no, no, no, no. I agree completely. Did she see? Yes, unfortunately. She was standing in front of the guest house when it happened. Heard the window breaking."

"Good," Arthur said. He stood, knees popping, extending a hand to Lionus.

He arched an eyebrow. "Coming, dear Lionus. Where are you? Where are we going?" Lionus asked, letting himself be pulled up. "It had better be back to the house for breakfast. I don't know about you, but I've worked up an appetite."

"So have I," Arthur said, surprised. "But that'll have to wait. We have work to do."

"Wait for breakfast. You've lost the plot, my good fellow. No one should have to wait for breakfast. I've changed my mind. Please give the ring back. I'll find someone who respects a good bit of nosh and doesn't think of it. It needs to be skipped."

Arthur kissed him soundly. "No," he said against Lionus's lips. "I will marry you and I won't hear another word to the contrary."

"Oh, good," Lionus said. "I doubt I'd be able to stumble upon the loves of my life for a second time, so that's probably for the best."

Hand in hand, they moved toward home.