Submerging (Swans Landing) (8 page)

Something called me toward the lighthouse, but I didn’t want to risk Callum Murchadh seeing me pass. I was not in the mood for dealing with him again so soon. So instead, I turned the other way and found myself facing the sign for the Pierowall Heritage Museum.

The building was small and quiet. Soft music played over the sound system and the only other people perusing the displays were a family with two young kids who looked bored and ready to go, tugging at their parents’ hands. The parents remained bent over one display, reading the information card attached to it.

“Mum, let’s go,” the little girl said, tugging at her mother’s arm.

“All right, love,” her mom said, finally stepping away from the display. “We’re going.”

I turned my back to the mother-daughter pairing and started at the opposite end of the room. The displays were all about the history of Westray and Pierowall, from the ancient people who first lived there to the modern day. I studied the artifacts and other pieces that made up the heritage of the island, moving through the displays as my eyes quickly scanned over the words on the cards.

When I reached the end—the family had finally left—I stopped and looked back across the room. That was it? There were several pieces in the collection, but no mention of finfolk anywhere.

A middle aged man approached me, smiling wide. “I trust you’ve enjoyed your visit to our heritage museum,” he said. “I would be happy to help with any questions you may have, or fill in additional information on the pieces.”

He was short, a couple inches shorter than I was, and he was round and rosy-cheeked, with graying hair just above his ears. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to reveal what I was most interested in to this man.

“Is there any information on other parts of Westray?” I asked. “Like, myths and legends?”

The man scratched at the light stubble along his chin. “Like fairy legends?”

I cringed. I hated when finfolk were compared to fairies. “Yes,” I forced myself to say. “Do you have information on those?”

“You’ll want the Fae Museum for that. It’s down the road, to the right. A little building next to McIntyre’s Pub. Look for the fairy on the door.”

I nodded and then left the heritage museum. It was probably a waste going to something called a “Fae Museum.” Likely the only thing I’d find would be tales about little creatures that granted wishes or stole babies or whatever it was fairies supposedly did in this part of the world.

Without looking for it, I probably would have passed the Fae Museum by without a second glance. The building looked like all the other gray stone buildings around it, and it was small and tucked almost behind the pub.

A cracked cobblestone path led the way to the door with a copper fairy on it and I turned the knob slowly, cringing when the door creaked, the sound echoing throughout the room. It was small and dark, but there was a cozy feeling to the place and light, tinkling music played from a stereo in one corner. The walls were covered with paintings of fairies and other mythical creatures. A few fairy “artifacts” had been scattered throughout the room on tables, mixed among fairy figurines.

A woman emerged from a hallway, smiling wide when she saw me.

“Welcome!” she boomed, throwing her arms wide as she came at me. Before I could react, I found myself enveloped in a hug. “A seeker of the fae, are you? Aye, you’ve come to the right place. Come, look around. If you have any questions, I’ll be certain to answer them. I’m the resident expert on the fae around here.” She grinned, her face crinkling into shiny cheeks and bright white teeth.

“Um,” I said, extricating myself from her embrace. “Thanks. I was wondering about ancient legends.”

She grabbed my hand and pulled me toward one of the displays, pointing out what looked like pieces of rocks. “There are many legends here in Orkney,” she told me. “These are pieces of a walking stone. At night, they’ve been seen walking down the water to take a drink.” She moved to the next table, which featured small animal bones. “Fairy bones,” she whispered. “A very rare find.”

This was definitely a waste of time. “Uh, nice,” I said. “Actually, I should get back. My brother is waiting for me.”

Her smile faded for a moment, but then she grinned again and gestured toward another display. “Perhaps I can interest you in something else? We have many displays.”

I shook my head. “Really, I should go—”

“Are selkies more your interest? Or perhaps finfolk—”

I paused, turning back to look at her as an icy chill raced down my spine. “You have finfolk artifacts here?” I asked.

She grinned and then crooked her finger, gesturing for me to follow her to the other side of the room. She led me to a table in a corner, where only a few pieces were kept under a glass box. One looked like silver fish scales collected inside a plastic bag. Next to it sat a string of seashells tied into a necklace and a few drawings of finfolk creatures either leaping from the water or else crawling on the sand, still with fishtails, with a twisted piece of metal holding the paper in place in one corner.

“The finfolk were once seen often in Orkney,” the woman told me. “They used to travel back and forth between their islands and ours. They had many, you know, but the two we know the most about are Hildaland and Hether Blether. Hildaland was taken by a human who tricked them, and now the island lies visible to human eyes south of Rousay. But Hether Blether remains hidden, vanishing within the fog and relocating itself whenever anyone tries to find it.”

I looked over the pieces in the display case, but nothing looked authentic to me. “What are those?” I asked, pointing at the fish scales.

“Scales taken from a finfolk,” she said, her eyes wide.

They looked more like scales taken from a sea bass to me, but I didn’t say this aloud.

“These drawings are from witnesses who have seen finfolk over the years,” she went on. “They don’t come to our island like they used to. Most of the drawings are very old. That is why we protect them in the glass.”

I suppressed a sigh. What had I expected to find in a tiny fairy museum, anyway? It was a dead end run by a woman who didn’t seem to have all of her marbles in place.

“I really should go,” I said. “Thanks for the tour.”

She kept her smile, but I could see the disappointment in her eyes. “Aye okay. Do come back whenever you’d like. And bring your brother. I’m certain he’d love to see our collection.”

Somehow, I couldn’t imagine Josh pouring over the fairy “artifacts.” But I nodded and said, “Sure.” Then I escaped into the sunshine, blinking at its sudden brightness.

Well, it was official. Every path in Pierowall had come to a dead end and I wasn’t any closer to finding the way to my mother than I had been before.

Chapter Ten

I needed chocolate, preferably the kind full of fat and sugar.

After another long day of pointless searching—this time we’d roamed around hills and farmlands toward the middle of the island—I stepped into the shop across from the hostel, entering into a world of closely packed shelves and soft music. Thunder rumbled outside as the door closed behind me.

The store was empty. My skin prickled at the coldness inside the shop, and I paused, looking around for a moment.

“May I help you?” a voice asked, followed by the appearance of a familiar face coming around one of the aisles.

Callum stopped when he saw me. “Oh,” he said.

I couldn’t tell if that “oh” was good or bad.

He wore a green apron over his clothes and he bent to pick up a box of canned beans, which he carried past me to the next aisle.

“You work here?” I asked as I followed him.

“Five days a week,” he answered.

“But you’re—” I paused, searching for the right word.

Callum’s eyebrows knit together. “Disabled?” he asked.

I had forgotten about his prosthetic leg. I couldn’t even tell a difference through his jeans.

I shook my head. “That wasn’t what I was going to say.”

“Aye?” Callum set the box on the floor and began setting cans on a shelf. “What then?”

I glanced around, making sure no one was nearby, and then lowered my voice. “Finfolk.”

Callum squatted next to the box. “Finfolk don’t have jobs where you’re from?”

Heat flooded up my neck. Why was it he could never make a conversation easy?

“Of course they do,” I said. “I didn’t think...I mean, you live
here
and—”

“And I still require money in order to live among the humans,” Callum finished. He turned away from me, smirking as he continued to stock the shelf.

I sighed, feeling a bit frustrated. I wanted to get what I came for and then leave. “Do you have chocolate?” I asked. “Snickers. M&Ms. Butterfinger. Even an Almond Joy will work, and I hate almonds.”

“Hates almonds,” Callum said, nodding. “I’ll file that away for future reference.” He jerked his head toward the right. “Two aisles over. You should find what you want there.”

I followed his directions and found a selection of various chocolates and candies. It was much smaller than I was hoping for, but it would do. I grabbed several bars of various kinds.

When I made my way to the counter, Callum was already there, waiting for me. Outside, a crack of thunder sounded, followed by a hard, pelting rain on the roof.

“Most finfolk I know aren’t so keen on chocolate,” Callum commented as he rang up my purchases.

I raised my eyebrows. “And how many finfolk do you know?”

“Many,” he said. “But not as many as there should be.”

He was quiet as he punched in some keys on the old register. He looked so serious about everything he did, his brow furrowed as he focused on ringing me up. A wave of irritation flooded through me.

“You know, if you’d tell us where to find these finfolk, Josh and I will go on our own,” I said. “We don’t need you, you don’t have to go with us or anything.”

Callum snorted. “Your naivety is exactly what would get you killed if you attempted to find them.”

I leaned on the counter, my fists clenched. “We need to get to Hether Blether. We’ve been looking for clues, trying to ask people without bringing up suspicion—”

Callum looked up sharply, anger in his eyes. “You shouldn’t be asking anyone about that. You don’t know who you can trust.”

I laughed. “Like I should trust you? You are the only hope we have and you’ve done
nothing
to help. You walk around pretending to be human, selling their groceries. You turned your back on who you really are. That’s why you were banished, isn’t it?”

Callum’s eyes narrowed, the color turning a dark green. “Go back to the States, for your own sake and for everyone else’s.”

“If it’ll get me far away from you, gladly.” I spun on my heel and stomped across the store. The door flew open as I pushed at it, swinging back to smack the wall of the shop before shutting again.

The heavy, pouring rain that had begun while I was in the store soaked me within seconds. My hair stuck to my face and I paused to push it out of my eyes.

The door opened behind me and uneven footsteps crunched across the gravel parking lot. I turned to find Callum walking toward me, his head ducked slightly. The rain soaked him as quickly as it had me, and his red hair became plastered to his head. The white T-shirt under his apron was thin and I could see the outline of muscled arms and shoulders through the wet cloth.

Water trickled down his face, dripping from his nose and chin as he drew closer to me. I could imagine him emerging from the ocean, halfway between his finfolk and human forms. I wondered what color his scales were, and what he looked like swimming through the water.

My breath caught in my throat as he gazed down at me through the sheets of rain.

He thrust a paper bag at me and I took it, my hands clasping around the soggy paper.

“You forgot your chocolate,” he said. He studied me for a long moment, almost seeming to look through me. Then he turned and walked back into the shop.

* * *

Josh bent over the strings of his borrowed guitar, smiling as he played a few notes. One of the older men with him said something and everyone laughed, the fading sunset illuminating Josh’s smile.

I sat on a stone in front of a shop, closed up even though the sun set so late this far north that “night” was still an hour away. Back home, Josh played his guitar in front of Moody’s Variety Store, gathered around a roaring fire in an old burn barrel on cold nights. I could tell he missed it from the way his smile stretched across his face while he learned the folk songs the others played.

Anyone who glanced at them would think Josh had played with them all his life. He was so comfortable pretending to be human. He could easily find a place where he fit in among them.

Grandma had taught me to play the fiddle as soon as I was big enough to hold the instrument under my chin. Josh didn’t know this. I didn’t reveal it to many people.

“Your mama could play beautifully,” Grandma once told me. “The fiddle sang in her hands, like it was a part of her.”