Chapter 18: The Island

Three weeks of waiting passed before Zeke arrived at Marrine's side with a proposal.

Three weeks,

to Marrine, was three years.

Port Haven had not been kind to her after the town hall meeting, but what was to come was far worst.

Fear had twisted itself into the very fabric of the town, and the unease that had plagued Marrine in the streets had grown to something greater.

Faces that had once been friendly turned away as she passed, some crossing themselves, others whispering.

Children were shushed by their mothers, as if Marrine's very presence brought something unwanted.

Even the sea had changed, for the worse.

The familiar landscape that had been her comfort had become something alien, watching her with waiting eyes.

Every night she heard her voice beneath her dreams, calling her.

Daughter.

Sometimes it was far away, distant and unreachable, but other times it was right beside her, as if it had been speaking directly into her ear.

Come home,

it said,

but Marrine had no idea what home was anymore.

The church had been her haven.

Its walls had sheltered her from the storms, both of the sky and of her mind.

She had learned to read amongst its gardens and read the signs of the heavens in its towers.

She and Zeke had played in its grounds as children, pretending the flowers were gold and the old oak tree was a castle, but now even that had changed.

Father Michael still welcomed her with open arms, still told her that she was safe there, but there was a sorrow in his eyes that had not been there before.

He knew what was coming, as did everyone.

The harbor was all but deserted now, the fishermen reluctant to set sail after dark.

Even the few boats that had set off had returned before the morning sun.

Several families had already abandoned the town for the safety of the country.

And every few nights, folk spoke of lights in the water.

Lights that had not been there before.

Signs that something was coming.

Marrine had spent most of the last three weeks within the safety of the church grounds, avoiding both the town and the harbor.

She spent most of her time away from the cliffs and the sea, but it was the last she had feared most.

The sea had been her friend for as long as she could remember, but now she feared its depths and the voice that came from there.

She feared the day that the familiar eyes would appear once more.

Above all, she feared that one day she would hear that voice and obey it without thinking.

She spent many nights curled inside the hollow of the great tree, listening to the wind.

Mostly, she listened to the dreams that haunted her sleep, dreams of the undersea palace.

Tonight, though, she had seen further into it than ever before.

She had seen the great hall of black stone and the endless columns that curved away into the gloom, but more than that, she had seen the throne at the end of it.

Her father had been seated there, as always, his face hidden behind shadows, but she had not needed to see his face to know it was him.

She had always known it was him.

And, for the first time in her life, she had seen a place beside him, waiting.

She had awoken screaming.

"Marrine."

She blinked up at the familiar face peering over her.

Zeke had one bag slung over his shoulder and a strange look upon his face.

For the first time in weeks, Marrine saw something other than resignation in his features.

It was determination.

Marrine pushed herself upright slowly.

"Do you know where you've been?"

"Looking,"

he replied, "for somewhere to go."

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"What do you mean?"

Zeke came to sit beside her, the bag falling to the floor between them with a soft thud.

For a long moment he said nothing, gazing out across the darkened landscape.

Then he met her eyes once more.

"My mother used to tell me stories about an island off the coast.

Marrine frowned.

"An island?"

"Tiny,"

he replied with a small smile, "hidden from prying eyes.

They said it was unmarked by any chart.

Marrine stared at him in astonishment.

"What kind of an island is that?"

"My mother called it a sanctuary,"

Zeke replied softly.

The word sent a thrill of hope through her veins.

A sanctuary.

A safe place.

A place where no one would know what she was, where no one would seek to hurt her because of her blood.

A place where she would not wake up every night expecting something to come for her.

Her heart pounded in her chest.

"Do you think it's real?"

"I don't know,"

Zeke shrugged, "but I think it could be.

If it isn't, then we'll find somewhere else.

Marrine looked at him, stunned.

"You've been planning this, haven't you?"

"For a while,"

he admitted, "I didn't think I should tell you until I was reasonably sure there was somewhere to go."

"What did you find?"

"Not much,"

Zeke replied, reaching into the bag and withdrawing an old book, "my mother used to keep this,"

he added, watching her expression closely.

Marrine took the book from him with careful fingers.

It was heavy, its pages yellowed with age, the spine cracked.

She opened it to the first page and found scrawled notes, old drawings, and calculations.

It was a journal.

"My mother kept this?"

"Yeah,"

Zeke replied, "she was fascinated by ghost stories.

She always told me that the most interesting were the ones that held some truth.

Marrine turned the page, her eyes skimming the hurried script.

Drawings of coastlines and harbors filled the pages, interspersed with words and mathematical signs.

She stopped abruptly on one page, her breath catching in her throat.

Drawn in crude lines was the image of an island, veiled in darkness, but with one small detail that marked it as different from the others.

In the center of the island was a tiny circle.

"A spring,"

Zeke said quietly.

"According to the legend, anyone who found the island could stay there as long as they liked.

Nobody could force them to leave, not unless they wanted to."

Marrine's fingers tightened around the book.

"It's impossible,"

she said, but her voice was hardly more than a whisper.

"It probably is,"

Zeke smiled, "that's what makes it perfect, doesn't it?

Marrine looked at him sharply.

"You're smiling.

What is it?"

"It's just,"

Zeke shook his head, "that impossible seems to be our middle name these days.

Marrine laughed, the sound barely more than a breath, but it was the first sound of its kind she had made in weeks.

Zeke smiled at her.

"There she is.

Marrine looked away, her smile softening.

"I've missed that."

"What?

"Seeing you smile,"

she replied, looking back at him.

"I've missed you too."

They sat in silence for a while, watching the world pass by.

It was good, this peace, but soon enough Marrine's smile faded.

"What about the people here?

The church?

Father Michael?

The others?"

Zeke understood what she meant at once.

The church.

Father Michael.

The others.

She could not simply abandon them all.

"You're not disappearing,"

Zeke said gently, "you're just going to be somewhere else, away from all this.

Marrine shook her head.

"It feels like I am.

You and Father Michael, you're the only people who've ever shown me any kindness.

It felt like I belonged here.

Marrine's eyes were sad as they met his.

"I know the town, Zeke.

I know this place.

I know the church from the stones in its walls to the bells that ring above the tower.

I know which floorboards creak when I walk past Father's office and which windows always let in the most light.

I know where I belong, Zeke.

Marrine's voice was thick with emotion, "this place, this town, this church.

It's my home.

Zeke looked at her carefully, then reached out and took her hand.

"Do you?"

She looked at him, searching his face.

It was not an accusation, she knew, but a question.

"After all this?"

Marrine looked down at their joined hands.

"I don't know anymore.

Zeke looked at her carefully.

"They want you safe,"

he said finally.

"Some of them want you gone,"

she replied bitterly, "not Father Michael or the nuns who still protect me, but some of them.

They're afraid of me, Zeke.

They're always watching me.

isn't that what everyone says right before they turn against you?"

Zeke said nothing for a long moment, merely studying her.

"They want you safe,"

he said at last, "and that's what matters.

Marrine looked up at him, searching his face.

She found something there that steadied her, something that reassured her.

Not fear.

Not suspicion.

Just Zeke.

The same Zeke who had known her before the whispers and the photographs and the sea had taken her voice.

She whispered, "You'd give all this up, for me?

Marrine's next words came with a smile, although there were tears in her eyes.

"You'd cross the world for me, wouldn't you?

Zeke looked at her, his expression unusually solemn.

"I would,"

he said quietly, "nothing else matters.

Marrine swallowed hard.

"Not even your home?"You are my home."

The words rang through the silence like a bell.

It was all the more surprising because it was true, in a way.

For three weeks Marrine had been feeling as if the world was spinning away from her, but in truth, she had been the one falling.

There were places far beyond Port Haven, places she had never seen, but the world was huge and there were roads waiting to lead her somewhere new.

There were cities, mountains, oceans, skies.

Perhaps, she thought, there was even an island somewhere that could be reached.

Perhaps, in all the world, there was a place waiting for her to find it.

Marrine's reply was another kiss, a gentle press of her lips against his, but it was soon deepened, broadened, until she had kissed him with all the hope and the longing and the love that she had buried deep inside herself.

It was Zeke who broke away first, and when he pulled his forehead against hers, she found that she was smiling.

"Let's go,"

she said softly, "let's find somewhere we belong.

Zeke closed his eyes.

"Okay.

Let's find somewhere we belong.

"Where will we go first?"

Zeke asked when they finally reached the shore.

"The old boatyard,"

Marrine replied, "there's a fishing boat my uncle used to keep there.

I've been repairing it."

"You have a boat?"

"It has potential,"

Zeke replied with a smile.

That did not reassure her in the slightest.

"What if Father Michael refuses to let us go?"

"He won't,"

Zeke said, "what if he does?

Zeke smiled, "then we'll ask him to bless us instead.

Marrine could not help but smile at him, although the fear was still there, woven deep into her bones.

"What if the island isn't real?"Then we keep going."What if we can't find it?"

"We'll keep looking,"

Zeke replied, "what if your mother was wrong?"Then we keep going."And what if your father finds us?"

For the first time, Zeke's smile faded, and something dark flickered across his features.

"We'll keep looking.

Marrine looked out across the sea, watching the dark waters stretch away into the horizon.

A strange wind had risen, one that carried with it a note of salt.

Far beyond the rooftops of the town, the ocean shimmered beneath the afternoon sun.

For a moment, Marrine thought she saw something moving beneath the surface, a great shadow undulating just below the waves, but when she blinked, it was gone.

Zeke looked at her strangely.

"What is it?"

"Nothing,"

she replied, but she did not sound reassured.

"Marrine,"

he said, "what is it?

She turned toward him, her heart pounding in her chest.

"I thought I saw something.

In the water.

Zeke followed her gaze, his eyes narrowing as he looked out across the sea.

The ocean stretched on before them, vast and unknowable, but it was calm.

Too calm.

"We leave tonight,"

Zeke said quietly.

Marrine nodded.

"Tonight.

They spent the rest of the afternoon packing, but it was not much.

Marrine owned little aside from a few clothes, a few books, and the odd trinket.

There was the sweater Father Michael had given her when she was twelve and the letters from her mother.

The old photograph from the storm and the small Bible that Father Michael had placed in her hands all those years ago.

The dried rose from the church garden and some other mementos.

She wrapped them all carefully, not out of any particular sentiment, but because she wanted to hold on to something of her world.

When she finished, she sat on the floor of her room, turning and watching the few belongings that she had managed to pack.

The walls were lined with childhood mementos, drawings and pressed flowers and a little wooden cross.

There was a photograph of Zeke and her as children, and she picked it up with a wistful smile.

They had been so young, not knowing the world they would inherit.

"Goodbye,"

she whispered, setting the photograph down.

There was a knock at the door, and Marrine turned to see Father Michael's face peering into the room.

For a long moment neither of them spoke, but then Father Michael's gaze fell upon the bundle in Marrine's arms.

"You've decided, then.

Marrine merely nodded.

"I think it's time.

Father Michael came further into the room.

He looked older than he had three weeks ago, perhaps because of the lines around his eyes, or because of something deeper.

"I was hoping you would choose this,"

he said quietly, "I thought you would choose to stay.

Marrine frowned at him.

"I thought you would have told me to stay.

"I wanted you to stay safe,"

Father Michael replied, sitting down beside her, "but sometimes staying is more dangerous than going.

Marrine looked down at her hands.

"I'm scared,"

she admitted.

"What if I become what he says I am?"

Father Michael's expression softened.

"Who you are is not determined by the blood in your veins,"

he said gently, "but what you choose to do with it.

"But my father-

"Your father may rule the Deep,"

Father Michael said, taking her hands in his, "but he does not rule your soul.

Marrine looked up at him, her eyes wide.

"What if I never come back?

Father Michael smiled sadly.

"Then wherever you go, remember this,"

he said, touching her heart, "you were loved here.

A tear slid down Marrine's cheek.

"Even now?

"Especially now,"

Father Michael replied.

Marrine leaned into his arms, resting her head against his shoulder.

For a long time they sat like that in silence, until finally Father Michael whispered a prayer, a prayer not of protection from the sea or from her father, but of courage, and of strength, and of finding her own path.

When he finished, Marrine stood.

"Thank you,"

she said quietly.

Father Michael rose as well.

"Go,"

he said, and she hugged him tightly, his arms holding her just as tightly in return.

"You've always been my girl,"

he whispered, and for a moment Marrine was overcome with emotion.

"I'm still your girl."You always will be.

Outside, Zeke waited by the gate, watching as Marrine came to stand beside him.

He gave a small smile as he looked at Father Michael.

The priest nodded, and then Zeke turned back to Marrine.

"Ready?

She looked back at the church, at the garden, the trees, the lights that twinkled in the windows, as if saying goodbye.

Then she looked at Zeke.

"Ready.

They walked together toward the road, neither of them noticing the stranger watching them from across the street.

A man in a dark coat, a telephone pressed to his ear.

Damien Rivers watched as the girl walked away from the church with the boy at her side.

His jaw tightened as he listened to the voice on the other end of the line.

"They're leaving,"

he said.

There was a pause as the other man spoke, and then Damien frowned.

"Let them.

Damien's jaw tightened.

"What?

"Our people are already in position.

Damien turned away from the window, watching as the boy and girl walked toward the road.

"Where are they going?

"We'll find out.

The call ended, and Damien replaced the receiver with a frown.

For once, he was not victorious, because he knew what the other man meant.

He knew what the agents would do, and he knew what Marrine's father was capable of.

He had wanted power, wanted control, but now he realized that two forces were circling in around Marrine now, and Zeke was going with her.

Damien smiled faintly as he looked out the window.

"Run,"

he whispered, "but you can't outrun the ocean.

The road stretched out before them, curving under a clear sky that bore no moon.

Zeke drove the old truck with both hands on the wheel.

Marrine sat beside him, watching the world pass by, the church, then the harbor, then the town.

She watched until the last sliver of the town had disappeared beyond the horizon.

She barely realized she was crying until Zeke reached across and took her hand.

"Are you all right?"

She gave a small, sad smile.

"No.

He looked at her, and then he, too, was smiling.

"Me neither.

She laughed softly, and they drove on in silence for a while, until finally Marrine turned to him.

"Do you really think we'll find the island?

Zeke looked at the road ahead.

"I don't know.

She took his hand.

"But you're still coming."Always.

She leaned her head against his shoulder, and for the first time in weeks, Marrine felt something she had not felt in a very long time.

Hope.

Then the radio crackled and hissed, and Zeke frowned, reaching up to turn it off, but before he could, a voice came through the static.

Not exactly from the radio, but from everywhere at once, as if it was speaking through the air, through the ground, through Marrine's very bones.

Daughter.

Her eyes widened, and Zeke slammed on the brakes.

The truck skidded to a halt, and for a moment the only sound was the wind rushing past them.

Marrine looked toward the dark horizon, where the sea stretched on and on.

Then, farther away, beyond the curve of the road, the ocean rose up, swelling and heaving in great waves.

Higher and higher it climbed under the moonlight, until it was nearly overhead, and then something moved within the surf.

Zeke whispered her name, but she could not reply.

The voice spoke again, and this time it was closer.

You cannot hide from me.

Marrine's hand trembled in Zeke's grip.

She stared toward the horizon, where the wall of water continued to climb, and then she whispered the only response she could think of.

"I am not yours.

The ocean roared in reply, and something huge and terrible moved beneath its depths, just out of sight.

Zeke put his foot on the gas, and the truck lunched forward, skidding down the road as fast as it could go.

Marrine clung to Zeke's hand, her heart pounding.

"Where are we going?

He looked at her, his eyes dark.

"Anywhere.

Behind them, the sea followed, but ahead of them there was still darkness and mystery and, perhaps, a place for escape. And for the first time in her life, Marrine knew that she would not have to run alone.

She had Zeke.

And, sometimes, that was almost enough to make hope possible.

Far beneath the depths of the sea, an island watched, its people stirring in their sleep.

The King of the Deep opened his eyes, watching as his daughter fled the city.

His enemies had declared their intentions, and now the hunter and the hunted were circling around his daughter.

Zeke ran toward the horizon, but his soul had found something far greater.

The King smiled as he watched the girl running toward his world, running toward the sanctuary.

He knew something she did not, and perhaps, just perhaps, an island existed.

And it had been waiting for her all this time.