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Good. He wasn’t much younger than me. Still, twenty-odd years at the edge of the sea… “What a lonely place to grow up..”
The words were out before I could catch them. Margaret laughed, covering my gaff. “We can’t all be Fairchilds,” she chided.
“True.” I gave Della a contrite nod. “I’m sure Rafe’s upbringing was just fine.”
“We did send him off to school when he was a boy. But you’re right. After a point he wouldn’t leave us, despite being so far away from town.”
“I preferred it here,” Rafe said. “Still do.”
Which would account for his roughness. He’d had little chance to acquire any polish. “The three of you must have got on pretty well, then.”
Rafe made a sound that in another man I would have called a chuckle. “Martin and I didn’t get on at all.”
“I’m shocked,” I said dryly, and the women laughed. Rafe didn’t, but one side of his mouth curled, as if he was making a conscious effort not to smile.
Reminiscing about Martin had certainly taken the edge off our fear. I stood in the doorway while Margaret served Rafe and Della their supper, debating if I should bring up anything difficult.
“Della, I think it’s time to wind the light’s mechanism, isn’t it?” Margaret gave me a pointed look, as if she could read my mind. “I’ll be right back.”And don’t upset anyone. I couldn’t hear her, but I knew what that look meant.
“Keep to the path closest to the house,” Rafe said. “The fog’s come in.”
As if to emphasize her words, a horn sounded from somewhere outside, loud and low-pitched. “What is that?” I asked.
“Foghorn. It’ll keep the ships away.” Della’s eyes were weary, as if we’d used up all her good humor. “Rafe must have set it.”
Left with nothing to do, however, the situation overwhelmed me; the Seattle Council, the ghostly visitor, the whereabouts of the Ferox Cor. This was as close as Rafe and Della had come to admitting Martin possessed the missing magical object, but, “Too many pieces of this puzzle,” I murmured.
“What?” Della’s question made me realize I’d spoken aloud.
“I wish my friend Rutger was here. He’s better than I am at making people do what he wants.”
Rafe ignored my comment but Della paused between bites. “And here Margaret’s been telling me you’re the charming one.”
“Oh, I am.” I aimed a smile at both of them. “Rutger’s a whole lot bossier.” Bossy, and good at organizing things. He’d have us giving the Seattle Council the heave-ho before they knew what hit them and ferret out Martin’s secret at the same time.
Still, I was here, and I’d survived an encounter with the restless spirit of Martin Gallagher. There was something to be said for that.
Rather than supervise their dinner, I took a seat on the bench in the front room. Margaret should soon return from winding the light’s mechanism. I wanted to discuss the meeting with her, sure that her sharp mind would notice things I hadn’t.
The stove had kept the kitchen warm, but little heat reached the front room. The chill air and my own nerves soon numbed my fingertips, and still Margaret didn’t return. Della and Rafe murmured together in the kitchen, apparently unconcerned by how long Margaret had been gone.
I pulled out my pocket watch. Six-o-five. I hadn’t checked the time when she left, but night had truly fallen.
I stood and peered through the window. Fog encased the house, thick enough that I couldn’t see the beach. Something must have happened to delay Margaret.
Grabbing my overcoat, I returned to the kitchen. “Margaret’s not back yet. I’m going to go look for her.”
Buttoning my coat, I stepped outside. I created a small witchlight, just bright enough to guide me along the path to the tower. The oil lamp near the tower door hadn’t been lit, and while I could hear the steady beat of the waves, fog obscured the view to the beach.
The ground level room of the tower was also dark. The mechanism was at the top of the stairs, and halfway up, I noticed the lighthouse’s flashing eye had stopped.
My first clue was the silence. While the light’s mechanism wasn’t loud, it did create a steady whirr. All I could hear now was the pulse of waves on the beach. That, and Margaret’s absence, had me on guard. Still, I wasn’t prepared for what I found.
Margaret, at the top of the stairs, slumped against the wall, hands covering her head.
“Hey,” I whispered, touching her shoulder. She flinched but didn’t otherwise respond. “Margaret, what happened? What’s wrong?”
Her fingers flexed, clawing at the neatly coiled braid in her hair. I dared touch her again, hoping to bring her away from the dark place she was visiting.
