The Stars Over Bittergate Bay

Chapter 6

6

“ W ait until morning.” Father Michaels was seated behind the desk in his office. Jonas leaned against the doorway, glancing over his shoulder at Sidney, who was putting his coat on by the front door. “You know they sleep early. It’ll be easier to get past them.”

Another night of company. Not that the company was bad, but the prospect of it made Jonas uneasy. He didn’t exactly have prolonged engagements with visitors.

“Why the glamour?” Father Michaels’ voice was low, certainly quiet enough that Sidney wouldn’t have been able to hear. Jonas blinked at the old man in surprise.

“I don’t know him.”

“That didn’t used to matter,” Father Michaels said. “You looked like yourself the first time we met.”

“That was a long time ago,” Jonas said. His shoulders were tight at the accusation. Except it wasn’t an accusation. Just a question. Father Michaels only shrugged and smiled.

“He seems nice.”

“They all seem nice,” Jonas replied. Father Michaels hummed in consideration, turning his attention back down to the book in front of him.

“Well, come back any time, you know. The library is open to you. Both of you.”

“Thank you again.”

Jonas left, herding Sidney out into the midday gloom. The leaves were trembling in the wind off the water, and it looked as though a storm was rolling in. Par for the course this time of year. Jonas tried to breathe. Tried not to think about anything other than that he’d been right about the merfolk. Odds were good he’d be right about Sidney Quince too.

“Are we headed down to the bay, then?” Sidney asked. Jonas shook his head.

“We’ll go in the morning. Early. If you can stay another day. The vicar reminded me that merfolk are quieter in the early hours of the morning. Less of them to contend with.”

“Less sounds promising. Some of those illustrations were a little,” he trailed off, his voice lifting as if in question. Jonas nodded.

“Toothy? A bit, unfortunately. But you know they’re different everywhere. Up here you get the cold-water sort. More shark-y. I’ve no idea what sort of bite patterns you’d have encountered in Menelaus.”

They continued past the garden, which had gone two days neglected now. A rumble of thunder meant it might end up being three. Jonas paused at the corner of the house, glancing up at the sky. It took him a moment to realize Sidney had paused with him. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, and his mouth was crumpled into a thin line.

“What’s wrong, Quince?”

“Oh, nothing.” Sidney’s cheeks flushed. Had Jonas ever met someone who was so easy to fluster?

“Nothing to worry about with the merfolk. Should be in and out.”

“I was thinking. I mean, if it works and I’m not marked anymore, will I still be able to see? Use the witch sight, I mean?”

“You’re thinking about your star charts?” Jonas almost laughed, but Sidney nodded sincerely. Good gods. “Once you’ve been granted witch sight, it can’t really be taken away. You can’t unsee something you’ve seen. I’m not sure that’ll help you with your research any.”

“What do you mean?” Sidney asked. The first rain drops began to patter down between them, and Jonas turned toward the kitchen door.

“I pulled those books for you last night about the different celestial skies. Did you take a look?”

“I hadn’t yet.” Sidney followed him into the kitchen, where they both shucked their coats. Jonas pursed his lips, trying to decide how much to tell him. How much to let him read for himself. He held out his hand to take Sidney’s coat.

“It’s a challenging area of study, anything to do with the other realms. Not because it's so vastly different from anything here, Earthside, they call it. Just because most of the human population doesn’t have witch sight.”

“Right,” Sidney said slowly. His frown increased as he gave his coat to Jonas.

“I put the relevant texts in a pile at the corner of the desk.”

“Thank you,” Sidney said, turning toward the library. Jonas wavered, feeling like he ought to say something. Apologize somehow, though it wasn’t his fault in the slightest. Most humans had stuck magic firmly in the ‘imaginary’ category of existence a long time ago. Whether that made anyone’s life easier or harder didn’t matter much. It was just the way it was.

Jonas watched through the library door as Sidney laid his hand on the top book in the stack Jonas had left for him. Jonas felt sorry for him, when he knew he shouldn’t have felt anything at all.

The sky cleared by the time Sidney needed to watch the cluster. But he wasn’t sure why he was doing it anymore. He’d spent the length of a thunderstorm flipping through the books Rookwood had left out for him, growing more and more dejected with every turn of the page.

Each book seemed to begin with a minor treatise on how the study of other realms (sometimes called dimensions) wasn’t considered serious scholarship. One of the authors spent the entire introduction of the book listing all the academic institutions that had derided him, even though Sidney thought his primary theory seemed sound. Sidney’s reading highlighted a new problem that he liked to think he would have landed on before too long: what he was proposing to research was a largely invisible phenomenon. Unless he could compel the dean of the astronomy department into an accidental mermaid kiss, no one was going to take his months of charting seriously.

Still, for some reason, he was out in the cold damp, standing outside between the kitchen door and a dilapidated gazebo, staring up at the stars. Habit, he supposed. Though that didn’t make it any less foolish.

He couldn’t just stop, was the thing. Sidney wasn’t good at giving up when there was still a chance something might work out. It was a failing of his. It was why he’d kept trying to make Mark into something he so sincerely wasn’t.

Sidney’s father liked to call him pigheaded, and it was probably a fair assessment. But Sidney just couldn’t imagine his months of work had been for nothing. There had to be something in the movement of these stars and planets that impacted earth. Massive celestial bodies shifting around was the reason for the tides and gravity and all kinds of things, and so this had to mean something. He couldn’t let it go just yet.

Learning about new realms was a bit like he’d spent six months trying to read before he’d been taught the first letter of the alphabet. It wasn’t much, but he supposed it was helpful.

Sidney straightened up, tucking his notebook and chart paper between his knees, and shoving his numb fingers into his armpits. Far below, the bay churned against the bottom of the cliffs, the sound of the tide calming, despite Sidney’s general frustrations.

“Alright?” Sidney yelped and turned, dropping his notebook into the damp grass. Rookwood was quiet for such a big man. “Sorry! Thought you heard the door open.” He was mostly shadowed by the lights of the cottage behind him, but Sidney could see he was carrying a bowl in his hands. “You skipped dinner,” he said. “Thought you might be hungry.”

“Thanks.” Sidney gathered up his notebook off the ground and tucked it under his arm. He stepped closer to Rookwood, taking the bowl from him. The crockery was warm against his numb fingers, and he could smell the rich creamy fish stew that they’d eaten the night before.

“It’s just leftovers,” Rookwood said. Sidney was already feeling for the spoon around the edge of the bowl.

“Sorry, I missed supper,” he said. Steam rose from the full spoon, thawing the tip of Sidney’s nose. “It’s been a while since I was anyone’s house guest. My manners aren’t up to snuff.”

“I’m not going to fault you for skipping out on a meal. God knows I forget myself often enough when I’m in the middle of a project.” He stepped forward then, away from Sidney. Sidney ate several bites of stew as he watched Rookwood lean down and look through the telescope. His shoulders were so broad, Sidney found it hard to imagine this man ever skipping a meal. After a few minutes, Rookwood turned back to him.

“How did you find those books?” Rookwood asked. Sidney smirked.

“Illuminating. Frustrating.”

“And yet you’re still out here.” Rookwood gestured over his shoulder at the telescope. “I admit, I’m a little surprised.”

“There’s still something to it, I think,” Sidney replied. “An observable cluster of that size, moving at that speed. I find it hard to believe it’s not making an impact here in some way.”

Sidney could see Rookwood’s face now and felt himself stiffen slightly under Rookwood’s considering gaze. He looked as though he wanted to say something and was actively thinking better of it.

“What?” Sidney prompted.

“Nothing,” Rookwood shook his head. “Perhaps you’re right.” It was a weak lie. Rookwood knew that the planets in the other sky had some impact on earth.

“Maybe something to do with solar flares?” Sidney mused, not because he really thought it was a decent guess, just to see what Rookwood would say. Rookwood only shrugged and leaned back over the telescope. Irritating. What did he know? And why wouldn’t he tell Sidney?

Sidney tried to sort out the best question that would elicit a more useful response. He ate another mouthful of stew and came up with nothing. Rookwood straightened up. Confirmation that Sidney was right would have to be good enough. He sighed.

“What?” Rookwood asked. Sidney shook his head.

“Nothing.”

“Well, don’t stay out too late.” Rookwood started past Sidney, back toward the kitchen door. “We’ve got an early morning ahead of us.”

Jonas hadn’t realized how accustomed he’d become to keeping his own hours. Delilah didn’t sleep, and Jonas was an early riser by nature. Sidney Quince, it seemed was the opposite. He’d declared the prior day’s sweet buns an anomaly and then proceeded to eat toast and drink coffee in slow, groggy silence. By six o’clock Jonas chomping at the bit. They should have already been out on the water.

Jonas drove them into Hindry in his old, rust-colored pick-up truck, without bothering to attempt conversation. If Sidney had any questions, he would ask them in his own time, or not at all. As far as Jonas was concerned, he’d given Sidney some research and was about to save him from a merfolk marking. That was going quite above and beyond. Even Karolina couldn’t fault him for doing less.

The grey gravel in the marina crunched under the tires. They parked and Jonas climbed out, turning up the collars of his brown leather jacket against the cold. It would be bitter on the water.

Sidney pulled his wool coat tight around his narrow waist, black hair ruffling in the wind, as they boarded Jonas’s fishing boat. Once they were safely on deck, Jonas handed Sidney a thermos of the last of their coffee before he went into the wheelhouse, leaving Sidney to warm up on his own.

The sky was cloudy, the water equally so. And choppy, even when they got to a point far enough from shore that Elmmond House was visible high on the ridge above.

“What do you use the boat for?” Sidney had come into the shelter of the wheelhouse once they’d made it into open water. His nose and cheeks were pink, his eyes considerably brighter than they had been in the truck. Perhaps the sea air agreed with him. Or perhaps the merfolk mark was enjoying itself.

“Fishing,” Jonas said. “It’s nice to spend a bit of time offshore.” Sidney looked at him, clearly expecting more, his eyebrow arching skeptically as the silence drew out. It wasn’t untrue. More like, a half-truth. “I was doing some research a few years ago,” Jonas continued as though he’d always meant to. “It required several trips to Clement’s Island, one of the little coastal spits north of here. Chartering boats got tiresome, so I bought one of my own.”

“What were you researching?”

“A type of moss,” Jonas said, turning the boat back toward the harbor and slowing to a stop.

“So, you’re a botanist too?” There was amusement in Sidney’s voice, the same that he’d heard when Sidney had made the gentle jibe about Jonas’s fish stew. The familiarity of it was more jarring than the teasing itself, and it made Jonas feel bizarrely exposed. “Optical engineer, botanist, fisherman?”

“You may as well add healer and babysitter to the list,” Jonas depressed the lever that dropped the anchor, and Sidney’s pretty smirk vanished; his cheeks reddened slightly. Jonas shook his head, unsurprised he’d gotten the tone wrong. “You can tease, and I can’t?”

“It’s impressive actually, your resume.” Sidney sounded horribly sincere, and Jonas laughed over the ridiculous sensation of his stomach doing a flip.

“Don’t try to endear yourself to me now, Quince,” Jonas replied. “You’re not going to like what I have you do next.”

“Which would be what?”

“Strip down.” Jonas took the flask from Sidney’s hands. “Time for a dip in the Bittergate.”