oracles.”

“But you know of our past, don’t you?” Kurt asks. “You know

everything that’s led us here. We’re giving you the opportunity to

help shape our future when no one else could do the same, and you

would turn us away?”

Greg stares at Kurt for a long time. A grandfather clock dings on

the hour from somewhere inside the house. It’s not even noon yet, but

the house already feels like a sauna. “I was there when you were born,

you know.”

Kurt sits back so hard that the plastic chair nearly topples

backward. “Me?”

I’m starting to think Greg’s too senile to help. The way he’s

shaking again reminds me of the patients at the old folks’ home where

the swim team volunteers during Christmas. Sometimes they just need

someone to let them talk.

Greg nods once but doesn’t elaborate. “You have to understand that

I watch history. I write it down. I don’t shape it.”

“But you do teach, don’t you?”

“That I did. I taught all the king’s daughters, for what good it

did them. Or me, for that matter. A simple disagreement with the king

and I’m left to die in this house.”

I reach for the empty teacup to keep my hands busy.

Kurt asks, “You mean you want to go back to court?”

Greg crosses his arms over his chest. “I used to. A few days ago,

I went to one of those landlocked meetings. A mistake, yes. I am not

disgraced as they were. I am not a traitor to the crown. The king and

I had a disagreement. In turn, I was allowed to walk away. But I don’t

want to see the crown broken to suit my needs the way they do.”

“They said that?”

I think of my friends who are landlocked. Penny and her kid. They

seemed cool-on my side.

Greg’s wide eyes nod. “Aye. Though not in those words. I’d keep

away from them.”

“That’s sage advice,” Kurt says. Easy for him to say. He hates

them.

I take my chances, reaching out to put a hand on Greg’s shoulder.

I can feel the bone jutting out. “The way I see it, you don’t want the

line of kings broken. If you help me, we both win.”

“The Council of Keepers was meant to hold our secrets.” The old

man takes his time studying Kurt and then me. “But this-the king’s

choice-will bring those secrets to the surface.” His lips tremble. He

twitches like he senses something else in the room. It makes me

jittery. I wonder if it’s too late to bolt out the door.

“If the crown breaks, that will be the end of us.” He waves a

finger from me to Kurt. “Both of you, do you understand me?”

I don’t. I have no idea what he’s saying but I nod. Yes. Yes. I’ll

take anything you can give me.

Maybe he likes what he sees. Maybe he just wants us to get the

hell out of his house and leave him alone. Whatever it is, he says,

“Very well. I have something for you. Don’t touch anything while I’m

gone.”

He disappears down the hall into his living room. From the

kitchen, we can hear books toppling over and an angry cat hissing. I

inch to the cabinet with the clear bottle he drank from.

“Tristan!” Kurt says, gritting his teeth. “Stop it. He’ll see

you.”

The cabinet door is slightly open. I stick my hand in and grab a

bottle by the neck. The hinges creek ever so slightly. Kurt fiddles

with his teacup to mask the noise. I pull the cork.

I’ve never smelled anything like it-like my mother’s hair, summers

on the beach, riding with my dad’s car top down, the coolness of his

aftershave, honey and lavender. “Whoa.”

Kurt whispers my name as a warning, but I can’t stop. I tilt it

back and drink, longer than I intended.

I wipe my mouth with my hand. “That doesn’t taste like anything.”

When I hear the rustle of the old man coming back, I put the cork

back on and set it down. I pretend to look at the stack of paper in

front of me and hold a sheet up to the light. It’s an etching of a

tree, the branches reaching up to the heavens and a stream dividing

the trunk. There’s another stack of mermaid drawings. They’re all

incredibly voluptuous with pouting red lips and thick, winky

eyelashes.

“Give me that!” Greg says, snatching the paper from me. He covers

up the mermaid pin-ups and turns red.

“Come on. I was just curious. You must remember being my age.”

“Here.” Greg fights a smirk. He holds out a stack of ancient

crumbling paper. “I hope you’re smarter than you look.”

“Thanks?”

“Don’t thank me just yet.” Greg sets a finger on the top of the

stack. “Now let me return to my peace and quiet. No more court will

come to my doorstep. I’ve given you my last secret.”

He shoos us out into the backyard, and the whole house shakes when

he slams the door shut.

***

“Drunk old pervert,” I mutter down the street. We walk until we

find a train station. “Let’s head down to the boardwalk. I have to

meet Sarabell soon. We can eat and go through these papers before they

crumble any more than they already have.”

“That was…different,” Kurt says. “Why did he remember my birth? I

wonder what was in those bottles.”

“Do I look different, the way he did?” I stand on the sidewalk and

try to take on my best superhero pose.

Kurt tugs on his chin. “No.”

“Buzzkill.” But when I look at my hand, my knuckles are healed.

There’s the faint trace of a scar. Even my hickey bruises are fading.

“Look.”

Kurt rubs the back of his neck, more worried than impressed. “I’ve

never seen that before. We don’t heal that quickly.”

“I wonder. Maybe that’s why he’s got the traps in his backyard.

For someone who’s supposed to be long gone, he seems really protective

of his stuff.”

In the subway, a fat rat scampers across the platform. Its eyes

glow, reflecting the light of the arriving train. Kurt steps into the

opening double doors. “With all the things crawling around this shore,

we should figure out traps of our own.”

Kurt and I sit on the Coney Island boardwalk against the metal

railing. I lean my head back and tilt my face up to the sun. Despite

the police tape and warnings to stay out of the water, the beach is

packed with people. I dig into my hot dog, ketchup and mustard

dripping down my chin. I wipe with the back of my hand and wash it

down with root beer.

I’m not enjoying it as much as usual.

Honestly, I kind of miss the seaweed chips Blue makes.

The noise of the boardwalk makes me jumpy. The snap of the toy

guns in Luna Park, the pop of cars backfiring. Every girl with curly

brown hair giggling past me makes my heart jolt in an

I’m-going-to-regret-this-later way.

“You should read some of this too.” Kurt arcs an eyebrow. “It’s

mostly about the kings and their accomplishments. King Karanos built

the first great prison for the merrows.”

“Too bad all it did was provide a massive nursing room for the

sister he couldn’t kill.”

A fat man, covered in baby oil and reading a beat-up paperback,

glances over at us from his bench like we’re making too much noise. He

ignores me and keeps reading, just like Kurt.

“Plus, my hands are dirty with oil. It could damage the paper.” I

dip the last bit of my hot dog in mustard. When I bite down, bits of

sand are mixed into the sauce but I swallow it anyway. I dust my hands

and hold them out to my guardian. “All right, I’ll take over. Your

dogs are getting cold.”

I set the papers in my lap, but I can’t concentrate. I wonder

where Sarabell is. What if she stands me up and I never get to find

out anything about Adaro? Sitting down here, I can watch the crowds