laughs, hopping beside us and extending her arms out in hang-ten position.
Kurt and Gwen seem unaffected.
I head toward the bow where Arion is making his presence known. He’s hovering midair off the ship on his black ropes, arms crossed over his chest. The usually kind smile is replaced by the same face my mom wears when she’s trying to haggle with a guy at the farmers’ market—all “Five dollars for an apple? I don’t care if it’s organic!”
“Are you going to be okay here?” I ask, not getting a particularly warm feeling from the men unloading other ships. In clothes yellowed by the sea air and with scarred faces, they mutter and point fingers at us.
Arion nods once. “We need supplies. Rope, sails, fresh water. The hull needs a scrubbing. I can find everything we need. Sea mead goes a long way in places like this.” Arion motions back to our ship where Blue and Vi are stacking barrels on deck. “We are the only creatures who manufacture and supply it.”
“Liquid currency,” Layla says. “Seems fitting.”
I hold my arm out to Arion. He taught me a sweet new handshake, the way the guys at the Sea Guard do it. Gripping the forearm, like you’re feeling the other person’s strength. When Arion grips my forearm, I think he might be the strongest person I’ve ever met. “I don’t know how long we’ll be.”
“Do not worry, Master Tristan,” he says. “We will not leave without you.”
And with that, my team—consisting of a commander of the Sea Guard and his sister, a magical mermaid princess, and my best friend and almost girlfriend—head up the dock until it becomes a cobblestone market square. The tents form a loose semi-circle around the church. At the center is a massive cathedral with a bunch of kids kicking a ball around. The gong of a bell sends fat scarlet birds scattering into the sky. The clock marks 5 p.m. The sun is sinking, but the sky is still a gradient of blues.
Layla points at the church. “Doesn’t it remind you of something?”
Tall winding turrets, tiny winged gargoyles and cherubs, high arched windows—yeah. It looks just like our high school. “Thorne Hill.”
We pass an Indian woman standing at a booth, her hair braided to the ground. Her eyes are big as an owl’s with a fringe of white feathers for eyelashes. She weighs beans in her hand and yells at the man trying to sell them to her. When they see us, they stop and fire away with poisonous scowls. The owl woman hoots at me.
“What did I do?” I ask.
“Just keep walking,” Kurt says.
A horse-drawn carriage passes us, stopping in front of the church. The driver hops off to let out a couple. The man takes her arm, and she lifts layers and layers of puffy skirts so they don’t trail on the ground. They walk past us, nodding in our direction but not really looking at us.
“Uhh—” Layla’s eyes follow the couple as they weave through the shops. “Is that carriage a time machine? They look like they just hopped out of 1869. That corset cannot be comfortable.”
Kurt shrugs. “You’ll find many extraordinary people in places like these.”
“What exactly is this place?” I ask Kurt.
“A world away to you two, I suppose.” Kurt picks up an apple from the fruit vendor beside us. He reaches into his pocket and hands the beefy man a shiny copper coin. I’m guessing they don’t take American down here. Kurt gives the apple to Thalia, who gobbles it in quick bites.
The kids playing ball kick it to my feet. I raise my leg to kick it back to them, but one of them runs over in a heartbeat. He has long, pointy ears and sharp green eyes. He sticks out a tongue that’s forked like a snake’s, cackling when I jump back from the shock of it.
“A world away,” Kurt repeats. “There are many more, all over the world. As human numbers grew and pushed anything remotely unnatural farther and farther into the fringes, villages like this were created. Others left with the fey court on floating islands, similar to our Toliss. Then there are those who leave the sanctuary of places like this for the anonymity of cities, like your Coney Island.”
Layla still watches the couple from 1869. “You mean everyone in this town is supernatural?”
“Not at all. There are humans who are more—” His eyes fall on Layla. “…enlightened, that have found themselves here one way or another.”