Light and Dar Eternal

Howling Bay

Darby caught the exchange, but didn't let on. She'd taught Larken not to wilt under another's gaze, to face people head on. Larken took that to heart, and flipped the tables on them. Darby glanced over her shoulder and spied the young man's eyes following Larken. When he noticed he was caught, he gave her a smile and a friendly nod before returning to his conversation.

"Bold," Darby said under her breath.

"What?" Larken asked.

"Nothing," she replied.

The road's snakelike pattern took them past a cluster of homes beneath the monastery. Families who'd made their living by providing the few goods and services the monks couldn't provide for themselves. Beyond the houses were terraced gardens, grazing fields, and then the modest stone wall of the monastery. The moment they passed through the gate a chill wind ran down Darby's back. Her step faltered and Larken looked at her questioningly.

"Deja vu," Darby said. "For a split second it felt like I'd been here before, and not in a good way."

Larken's eyes brightened and she said, "Maybe you were. Who's to say you didn't meet a terrible fate here like so many of our ancestors."

Darby shook her head and said, "Maybe. But you don't have to look so excited about it."

Guided tours were the only way to see the entire complex, otherwise tourists had to stay to specific areas. Darby and Larken joined a group of ten facing a woman with thick blond hair, pulled into a side braid that hung over her shoulder, drawing attention to her name tag. Dressed in khakis and a blue shirt and windbreaker, Karen Bell gave the standard welcome speech and beckoned for them to follow.

The history regarding the monks was interesting and painted the picture of an abbot who was at peace with the folks around the monastery. Once the tour left the monks behind and focused on the witch trials, people got quieter and the smiles disappeared.

Karen led them into a room with a large, but simple, wooden table on one side, and a fireplace on the other, educating them on the witch finder. "None of his works have been published, nor are they on display. Our ancestors refused to allow the man a legacy beyond being the butcher he was. So they took down the names in his ledgers, and everything was locked away, only shown to academics and authorities when the Sentinel was opened to the public."

"Ancestors," Larken said. "So it's not a coincidence your last name is Bell."

Karen looked at her and said, "The Bells were the only family split asunder by the quake. When the islanders of Frith made contact with the mainland, it was a Bell reaching out to a Bell. The Sentinel and Frith are our legacies. Our ancestors did what was necessary to guarantee the safety and freedom for generations to come. We honor that by being caretakers of the islands and their histories." She smiled and took the tour down a long staircase.

"Did what was necessary has an ominous ring to it," Larken whispered.

"The witch winds?" Darby said. "It's just another myth."

"Howling and screams heard the first night of the storm," Larken said. "And then no sign of life or bodies when people we're finally able to land on the Sentinel."

"There was an earthquake, and the waves were high," Darby said. "It's more than likely they tried to escape and got swept out to sea. But I agree, howling and a witch's righteous revenge have the right amount of mystery and horror to perpetuate a Roanoke style conspiracy."

Karen stopped in a low lit antechamber with a long hallway beyond. The air felt damp, and the dim light deepened the shadows in the corners, making the room seem smaller than it was. Darby's chest ached. A familiar feeling, but only when she was extremely afraid or anxious, and suddenly she was both.

"The families on the peninsula had never been particularly pious, paying the required lip service to keep up appearances, and no more," Karen said. "The perfect targets. Certain physical characteristics were used as identifiers which made entire families suspect. Take me for instance. I'm left handed, a mark of the devil. I would have been brought here and tested, and then most likely killed. Parents forced their children to learn to use their right hands to spare them. They used dark dyes to erase the red from their hair, and if it was curly they did everything they could do to pull it straight. Curls were a sign of pagan worship, and a pact made with evil."

"I've got the trifecta," Darby said. "I'd be doomed."

"And you're a woman," Karen said. "The witch finder held up St. Augustine as the ultimate authority on gender. Women were always suspect."

She turned a corner and they made their way down an even narrower corridor, forcing them to walk two abreast. They ended up in the middle of the group and Darby was suddenly hit with an intense feeling of claustrophobia. It was strange and disconcerting. She'd never been claustrophobic, but the walls kept pushing them together, and she felt like she was being herded to a ring of hell.

"Are you alright?" Larken whispered.

"Fine," Darby lied.

Karen opened a dark wood door and led everyone inside. The moment Darby entered she felt nauseous. The devices around the room told a story of horrific cruelty and suffering. Once the last person was inside she slipped out and leaned against the wall, the anxiousness battering her wellbeing. She closed her eyes and tried to calm her nerves.

The cold and damp wormed their way into her bones, and the walls pressed in, the lights getting dimmer. A whispered scream behind her ear sent terror shooting across her chest. She whipped her head around but no one was there. Darkness enveloped the hall and the desperate cries of the tortured filled the air. Darby's throat closed up and she stumbled in the dark, feeling the damp, cold stone beneath her fingers as she searched for the torture room door, for Larken. She tried to scream for her but she couldn't take in enough air. Catching sight of a thin sliver of light silhouetting a door she ran for it, the anguished cries of the hopeless lapping at her heels.

She burst from the hall into a quiet courtyard, silencing the screams instantly. The sun was above, the air fresh and warm, and the lights inside were shining in their sconces. She let the door shut and took in a slow steady breath, and then another, each one deeper than the last. There was no explanation for what happened. None. She could chalk it up to the flight and the stress of the trip, but the explanation left her hollow.

The sunlight was reflected at her eyes and she shielded them with a hand. Across the yard was a memorial to the murdered. Dark grey stone, worked till it shone, was surrounded by a mosaic of small brightly colored rocks. Etched into the stone were lists of names, and Darby was hit with such intense grief tears welled up in her eyes. She walked across the yard, her eyes focused on the names, searching. Vibrant green grass covered every inch of the ground, but the evil underneath vibrated with ever step. The blood and aguish soaked into the bones of the island. Standing in front of the monument she wiped her eyes, her heart broken and yearning, the loss so sharp, it could only compare to her mother's death.

"Ah, I see Miss Simone beat us out here," Karen said.

Darby sighed and almost shook her head. Another person who knew exactly who they were. It was strange and more than a little disconcerting.

Larken stepped up beside her and said, "Everything alright?"

"Yea," she replied. "So much tragedy and loss visited on the innocent. History repeats itself again and again."

Larken gave her a brief hug and they both studied the memorial. There were so many names, and a good portion of them were Blake. "Who are the five at the top?" Larken asked.

"They were the last to lose their lives here," Karen replied.

"The five who cursed the witch finder?" Larken asked, getting a closer look.

"So the legends say," Karen said, with a smile.

"A witch's righteous revenge," Darby said quietly. The legends called it the witch's revenge, she added righteous. It felt way more like justice than revenge to her.

Larken's eyes suddenly widened and she grabbed her hand. "Do you see them? The sun on the right and the moon on the left? They meet at the top and bottom of the mosaic."

Darby was about to say no, when all at once she saw them. "Oh my God," she breathed. "How did I not see that before?"

"What do you see?" a woman asked.

"On the left is a sun, the rays shining outward," Larken said. "On the right is a crescent moon, and they meet at the top there, and at the bottom they intertwine. It's so beautiful."

Quite a few people moved about, squinting, trying to see what she described, but after a minute or two they gave up, and gave them funny looks.

"It's said only a child of the island can see the dedication to eternal life within the mosaic," Karen said, her eyes twinkling. "Welcome home ladies."

Darby laughed and said, "Thank you Karen."

People gave them even funnier looks, a few doubtful, and others slightly jealous. No one else could see it though, no matter how hard they tried. It was bazaar.

Once they started back down the path to the town center Darby's stomach reminded her she hadn't eaten since the day before. Coffee didn't count. "Do you want to get some lunch before we head for the island? The family is supposed to gather at six, so no one could fault us for eating now."

"It's tempting," Larken said, her gaze drifting upward as they passed the Big Brew Pub. "But I'm sure the family will have something. Or we could get a quick bite at Mona Bell's. It's supposed to be the best place to eat on Frith, even better than the brewery according to some reviews."

Darby smiled and glanced at the balcony but the young man was gone. "Let's get to Howling Bay then. I'm starving."

The north side of the island was a touch quieter, the inns surrounded by trees and paths through gardens so thick they insulated the area, keeping the din to a barely heard hum. Five times a day the ferry sailed from the Sentinel to Frith, and the island was closed to the public at seven, the last ferry departing for the Sentinel at that time. Rumors swirled about what went on there after dark, but any who tried to miss the last ferry and find out, were always caught and then barred from coming back.

Darby read the schedule and said, "Next ferry in half an hour."

Larken got in a line six deep and said, "I'll text Lilly and let them know where we are."

"Somehow I think they know exactly where we are."

Larken smiled and said, "Why do you think no one else could see the sun and moon in the mosaic?"

"Perception? How many times did we go to the Art Institute and walk by Picasso's Old Guitarist before noticing the woman? Even after we did, there were others around us who couldn't see her. Some could, some couldn't. Perception."

Larken opened her mouth to reply and a voice cut through the calm. "But the website said a certain amount of day passes are set aside for walkups."

A man in high end clothes meant to look like they'd blend locally, stood at the front of line, looking put out. Irish accents were tailored into his sweater, pants and scarf, while his wife, had a tartan across her skirt and blouse, and even on the buckle across her knee high brown leather boots. They look stylish, and completely out of place.

"I'm sorry sir," the young woman at the ticket counter replied. "The allotment of day passes sell out early. I recommend getting here at nine when the counter opens. We have half day passes still available. Two?"

"But that means we don't have time to see the moon pools," he replied. "And that's the whole reason we came. There has to be something we can do."

"I understand your frustration sir," she replied. "But once the passes are gone, they're gone. Only a certain amount are allotted each day, and-"

"Why is that exactly?" the man demanded. "You would think the people running this operation would want the money others are eager to spend! I want to speak to whoever's in charge."

"Jesus," Larken said under breath. "The entitlement."

"You are," the woman said, brightly. "Siobhan Ramsey, it's wonderful to meet you both. Let me ask you something sir, that is, if you'd be so kind."

The man gave her a grudging nod, while his wife started tapping her boot, making sure everyone knew she was annoyed.

"Do you own your property?" Siobhan asked.

"Yes," the man replied. "But I don't see-"

"Every step you take on the Island of Frith is on private property," Siobhan said. "We have invited you to our homes, to share in the beauty and peace of our island, and we hope you have a wonderful visit. But we set limits on how many people are on our property at any one time during the day, and evenings are for family. I'm sure you can understand."

"Absolutely," Larken said.

The man looked at her the retort dying on his lips. Others were shifting and shooting Larken barely concealed smiles, while Siobhan gave her a big bright grin.

"Where do think our luggage is?" Darby said, trying not laugh.

"I'm sure Siobhan will be able to tell us when get to the window," Larken said. "If we ever get to the window."

A few people chuckled and the couple shot her haughty glances, but they purchased their tickets, and moved to the waiting area.

"Darby and Larken Blake?"

They turned around and Larken's cheeks flushed the softest shade of pink. Darby cleared her throat to cover her laughter and said, "Simone. Darby and Larken Simone."

My apologies. It's instinctual to refer to islanders with their family surname." He smiled, and Larken's cheeks flushed a deeper red. At least six one, maybe six two, he had dark green eyes and thick black hair which ended in loose curls at the nape of his neck. On one side of his mouth was a tiny dimple, giving his warm smile a slightly lopsided look. A long-sleeved burgundy t-shirt hung on a well-muscled frame, and he held himself with a natural confidence most spent years trying to cultivate. Holding his hand out, he said, "Thomas Ramsey. It's a pleasure Miss Simone."

"Larken," she tittered, as he engulfed her hand with his own.

Darby just stared at her daughter. Her reaction to Thomas was completely out of character. Larken glanced at her and, dropping Thomas's hand, picked up her dignity.

"Mrs. Simone?" Thomas said, shaking her hand.

"No," Darby said smiling. "Miss Simone, but Darby is just fine. It's nice to meet you."

"Your bags are on the boat. Can I take anything for you?" They both shook their heads and he said, "Follow me."

"Are you alright," Darby said, out of the side of her mouth. "Do you need to sit down and catch your breath?"

"Shut up," Larken replied. "It was a long flight."

Darby stifled a laugh and nudged her shoulder. Larken smiled and gestured at Thomas. Look at him, she mouthed.

"Oy. Is there another ferry?" the overdressed man called as they passed.

"The ferry will be arriving in twenty-two minutes sir," Thomas replied.

"What about them?" the woman asked, looking at Darby and Larken.

"Islanders rarely take the ferry miss," Thomas said.

"They're not islanders," the man said. "They're Americans."

Thomas looked at them and Darby nodded solemnly. "It's true. We are."

He turned towards the water hiding a smile, and then looked back at the couple. "Family, born here or abroad, are islanders. I hope you enjoy your time on the island with us today."

Thomas didn't give the couple a chance to reply. He walked purposefully towards the dock, and Darby and Larken had to quicken their step to catch up. They rounded the corner, losing sight of the waiting area, and headed for the end of the dock. Thomas jumped onto an idling boat with Unconquered Sun along the side, and then held his hand out to help them down the two steps. Larken smiled and put her hand in his, eliciting a smile in return. Darby bypassed them both, happy to see their luggage secured in one corner of the very solid looking glass bottom boat. A railing surrounded six thick glass panels with space for thirty-two to sit, feet dangling as they looked at the ocean floor beneath. The weather was too unpredictable for an open boat, so there were tinted windows on all sides, and benches underneath in case people wanted to look out instead of down.

Darby and Larken sat on the tour guide's padded bench next to Thomas, who was standing at the controls responding to a text. "Letting them know we're leaving the Sentinel," he said.

Pocketing his phone he signaled, and a dock hand released the boat. They coasted out of the cove and started for Frith. Thomas navigated them through shallows that made Darby's heart jump into her throat, and after a couple minutes she refused to look at the glass bottom. From rocks that looked like they were about to slice through the glass to plunging pools of whirling darkness, it was nerve racking.

Larken's eyes were glued to the glass, filled with an almost morbid fascination. "How do you know where to go?" she said softly. "It honestly looks like we're missing rocks by sheer luck. I know that isn't the case...but...Jesus."

Darby looked and quickly shifted her gaze back out the window, which wasn't much better. Monolithic rocks were rising out of the water on all sides, the currents swirling and churning around them, trying to pull the boat towards certain death.

"There are five, sometimes six, routes to and from the island," Thomas said. "And in one day you may end up using them all. The currents fly through these waters at lightening speeds, and have since the quake, keeping the area a constantly shifting death trap. Each generation is taught the secrets of navigating around our island. For those of us who run the boats it's a vocation."

Larken tilted her head slightly to the side, and said, "A vocation?"

Do you know how many people have managed to reach the island on their own, and set foot on shore since the quake?" When Larken shook her head, and he said, "Three, possibly four. There's a debate about the fourth I won't bore you with. But it tells you why it's a vocation. I am responsible for the life of every person that boards my boat, and the slightest miscalculation could end in tragedy."

"Ah, a God complex," Larken said, leaning back and resting her feet on the railing.

Thomas was taken aback, and from the look in his eyes, scrambling to find a response.

"So let's not fluster God while he navigates us through the death trap," Darby said.

Larken looked away hiding a smile, and said, "As if I could fluster a god."

Thomas's gave shifted between them the uncertainty clear, then all of a sudden he grinned. "Am I the god in this scenario?"

Darby laughed, while Larken tried to keep a straight face but failed. Thomas focused on piloting, but his gaze kept darting to Larken, the smile in his eyes obvious.

"So Thomas," Darby said. "What's the best place to get a quick bite to eat before meeting the family?"

"Mona Bell's," he replied. "The best comfort food you'll ever have. For something quick have one of the meat pies. They're delicious. Would you like me to call ahead so they're waiting at the counter for you?"

"A meat pie sounds perfect," Darby said with a smile. "Thanks."

"Will you join us?" Larken asked.

"I'd love to," Thomas said, with a smile. "But I'm on boat duty today. When are you going to the moon pools?"

"Tomorrow afternoon," Larken replied.

"Climbing up the steps or walking down?"

"Climbing," Larken said.

Thomas pulled his phone out of his pocket and said, "I'll save spots for you on my boat."

Larken smiled and Thomas called the café. Darby fought the urge to roll her eyes, and turned her attention to the water. Larken wasn't a flirt, but Thomas had her blushing, practically giggling, and inviting him to lunch, with her mother no less. It was an odd turn of events to an already strange trip.