Page 41 of House of Salt and Sorrows
The three quickly changed their tune and downed their tea with gusto.
“Where should we start?” Rosalie asked, helping Lenore and Ligeia up. “Where would a god keep his door?”
“You said Pontus used it for meetings about important matters. Maybe Papa’s office?” Mercy reasoned.
Lenore wrinkled her nose. “He always keeps it locked. We won’t be able to get in.”
“What about the cove on the far side of the island?” Ligeia suggested. “Maybe he comes directly out of the sea.”
Honor rolled her eyes. “It’s too cold to go into the water. Besides, when the door opens, all the ocean would flood in.”
Fisher nodded. “Good thinking, Honor.”
Camille skimmed her fingers around the rim of her cup. “It must be concealed somehow…otherwise we would have seen it before now.”
Rosalie’s face brightened. “I think I know where it is!” In an instant, she was racing down the pathway, pushing through fronds and low-hanging vines.
The rest of us trailed behind at a more leisurely pace. The solarium was too humid for sprinting.
“Come on, come on,” she urged from the top of the stairs. “And we’ll need our cloaks!”
“It’s freezing!” Verity squealed, holding the flaps of her cloak tightly across her body.
A brisk wind whipped across Salten, bringing the brine up off the sea. The long grasses were yellow and dry, and a skim of ice crackled across the fountain. It wouldn’t be long till Churning.
“Where are we going, Rosalie?” Camille called out, fighting to be heard over the gale.
“Follow me!”
We trudged after her in single file, heading directly into the gusts. It was easier to just keep my head down and follow the trail made by the feet in front of me. The grass died away, and we were on black rocks. Specks of dirt and salt blown about by the wind stung my eyes.
When I dared to look up, I saw we were heading for the Grotto. A narrow path veered off the cliff walk, taking us down, down, down to a small cave hollowed out of the crag. Inside was our family’s shrine to Pontus. Four times a year, at the changing of the seasons, we brought offerings of fish and pearls and left them at the silver altar.
I hated those trips.
The trail was precarious. One wrong step and you’d plummet to the surf below.
Our little game suddenly seemed like a terrible mistake.
My eyes fell on a slab of rocks rising out of the sea like an angry fist. That’s where Eulalie’s body had been found. If Edgar was to be believed, she was pushed off the cliffs not far from where we now stood, and her killer was still on the loose.
Once inside the cave, I breathed a sigh of relief. We just needed to search the shrine and head back. There should still be enough weak sunlight for us to see the path. We could continue the search safely at Highmoor, until everyone tired of the game.
“Where should we start?” Rosalie asked. She’d marched us here so full of triumph. Now that she was here in the crowded space, doubt crept over her features.
There was no door.
“You said it was probably concealed, right?” Fisher said, sensing our flagging spirits. “Let’s look around. Maybe there’s a strange rock or a symbol or…something.”
The far wall of the cave behind the altar was covered over with chips of sea glass, forming a wave that crested over a statue of Pontus. Cast of gold and taller than even Fisher, the sea god raised his trident high above his head, as if ready to strike. He looked like a man, mostly. His chest was broad and muscular, but his lower half was a riot of tentacles.
The twisting arms reminded me of the horrible bathtub dream from the day of the triplets’ ball. Even now I could feel the rows of suction cups along my legs, gripping and grasping. With a shudder, I turned my back on the golden statue.
“Does anyone see anything?” I asked, shifting my focus back to my sisters.
Verity and Mercy stooped low over the sides of the stone benches. Honor knelt beside them, running her fingers over the seashells decorating the bases.
“Nothing yet.”
