Somewhere Beyond the Sea (Cerulean Chronicles, #2)

by T.J. Klune

He itched to break out of his skin and spread his wings, to take to the sky and feel the familiar salt-tinged wind in his feathers. But he knew if he did, chances were he’d fly away and leave this place behind forever. And that wouldn’t do. He’d come back for a reason.

“You’ve never left us alone before,” Lucy said, attempting to spear a sausage and somehow making it shoot across the table, snatched out of the air by Theodore. “What if something happens and I have to be evil and take over the world?”

“But I believe the greatest weapon we have at our disposal is our voices. And I am going to use my voice for you, and for me. Hate is loud. We are louder.”

“You did this for me?” Talia frowned. “Yes? It’s your birt.” She squinted up at him. “Oh no. Are you going senile again? I knew forty-one in human years was old as crap. We’ll have to put him into a home where we’ll promise to visit but then we don’t.”

“You have to miss us,” Lucy demanded. “And you have to call me every hour so I can tell you what I did the previous hour. In great detail.”

“Leaving is never easy,” Linus said, laying his forehead against Arthur’s back. “But knowing they’ll be waiting for us to come back will make it that much sweeter when we do.” Arthur turned and gathered Linus up in his arms. “It’s as if I’ve left my heart behind.”

“It’s the government. What do you expect? Transparency is a fanciful lie they tell constituents to distract them from the truth.

“I think what she’s asking is if you’re training these children to go to war for you.” “I wouldn’t dream of going to war with any of you,” Arthur said mildly. “It would be a battle of wits for which you are wholly unarmed.”

“I know karate, so it won’t be a fair fight. What’s he going to do? Make more fish and bread?” He pressed his hands against his cheeks, eyes wide. “Oh, Jesus, no, anything but that. Gasp! Are you turning water into wine? Curse you, street magician!”

“It’s terribly warm,” he said, affecting the posh accent from earlier. “Lucy! Talia! I need to be fanned and fed grapes. Wot, wot! Hip hop!” “I am going to feed him so many grapes they come out his butt,” Talia muttered as she wobbled her way over to the box.

“We’re not alone,” Arthur said, voice strong, sure. “Let them send their inspector. They will find this is not a dark and dangerous place, but a home.

if we use moral relativism, the argument would be that those who are afraid of you are correct because that’s what they believe. And that’s where it can get tricky. Because if morality is based upon personal desire, how can one find a truly objective moral ground and make the morally right decision?”

Arthur said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a grown man hurl a pillow at a child with as much force as you did.” “We should tell that to the inspector,” Lucy said as he peered over his shoulder, trying to look at the flap on the seat of his pajamas. “I bet they’ll find it hysterical without holding it against us.”

Settle in, and we’ll see whose turn it is to tell a story.” “It’s mine!” Chauncey yelled, eyes poking up through a pile of blankets he was hidden under. “I didn’t get to do it last time because Lucy took too long reenacting his favorite exorcisms.” Arthur shook his head. “By my count, it’s actually Phee’s turn. Chauncey, last time, you told the devastatingly beautiful story of how you fell in love, only to realize your affections weren’t returned because the object of said affections was a rock.”

today is the day when everything will change, and all good feelings will be gone from the world as darkness spreads. Because today is the day that Linus Baker decides he wants to grow a mustache.” “Boo!” all the children hissed. “It was fine,” Linus retorted. “I happen to think I looked dashing.” “Yeah, like you were dashing right toward us to kidnap us,” Lucy said.

“I won’t be intimidated by you. I have God on my side.” Lucy groaned. “Oh, you’re one of those. Ugh.”

“Do you think that when Miss Marblemaw finishes her inspection she’ll let me have her skull if I ask nicely? It’s not like she’s using it very much.”

Linus burst into tears. “You were listening in your vocabulary lessons!” “Of course I was,” Lucy said. “I’m literally a devil. Words are how we bargain for souls, duh.”

“Remove it.” Lucy shrugged. “Okie doke. Satan appease me!” The mustache wriggled but otherwise remained as is. “Oops,” Lucy said. “So, here’s the thing. I’m only seven years old, and still learning. I’m just a little guy!” “And?” she said, shoulders stiff. “And,” Lucy said, drawing out the word for a good five seconds, “that means I sometimes do things I don’t mean to. Like giving you permanent facial hair that no matter how much you shave will regrow within six hours, six minutes, and six seconds. My bad!”

From somewhere downstairs, a cry that could only come from a beleaguered Papa: “LUCIFER BAKER-PARNASSUS.” “Uh-oh,” Lucy said. “And also, aw. I love that name.”

Arthur laughed. “What kind of monsters do you take us for? Don’t answer that. We already know.” As they left Miss Marblemaw spluttering behind them, Zoe whispered, “I’d forgotten how much of a bitch you can be when you put your mind to it.” Arthur kissed her hair. “What a lovely thing to say.”

Rowder’s eyes narrowed briefly before she smiled a politician’s smile: condescending, knowing, and more than a little smarmy.