The House in the Cerulean Sea (Cerulean Chronicles, #1)

by T.J. Klune

Linus didn’t like to lie about anything. Even little white lies caused his head to ache. And once one started lying, it became easier to do it again and again until one had to keep track of hundreds of lies. It was easier to be honest.

“They fear what they don’t understand. And that fear turns to hate for reasons I’m sure even they can’t begin to comprehend. And since they don’t understand the children, since they fear them, they hate them. This can’t be the first time you’ve heard of this. It happens everywhere.” “I don’t hate anything,” Linus said. “You lie.” He shook his head. “No. Hate is a waste of time. I’m far too busy to hate anything. I prefer it that way.”

“I like being round,” Talia announced. “It means there’s more of me to love.”

Mr. Parnassus arched an eyebrow. “The world is a weird and wonderful place. Why must we try and explain it all away? For our personal satisfaction?” “Because knowledge is power.”

“But I allow him to dream of such things because he’s a child, and who knows what the future will bring? Change often starts with the smallest of whispers. Like-minded people building it up to a roar.

While we may be unconventional, I expect you’ll see that I will do anything to keep them safe. As I said previously, the world is a weird and wonderful place, but that doesn’t mean it’s not without its teeth. And it will bite you when you least expect it.”

“Isn’t this all in your files, Mr. Baker?” No. It wasn’t. In fact, Linus thought Mr. Parnassus had been correct when he’d said they were nothing but bones. “It’s best I hear it directly from the source. Nuances can be missed when they are merely words on paper.” “He’s not just an animal,” Mr. Parnassus said. “I never said he was.” He sighed. “No, I don’t suppose you did. Forgive me. I’ve dealt with people like you before. I forget that you’re not all the same, even though I don’t know quite what to make of you yet.” Linus felt strangely bare. “What you see is what you get with me. This is all I am.” “Oh, I doubt that immensely,” he said.

I refuse to believe that a person’s path is set in stone. A person is more than where they come from.” “Than the sum of their parts.” Mr. Parnassus nodded. “Yes. Exactly. Lucy might cause fear in the majority of the world, but he doesn’t cause it in me. I’ve seen what he is capable of. Behind the eyes and the demon in his soul, he is charming and witty and terribly smart. I will fight for him as I would for any of my children.”

“The things we fear the most are often the things we should fear the least. It’s irrational, but it’s what makes us human. And if we’re able to conquer those fears, then there is nothing we’re not capable of.”

“There’s music everywhere, Mr. Baker. You just have to learn to listen for it.”

To err is to be human, irrational or not. And while some mistakes are bigger than others, if we learn from them, we become better people. Even if we have spiders in our brains.” “I’m unholy.” “So some people say.” Lucy’s face scrunched up as if he was thinking hard. “Arthur?” “Yes?” “Did you know your name is a mountain?” Mr. Parnassus blinked, as if he’d been caught off guard. “I did. How did you know that?” Lucy shrugged. “I know a lot of things, but I don’t always know how I know them. Does that make sense?” “Sort of.” “Mount Parnassus was sacred to Apollo.” “I know.” “And do you know Linus of Thrace?” Mr. Parnassus shifted in his seat. “I … don’t think so.” “Oh! Well, Apollo killed Linus with his arrows because of a musical contest. Are you going to kill Mr. Baker?” Lucy turned his head slowly to look at Linus. “If you do, can you make sure to use arrows? I don’t want him to be un-holey too.” He began to cackle. Mr. Parnassus sighed as Linus’s chest hitched. “Did you just tell that entire story to be able to make a joke?” “Yes,” Lucy said, wiping his eyes. “Because you told me once that if we can’t laugh at ourselves, we’re doing it wrong.” He frowned. “Am I doing it wrong? Nobody seems to be laughing.” “Humor is subjective, I’m afraid,” Mr. Parnassus said. “That’s unfortunate,” Lucy said, staring back up at the ceiling. “Humanity is so weird. If we’re not laughing, we’re crying or running for our lives because monsters are trying to eat us. And they don’t even have to...

“And him being what he is?” Linus asked. “Did you worry about that too? It seems to me that should have been at the forefront of all your worries.” He shrugged. “Of course, but it didn’t outweigh anything else. I understood the severity of the situation, Mr. Baker. But I couldn’t let that become the focus. That’s all he’s ever known, people worrying about what he is, what he’s capable of. Because their worry was only a thin cover for fear and revulsion. And children are far more observant than we give them credit for. If he saw the same thing in me as everyone else, what hope would there be?”

He sees things. Perhaps more than the rest of us. The good in people. The bad. He’s come across all kinds in his short life. He can see what others cannot.” “I’m just me,” Linus said, unsure of where this was going. “I don’t know how to be anyone but who I already am. This is how I’ve always been. It’s not much, but I do the best I can with what I have.” Arthur looked at him sadly. He reached out and squeezed Linus’s hand briefly before letting go. “I suppose the best is all one could ask for.” He stood, smiling, though his smile wasn’t as bright as it usually was.

“—and I know you’re scared,” Arthur was saying. “And I know sometimes you see things when you close your eyes that no one should ever see. But there is good in you, Lucifer, overwhelmingly so. I know there is. You are special. You are important. Not just to the others. But to me. There has never been anyone like you before, and I see you for all that you are, and all the things you aren’t. Come home. All I want you to do is come home.”

“That was weird, huh?” she said. She shook her head. “People are strange.” “Are you all right?” She shrugged. “The girl was nice. She said she liked my beard. It was just the old lady who was a jerk.” “She—the woman wasn’t—” “I know what she was or wasn’t,” Talia said lightly. “I’ve seen it before. It’s awful, but it’s not anything I haven’t dealt with. But it’s funny, right?” Linus didn’t find anything about this to be humorous. “What is?” “That there’s so much hope even when it doesn’t seem like it.”

Hate is loud, but I think you’ll learn it’s because it’s only a few people shouting, desperate to be heard. You might not ever be able to change their minds, but so long as you remember you’re not alone, you will overcome.”

It’s—unfortunate. We get trapped in our own little bubbles, and even though the world is a wide and mysterious place, our bubbles keep us safe from that. To our detriment.” She sighed. “But it’s so easy because there’s something soothing about routine. Day in and day out, it’s always the same. When we’re shaken from that, when that bubble bursts, it can be hard to understand all that we’ve missed. We might even fear it. Some of us even fight to try and get it back. I don’t know that I would fight for it, but I did exist in a bubble.” She smiled ruefully. “Thank goodness you popped it.” “I shouldn’t have had to do that,” Linus said. “They shouldn’t have had to do that.” “No, they shouldn’t have. And though I’m just one person, I ask for forgiveness for that. I promise that I won’t allow it to happen again.” She glanced over her shoulder at the door Norman had disappeared through. “I’ll do my best to make sure that everyone in the village understands that all of the children from the orphanage are welcome at any point. I don’t know how well that’ll go over, but I can be very loud when I need to be.” Her eyes were twinkling when she added, “I wouldn’t want to be thrown against a wall.” Linus winced. “Marty?” “Martin,” Helen said, rolling her eyes. “Came and told me all about it. My nephew is an idiot. J-Bone fired him as soon as he regained consciousness. I would have done the same.”

“A home isn’t always the house we live in. It’s also the people we choose to surround ourselves with. You may not live on the island, but you can’t tell me it’s not your home. Your bubble, Mr. Baker. It’s been popped. Why would you allow it to grow around you again?”

Talia, you may go to the gazebo if that’s where you’d like to store your new tools.” She shook her head as Zoe slid the van door open. “I’m going to keep them with me tonight. It’s a Gnomish thing. The tools must be in my bed the first night so they know they’ll belong to me.” Arthur flashed a smile. “Funny, I’ve never heard that before.” “Very ancient gnomish tradition. Very secretive. You’re lucky I’m even telling you about it.” “Is that right? I’ll remember that from this point on.” And with that, he opened his door and exited the van.

So many buttons. It’s the little things, I expect. Little treasures we find without knowing their origin. And they come when we least expect them. It’s beautiful, when you think about it.

He stared down at the button in his hand, tracing a finger over the grooves from Theodore’s fangs. The wyvern poked his head out from underneath the couch and chirped up at him. “Thank you,” Linus said quietly. “It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever given me. I’ll keep it for always.” Theodore lay his head against Linus’s thigh. They stayed there as the evening sunlight drifted along the wall.

Arthur sighed, shoulders slumping. “I don’t … I don’t know what to do here. I don’t know what to say. I’m under no impression that words alone will change hearts and minds, especially when those words come from me. You fear what you don’t understand. You see us as chaos to the ordered world you know. And I haven’t done much to fight that, given how isolated I’ve kept the children on the island. Perhaps if I’d…” He shook his head. “We make mistakes. Constantly. It’s what makes us human, even if we’re different from one another. You see us as something to be feared. And for the longest time, I’ve seen you as nothing but living ghosts from a past I’d give anything to forget. But this is our home, and one we share. I won’t beg. I won’t plead. And if push comes to shove, I will do what I must to ensure the safety of my wards. But I hope to avoid that if at all possible. Instead, I’ll ask for you to listen instead of judging that which you don’t understand.”

they are no different than any other child in the village, or beyond. But they’re told they are, by people such as yourselves, and people who govern them and our world. People who put rules and restrictions in place to keep them separated and isolated. I don’t know what it will take to change that, if anything. But it won’t start at the top. It’ll start with us.” The crowd watched him warily. Arthur sighed. “I don’t know what else to say.” “I do,” Helen said, stepping forward. She was furious, her hands balled into fists. “You have the right to assemble peacefully. You have the right to express your opinions. But the moment it crosses the line into violence, it becomes a matter of legality. Magical youth are protected by laws, as all children are. Any harm that comes to them will be met with the swiftest of consequences. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll do my level best to make sure anyone who lays a hand on a child, magical or not, will wish they hadn’t. You may think you can shrug off anything Linus or Arthur says, but mark my words, if I even catch a whiff of further discord, I will show you why I’m not to be trifled with.”

They held a sign out in front of them, a long roll of paper with painted words that read: WE’LL MISS YOU, MR. BAKER!!! There were handprints on it. Little ones for Talia and Phee and Lucy. A bigger one for Sal. A line that he thought came from Chauncey’s tentacles. And a drip of paint that looked like claws from Theodore. Linus took in a shuddering breath. “I … I didn’t expect this. What a wonderful thing you’ve all done. Look at it. Look at you.” “It was my idea,” Lucy said. Talia stomped on his foot. He winced. “Well, mostly all my idea. The others helped, though. A little.” He brightened. “But guess what?” “What?” “There was no treasure after all! It was a lie to get you here for your party!” “Oh. I see. So the real treasure was the friendships we made along the way?” “You guys are the worst,” Lucy muttered. “The literal worst.”

Linus pulled the covers back up to his shoulders. Lucy turned on his side, looking up at Linus. “I don’t want you to go.” Linus swallowed thickly as he crouched down next to the bed. “I know. And I’m sorry about that. But my time here is just about finished.” “Why?” “Because I have responsibilities.” “Why?” “Because I’m an adult. And adults have jobs.” Lucy grimaced. “I never want to be an adult. It sounds boring.” He reached out and brushed a lock of Lucy’s hair from his brow. “I think you’ll make a fine adult, though it won’t happen for a long time to come.” “You’re not going to let them take us away, are you?” Linus shook his head. “No. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure that doesn’t happen.” “You will?” “Yes, Lucy.” “Oh. That’s nice of you.” Then, “You’re going to be gone when I wake up.” Linus looked away but didn’t answer. He felt Lucy’s hand brush against his face. “The others don’t know, but I do. I can see things, sometimes. I don’t know why. You. Arthur. He burns. Did you know that?” Linus inhaled sharply. “Did he tell you that?” “No. I don’t think he’s allowed. But we know. We all know. Just like we know what you both did when you left the other day. He’s one of us. Just like you.” “I’m afraid I don’t have magic.” “You do, Mr. Baker. Arthur told me that there can be magic in the ordinary.” He looked back at Lucy. His eyes were closed. He breathed deeply. Linus stood. “Thank you,” he whispered. He made sure to leave the door open a little when he left,...

can’t just stay here. There are rules to follow. Regulations that must be—” “To hell with your rules and regulations!” He gaped at her. Then, he said the only thing he could, “Life, it—it doesn’t work that way.” “Why doesn’t it?” she snapped. “Why can’t life work whatever way we want it to? What’s the point of living if you only do it how others want you to?” “It’s the best we can do.” She scoffed. “And this is your best? This?” He said nothing as the whistle of a coming train came from down the tracks. “Let me tell you something, Linus Baker,” she said, hands clenched on the top of the driver’s door. “There are moments in your life, moments when chances have to be taken. It’s scary because there is always the possibility of failure. I know that. I know that. Because once upon a time, I took a chance on a man that I had failed before. I was scared. I was terrified. I thought I might lose everything. But I wasn’t living, then. The life I had before wasn’t living. It was getting by. And I will never regret the chances I took. Because it brought me to them. To all of them. I made my choice. And you’re making yours.” She opened the door and got in the car. The engine turned over. She looked back at him just once when she said, “Don’t you wish things could be different?” “Don’t you wish you were here?” he whispered, but she wouldn’t have heard him. By the time he finished speaking, she was away, sand kicking up from the tires.

But that was the funny thing about wishes. Sometimes all it took to make them come true was a first step.

He would land near the door, this brave man. Ms. Jenkins would scream at him that he was fired, but he’d laugh at her and shout that he couldn’t be fired because he quit. But Linus Baker was a soft man with a heart longing for home. And so he went as quietly as he’d arrived. He picked up his briefcase, opening it on his desk. He placed the photograph inside lovingly before closing it. There were no more files to smuggle out of DICOMY. He had everything he needed. He took a deep breath. And began to walk through the aisles toward the exit.

“You made quite the impression on the people of this island in the time you were here.” “They did the same for me.” “Funny how that works out, isn’t it? That we can find the most unexpected things when we aren’t even looking for them.” He could only nod.

My point is that I left because I was scared of what could be, not of what already was. I’m not scared anymore.”

Sometimes, he thought to himself in a house in a cerulean sea, you were able to choose the life you wanted. And if you were of the lucky sort, sometimes that life chose you back.