When father scolds me a second time, I turn and kick him. Then I kick him again until he cowers like an orphaned child. I squat down to his level and hold the portrait to his face.

“What did you do to her? Did she really jump into the sea to get away from you?”

He covers his ears and looks away. I snatch his rancid beard to make him look at me.

“Did you dump her in the bay after you murdered her? Tell me.”

“No, no, no,” he gibbers. His eyes are crazed. “She is here. She has come back to us.”

I hear Pip behind me, pleading with me to leave Father alone. I ignore him. I shake my father like a rag, like a babe that won’t stop crying.

“She swims the bay now,” he says. “She’s an angel, sent to protect us from these terrible people. These brutes, these heathens.”

His mind has snapped. Pip keeps begging me to stop, to let Father be.

I feel something wicked bloom inside my chest, like mold blackening an overripe apple. The ax remains in the corner where I stood it against the wall. What is the cost of patricide? How damned is one’s soul for murdering their own father? I imagine there must be a special grotto of scorching hellfire for us.

As much as I want to, I cannot bring the ax down on his pathetic head. Pip runs to Father, shielding him with his scrawny frame.

“This is all your fault, Kaspar,” says my sister. She buries her face in her hands and cries.

“How is this my fault?”

The look in her eyes is withering. “The mermaid. You summoned her.”

I have half a mind to bring the ax down on her skull. “Are you insane? I did no such thing.”

“The night you put flower petals under your pillow,” she says. “That’s what brought the luremaid to us. I told you not to do it, but you wouldn’t listen.”

Has everyone lost their minds? I storm out of the vestry with the brandy and drop the ax in the yard. I go through the gate with half-remembered fables swimming in my thoughts. The storybook tales mother used to tell, about knights rescuing princesses from dungeons.

17

17

I RUN ACROSS TOWN, splashing through the putrid sludge with my sister’s accusation ringing my ears. I push it away, refusing to even consider such a ludicrous idea. By the time I reach the cottage, my eyes are watering from the stench. I bang on the door, calling Agnet’s name. Across the lane, I see her neighbor step outside to see what the fuss is about. The old woman sees me and goes back inside. I hammer on the door again.

Why won’t she answer? Is Agnet hiding on the other side, wishing I will go away? Has something happened to her?