“Come now, children,” whispered the priest. “We’re here.”

I peeked up out of my burlap sack and saw it, Marina’s Place. It was a big stilt lodge-looking thing, much bigger than I thought. It stretched for rooms and rooms, maybe two hundred feet long and lord knows how far back it went. Some sections of it looked newer than others, like Marina had been busy building more space for herself. I wondered what she would be like, this mighty witch. I wondered if she wouldn’t catch a glance at Pop’s Parsnit deck and chuck me right back out on my face in the muck.

“Out, out, children!” said the priest. “And hurry. Folks’ll be along here soon enough, and that’s a fact. Yes, they’ll even come to Marina’s, for murder or for sanctuary, you can bet on it. Inside, quickly.”

“Aren’t you coming with us?” said Tally. I could tell she was a little bit scared of Marina too.

“No, no,” he said. “A priest doesn’t seek refuge, he offers it. So I’m off into the waters, to help where I can. Blessings, children, and God be with you.”

We climbed up to Marina’s porch, standing before her thick shut massive front doors, scared to push them open, while the priest poled off into the fog and the dark.

I was scared, you bet I was. Cecily Bob and Mr. Hugo were armed and after us, my pop was missing in the swamp, and there didn’t seem to be too much hope left for us. I looked up at the sky and said my own kind of prayer. The clouds were long gone now, all the stars like little old ladies peeking from dark windows. Oh yes, tonight had some magic to it, it had a shimmer of luck glistening in the mucky water. I just hoped that good luck was enough to counter my own.

I took me a deep breath and shoved the door open, and together me and Tally stepped inside.

15

THE DOORS OPENED TO A high-roofed room, like some kind of banquet hall, or a restaurant I guess. The room was maybe a hundred feet across, with tables scattered around, folks milling about here and there. Two ancient men sat at one of the tables, a black man and a white fella, laughing at their own jokes. One of them carried a rusty old war sword on his belt. A piano player banged away on an upright in the corner. Lines of strung lizards and baby gators hung behind an empty bar, and a huge fierce fish was mounted on the wall in what appeared to be a striking pose, fangs jutting from its jaw like broken shards of bone. I recognized some of the people from Baudelaire Quatro’s. A couple were wounded and bandaged, but there they stood, alive and together.

There were doors in the back and to the left and right, leading to different rooms where people came and went freely. This seemed like a safe spot, Marina’s Place. You could hide here, protected, like the priest said, and it felt as if even Boss Authority couldn’t touch you. It was sparse and lantern-lit, but cheerful a little bit, like the two old men there had been sitting quite happy in these exact same spots the last five years and they’d still be here five years later. On a red cushion in the far end of the room lay a bearded man in overalls, curled up and drooling like a dog, sleeping soft on a pillow. When we burst in he poked his head up and blinked at me a few times, then settled back down asleep.