Tabby helps me to the sofa and we sit. She takes my hands, her expression steely now, her eyes glinting. “You’re not alone. Look at me, Leyla. We love you, and we’re going to get you out of here before they come for you.”
My chest aches. “I can do it,” I say, nodding. I turn to Theo. “Does it say why? Why they’re watching me, what they want from me—why they took Papa?”
Theo shakes his head. “Nothing. I’m sorry . . . You were right. Leaving really is your only option now.” His voice is low, tinged with disbelief. He rubs his face. “Okay, you’ll need to contact the mechanic in charge of your sub. Grant me instant clearance and full access to it, for a start. Its defense and security systems are pretty cool already, but I think we can improve on them further. We have to make sure you’re prepared.”
I nod away eagerly. I’m not sure if I’m trying to reassure them, or myself.
“Are you out of your mind?!”
“I have to get out of here and find Papa.”
“Are you completely out of your mind?!” Grandpa lowers his raised voice.
We’re in his study and it’s late evening. Ari’s out, thank goodness; Gramps might trust him, but I can do without a scowling stranger hanging around. His bright amber gaze is too intense, and I just don’t like him.
“You’ve only ever known London, Queenie—it’s a whole other world out there. We need to do something, but wandering around Great Britain on your own isn’t the answer. Can’t you see that? Why must you be as stubborn as the seas!” He isn’t backing down as he continues to pace the room with his cane: tap-shuffle, tap-shuffle.
I chew on my lip; I have to do this. But I also can’t bear to upset him. “What do you propose we do, Gramps? This is the only answer. Everything I thought the government would never do—could never do, that things could never get that bad, that someone or some law would stop them before they did, has already happened. They took my papa away without having to prove why to anyone. They’ve lied nonstop about it ever since. Nobody’s going to come and magically save us. I’m taking the submarine and going to go look for him. But I don’t know where to begin. And you know until I’m eighteen I can’t travel long-haul without a guardian unless I have papers.”
His shoulders sag. “They slapped me with a travel ban after your father’s arrest. The ban also blocks me from underwriting travel papers for others. It’s no longer safe for you here. I understand that, child. But you traveling around Great Britain on your own would be like rising up and breaking out of the surface of the water, only to find yourself in the center of a merciless tempest. Why can’t you understand, you can’t simply—”
“No, why can’t you understand, Gramps—aut viam inveniam aut faciam, remember? You taught me that: ‘I will either find a way or make one.’ I’m leaving regardless—whether I have papers and a destination or not. I must leave before they take me, too, or who’ll help Papa then?” My voice breaks and I hush, steadying myself.
Jojo jumps into my arms and buries her nose in my cardigan.
Grandpa moves closer, wrapping me in an embrace as he leans against the wall. I huddle against him. Gramps always smells of tobacco and vanilla. Along with Papa’s, it’s one of the most magical smells in the world. Sometimes scent alone can change your whole mood, can even transport you somewhere else entirely. Scents are spells, and I love Gramps’s smell so much.
I’m reminded of when his heart attack temporarily incapacitated him, just after Papa’s arrest. That was the darkest time for me. The two dearest people in the world to me needed my help and there was nothing I could do. I put my head against him as he lay weak and helpless, and promised I’d always be there for him. I sigh, my gaze wandering around the study.
Images of Mama, Papa, and me are everywhere you look. All manner of quotes cover the walls, including one of my favorites, Gam zu l’tova—“This, too, is for the best.” Beautiful scientific models cover his shelves. A silver menorah graces the wide windowsill.
Grandpa shifts. I hug him tighter. “Papa’s somewhere out there, Gramps. He needs me, I know it. I can feel it. Please trust me. Don’t keep anything else from me, all right? I know you want to protect me, but I am capable. I must search for Papa.”
He gazes up at the ceiling and sighs heavily. “Before I even considered it you’d have to first promise me you’ll let me put in place any security measures I deem necessary and—”
“Anything! I promise!” Finally. Thank you.
“If you must leave, you will head for my cottage in King’s Lynn and you don’t move from there until I’ve joined you. Understood? I’ll be with you soon as I can leave without causing suspicion.”
It’s a start. “I’ll stay put at the cottage until you get there, promise. And then I can plan my next step. But, Gramps, your travel ban?”
“I’ll break it. It’s important that you’re safe, child. So many obstacles to overcome . . . How will you travel without papers? I can only think of Vivian Campbell, but it would be placing her at risk when—”
“No,” I say. “I can’t ask Vivian.” Grandpa’s right—it would only cast suspicion on the twins’ mother. They’d never approve her sponsor application, and they’d most likely place the Campbells under close observation.
“And Sebastian will be right behind you the moment you slip up. . . .”
“Let’s not worry about what might happen, Gramps. We can sail that trench when we come to it. I can’t let the fear stop me from trying. And . . .”
I raise my eyebrows. “We’re forgetting something. The Explorer Permit. They’re not going to deny the champion of the London Marathon a place with the prestigious Explorers.”
Taking a long breath, I release as much tension as possible as I exhale. Every time I think of my plan, a most profound terror surfaces.
Terror, and a glimmer of hope.
The nightmare that’s haunted me since childhood is always the same.
I’m about four or five years old. I stare out of a small window. I know that for leagues around there’s nothing but deepest, darkest waters. I’m frozen to the spot, Papa’s voice distant, calling out to me from somewhere. I’m too afraid to move a muscle, though. Because then I might miss something and will never know what’s out there in the emptiness—and the not knowing is so much worse. I know I ought to breathe, but I’m always too afraid in case it disturbs the inky void outside. Something stirs. I can’t see or hear it, but I feel it, brooding in the unknown depths. My insides constrict, my chest crushing. The pain is excruciating, and yet I still don’t call out for help, for fear of interfering with whatever lurks in the bottomless abyss.
This time when I awoke from the nightmare, I could’ve sworn there’d been more. That someone had been in the water, suspended there in the wretched space.
The water doesn’t always arouse fear, though. The positive feelings are equally intense. Just sometimes, the water is promising and nothing is impossible. The constant soft, cradling thump that I feel more than hear, the ceaseless pulsing that gently reverberates right into the heart of me. As if the sea itself is alive and breathing. The emotions they stir within me at those times . . . a cocooning magic.