Chapter 27 Una
Una
Una was looking through the clothes in her closet, wondering if the dress she’d worn to a wedding two years ago was fancy
enough for Charles’s party.
Though it was the nicest dress she owned, it wasn’t very summery.
It was a silvery blue and shimmered like a fish scale. When she’d tried it on and stood in front of the mirror in the JCPenney
fitting room, she’d caught a glimpse of the pretty girl she used to be. She’d also tried on a purple dress, though she wasn’t
sure why. Perhaps because purple had been Svana’s favorite color.
Try as she might, her routines failed to restore a semblance of balance to her world. She couldn’t concentrate on simple tasks
like gardening or baking brown bread. Pests were chewing craters in her flowers. The last loaf she’d made had burned in the
pan.
The shadow at the bottom of Tidewater Terrace was beginning to spread. It had gotten to Don first. Then to Beth. Then to poor
Paul Campbell.
Kristofer believed that Paul had a heart attack, but when Una saw the plate with the daisies around the rim that had been recovered from Paul’s mail truck, she knew what had really happened.
The plate was one of Beth’s. She always used a daisy plate when gifting her baked goods.
But the treats she’d made weren’t meant for Paul. Una had seen the hole in Beth’s garden when she’d gone outside to shake
out a rug. All the foxglove was gone.
Foxglove. Foxes glofa. Fairy gloves. Witch’s thimbles. Dead man’s bells. No matter what name it was called, it was extremely poisonous. Every part
of the plant was toxic, especially the leaves.
Una pictured Beth drying the leaves and crushing them into a fine powder. She must’ve mixed that powder into her pastry dough
along with lots of sugar, honey, and jam. Lots of sweetness to disguise a bitter taste. She’d given the finished product to
Mrs. Smith.
Did Beth want to make her sick? Or to kill her?
Whatever her intentions, Beth’s scheming had cost Paul his life.
Paul, who’d been Kristofer’s friend for a decade. How many beers had they shared on a Friday night after work? How many Sunday
afternoons had they wiled away fishing? How many winter Saturdays were spent at the bowling alley, hoping to be the best in
their league?
Mrs. Smith knew the cookies were poisoned but gave them to Paul anyway. If Una needed proof that the woman was a monster, she had it.
She saw no point in sharing these thoughts with her husband. Paul was dead. Nothing was going to bring him back, and Una had
to focus on her plan to protect the children. Not just Charles and the Scott children, but all the children at the party.
Any of them could become Mrs. Smith’s next victim.
Una hadn’t been able to save Svana. But she wouldn’t let that thing drag another innocent down into the deep.
Early that morning, she’d met Jill and Charles at the neighborhood park, which was little more than a playground with two benches and a picnic table. Sitting at the table, the three of them had shared their fears about Mrs. Smith.
“When I saw her standing outside her house, I knew she was the monster who drowned my sister,” Una had begun. “She knows that
I recognize her—she might even remember me, too—so I am a threat to her. She will come after me tonight. And you children,
too.” She glanced at Jill. “Did any of your books say how to defeat her?”
Looking hopeless, Jill had tossed a pebble into the road. “If she’s Lamia, she’s been around for at least a thousand years.
How are we supposed to fight a demon?”
As if expecting this question, Charles said, “We have to get her before she goes in the water. She’s in a human form now.
If she bleeds, she can be killed.”
“I’ll bring a sewing needle and prick her with it, just to be sure.” Una patted her purse. “I will also bring this.”
She pulled out a bundle of cloth and unwound it, revealing a knife with a bone handle. Symbols had been scratched into the
blade, and a fish with teeth had been carved into the handle.
Charles had leaned closer to the weapon. “Is that from Iceland?”
“Yes. It belonged to my afi. My grandfather. He was a fisherman. He made this knife out of whalebone and steel. My grandmother added these runes. They’re
for protection.” Una rewrapped the knife and placed it back in her purse. “You should have a weapon, too. Both of you. Something
sharp. Something you can take out quickly.”
Jill and Charles nodded.
“We have to make sure none of the children are ever alone with her,” Una continued. “We must watch her at all times. If she goes off alone, we must assume she is hunting. I will go after her. If I end up in danger, you must warn everyone else.”
Charles splayed his hands. “How?”
Jill replied before Una had the chance. “We can tell the DJ there’s an emergency. Or grab his mic. Or we could set off the
smoke alarms. Cruise ships have smoke alarms, so I bet this boat does, too.”
“Good,” Una had said. “Or find the captain. Tell him that one of the guests is trying to hurt a child. Do whatever it takes
to get people to listen.”
Thinking back on this conversation, Una wished she’d had more answers for Jill and Charles. She wished she had a more powerful
weapon than an old fishing knife. She wished there was an army to stand between the children and Mrs. Smith. She would give
her life to save them, but would that be enough?
“Picking out your party clothes?” Kristofer asked from the doorway.
Una turned to him. “I am. I just hope you’ll be okay without me.”
He came into the room and put his arms around her. “I’ll be fine. After I drop you at the yacht club, I’m going to Wendell’s
house. We’re going to grill burgers and watch the game. Try to enjoy yourself. Drink champagne. Eat cake. Go crazy on the
dance floor.”
“The only person I want to dance with is you.”
Kristofer led Una to the living room. He switched on the radio and held her tight as the Flamingos sang “I Only Have Eyes
for You.”
Una smiled at her husband. “You promised me a lifetime of rainbows the day you asked me to marry you. I’m glad I believed
you. I’m glad I said yes.”
“I was the luckiest boy in Iceland,” he said, kissing her on the cheek. “Now I’m the luckiest man in America.”
Later, after an afternoon of laundry and lawn mowing, Kristofer drove Una to the yacht club, where the valet stopped them
and signaled for Kristofer to roll down his window.
“Are you here for the Bernstein event?”
“Just me,” said Una.
“The party’s on the boat at the end of the dock. You can’t miss it.”
Kristofer drove on, whistling when the luxury motor yacht came into sight. Spotlights illuminated its modern lines and sleek
prow. Guests in tuxedos and sparkling dresses followed the red carpet to the boarding platform. Music blared from the boat’s
top deck.
“It’s the James Bond song,” said Kristofer. “I hope I don’t lose you to a handsome spy with a British accent.”
“I wouldn’t worry. You know I don’t like martinis.”
Kristofer laughed, kissed her, and whispered, “Have a good time, my sweet.”
Una looked at the boat, which was shaped like a sharpnose shark, and knew she might never step onto dry land again.
“I love you,” she told Kristofer. She kissed him tenderly on the mouth and held his face in her hands for several heartbeats.
“ég elska tig líka. I love you, too,” he said as she got out of the car.
She stood in the parking lot and watched him drive away. Then she took a deep breath and stepped onto the dock.
Jill was standing next to the boarding platform, waiting for her.
She looked so grown-up in her white satin dress with a ruffled skirt and sleeves. She’d woven ribbons into the tiny braids framing her face and wore glittery eyeshadow. Her lips were slick with berry-colored gloss. For a moment, Una felt she was looking at a brown-eyed Svana.
“You’re beautiful,” Una told her.
“You, too,” said Jill.
Una glanced up at the boat. “Where’s Charles?”
“His mom’s making him hand out spy gadgets for the scavenger hunt. I told him I’d get you and bring you back to where he is.”
She patted her dress. “This has pockets. I’ve got sharp things in both of them. Charles has stuff, too.”
“Good. Remember, Charles will be busy with his guests, so it’s up to you and me to watch Mrs. Smith.”
Jill’s fingers brushed the skirt of her dress. “I know.”
Steeling herself for the night to come, Una walked up the boarding platform and under a black-and-gold balloon arch.
A crew member in a starched white shirt and navy slacks helped Una step from the platform to the teak deck.
“Welcome aboard,” he said. “The main party is on this deck. You’ll find the bar in the front of the boat and the buffet and
dance floor in the back. If you’re looking for a place to sit, there’s seating on deck two. The very top deck is for crew
members only. Have a great time!”
Una followed Jill down a narrow corridor to a set of double doors that opened up to a large carpeted space. Buffet tables
had been arranged in a U shape, and guests were already filling their plates. Waiters circulated the room, offering champagne
to the adults and soda to the kids. The room was noisy and warm, and most of the seating had already been claimed by old men
in yarmulkes. The old women had formed a circle around Charles. Their braying laughter and tooth-baring grins reminded Una
of a pack of hyenas.
Charles waved at Una, and the old women grudgingly departed to give her access to the guest of honor.
“You did it,” she said, giving Charles a hug.
“I thought the ceremony would be the hard part. Let’s see if I can survive all this,” he joked, waving an arm around to incorporate the guests, the hedonistic display of food, and the James Bond–themed decorations.
“Is she here?” asked Jill.
Charles pointed at the ceiling. “She’s upstairs, talking to some people from our temple. My mom introduced her to everyone
like she was her new best friend. Even my dad thinks she’s great. None of the adults will believe us if we tell them she’s
dangerous.”