Free Unwritten Books 2 - Fathom Five by James Bow Page B

they didn’t like him? What if he wasn’t really home? “I-I’m not ready.”
    Fiona’s hand moved from his shoulder to his temple. “Peter, please come.”
    His doubts vanished. He followed down the hall and into the kitchen. The walls and floors felt uneven, though they looked level. He was reminded of a sea cave furnished at yard sales. There was a church pew along one wall. A hat stand with a missing arm. They passed a room where Peter could see a cupboard with blue paint peeling. The television and his toys would be inside that. A basket of magazines and a folded quilt. Or … not.
    Suddenly there was a crowd of people, Ariel bobbing among them. It was as if she’d created them while he’d been lost inside the memory of his parents’ TV cupboard. Suddenly he was the centre of attention. People embraced, poked, and prodded until he felt like a plush toy.
    “So,” said a tall woman standing apart from the crowd. She had Fiona’s hair and slim build, but there were crow’s feet under her eyes, and wrinkles over the line of her jaw. “This is young Peter, come back to us?”
    “Yes, Mother,” said Fiona, pushing him forward proudly. “On the other side, he was known as Peter McAllister.”
    Fiona’s mother put a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Then that name you shall retain, unless you choose otherwise. I am Eleanna. Welcome back to our world.”
    Peter mouth was dry. “Thank you,” he stammered. “It’s … er … good to be here.”
    “Come to the kitchen. You must be hungry after your long journey. Please, eat.”
    They led him into a room with a hearth in the corner. There was a basin cut into a stone shelf. A big butcher’s block stood like an altar at the middle of the room. The air smelled like a feast and there was food everywhere.
    Eleanna pressed a small, round, reddish-brown cake into Peter’s hands before he had a chance to refuse. It was warm and smelled of fish. He took a bite, more to avoid offence than out of hunger. More food was pressed into his hands.
    You shouldn’t eat the food of the dead, said some stray part of his memory.
    “It is good to have you come back to us, Peter McAllister,” said a tall woman with waist-length black hair. “It has been too long since we have had a Homecoming.” “Homecoming?” Peter repeated.
    “How was your journey?”
    “What is it like on the other side?”
    The chatter began to fly.
    “Do they still light their homes with electricity, or have they found something else?”
    “Why do they make their boats so noisy?”
    “Were you lonely?”
    Peter felt as if the attention was pressing on him. He thought he might drown. He grabbed at the altar for help.
    A tall man with a red beard leaned close. “How was your journey?” Peter could feel the man’s voice in his chest. He was huge.
    “I-I-I don’t remember.” He felt short of breath. More plates were pressed close.
    The tall man frowned at Fiona. “How came you to find him, Fionarra?”
    She stared back coolly. “Though hard work and perseverance, Merius.”
    Merius picked up a trident that had been set by the kitchen door, and left the room.
    Still the chatter continued. And with it, other questions bombarded Peter’s mind. Who are all these people? What’s missing? Who’s missing? Where’s Rosemary?
    Sweat trickled down Peter’s brow. He swayed, dizzy.
    Fiona stepped through the crowd. Her hand clamped on Peter’s shoulder, and his thoughts vanished. “Please,” she said to the others, “Peter has had a long journey. We should give him time to rest.” She took Peter by the arm. The kitchen was much quieter, suddenly, as if half the people had vanished. “Come, Peter. Let’s find you a room.”
    “Wait!” Peter shook her off. “Where are they? Where are my parents?”
    A silence fell upon the kitchen. It filled Peter’s heart with lead.
    “Come on,” he said. “You said I’d find my family here, so where are they? Where are my parents?”
    Eleanna shifted