Page 42 of An Inheritance of Monsters

“Emergency radio system,” she said briskly. “It goes directly to Innsmouth’s emergency services.”

She pulled it out, practically dashing from the room.

I noticed the small TV on the kitchen counter was blaring nothing but white static, and for a moment I was sure the monsters were here.

But Rosalie pointed at it with a shaking finger. “We’re pretty much stuck here. There was a capsizing in Innsmouth Bay, and there’s at least one man reported dead. The storm’s gotten so bad…”

Her eyes flicked to Crispy’s leg, and I knew what she was thinking.

A cold fear grew in my gut. If no one could get to Crispy, we’d have to find a way to sedate the pain… and we could be trapped here for a week.

But as that dread began to curdle, Mrs. Marsh reappeared, radio in hand.

She looked relieved. “There’s been a break in the storm on the south side of the island. They’re sending a Coast Guard boat out now to retrieve him. We’ll need to meet them at the docks.”

“I’ll get our things,” Sierra said immediately, but Crispy grabbed my hand.

I looked down at him. It was impossible to say what was sweat and what was rain, but his hair was still plastered down, his lips still drawn in a grimace. “Don’t you dare fucking try to leave with me,Jefe,” he said, squeezing my hand so tightly it hurt. “Keep the camera, keep on filming. This is a setback.”

“Crispy, are you sure?” I knelt next to him, letting him dig his fingers into my hand. “We can come with you.”

He shook his head, sending rain flying. “It’s just bad luck. Don’t you dare let this episode go to waste over me. I swear, Juno, I will kick you off the boat and make you swim back.”

I tried to smile, but my face felt frozen. “Fine. But I’m not leaving you until I see you safely on that boat, okay?”

If there was such a thing assafeon a boat in this weather. My stomach turned again as I imagined it capsizing, and all of us unable to do anything but watch.

A warm hand descended on my shoulder, cutting through the ice that seemed to permeate me.

“Everything will be fine, Juno,” Mrs. Marsh said with a reassuring smile. “Let’s get him out front, and you’ll see—our storms can be oddly localized. As long as they’re not on the north side of the bay, they’ll be fine.”

I nodded numbly, and Sierra ran to grab Crispy’s personal belongings. She returned with what amounted to a single duffel bag full of clothes.

Crispy was still talking through gritted teeth as we heaved him up between us. “You know the usual password,” he said, stumbling along. “All the files are in the Duskwood folder on the desktop. If you need a user’s manual—”

He hissed again, eyes rolling for a moment as we stumbled over the threshold.

“Stay awake, Crispy!” My own voice was high and fearful.

“Manual’s in the bag,” he grated out, and fell silent as we began the walk down to the docks.

Mrs. Marsh carried a heavy-duty electric lantern, but we didn’t need it at all. A twinge of misgiving skittered down my spine as we carried Crispy, because on this side of the island, the rain was a gentle patter and the light, although cold and steely, was bright enough to see by.

Like that storm had hit the one specific spot we’d been in, and had passed over everywhere else.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that its work was done.

We made it to the dock as a red-and-white boat appeared on the horizon, practically skipping over the choppy—but by no means ferocious—waves.

I lowered Crispy to sit on a rock, bracing myself against him in case he fainted.

But he was awake and aware, grimly staring at the ocean, clutching his rosary.

“Like it was meant to be,” he muttered. There wasn’t even enough rain for us to have to wipe it out of our eyes anymore.

I couldn’t help but silently agree with him.

When the boat pulled up, I rescinded Crispy to the care of the Coast Guard, who loaded him onto a stretcher to bring him aboard.

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