Chapter 14
Chapter
Fourteen
FRAY
They hit the water all at once, then spread out along the Cove, scouting and searching, for anyone or anything. Ciaran, along with the Norwegians and New Zealanders, were on Fray’s right. Aurin, Kellan, Dylan, and Hendrix were on Tobin’s immediate left.
Great in number, but they had a lot of ground to cover.
Fray couldn’t hear any singing or calling. Not like Sawyer had said he could hear. And Fray might have thought Sawyer was taking the piss if it weren’t for the fear in his eyes.
Sawyer had grabbed his laptop and his phone, then walked himself straight into the jail cell. Ciaran had supplied him with water and all the food out of his pantry and fridge, but it was Sawyer who pulled the door shut and locked himself in there.
Ciaran had kissed him through the bars, held his face in both hands, and pressed their foreheads together, and then promised him he’d be back as fast as he could.
How Ciaran had managed to walk away, Fray would never know. He could never leave Tobin. Fray was just grateful he never had to. Tobin was beside him. They were side by side, the way they always would be until the blade of fate cleaved them apart.
Tobin’s voice sounded in his mind. Hey.
Oh hey, you.
You okay? You’re feeling... something.
Horny?
Tobin’s laughter rang through his mind. Surprisingly no.
Fray should have known better than try and deflect his way out of it.
Just thinking how hard it must have been for Ciaran to leave Sawyer, and how grateful I am that I don’t have to leave you.
And there was a poetic line about fate and a meat cleaver, but maybe I should save that for a different time.
Tobin chuckled again, but then he was serious once more. Can you see anything suspicious?
It’s suspicious that I’m not horny right now.
You’re incorrigible.
Why, thank you, kind sir.
Tobin grinned at him as they swam in silence for a while, skirting the sea floor, searching for anything hiding in rocky crevices or floating above them like they’d seen the shadow thing do before.
It wasn’t easy searching for something they couldn’t even describe. How did one look for a void in the dark? A glimmer of nothingness, an absence of something you couldn’t quite see.
The Cove itself was dark, as it always was, especially at this depth. They’d swum and explored this cove a hundred thousand times. They knew every inch of it.
And maybe Fray was complacent. Maybe he was too tired, or maybe he was just enjoying being in freeform with Tobin. But he wasn’t really paying much attention....
Tobin grabbed him, several limbs wrapped around him, and pulled him down into a rocky alcove, his protective bubble ballooned around them.
Startled and rattled by the fear radiating through Tobin, Fray looked up.
And right above them was a shadow. An inky glimmer that looked almost like a trick of the light. A refraction. But refractions didn’t behave like that.
It was moving in the same direction as them. Following them. Slowly creeping, shimmering right above them.
Tobin shrank back, pulling Fray with him, reeling in his protective bubble.
And they watched it.
What the fuck is it? Fray asked.
I don’t know.
We should attack it.
No.
We need to call out to Ciaran.
We can’t. Not without letting it know we’re here.
Fray tried to rein in his urge to fry the immediate threat with a zap. It buzzed under his skin, this need to protect Tobin as much as Tobin was protecting him. Tobin, we need to—
No. Let’s follow it for a bit and see what it does. It doesn’t know we’re here. It can’t hear us. We’ll try and get Ciaran’s attention.
Fray was more of an attack first, ask questions later kind of guy, and Tobin was more of a tactical thinker. But Fray trusted Tobin’s judgement, so after a beat, they inched after it, watching as it blended in, moving like a gelatinous cloud of nothingness.
I don’t like it, Fray said.
Me either, Tobin replied. It’s like...
Then Fray saw into Tobin’s mind, watching and putting the pieces of the puzzle together.
He saw Aurin off to their left and realised the thing wasn’t following them. It was following Aurin. It moved when Aurin moved. Same pace, edging a little further left, getting closer. Tobin seemed to understand what was going on....
No, Fray seethed, this time dragging Tobin toward it, closer and closer. Hidden by Tobin’s protective bubble, the thing couldn’t hear them, though it should have been able to see them if it hadn’t been paying so much attention to Aurin....
It’s hunting him, Fray realised. We need to get closer.
He envisaged an attack plan in his mind for Tobin to see, a play-by-play, and though Tobin was coursing with fear and reluctance, he agreed.
They slinked over the rocks, hiding and waiting, all their hearts thumping, and Fray was ready. When they were close enough to strike, Aurin turned around, eyes widening with shock.
Fray and Tobin shot up as one, and they collided with it before it could reach Aurin. Tackling and grappling, so many limbs, Fray lost the mental connection with Tobin, and all he could do was hope that Tobin had let go before Fray unleashed every ounce of electrical energy.
The creature screamed and shimmered and flickered, changing colour and shape over and over.
It was a flurry of movement as it morphed and changed, difficult to hold, and it took every one of Fray’s limbs to contain it.
But now that Fray was touching it, he could feel its fear, its pain as he shot wave after wave of electricity into it.
The creature screamed and fought, and suddenly Ciaran was there, a dark and violent red. The Norwegians were right behind him, Marten’s eyes wide, one arm out to stop his consortium brothers from getting closer. It’s a Mimic, Marten cried. By the gods. A Mimic!
But then Aurin was there, putting himself between the creature and Ciaran. He was shimmering, incandescent gold rippling through his body, on high alert. Please don’t hurt him, Aurin cried.
Fray stopped the electric shocks, and the creature stopped fighting, morphing into a solid shape, a solid colour. Black as night, it was a cephamorph.
One of them.
A Mimic, Marten had called it. Something out of their lore, their fables.
Please don’t hurt him, Aurin said again, his voice quivering, eyes dark and pleading.
Let me go, the newcomer said, voice pained. His body trembled with the pain of Fray’s electrical shocks. Then he snarled at Tobin. Get out of my head!
Tobin gasped beside them, and Fray could feel his surprise. Oh my god. I know who it is. His wide eyes met Ciaran’s, then Fray’s.
It’s Salem.
Salem?
Fray let go of him but pushed him toward Ciaran. If he tried to escape, he wouldn’t get far. Plus, one surge of Ciaran’s burn on top of Fray frying his nerves would be almost fatal. Well, he’d wish he were dead.
Ciaran bloomed dark, dark red as he glared at Salem, his long red tendrils wrapping around him. Not to burn him, Fray realised, but to perhaps rip him apart.
Fray had never seen Ciaran so angry.
But then Aurin was there, shimmering gold, panicking and trembling. Ciaran, please. Please. Let us explain.
Ciaran ballooned with rage, rippling with a violent red and black. He was indignant, offended, and really fucking livid.
But then it was gone. His turmoil, his flux of wrath, depleted in an instant and was replaced with...
Fear.
Blood-chilling fear. And one word screamed in his mind before he shot back and took off for home.
Sawyer.