Chapter 17
Chapter
Seventeen
FRAY
Fray had never been so glad to be on a boat. He was sprawled on the deck, holding Tobin, both in human form, as were all the others.
Everyone was exhausted, wide-eyed, silent.
There’d be time later for talking, for recounting what had happened, but for now, they were all just happy to be alive. Fray tightened his hold on Tobin, grateful to feel his still-beating hearts.
Lusca was a mangled mess of human and not, still alive but barely. Two of her grotesque non-human arms lay beside her in the huge crab crate that contained her.
When the Māori folk had realised Lusca was heading back out to sea, to the Trench, they had decided to fall back and take their boat. Ciaran had joined them, so Fray deduced that Sawyer must have been okay.
Fray met Ciaran’s gaze, ignoring how his eyes burned with stupid tears. Ciaran looked much the same.
They had come so close.
So close to losing it all. To dying.
Fray kissed the side of Tobin’s head and held him tighter.
Then Ciaran watched Tobin for a beat. “Tobes, you okay?”
“Mm,” he grunted. Even his voice was tired. “Not really. Might sleep for a week.”
Ciaran nodded, his smile a little wobbly. “Maybe two, huh?”
“Is Sawyer okay?” Fray asked. “You’re here, so...”
“Broken arm, broken hand,” he said. Then he looked over at the wretched witch in the crab cage and sneered. “She’s lucky to have any limbs intact.”
Fray looked over then, regarded her mangled limbs, saw her missing eye. She was more bruise than body. He tried to feel sorry for her.
But nope.
“I saw into her mind,” Tobin said, his voice quiet, detached. He swallowed hard and shook his head. Then he tried to say something else but couldn’t.
“Not good?” Ciaran prompted.
“Jesus. Where she’s from, where she’s been.” His whole body shuddered. “Imagine the worst hell you can think of and multiply it by ten.”
“So, like Kmart on Boxing Day,” Fray said.
Tobin snorted, then winced and groaned.
“You can see into people’s minds?” Marten asked.
Fray looked over at the Norwegians. They looked as wrecked as Fray felt. He might not have had the highest opinion of them before today, but they’d really come through in the end. They’d shown up when it counted most and had almost paid the ultimate price.
Fray respected them a whole lot more now.
“Kind of,” Tobin answered. “It’s complicated.”
“He has, like, a shield in his mind,” Fray added, trying to simplify it.
“In freeform, he can block others from hearing him, and we discovered that he could include me in that. Then we realised he can do it in human form if he’s touching the person.
We only discovered this, like, three days ago, so it’s not some big consortium secret that we kept from you. ”
“We didn’t know if Lusca would have any kind of advanced telepathic or telekinetic abilities,” Ciaran explained. “If everyone knew about it, then she’d know, too, and we wouldn’t have had any aces up our sleeve.”
“It worked,” Lukas said quietly. “She didn’t know, and it gave us a second chance to attack.”
“It’s very taxing,” Tobin murmured. “I couldn’t do it now, even if I had to. Maybe not even for another week, the way I feel right now. I can barely lift my hand.” He tried to lift his hand and failed. Fray held it instead.
“And you, Fraser,” Arvid said. “With your electrical pulses. You two make quite a pair.”
“We make an awesome pair,” Fray said, giving Tobin a squeeze.
“And what of Salem and Aurin?” Marten asked.
They looked over to the far end of the boat where Aurin sat, propped against the side of the boat and wrapped up in a blanket with a human Salem.
Salem was pale and weak. The extent of his injuries wouldn’t be known until Kellan looked him over. Aurin was bruised and battered, as they all were, but he sat there, Salem asleep in his arms, and tears running down his face.
“He’ll be okay,” Pania said. She had helped Aurin and Salem to the surface and onto the boat. She’d looked him over briefly before covering them in a blanket and giving them some time alone.
Out of all of them, Salem came the closest to death. How he was even still alive at all was a miracle.
Otis offered his trademark grin. “Of course he’s fine. He has nine lives. Maybe he used up one or two today, but he’s got plenty left. Isn’t that right, Aurin?”
Aurin tried to smile but had to wipe his tears. Instead, he pressed his face into Salem’s jet-black hair and cried.
“Aurin was the bravest of us all today,” Fray murmured, giving Tobin’s head a kiss.
Everyone fell back into silence, but Ciaran stood up and went over to Aurin, sat down beside him, and put his arm around his shoulders and let him cry.
Fray put his head back and closed his eyes, and no one else spoke again until the boat pulled into the Cove.
They had a welcoming party, all waiting on the jetty as Te-Ariki pulled the boat in with precision. Hendrix and Dylan were pacing, Kellan stood nearby with more patience than his partners, and Sawyer, with his arm in a makeshift sling, looked about ready to puke with worry.
“Is everyone...?” Dylan asked, wringing his hands.
Ciaran stepped off the boat first. “Everyone’s on board. No fatalities.”
The four of them sagged with relief. Sawyer put his good hand to his mouth, eyes teary.
“Salem needs medical attention,” Ciaran told Kellan. “And the others might need some help getting off the boat,” he added, giving Hendrix a clap on the shoulder on his way to hug Sawyer.
Fray had his arm around Tobin as they limped off the boat. Kellan and Hendrix helped Aurin and Salem, and Te-Ariki, Koa, and Otis carried the crab cage and dropped it none too gently on the grass off the pier.
“Ugh, look at her,” Sawyer said, his nose scrunched up.
“Why is she still alive?” Dylan asked. “Shoulda let the sharks have it.”
“Probably would have,” Ciaran said, “if there were any around. But I didn’t want to risk her crawling into the hellmouth she came out of, only to live another day.”
“What happened?” Kellan asked, slightly more concerned.
Otis gave Fray’s and Tobin’s shoulders a shake.
“This lot did most of the hard work, and we came in and finished the job. Ciaran pummelled her for what she did to Sawyer, then he hit her with the burn juice, and while she was screaming in agony, me and my beautiful bride took an arm each and ripped them clean off.” He put his arm around Pania and looked at her like she hung the moon. “It was pure poetry.”
“Yeah,” Tobin mumbled. “If the poem was cowritten by Stephen King and M Night Shyamalan. And Wes Craven.”
Fray snorted, about to add Guillermo del Toro to the list, when a familiar rumble made them all turn.
It was getting louder, and the weird thing about engines in Tenebrae was that there weren’t any.
Well, there was the police cruiser, but it was parked at the station, and there were a few dirt bikes, but all residents of this town were here.
The only other residents who had a car was...
The brown vintage car came into view, the rumble and sputter loud in the silence.
They all stood there, waiting for the car to come to a stop. Which it did. Up on the grass, right beside them. Roads and rules were not applicable to old gods, apparently.
Mr Brown got out of his car the same way he drove, the same way he walked, and that was slowly.
But he wasn’t alone. He had three guys with him who looked to be in their twenties.
All of them were wearing clothes in shades of brown and green, with brown hair that looked like twigs and leaves, and their eyes were the colour of moss.
Fray had never seen them in his life. They watched them all warily, though one of them even almost smiled.
“Mr Brown,” Ciaran said, stepping forward to meet him. “An unexpected surprise.”
“Yes,” he drawled, taking his unlit pipe from his mouth. “That it is, my boy.”
“Have you, uh…” Ciaran glanced at the crab cage with Lusca in it. “Have you come to see...”
Mr Brown’s eyes met Ciaran’s for a long beat, and then he shook his head. “Not today. She’s not our concern,” he said, his voice like crinkled paper. “We’ve come for the other one.”
“The other one?” Ciaran repeated.
No one moved. No one spoke. Because what the...
“This one,” he said, pointing his gnarled walking stick at Salem. “Your medicines can’t fix him. But don’t worry, I’ll return him to you as good as new.”
Aurin began to protest, but Mr Brown clucked his tongue. “You can come, gentle one. Looks like he’ll rest better with you at his side anyhow.”
Kellan and Hendrix both looked to Ciaran for approval, and he conceded with a nod, which was really more like a barely concealed bewildered shrug, so they bundled Salem and Aurin carefully into Mr Brown’s car.
Flanked by his three men, Mr Brown took a moment to look at each of them, all beat up and barely standing, tipped his pipe and gave a low nod.
“You did us proud today,” he said. Then he walked over to Ciaran and offered his hand to shake.
“You’re a good one, Ciaran Brenner. I think these boys deserve a rest. Oh, and I put in a call to get this mess cleaned up for you. ”
Ciaran clearly didn’t know what that meant. “Cleaned up?”
Mr Brown waved his hand dismissively at the crab cage as he walked back to his car.
“Yes, yes. We’ll make it go away. You all be good now, you hear?
” he said. He paused long enough to give the Norwegians and New Zealanders a tip of his pipe before he got in behind the wheel.
His three guards all piled in after him.
The engine rumbled and sputtered to life, and he drove back the way he came, leaving them all standing, silent, too tired to be confused.
“What the fuck was that?” Fray asked.
“Have you ever met them before?” Sawyer asked.
Ciaran shook his head. “Those three guys with him? No. Never.”
“They’re from up the mountain, yes?”
Ciaran shrugged again. “I guess.”
“Why can’t our medicine fix Salem?” Dylan asked.
“Because he’s a...” Tobin winced. “I saw into his mind. He’s.
... He’s the son of the Cait-Sidhe, which is an old Celtic god, or something.
He’s a halfling, a hybrid. His mother was a Mimic cephamorph, so he has both traits.
” Then Tobin sighed. “I dunno. It made no sense to me, but that’s what I saw. ”
Everyone stared at him.
Fray put his hand to his forehead and rubbed his temples. He was getting a headache.
And then, because this day couldn’t get any weirder, another rumbling engine, this time from overhead.
“Is that... a helicopter?” Sawyer asked, looking skyward.
“It’s whoever is coming to clean up this mess,” Ciaran said, eyebrows furrowed. “If you all want to go for cover, go now. Into the water, into your house, anywhere out of view. I will face them.”
No one moved.
Fray slung his arm over Tobin’s shoulder and grinned at Ciaran. “We’re not going anywhere. You gotta face them, we all face them.”
Fray was utterly exhausted, tired right down to his bones. His insides had been walloped and beaten. But he wasn’t leaving Ciaran to face the unknown on his own.
So they all stood there on the pier as the sleek black helicopter landed on the grassy area between the shops and the water.
They had to shield their eyes from the downdraft, but Fray wouldn’t have missed this for anything.
This was the craziest end to a crazy fucking day.
Fray wasn’t up to date on helicopter schematics, but this one had to be new.
It looked like something out of an action movie. Or a Bond film.
The rotors slowed, the door opened, and a man dressed in all black got out, followed by a team of four men in military greens.
“Who the fuck did Mr Brown call?” Fray wondered out loud.
The four soldiers ran to the cage that held Lusca. Ignoring their audience, they took a corner each, picked up the cage, and carried it back to the helicopter.
The man in black walked toward them, and Sawyer swore. “Oh holy fuck,” he mumbled and he stepped forward.
“Detective Sergeant Douglas Sawyer,” the man barked.
“Inspector Hadeom,” Sawyer replied, clearly shocked.
Hadeom? Wasn’t Hadeom his boss?
Holy shit.
Sawyer gestured to the helicopter, then to the four men sliding the cage in and strapping it down.
“Uh, sir, so... about her... Lusca. Just so you know, and I’m kinda getting the feeling you already know who she is, but anyway, she tore through the jail cell bars like they were wet paper, and I put three or four bullets into her, and she didn’t even bleed, like, at all, which tells me she doesn’t have a circulatory system in the sense that we know it on this planet, and—”
“Your point, Sawyer,” Hadeom said.
“My point is that I don’t know what kind of holding facility you intend to keep her in, but you might wanna make it a really fucking good one. That’s my point.”
Fray snorted. He really loved Sawyer.
Hadeom’s nostrils flared, and he glared at Sawyer. He looked about to say something but chose against it. Instead, he turned his hardened gaze at each of them in turn before landing back on Ciaran, then Sawyer. “I will be in touch. Get your arm X-rayed. And Sawyer?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Answer your damn phone.”
Sawyer blinked in response. Then Hadeom ran back to the helicopter and climbed in. The doors closed, the rotors whirred, and the helicopter took off.
Everyone stood there, stunned, silent, watching Sawyer.
Fray had the urge to laugh at the expression on his face but didn’t want to sound insane.
Because he was sure the burst of laughter threatening to come out of him was a bit unhinged, and if he started to laugh, he wouldn’t stop, and it would definitely turn into crying—
“So,” Ciaran said. “That just happened.”
“This whole goddamn day just happened,” Fray said.
Sawyer still looked stunned, like he was trying to piece together a puzzle with too many missing pieces. He blinked, tilted his head, winced when he moved his arm, and when his gaze met Ciaran’s, his smile became a grin.
“I fucking love this town.”