Out of the Dark

Chapter 1

Chapter

One

SALEM

Everything hurt.

Breathing, thinking, existing. All of it. Everywhere.

Salem couldn’t focus on anything else. There was only overwhelming and blistering pain. He couldn’t open his eyes. Time stretched eternal. Every minute—every second—was a lifetime.

He would wish it over, this life, if not for the gentle brush of delicate fingers on his forehead and over his hand. Or the sweetest hum of a melody he couldn’t quite place. He knew that touch, that musical voice.

He would cling to this life, to this pain, if it meant he’d see him again.

He’d suffer it for a thousand years if it gave him just one more day with him.

His golden one.

He knew Aurin was with him, beside him. A small light in the darkness of agony. He tried to focus on that. A single candle in the vastness of bewildering pain, keeping him safe. Keeping him tethered to this life.

Humming the sweetest song that drifted Salem off to oblivion again.

The next time Salem stumbled back into consciousness, the pain was different. It was in his bones now. All of them. And he was in human form, unfortunately. He wanted to morph into something without bones, without pain receptors, but his body wouldn’t let him.

A hand pressed his forearm. “Rest easy there, old friend,” the voice said. Familiar. Old.

Cern.

Then he heard Aurin’s voice. Soft. Scared. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Think he’s trying to shift into something that maybe don’t hurt as much,” Cern replied.

“He can’t morph?” Aurin asked.

“He’s lucky his body can even heal,” Cern said. Then he fixed something on Salem’s head, his touch like old paper.

“Will he be okay?” Aurin asked, his voice breaking. He was crying, and oh, how it added to Salem’s pain.

“He’s a strong one,” Cern said. “But only time will tell.”

Time, Salem thought. What a cruel and wonderful thing it is.

When Salem came to again, the pain was still there—a constant reminder that he was still alive, at least—but it was second only to the smell.

A pungent, earthy gods-forsaken smell.

He knew Cern was responsible for it. The old god and his earthy medicines of mud and muck, as putrid as they were potent.

Only a featherlight brush of fingers on his hand, accompanied by the sweetest song, made the smell tolerable.

Salem really would have to have a word with Cern about the smell. He was determined now to see he lived long enough to have strong words with Cern about his offensive ideas of medicine.

And to see Aurin one more time, of course. To touch him, to kiss him. To tell him he loved him, to say sorry, to make everything better. These things were a given.

But the smell... yeah. He would also live long enough to cuss at Cern one more time.

The air felt different the next time Salem woke. It was warmer. Or he was warmer, perhaps. He had memories of lazing in the sun as it beamed through the window, magnified by the glass. That’s what it felt like.

His mind was clearer, not so splintered with pain. Oh, the pain was still there, but it was simmering now, not at boiling point. The smell was still there too. It stuck to the back of his throat, burned his nose. Salem had smelled rotting corpses more pleasant than this...

The humming stopped. “Cern!” Aurin called out. “I think he’s waking up.”

Salem tightened his hold on Aurin’s hand, trying with all his might to cling to consciousness. He needed to see Aurin. He needed to see that he was okay, that he was alive and unharmed, and breathing.

He needed...

Sweet mother of pearl.

“I think he’s trying to say something,” Aurin murmured.

“What is that fucking smell?”

Probably not the best of waking utterances, but then Aurin laughed, and when Salem cracked his eyelids, he was gifted with the most gloriously beautiful vision. Aurin in the sunlight, laughing, his golden hair like a halo, his amber eyes shining with tears.

“Oh, Salem,” he said. Then he touched Salem’s face, the softest of caresses, as if Salem were made of glass. “You’re awake. Are you okay? In any pain? Tell me where it hurts. I’ve missed you. I thought I’d lost you. I was so scared.”

“Hop out of the way, little one,” Cern said as he shuffled in. He peered down at Salem’s face. “Good to see you back with us. This world ain’t done with you yet, boy.”

Salem groaned.

“How you feeling?” Cern asked.

“Like death chewed me up and spat me out,” Salem mumbled.

He felt his hand being squeezed, which drew his gaze back to Aurin. Sweet Aurin, sitting there, clasping Salem’s hand in both of his, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Hey,” Salem whispered.

“Hey,” Aurin said, his chin wobbling, and a tear rolled down his cheek.

Cern stepped back and put his hands on Aurin’s shoulders. “This one hasn’t left your side for a minute. Needs to get in the water but refused. As stubborn as he is pretty.” He gave Salem a warm smile. “I’ll give you two a few minutes.”

He walked out, but Salem couldn’t take his eyes from Aurin. “He is stubborn,” he murmured. “And pretty.”

Aurin wiped away another tear. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry, my love.” He squeezed Aurin’s hand again and threaded their fingers together.

“I’m here.” Then he looked around the room.

The walls were rustic wood and old stone, like they were in a cabin or they’d gone back in time.

The furniture was made from branches and logs, the curtains looked to be hemp or something similar, same as the bedding.

He could see trees through the window. “Where am I?”

“In the mountains,” Aurin said. “This is Cern’s place.

The one he stays in when he comes up here, anyway.

There are a few houses, if that’s what you’d call them.

I’ve met some of the people here. They seem nice, if not a bit wary.

Of me, anyhow. They seemed to know who you are, though. They are worried about you also.”

Salem’s blink was slow, already tired again. Or still. “How long have I been here?”

“Four days.”

Four days. Wow.

“I thought she had killed you,” Aurin mumbled.

Salem’s memories poured open; Lusca grabbing him, him trying to morph to loosen her grip.

He remembered the feel of her arm, the grotesqueness, the cold.

He remembered her squeezing him, shaking him.

He remembered seeing the glimmer of Aurin as he followed.

He remembered the pressure of the ocean at that depth and the cold that seemed to come from hell itself.

Then it all faded into darkness.

“You defeated her,” Salem said, an easy assumption given he was still alive.

Aurin wiped away another tear. “Not me, exactly. Tobin and Fray, with the Norwegians. They held her off and did a great deal of damage. But then Ciaran and the Māoris arrived and finished her off. Well,” he said as he shrugged.

“She didn’t die. They had her in a cage.

Cern said someone was coming to take care of her. ”

Salem was almost too scared to ask. “Did... did everyone make it home?”

Aurin nodded, his eyes shining but no tears spilled. “Yes.”

Salem sighed. “Thank the gods.”

Aurin chuckled and sniffled. “Well, yes. You can thank Cern. He saved you. I don’t know what he did, exactly.

I mean, I was here. I watched it. I saw the whole thing, but I can’t explain it.

” He offered a sad smile. “He made this paste from different plants and mud, and he painted you with it. He put a crown of herbs of some kind on your head, and he did some weird thing with his necklace pendant. You know the silver thing he wears? He chanted for hours.” His eyes welled again. “He worked very hard.”

The paste.

“That explains the smell,” Salem murmured. He could barely keep his eyes open.

“I’m so used to it now. I can’t smell it anymore.” Aurin tried to smile as he brushed Salem’s hair off his forehead. “You need to sleep some more. Close your eyes. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You need to swim,” Salem mumbled, fighting sleep the best he could.

“I’m okay,” he said, cupping Salem’s cheek. “Sleep, my love.”

Salem used all the strength he could muster to pull the blanket back. “...For you,” he whispered.

Aurin smiled and clambered into the bed, melding himself to Salem’s side. He fit so perfectly, but more than that, Salem could feel himself improving by Aurin’s touch alone. He was so tired, so sore all over, he knew his injuries must have been extensive.

He also knew Cern could heal him.

Cern could do a lot of things.

Except...

“Your consortium knows about me,” Salem mumbled.

Aurin stilled for a beat before he let out a measured breath. “Yes,” he said.

Salem was fast losing the fight to stay awake. “Tobin knows what I am. He saw inside my head.”

“Don’t you worry about them right now. You need to focus on getting better and let me worry about that.”

“But—”

“But nothing,” Aurin said, his voice soft but stern. “They’ll protect you. No one will come for you. I’ll make sure of it.”