Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
AURIN
Salem improved greatly over the next two days.
He was sitting up in bed now, eating and drinking, which Cern reassured Aurin was a very good sign indeed. He was sleeping less and smiling more.
He hadn’t been up yet, though. And he hadn’t morphed at all. Cern had warned against it, but Salem said he doubted he could anyway. He didn’t have the energy, cellular or otherwise. And the idea of his bones rebreaking instead of morphing was a reality he’d rather not endure.
Lusca had done so much damage.
To his organs, to his cartilage, to his brain.
He’d been lucky to be in cephamorphic form for the most part. If he’d been human or cat, his bones would have been pulverised, either from the way she gripped him, squeezed and shook him, or from the immense pressure of the ocean at that depth.
He’d tried morphing into different ocean creature forms, but as the life drained out of him, the ability to morph did too. He’d reverted to his cephamorphic state because it was the most fluid, so he’d sustain less damage as she’d thrashed him around so violently.
Changing back into human form had almost killed him.
Aurin could only guess Salem had chosen his human form once on the boat so he could be treated.
Kellan was a doctor, not a vet. Or maybe so he’d fit in, not knowing what they’d face when they got back into Tenebrae.
In the end, it had been the right choice.
Aurin would have to face Ciaran at some point, though he was in no hurry for that. His main priority was Salem.
He wasn’t sure what he could say, anyway. That he’d lied to them? That he’d known not just who Salem was but what he was, and he’d known it for a long time?
That he was a Mimic. Well, half Mimic. The other half of his heritage was a little harder to explain.
“If I had a penny, I’d give it to you,” Salem said. It was midafternoon, and he was sitting up in bed, drinking his medicinal tea like a good patient.
Aurin scoffed. “What?”
“A penny for your thoughts.”
Aurin couldn’t help but smile at him. “You have the weirdest sayings. What does that even mean? A penny for your thoughts.”
“It’s an old saying.”
“I gathered as much. Most of your quirky idioms are old.”
“Well yes, I would think so,” he said, smiling behind his cup. “Anyway, ‘a penny for your thoughts’ is a conversational prompt for someone to share their thoughts. When a person is being pensive, perhaps. Back when a penny was worth a bit more than it is today.”
Oh, Aurin loved how Salem spoke.
Aurin sat on the bed next to him, resting his hand gently on Salem’s thigh.
“I was just thinking that you’re very handsome and you have some of the sparkle back in your eyes.
I’ll never take it for granted, you know.
Not for a minute. To see you smile, to see the light in your eyes.
” Aurin sighed. “I love you, and I will live every day as the second chance it is.”
Salem put his cup down on the bedside table.
“Okay, so, first of all, that’s not at all what you were thinking about just now.
I know it wasn’t because before, you had a tiny line of worry between your eyebrows, which tells me it was something you deem unpleasant.
Yet when you were talking so sweetly just now, there was no line.
Secondly, it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me yet.
I’ll be here when you’re ready. Though I can hazard a guess that it pertains to going home.
I know you’re reluctant, but you know my thoughts on this—”
“And you know mine.”
Salem’s smile widened. “Yes, you were quite adamant.”
Aurin wanted to go home, he just didn’t want to face Ciaran and his disappointment. He also didn’t want to talk about it again. “You can stop being so cute. You’re supposed to be resting.”
He chuckled. “And thirdly, I love you too.” Salem studied Aurin’s eyes, a soft smile at his lips. “I loved you before you saved my life.”
“And I loved you before you almost died.”
“You were so brave that day,” Salem said. “And I think we should talk about how you put your own life in danger to save mine—”
“Shh,” Aurin said, knowing all too well how this conversation would play out. “Just say thank you, and we’ll leave it at that.”
Salem sighed, but there was the hint of a smile as well. “Thank you, my love. I shall be forever in your debt.”
“You owe me nothing,” Aurin said, and he meant it. “There’s no ledger here. No tally to keep. But if we were, now that you can be human more often, perhaps you could cook me dinner sometime.”
His eyes sparkled. “Ahh, like a date?”
“Yes. A date, in public, so the others can see us together, maybe even holding hands. Now that we can. No more hiding. And dinner doesn’t have to be anything fancy, just so you know.”
He chuckled. “Good. Because it’s been so long since I’ve cooked anything, I doubt whatever I serve you would be edible. I’ve lived on raw fish, cheese, and canned tuna for many years.” Then he screwed up his nose. “Otis once offered me actual cat food. Bless his heart. He meant well, but...”
Aurin smiled at the memory. He hadn’t known Salem was not exactly just a cat at the time, and when he’d seen how Salem had recoiled from the processed cat food, Aurin had taken pity on him and offered him some grilled fish instead.
But then, of course, the mention of Otis was bittersweet, and it clearly showed on his face.
“You miss them,” Salem said gently.
“Of course. But I also don’t know if I’m ready to go back yet.”
Salem slid his hand over Aurin’s, lacing their fingers together. “You need to swim.”
“There’s a river not far from camp,” Aurin said. “I put my feet in when Cern suggested it.”
“He suggested, huh?” Salem raised an eyebrow.
“Well, ‘threatened’ is a strong word.”
He chuckled at that. “He can be persuasive.”
“Will you tell me about him, one day?” Aurin asked. “How you met. How he knew you were injured. It doesn’t have to be today. And probably not while we’re here.”
Salem nodded slowly. “I’ll tell you everything. But first, may I ask one more favour?”
“Of course. Anything.”
“Help me up. I want to take a walk outside.”
“Oh. Well, anything but that. Cern said you must rest.”
“But I’ve been resting so long, I need to stretch my legs and move my body.” The way he gave his best pleeeeeease sad-eyes made Aurin laugh.
“Oh, that is totally not fair. You cannot use that weapon against me.”
“Weapon?” he scoffed. “What is this weapon you speak of?”
Aurin leaned in and gave him a smiley kiss. “You know I am powerless against your eyes, and you use them against me.”
Chuckling because he’d won and they both knew it, Salem pulled back the covers and swung his legs over. He tested his feet on the floor and stood slowly, wobbling a little. Aurin was quick to grab him, sliding an arm around his lower back so Salem could use him as a crutch.
“How’s that?” Aurin asked.
He stood still for a moment, getting his bearings and letting his body adjust to being upright. “Okay,” he said, though it was not without some effort.
“If it hurts, you must tell me,” Aurin said. “You must not overdo it. We can stand today, then maybe take some steps tomorrow.”
He shook his head. “No. I’m fine. I need to do this. I need to go outside, even for just a moment. I need fresh air and to move my body.”
Aurin understood that all too well. Their need to be in the outdoors, in the water, in nature, was a real and visceral thing.
“You might regret this,” Aurin said, helping him walk slowly to the door.
He panted. “Why’s that?”
“Fresh air will make you realise how bad the paste smells.”
Salem chuckled. “Are you saying I smell?”
“Well, yes.”
They walked through the small, humble hut to the one and only door. Aurin pushed it open and helped Salem step outside.
He paused to catch his breath, leaning heavily on Aurin. He smiled up at the sky, at the dappled sunlight coming through the trees. He inhaled deeply, then seemed to regret it, wincing and bringing his free arm in to press it against his ribs.
“Salem,” Aurin warned.
“I’m fine,” he said quickly, giving him a tight smile. He looked around at the camp, saw the firepit with some log seats, and nodded toward them.
The camp, as Aurin called it, was rudimentary, though even that was being kind. The dwellings were basically huts and lean-tos made from logs, bark, and branches, but they blended into the forest and mountain so well that sometimes Aurin wasn’t sure he could even see them at all.
He was certain there was a kind of magic that cloaked them to the human eye.
So much so that if a human were to hike into these unexplored mountains, Aurin doubted they’d see them at all.
They kind of shimmered into the scenery.
It was very odd. But no odder than the likelihood of cephamorphs existing, he reasoned.
And certainly no odder than the forest folk who called this camp home.
The three men who had come down to Tenebrae with Cern were the same three men who came out with him now.
Cern was in the middle, flanked by Fyn, Zaq, and Pax.
They were as rustic as their homes. Wearing only shorts made of hemp or hessian, they were lithe and strong, their skin brown with dirt and sweat. Their hair resembled fine twigs.
They looked as if they’d been born from the underbrush of the forest, and perhaps, Aurin mused, they had.
They were very wary of Aurin, offering food but rarely a smile. He’d counted about ten of them when he’d first arrived but only seen a few of them since. Mostly Pax, who appeared to be the leader of their group and also the one who appeared to dislike Aurin the most.
But Cern’s smile was wide, his unlit pipe a permanent accessory to his face. “Well, this don’t look much like bed rest to me,” he said. “Though it’s good to see you upright. You just might live yet.”
“For which I have you to thank,” Salem replied, panting but smiling. “Or so I’m told.”