“It’s not your fault,” Fray said quickly, rubbing Tobin’s back. “That little cave could be anywhere.”
“He would have seen how dark the water is,” Tobin said, his bottom lip trembling.
“It’s not your fault,” Sawyer said.
“At all,” Ciaran added.
Tobin’s eyes met Sawyer’s. “His mind is... not normal. It’s hard to explain. He sees things differently, like further away and closer up at the same time. And I saw rooms, I think. Massive, no ceilings or walls, far too vast. He’s old. Like really fucking old. And I saw synapses and data streams and then visions of creatures in glass containers. Like at an aquarium or a zoo but in the future. It was so fucking weird. All of it. None of it looked real, but it is. And it’s all organic. It’s not technology, it’s his mind. I... I don’t know how to explain it.”
“He’s not human,” Sawyer said.
Tobin shuddered. “No. But I don’t know what he is.”
Sawyer nodded, and Ciaran sighed beside him. “But aliens, Sawyer?” he said, disbelievingly. “I know we’re used to weird but... aliens?”
It was no fucking weirder than octopus shifters, but whatever. He didn’t say that out loud, though. Instead, hegestured to the police station. “Let’s go see what non-alien technology fixed seven iron bars in under thirty minutes without using a saw.”
He stepped into his police station, fully expecting to see the bars simply removed and gone, but no. They were fixed. It was like they were never broken. Like the whole Lusca incident hadn’t happened.
“Believe me now?”
Before Ciaran could reply, Beau said, “Ah, Kellan’s coming. And he’s running.”
They all rushed to the door and filed out to meet him.
“I’m glad you’re all here,” he said, catching his breath. His hair was dripping wet, and he was wearing only board shorts, which was a testament to the urgency because Kellan always dressed properly.
“What happened? What’s wrong?” Ciaran said. “Is Aurin okay? Salem?”
Kellan grinned and held up four fingers. “Four,” he panted.
“Four what?”
“Four eggs,” he said. “Aurin and Salem have four eggs.”
Chapter
Eleven
SALEM
The small cavewas a perfect den. Tucked away, dark and private. Safe. The black volcanic stone blended in perfectly with the rock wall of the cove. Salem’s cove. Where the current softened to a slow, gentle sway. But it wasn’t just the location that made it perfect.
It was the cephamorphs outside, guarding them, supporting them. Aurin’s consortium and now, by association, Salem’s as well. Their family.
They’d made this perfect cave, this den of safety, for this new family.
Aurin curled one tentacle protectively around the cluster of four eggs fastened to the rock wall.They’re smaller than I imagined,he whispered.
Beside him, Salem gave a soft nudge, keeping Aurin close.They’re perfect.
Aurin smiled and leaned in closer, keeping his eyes fixed on the tiny translucent pearls. Within a few of them, faint shapes had already begun to form, delicate as drifting ink.I just… I thought they’d seem more real.
Salem moved beside him, overlapping their arms into a loose knot. In their freeforms, touch was easy, constant. Comfortflowed through skin and thoughts alike. He brushed the tip of one tentacle over Aurin’s shoulder.
They’re real, he said softly.Look at them, darling.
One of the eggs trembled faintly, and Aurin let out a startled laugh. The sound bubbled through the water.
