Ciaran gave a nod. “Agreed.”
Then Kellan noticed the iron bars of the jail cell, and his expression was something of a surprised frown. “Wow. They look like they were never broken.” Then he frowned some more at them, touching the iron with his fingers as if checking they were even real. “They’re exactly the same as the old ones.”
Sawyer made the universal hand gesture for ‘see? I told you’ and Ciaran groaned. “Please don’t start him on the whole replicator thing.”
Kellan snorted as he headed toward the door. He put his hand on the handle and stopped, giving them a smile. “Anything else?”
Ciaran nodded slowly. “Yeah. Please tell Otis and Pania they’re on break. Fray and I will come down to relieve them.”
He gave a nod. “Roger that.”
Sawyer went over to Ciaran and stood close enough to rest his forehead on Ciaran’s shoulder, and he let out a sigh. “I know you have to go,” he murmured.
Ciaran pulled Sawyer in close, sliding his arms around him and kissing his neck. “It won’t be for long, I promise. And I’m not far away. Just metres below the surface.”
“I could join you,” Sawyer whispered. Then he had the best idea ever. “Ooh! What if we build a submarine?”
Ciaran laughed before kissing him softly. “Absolutely fucking not.” Then he sighed. “And I would tell you to not sit on the jetty and wait for me, but we both know you’d just ignore that and do it anyway.”
“Correct.”
And that’s exactly what Sawyer did. Many hours later, he was still waiting on the jetty. He’d had the sense to bring a chair and a blanket, though the bitter and biting cold had seeped into his bones a long time ago.
Wind knifed off the black water, sharp with salt and winter cold, and every few minutes, he shoved his gloved hands deeperinto the pockets of his coat like that would help. His feet were so numb, they didn’t even hurt any more.
It was well past midnight.
Any sane person would’ve gone home hours ago.
Sawyer didn’t question his sanity.... Okay, maybe a little bit. But his mate was down there. And hewasdown there—Sawyer could feel it. And his consortium was down there, and they were waiting for hatchlings to emerge, and not one single part of this was ordinary. His entire life since coming to Tenebrae was so far from extraordinary, he needed better superlatives.
Something was happening down there. Sawyer was sure of it. They were all down there, except for Otis and Pania, who were getting some well-earned sleep.
The cove moved strangely tonight. Well, stranger than normal, anyhow. Long dark swirls were slowly folding over themselves, silver at the edges. It was darker than normal, murkier. Instead of a clear galaxy, tonight it was a nebula. It was Salem’s doing—whatever he did that made the water different—so Sawyer was certain the hatchlings were being born tonight.
He knew better than to expect Ciaran to leave them. He was exactly where he should be. Sawyer knew that. He also knew better than to expect time or promises to matter underwater.
Still, worry sat ugly in his chest.
He tightened the blanket around him and pulled his scarf up to cover the lower half of his face, wishing for the gods to make him cephamorph.
“Not sure it’s that easy,” a voice said behind him, papery and old. Sawyer spun around to see Cern walking out of the dark and onto the jetty.
Sawyer stood up so fast, he was surprised his numb feet held him. “Shit.” He put his hand to his hammering heart. “You scared the shit out of me.”
The old man laughed. “Sorry about that.”
He was not sorry at all. But on that subject...
“I need to apologise,” Sawyer said quickly. “Again. For my behaviour. For what I said. I was worried and all. So much is unknown, and?—”
Cern put his hand up, fingers gnarled. No gloves, no scarf. “It’s fine, Sawyer. I can see your heart. You meant no harm.”
“Yeah, but still,” Sawyer said. “I was a dick. Are you cold? Can I get you a blanket? The wind off the water is brutal tonight.”
Cern snorted, then he raised his hand again, and the wind stopped. It just... stopped.
Sawyer looked over the water, at the stillness.
