“I can't say that I've ever thought about the elegance of murder and maiming people.” Lyra fired back.
“Well, that's got to be a first from the siren!” Wyn snapped, their hostility with one another ramping up to its former intensity.
Theo groaned internally, ready to try and break up the commotion again, when the leader of the Blue Men did it for him.
“Our part of the bargain is fulfilled.” He looked directly at Wyn.
Wyn snorted, some of his whiskey presumably going down the wrong pipe, and nodded aggressively.
“Yes, yes. You most certainly have. You may return to Scottish waters, per His Royal Highness Calum's agreement, something, something, a royal decree.” Wyn wiped his chin on his sleeve. “Just, you know, no killing or maiming people, magical or benign, and try not to make any mortals think you're a harbinger of the apocalypse.”
“They do love that shit,” Lyra agreed, resting her chin on the edge of the boat. Theo couldn't keep up with how often Lyra and Wyn bickered, but at least Wyn wasn't trying to fight Lyra any more physically.
“Do you have any questions or... Oh,” Wyn started to ask the leader and trailed off. All three of them started scanning the water, chills erupting over their skin and scales.
The Blue Men had disappeared. Whether they vanished out of thin air or sank beneath the water without so much as a splash, Theo didn't know. All he knew was they were in front of the dingy one minute, their leader talking to Wyn, and then gone the next. The sudden absence of the Blue Men was infinitely more palpable, as though an atmospheric vacuum opened up, and a huge wave of magic had been sucked right out of the air.
It was deadly quiet. Even the waves and the seagulls seemed silent. Theo could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.
“I don't like this,” Wyn muttered, grabbing the oars. “Theo, help me. Let's get back to the ship and get out of the Minch, quickly.”
“Go,” Lyra encouraged, her face going pale.
“What's happening?” Theo insisted, tightening his grip on Lyra's hand instead of listening to Wyn's instructions.
“I don't know.” Lyra shook her head, her voice getting high-pitched and panicky. “But I didn't think the Blue Men would disappear so quickly. This has always been their territory, so there's residual magic in the water. We were relatively safe from other threats while we were in their company, but now they've left us out here like sitting ducks.”
“Let's please discuss the finger points of fallen angelic migrations when we are back on the bigger, magical boat!” Wyn snapped, grabbing the second oar from Theo's hand. In a few strokes, he'd nearly hauled them halfway back to the ship, his muscles flexing without barely breaking a sweat.
“Lyra!” Theo turned around, searching for her amongst the waves. She was no longer hanging onto the edge of the dinghy, and Theo couldn't see her body in the water.
“Wyn, stop!” Theo screamed, grabbing the oar and pulling at it. “Where did Lyra go?”
“Oi, don't act like a fucking eejit.” Wyn grimaced. “She's a siren! We're in the fucking ocean! Excuse me for not being concerned about her right now. She's probably just swimming back to the boat, as we should be!”
Wyn grabbed the oars again, tightening his grip and practically pulling them across the surface of the water to the side of their ship.
“Wyn, stop!” Theo screamed.
The anxiety in his chest had turned into abject panic and horror. There was something wrong; he could sense it in the sky and the water surrounding them. He hadn't been raised amongst his magical kin, but his instincts were still sharp. They had to be after learning to spend his entire life on the run. And there was something very, very wrong. Instead of the skies and the sea turning dark with an impending storm, everything very slowly started to take on an abject green hue.
It started so slowly, Theo wasn't even sure if that was what he was seeing. But as every moment passed, and Wyn secured the side of the dinghy to the boat, he was more convinced the world around them was turning a sickly shade of green. The water grew deathly still, not even the soft waves of the current rocking them to and fro. There were no whitecaps of churning waves, only soft, rolling trails of sea foam coming from every direction at once. Even the light of the sun started to feel weaker and weaker, as if someone had turned down the dimmer and given it a vomit-tinted hue.
“Wyn!” Theo screamed, putting every inch of bravado in his voice he could muster, “Are you fucking seeing this?”
He turned around, shouting at the elf prince, who was halfway up the rope ladder towards the deck. Wyn, to his credit, knew when a man was desperate. He heard the panic in Theo's voice and stopped moving, his gaze quickly sweeping over the horizon for any threat. Theo saw the exact moment on Wyn's face when he realized there was nothing actually chasing them and no cyclone threatening to sink their ship. Rather, the entire atmosphere had become tainted.
“Oh, for fuck's sake,” Wyn whispered. It came out of him like a prayer and a plea. He held his hand out for Theo, beckoning him to climb onto the ship.
“I don't like it. This is something much worse than Blue Men or shite weather. This is Scotland. I know how to handle those.”
Theo stayed where he was in the boat, frantically searching for Lyra. The water was still as a pond now, with the same greenish hue. If he stared in one spot too long, Theo could swear he started to see reeds growing up from the ocean floor.
“I know you're looking for her,” Wyn grunted, “but she can handle herself. We have got to get moving. Now.”
“No!” Theo protested again. He got down on his knees in the dingy, a mess of desperation and panic. There was somethingin the back of his mind, a survivor's instinct, trying to let him know that there was a predator in his midst. But Theo had been listening to that part of his brain his entire life, and now, his heart was telling him he was a coward. He couldn't leave Lyra here.
These were not friendly waters. Not even to a siren.
