The cold relief was immediate. Melting into his true form was a reprieve he couldn’t explain. Every wrong felt right, every cell in his entire being relaxed and true.
He’d been strung far too tight, and now he was fluid and free.
He propelled himself forward, needing to expel as much energy as possible. He wanted to swim, to float on theundercurrent, to let the tide take him. He knew Fray was behind him. Fray always was.
He followed without complaint, without so much as a word. The only thing Ciaran could feel coming from Fray was concern. The further they swam, the longer they were underwater, the deeper they went, the more Fray’s concern lessened in tune with Ciaran’s stress.
Ciaran hadn’t even realised he’d stopped swimming until Fray’s voice sounded in his mind.
You okay?
He looked at Fray, noticing where they were. Had they swum that far?
Am now.
What happened back there?
I... don’t know.
Bullshit.
Ciaran ignored that so he could enjoy the push and pull of the water pressure at that depth. He let his form float, let his limbs fall loose, and closed his eyes.
I’d like to stay here.
Hm.
When Fray said nothing else, Ciaran reluctantly opened his eyes to what he assumed would be Fray’s no-bullshit glare.
Except it wasn’t.
He wasn’t even looking at him. He was looking past him, downward, into the depths of the Trench.
Fray wasn’t as big as Ciaran, not in either form. But he was lean and strong, and his skin, the colour of the blue of his human eyes, gleamed in the lightless depths. Shimmering.
Ciaran could feel Fray’s unease, his caution.
What is it?
Fray took a second to answer.Nothing.
But he didn’t stop staring into the depths as if searching for something. Ciaran couldn’t see anything, but something definitely had Fray’s attention.
Then what?—
I mean nothing.Fray’s eyes met his.There’s nothing. No movement, no sound. Something’s wrong.
He was right. Ciaran had been so preoccupied, he hadn’t noticed, and that said more about his state of mind than anything else. Heshouldhave noticed.
There was nothing. No fish, no whale song. It felt as if the water, too, had gone silent and still.
Fray brought his limbs in and coiled them the way he did before he propelled himself forward, but Ciaran reached an arm out to grab him.
Don’t.
We should go look, investigate?—
He tightened his hold on Fray’s limb. He knew Fray was right, and maybe Ciaran was spooked enough by the whole Sawyer-freaking-cop thing, but something felt off.
