Beneath The Waves

(20) Storm of Battle and Thunder of War

Title is a quote from The War, by Lord Alfred Tennyson

Chapter 20

Frankie hugged herself as a chilly breeze whipped her hair around. "I really think we shouldn't do this today."
Ryan, who had already tugged out his boat, sent her an encouraging smile. "Look, nothing can go wrong." He nudged the pile of stuff they'd brought to keep the Sirens at bay. "We've got headphones, firelighters, radios, lifejackets..."
Unlike usually, Ryan's smile didn't warm Frankie. "But I saw it," she burst out impatiently. "The dream I've been having - it happens today."
Last night had been the most vivid dream of all. Some of the details were still annoyingly unclear - for some reason, she could never make out Ryan's face, even though she knew it was him, and she never got to hear what the Siren actually told them - but the final part had been extremely clear. The sky would bruise with thunderclouds, rain would gush down, the waves would rear up, and the boat would roll over, tipping them into the water. Then the Siren would bear down on her, a mask of terrifying beauty, and then another, and both would grab her ankles and arms and drag her deeper, deeper -
But Ryan had been annoyingly calm about the whole thing.
"I've checked the weather," he'd told her reassuringly. "It's sunny all day - won't even be any rain for the whole week. Maybe it's supposed to happen some other time."
Frankie had nearly ripped her hair out in frustration. "I'm a freaking psychic, Ryan! I know it'll happen today - can we please, please just rearrange it for another time?"
But Ryan insisted that they'd made every precaution, and nothing could go wrong. In a way, Frankie could understand his urge to find the Sirens as soon as possible - of course he wanted to get to Noah, especially now she'd confirmed that he was still alive - but it was driving her mad that he didn't seem to be listening to her at all.
Ryan passed her a life jacket, but she didn't take it, just stared at him doubtfully, her lips tight. At her feet, Tennyson was gazing up at her with a stone in his mouth, begging to play fetch.
"Come on, Franks," he said imploringly, his eyebrows drawing together. "I blew off band practice for this."
Frankie felt her anxious expression morph into one of surprise. "Really?"
Ryan shrugged. "Well, technically Zack blew off band practice on Sunday, and I'm missing the reschedule, but it doesn't mean I'm safe from Cassie trying to kill me." He shook the lifejacket imploringly. "C'mon..."
The small, encouraging smile playing on his lips was what swayed it for her. With a sigh, Frankie reached out and took the jacket.
"Fine. But the minute we've found a Siren, we catch it, ask it one question, and then we go." Frankie wished she sounded firmer, but her voice had been softened like warm butter by Ryan's smile. Get a grip, Frankie.
"Deal." Ryan grinned broadly, clearly eager to get going.
As they clambered into the boat and set off, with Tennyson paddling happily along side, Frankie felt herself relax a little, Ryan's cheerfulness wearing off on her. They'd done everything they could to prevent Frankie's vision from happening - both were wearing life jackets, to stop them being dragged under, both had firelighters and a box of matches, and Ryan had given her a penknife, to attack any Siren who tried to grab her.
Ryan was wearing noise cancelling headphones, which seemed to bother him. He kept shaking his head like a dog with its ears full of water, and several times he moved as if to take them off, but he always managed to stop himself. At first, Frankie was unsure if they'd be effective enough, but after saying his name several times, she realised they were pretty fool-proof.
"Ryan," she said for the third time, her voice raised. He still didn't react, so she gave his leg a light kick. He glanced up at her.
"Those headphones work well," she remarked. He pulled them off his ears.
"Huh?"
Fighting back a smile, Frankie gestured to the shore they were drifting past. Several kids were milling about on the land, chattering excitedly, pushing kayaks and canoes into the water. Some were leaping about in the waves, squealing and splashing around. A few adults were with them, but they didn't seem to be taking much notice of their antics.
"What's going on there?" Frankie asked, as Ryan steered their own boat further into the estuary, towards the sea.
"Some kids kayaking club," he said. "It doesn't happen a lot." He waved, and several eager kids waved back, their faces tiny smudges of joy in the distance.
Frankie grinned and waved too - then suddenly noticed a fine tendril of mist stretching across the shoreline, contrasting with the bright, sunny day.
"Put your headphones on," she urged Ryan, glancing around. Slowly, slowly, the boat was advancing into a thick wall of mist. Ryan tugged the headphones over his ears.
Frankie pulled Tennyson into the boat, despite the way he wriggled in protest and scattered her clothes with muddy water. She patted her jacket, checked she had her firelighter, made sure the length of rope they'd brought was safely tucked away, then shivered as the coils of silvery fog seemed to creep under her skin, chilling her to the bone. A minute later, she heard the eerily beautiful voice crawling through the mist.
"Beneath the waves where the moonlight falls..."
"Wonder if they ever change those lyrics?" Frankie mumbled to herself, trying to distract herself from the way ice was gripping her heart. Fear made her fingers dig into fists, her knuckles showing up white against the skin; despite Ryan's confidence, she knew, she just knew, that something would go wrong.
Ryan was watching her anxiously. He tilted her head to the side, a silent question, and Frankie nodded in answer, feeling the tight grip around her heart loosen a little with a shiver of relief. At least she wouldn't have to worry about Ryan trying to get himself drowned.
Just as she knew it would, a dark, shadowy figure began to melt through the mist, this time kneeling on tiny, rocky island perched in the centre of the dark water. As they approached, Frankie deliberately keeping herself as still as possible so as not to draw the Siren's attention, she got a chance to study it. It was a different Siren to the first one, but she was none the less beautiful, her turquoise blue eyes, like the Mediterranean ocean, fixed with deadly intent on Ryan. The beautiful notes drifted through the air, and Tennyson growled loudly.
"Behind you," Frankie breathed softly to Ryan. He turned slowly, following her gaze, and then glanced back with a quick nod to her. Frankie nodded back.
The Siren, wearing a pearly grey dress that gleamed iridescently when she moved, leaned towards Ryan as the boat approached, her shimmering honey-coloured waves of hair coiling in the dark water. She didn't seem aware of Frankie or Tennyson, both sitting stiffly at the other end of the boat, frozen like statues. With a smile that was a dazzling as the sun yet somehow as cold as glass, she held a hand to Ryan, who lifted his in return -
He grabbed the Siren's arm and yanked her forward. With an inhumane shriek of surprise, she tumbled forward into the boat, and Frankie snapped into life.
She leapt forward, yanking out the firelighter and snapping up a small bright flame as Tennyson scampered closer, rocking the boat. The Siren screamed in defiance as Frankie held the tiny, dancing flame close to the gills carved onto the long, elegant neck.
"Don't move, or I'll burn your face off," Frankie hissed sharply. She held the Siren down, digging her hand into her shoulder, and shivered at the cold, greasy feel of the skin. A sudden fierce desire to set fire to the murderous creature's throat gripped her - how dare she try to lure Ryan to his death. How bloody dare she.
The Siren bared her razor teeth at Frankie, but obligingly didn't move as Ryan grabbed the rope and began to coil it tightly around her hands, and then her ankles. Tennyson began to bark at her, his fur standing sharply on end, his lips pulled back in a threatening grimace.
"If you sing," Frankie warned her, brandishing the firelighter, "you're dead."
The Siren hissed, struggling against the bindings, but Ryan had tied them tightly. At last, she nodded, her eyes flaring with murderous fire.
"Headphones off," Frankie said to Ryan, miming the action. Ryan hastily tugged them off his ears and let them fall to his neck.
"Where's my brother?" he demanded, grabbing the Siren by one shoulder and shaking her slightly. "Noah Ainsley, where is he?"
The Siren hissed like an angry cat, her turquoise eyes flickering between Frankie and Ryan, evidently wondering how much damage they'd do if she refused to talk. Ryan shook her harder, and Tennyson barked again. "Answer me."
"I do not know human names," the Siren spat out finally, glaring at Ryan with a look of loathing. Her voice, so beautiful when singing, was harsh and guttural in speech. She had a strange accent that Frankie couldn't identify, sort of low and staccato, as if she was spitting out each word.
"Nineteen years old, brown hair, blue eyes," Frankie reeled out. The bright, furious anger that had flared up had cooled slightly now that the Siren was securely tied up - she wasn't really the violent type. "He's in a cell on his own."
The Siren's eyes narrowed. "The boy with words," she growled softly. "He sings without music."
"Yes." Frankie nodded vigorously. "Where is he?"
The Siren smiled a cold, cruel smile of icy satisfaction. "Why should I tell you?"
"Because otherwise I'll burn your face off." There was a look of fierce anger burning in Ryan's eyes that Frankie had never seen before, and it frightened her a little. Had she looked like that? So savage, so venomous, so strong and fearless?
The Siren let out a cackling laugh, that was somehow enchanting yet wintry, until Ryan grabbed his firelighter and conjured up a tiny yellow flame. She squirmed away from it, shuddering, but Ryan grabbed a strand of aurous hair and let the strands turn crisp and black in the tiny fire. The Siren screamed, thrashing about as if Ryan had burnt her skin. Tennyson let out a frenzy of alarmed barks.
"Ryan," Frankie cried, grabbing his wrist and pulling it away from the Siren. "Wait."
Ryan glared at the Siren, but reluctantly let the flame go out and lowered the lighter. Frankie turned back to the Siren.
"You have to tell us where Noah is," she begged. "Please."
"I owe you nothing, human," the Siren sneered, her magnificent features morphing into a merciless expression. She shot a murderous glare at Ryan.
Frankie gritted her teeth, and suddenly -
"I can tell you your future," she said.
The Siren's eyes widened. "You are Gifted?" she breathed. She struggled, her eyes wild. "Tell me."
"I'll trade," Frankie told her. "You say where Noah is, I'll tell you what I saw."
The Siren hissed again, and Tennyson's growls increased in volume. "You lie."
"I'm not." Frankie closed her eyes to gather her thoughts better. "You don't guard the prisons, but you heard about an escape yesterday, which worried you, because there aren't so many Sirens that like to attack humans now. They got him back, but he'll always be powerful because he never loses hope, so no one can touch him." She opened her eyes. "Like Noah," she realised.
The Siren's eyes were huge and glossy blue. "Say more," she hissed, struggling a little. "What of the Resistance? Did you see the Resistance?"
"I'll tell you once you say where Noah is," Frankie wheedled, though she hadn't seen anything about a Resistance.
The Siren let out a growl. "The boy you speak of - the one with words - is kept in Isolation," she rasped. "His mind is different. His hope is too high."
"Ha," Ryan said softly.
"I know that," Frankie said impatiently. "But where?"
"East Rock," the Siren spat. "Four hundred metres east and three hundred metres north of this point. East of Centre Rock, home to Sirens. It is extremely well-guarded."
"That's not that far." Ryan gazed at Frankie, eyes shining with hope. "We could go now!"
"You will not find it," the Siren scoffed. "Human eyes cannot see the islands of the Siren, unless they are prisoners."
Frankie's heart sank with disappointment. "But if it's there, won't we wash up on it?"
"Fools." The Siren smiled her rancorous smirk. "You will never get close enough without getting yourselves killed." She cackled softly and turned to Ryan. "How does will it feel to be so close to your brother yet know you can neither see nor touch him?"
"I say we burn her face off anyway," Ryan decided, glaring at the Siren. His hands were tight fists.
"No. We'll throw her back in." Frankie glanced around uneasily, but she couldn't see any other Sirens.
"First, keep your bargain." The Siren fixed her wintry gaze on Frankie. "What is the rest of your prophecy?"
"It's not a prophecy," Frankie corrected automatically. "All I know is, something will happen to the prisons. The people in them. They'll start to get happy, and you won't be able to touch any of them." She felt a flicker of smug pleasure at the thought.
"It will spread," the Siren breathed. "What more, girl? Of the Resistance? Or of the hope?"
"That's it." Frankie turned to Ryan. "Help me get her out."
Rather than helping, Ryan pulled the Siren away from Frankie, lifted her up, and dumped her in the water. The Siren shrieked as she tumbled in, and a flurry of large bubbles burst to the surface at her unceremonious entrance.
"Let's get going," he said monotonously, sitting back down."Before she unties those ropes."
Frankie stared at the spot the Siren had disappeared into the water, and then realised she was sitting directly in front of Ryan, almost on his lap. She glanced at his face, felt her heart give a clumsy thump, and hastily shifted back so he could grab the oars.
"Ryan," she said, noticing the hard look on his face. "Noah's okay."
"But I can't get to him." He stared at her desolately. "You heard what she said."
"But we do get to him," Frankie reminded him passionately. "I saw, remember?"
"She said the only way we could see him would be if we were prisoners too," Ryan said monotonously. "How d'you think I feel about that?"
Frankie suddenly realised why he was so downhearted - and that he'd figured out something before her.
"You think we'll get caught," she said.
"The worst thing is," Ryan added, "it's not just me. You'll get caught too. If it was just me, maybe I wouldn't feel so bad about it, but if you're taken prisoner and get your soul yanked out by those..."
Feeling brave, Frankie shifted forward onto her knees and stared up at him. Ryan had stopped rowing; he stared at her desolately.
"No Siren is ever going to take my soul," she promised softly. "And they won't take yours either."
"You can't know that," Ryan mumbled.
"Are you kidding me?" Frankie let out a small, incredulous laugh. "If anyone's going to know that, it's me."
Ryan breathed out heavily, watching her. Some of the strands of tousled golden brown hair had fallen over his forehead, and Frankie was struck by the urge to reach out and brush them back, run her fingers through his hair -
And then a horrible, screeching noise ripped through the air, like two sheets of metal scraping together, and a boom of thunder tore across the sky.
Frankie yelped in surprise, and spun around to see a creature soaring through the sky towards them - an angel, she thought wildly - but no, those were talons, not feet -
The furious Siren screeched again as it plunged towards them, talons outstretched like a cluster of knives.
"Duck!" Ryan yelled out, pushing Frankie down and covering her body with his. Frankie heard the rush of wings whoosh over head, followed by another angry cry, and then another terrible roar of thunder -
"Oh my God, it's happening-" she gasped.
Ryan had pulled away and grabbed his oars. His face was pale, especially in the sudden gloom - the thunderclouds were like billows of thick black smoke, stretching across the sun.
The Siren had wheeled and was plunging towards them again, teeth bared in fury. She dived towards Frankie, who flung herself down on the boat, covering her face with her eyes, then at the last moment the Siren pulled up, leaving her talons to rake across Frankie's arm, cutting into the skin and tearing through it easily.
It felt like a burst of fire along her arm. She screamed, holding it close as Tennyson barked at the soaring Siren, and Ryan stopped rowing.
"Frankie-"
"Keep going," she gasped, trying to blink away the tears sparking behind her eyes. "Oh God-"
A fat drop of rain plopped into the water by the boat, followed by another, and then thousands were pattering down, dimpling the water and soaking them both in an instant. A forked tongue of lightening lashed across the sky like a whip, followed instantly by a drawn-out growl of thunder.
Ryan had reached for his radio as he rowed, and was speaking frantically into it. Frankie stared up at the mottled black, blue and purple clouds, and saw a dark speck swoop towards them - and then another -
"Two of them," she breathed, as cold spikes of water showered down on her face.
A wave rolled under the boat, causing it to rock unsteadily, swaying like tree branches in the wind. Tennyson stumbled, and then continued to bark furiously at the sky as a Siren swooped closer.
This time, it went for Ryan, who was forced to drop his oars and flatten himself against the boat. One just missed his face, and then the other approached, more slowly, as if she was planning to take her time-
Ryan wrenched an oar out and swung it, catching the Siren in the hip and unbalancing her. With an inhumane screech, she careened towards the water, but then gained her balance at flapped up into the sky, squawking indignantly.
Frankie, still clutching her aching arm, thought she could make out the smudge of the shoreline ahead. Another large wave bucked underneath the boat, some of it lapping into the boat and splashing her already-damp clothes.
"Keep going!" she yelled over the boom of thunder.
"Frankie - your arm -" Ryan was staring at the scarlet twists of blood streaming between her fingers, and the ripped, magenta-soaked sleeve of her hoodie.
"Doesn't matter." She glanced up at the sky, and saw two wheeling pinpricks.
"The coast guard are on their way-" Ryan began, but he never got to finish. A huge, tottering black wave, capped with boiling white froth, surged towards them and grabbed hold of the boat in its watery grasp. With a sharp, rolling twist, it tipped up the boat and emptied its occupants into the cold, boiling water.
Frankie's scream was swallowed by the water as it closed over her head and filled her mouth. She bobbed to the surface, her bleeding arm pounding in protest, and saw Tennyson begin to paddle towards the shore, his nose lifted above water.
"Ryan," she cried out, looking around frantically, and suddenly he appeared by her side, grabbing hold of the back of her lifejacket.
"Kick your legs," he instructed her, and began to sidestroke towards the shore with his free arm, dragging Frankie along on her back.
The two Sirens began to swoop down towards the water, and as they fell, Frankie noticed their wings melting away, their talons disappearing, until they dropped in the waves.
"They're in the water," she called out warningly to Ryan, and then suddenly, she felt cold, slimy fingers wind around her ankle.
A burst of déjà vu left her breathless with horror; whimpering in fear, she began to kick frantically. The hand slipped away, but a second later it was back, tugging her ankle, yanking her down -
Ryan swore and his hand jerked away from Frankie's life jacket as though he'd been burned. He shook his hand out, fingers red and blistered, and then another toppling wave crashed in between them, separating them.
"Ryan, get out of here!" Frankie screamed. Only one hand was tugging at her ankle, but she knew the other wouldn't be far away.
She saw him shake his head, saw him mouth the word 'No', but his voice was swallowed by another boom of thunder.
"Please," she begged. "Get out."
Ryan's face was torn with indecision, but then he gave a taut nod, clearly distraught by the choice.
He shouted a few words, but most of them were snatched away by howling wind and crashing waves and lashing rain. His voice dipped in and out of focus like a dodgy radio. "I'll... for you... get help... promise..."
Frankie nodded, already attempting to swim towards shore, and Ryan turned and struck through the waves. He moved a lot faster than her, but Frankie kicked frantically at the hands grabbing for her legs and feet, and inch by inch, she bobbed closer to the shore...
Then she heard the hiss of air, and she twisted to see a gaping hole in her lifejacket, illuminated by a white flash of lightening. Buoyancy gone, she felt herself being pulled down, her sodden clothes heavy with water.
The hand on her ankle gave a sharp jerk, and with a small shriek of surprise, she plunged under.
Everything was quiet underwater - there was no roaring wind or rain or thunder. Frankie blinked through the gloom, her hair drifting around her face like cobwebs floating in a breeze, and saw the dimpled surface above her. Lungs tightening, she kicked towards it, but the hand on her foot was like iron, holding her down as she thrashed frantically.
It was like being caught in her worst nightmare. Her lungs began to scream, but the more she struggled, the further away the surface seemed to get, and tiny squeaks of panic were beginning to catch in her throat as she flailed about in desperation.
A face appeared in front of Frankie - an eerily pale face, stretched and blurred by the water and tinged with green, but beautiful all the same. The Siren smiled, her hair curling through the water like strands of seaweed, and she too began to pull Frankie further underwater.
She couldn't hold her breath any longer. A stream of bubbles boiled from Frankie's lips, drifting to the surface in a chain of silvery round orbs. Her vision began to darken, and with sudden, heart-wrenching agony, she wondered if this was how her parents had felt in their final moments of life.
Then the whole world was swallowed up by a swirl of ebony.
***
Ryan stumbled onto shore, gasping for breath, and was relieved to see that there were people around. All the kids they'd seen earlier had disappeared, but a concerned looking man approached.
"Y'alright, lad? Ach, that storm just came outta nowhere-"
Ryan grabbed his arm in a panic. "I need a boat," he said wildly. "Have you got one? I have to-"
The man blinked at him with large, far spaced eyes. "A boat? Son, you cannae go out in this weather-"
"You don't understand! My friend's out there!" Ryan half-yelled.
The man turned towards the crashing, rolling waves. "What - there's someone in there?" He turned and yelled out to his friend. "Murray! There's someone in the water!"
Ryan turned back to the water. Tennyson came scampering over the stones out of nowhere, barking his head off. He pulled up sharply in front of Ryan, barking without his usual tail wag, as if he was trying to tell him something urgent.
"I know, boy." Ryan turned towards the water, scanning the horizon. He couldn't see anyone - not a soul.
Panic gripped his gut. God, why had he left her? Screw that; why hadn't he listened to her in the first place? She had told him what would happen.
Unable to stand just waiting around by the shore, he set out into the water, splashing through the churning waves. He felt someone grab his arm.
"Lad." It was the man with the boats. "You cannae-"
"I have to!" Ryan shrugged him off. "She's hurt her arm, she won't be able to swim-"
More people were gathering - rowers, kayakers, canoeists - their voices rising to a panicky babble along the shore line.
"Where's the coast guard?" a woman called.
"They've been alerted," another man soothed her.
"Thank God." She stared out sadly at the thrashing waves. "Not many are gonna survive that."
Ryan broke away from the man and splashed through the waves. "Frankie!" he yelled out, as Tennyson splashed after him. "Jesus Christ..."
An orange motorboat appeared on the horizon and came speeding along, crashing and bouncing over the waves, slowing as they approached. It crawled towards the shore, scanning for any signs of movement.
Suddenly, Ryan caught sight of a flash of orange bobbing just under the surface of the water, ten or so metres away.
"Frankie!" He went to move forward, but two people grabbed his arm and held him back. He struggled, but then the boat drew near to the deflated orange lifejacket, and a figure was slowly pulled out the water. Ryan caught sight of a blood-stained hoodie and a pair of black converses.
"They've got her," he said numbly, his stomach unclenching in relief.
"She didn't look good," the man on his left said, and in an instant, Ryan had ripped himself out of their grasps and was moving towards the orange powerboat.
"Can you help pull us up, lad?" The crewman yelled, cutting the engine. Ryan obligingly grabbed the hull to pull them onto shore, even though he knew they probably could've managed without the help.
"Is she okay?" he asked over a boom of thunder.
The man kept his face expressionless. "I'm sure she will be," he said.
The powerboat now on shore, Ryan jumped aboard without asking, and rushed to where Frankie was lying, a paramedic kneeling next to her. Her skin was milk-white, her eyes shut, and for a moment, Ryan was convinced she wasn't breathing.
But then, as he knelt down next to her, she gave a small cough, and a stream of water bubbled up over her blue lips. Her eyelids flickered blearily.
Ryan was overcome by a surge of violent relief. He grabbed her arms, ignoring the paramedic, and leaned over her.
"Frankie," he said as she blinked and coughed weakly, but then the paramedic pushed him aside.
"Excuse me," he said coldly, turning to Frankie and checking both her eyes with a piercing bright light. "How're you doing, lass? Chest hurt? Head hurt?"
"Chest hurts," Frankie murmured roughly, letting out another shuddering cough that sounded wet, as if her lungs had turned into two wet dishcloths. She struggled to sit up, and her gaze shifted past the paramedic. "Ryan-"
"Jesus Christ." Ryan pushed aside the paramedic again and hugged her tightly, nearly crushing her. He felt her grip the back of his jacket, shivering with cold. "Frankie, I - Jesus, I'm so, so sorry."
"It's okay," she said faintly. "I told you to go back."
"Not about that - well, kind of about that," he amended. "I made you go out on the water, when you knew that..." his voice trailed off, suddenly aware of the paramedic watching them.
"She must've conjured up the storm," Frankie said softly. "And done something to my life jacket so you couldn't touch it..."
The paramedic cleared his throat a little. "Are you sure your head's alright, lass?"
"Fine," Frankie assured him, her voice a little stronger. Ryan pulled back, eyes scanning over her to make sure she was really okay.
"Where's Tennyson?" she asked in sudden alarm.
"On the shore. He's fine," Ryan assured her. "I'm so freaking sorry, Franks."
"You're an idiot," she told him with a warm, tired smile. "But you're forgiven." She pulled him forward for a hug, resting her head on his shoulder. "Seriously, why would you ignore a warning from someone who's psychic?"
Frankie was really putting her foot in it today, Ryan thought to himself, noting the paramedic's face crinkle a little in confusion, but right then, he couldn't have cared less.
"Won't happen again," he promised her. He pulled away again to glance at the paramedic. "Could you check her arm? It looks pretty bad."
"I could," the paramedic said, giving Ryan a pointed look. He obligingly sat back on his heels, watching the paramedic pull back the sleeve of Frankie's ripped, bloody hoodie to reveal a six inch long gash, leaking scarlet. Water mixed with blood trailed in watery pink paths down her wound, and dripped onto the floor of the boat like rose petals. Ryan winced a little.
Frankie watched calmly as the paramedic dabbed away the streaks of glistening blood, staining the white tissue with blossoms of red. "I think I know why I didn't die," she said softly, addressing her words to the paramedic but glancing over at Ryan.
"Why's that, love?" the paramedic asked gently.
"I thought about my parents," she said simply. A gentle sigh whispered from her lips. "It kind of hurt at first, but then I started to think about good memories I had of them, and instead I felt..." Her eyes locked on Ryan's, trying discreetly to tell him something. "Hopeful. It gave me something to live for."
The paramedic glanced between Frankie and Ryan in confusion. Ryan explained for him, his mind whirring. "Frankie's parents died, um, ten months ago."
"I'm so sorry for your loss," the paramedic said sympathetically to Frankie, turning back to her arm.
"It's okay." Frankie was still watching Ryan. "Hope feels warm. It must be painful to something so cold."
The paramedic chuckled softly. "Poetic."
Ryan clicked it. "Oh. So..." So the Sirens couldn't touch her because of her will to live. Hope and happiness had saved her life.
Ryan grinned at her, suddenly so full of relief it almost hurt. "Told you you were amazing."
Frankie smiled. "Shucks," she said jokingly, despite the fact he could make out the heat flushing under her pale skin, warming her cheeks a little. Then she gave a hiss of pain as the paramedic dabbed antiseptic on the wound.
Ryan flinched as if it was his own pain. He still couldn't believe he'd been so stupid, nearly getting his best friend killed because of his stubborn determination to find Noah. Noah was worth a lot, but he wasn't worth that.
From the side of the boat came a high pitched puppy bark. Frankie's head shot up, pain forgotten.
"Tennyson!" she cried in delight and Ryan jumped down to pick up the wriggling puppy.
"Not now," the paramedic warned.
"I'll keep hold of him." Ryan clambered back up and went to sit on Frankie's other side. Tennyson wriggled in his arms, tongue lolling out in pleasure as Frankie scratched the velvety fur on top of his head.
"Good boy," she cooed, kissing his head.
"This'll need stitches," the paramedic informed her, gesturing to Frankie's arm. "I can't do that here." He glanced up at the sky. "Though at least the rain stopped."
Frankie's face had fallen. "So I'll have to go to hospital?"
"We'll take you," the paramedic assured her. "Is there anyone you need to get hold of?"
"He's already here," Frankie said absently, and then her face flushed pink. "Um - I mean - no, there isn't." She deliberately avoided Ryan's gaze.
"The dog can't come," the paramedic said, with an unenthusiastic glance at Tennyson.
Frankie gave Ryan an apologetic look, though he noticed her face was still red. "D'you think you could drop him at mine when you go home? Sorry, it's just..."
"That's fine." Ryan scratched Tennyson's head. "Or I could just take him back to mine. Look after him until you're out."
Frankie smiled gratefully. "Could you?"
"Sure." He shrugged. "We've got Lady's dog food and toys, and I could walk him so you don't need to..."
The paramedic's smile at Ryan was less of a sneer this time. He turned back to Frankie, where he was bandaging her arm temporarily. "That's a very good friend you've got there, sweetheart."
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:O DRAMA!!!!!
This chapter was awesomely fun to write :) Bring on the action and violence!!!
And there will be more of it to come :D
I know the back story, with all of Ryan and Frankie's friendship and their social activities (mostly Ryan's) are a little long and detailed (and I know I've said this before), but I find creating a rich life for characters brings them to life, if not for you guys, then at least for me :) So though you probably don't need to read about their random conversations , I enjoy writing them :) Consider them fillers.
I really hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!! Please drop in a vote if you did, and comment to let me know if R&F's conversations are too long/short/just right :)
LOVE YOU ! Xxxxxxxxx