Restless Waves

Chapter 3

The second night was the hardest because Rowan paced for most of it. Every time he sat down his eyes immediately shut. He felt extremely lethargic when the sun arrived over the horizon. A beautiful orange line above the sea blessed Rowan's sight, but he couldn't enjoy it. His body felt like he had fallen down the stairs; every limb ached.

Rowan's senses had mushed together to make one confusing mess. His brain wouldn't concentrate on anything for longer than ten minutes. Mandy assured Rowan that his body would adjust better with time, but Rowan always said that there was not going to be a next time.

"How long?" Rowan muttered. He didn't even have to find a mirror to know that he looked as tired as he felt. His bright green eyes were sitting above dark circles.

"You said you woke up at 7 am on Monday morning. It's now 5:30 am on Wednesday, so not long now," Mandy said, patting his back.

"How do you have enough strength to go on a hunt after not sleeping for two days?" Rowan asked. He felt so weak that holding his coffee mug was a two-handed job.

"Hunts are sometimes so extreme you forget that you haven't slept for ages. The danger of it forces you to stay alert. Your mind is always stronger than you think," Mandy said, aware that her son's hands trembled from the caffeine trying to keep him awake.

"When will you see the Thalassic Mortals?"

"Tonight, at around 9 pm. That's a perfect time to hunt."

Rowan finished his coffee and stretched his legs. He hoped he would reach a point in the day where he didn't feel like he was going to cry out of frustration. Waiting for the hunt was the most agonising wait of Rowan's life.

* * * * *

As the day crawled along, Rowan passed the 48-hour mark and he could see the supernatural world if he knew where to look. He wouldn't see the Thalassic Mortals unless he went searching for them himself. There was a pack of werewolves in their city, though they were incredibly hard for humans to find unless they shifted in front of a sleep deprived one, which was rare. Werewolves were one of the less problematic supernatural beings.

Rowan yawned and thought about how lucky he was to have Wednesdays off university. As a student, he had to use the day off to catch up on his work, but he was doubtful that students did that, and he could barely concentrate on his phone for longer than a few minutes at a time.

Rowan's eyes stung and his heart felt like it was beating harder and faster than usual. His neck often wanted to droop his head so that he could fall asleep. Rowan knew it wasn't healthy on his body, and he wondered how his mother had not yet suffered any serious health problems.

As the sun hovered low in the sky, Michael visited to see his son before his first mission. "Jesus, you look worse than your mother when she's had a nap," Michael said, staring at his son who sat grumpily at the kitchen table.

Mandy glared at Michael but said nothing. She was too busy packing weaponry.

"I'm not in the mood for jokes," Rowan grumbled. Sleep deprivation affected his mood exactly how he expected. His mood had been run over again and again until it was impossible for him to scrape it off the ground.

"I remember my first mission," Michael recalled and sat opposite Rowan at the table. "I threw up twice before my second night was even over."

"Weak," Mandy mumbled, and Rowan started to rub his temples, preparing his head for the argument.

"You don't know what weakness is," Michael muttered, and his ex-wife stopped what she was doing. "You're so bloody repressed. You don't feel a single emotion."