Cyrus was not fooled, rousting him from the folds of the cool cotton quilt. He rushed him through breakfast and a shower. “No clothes today, my love. You won’t need them.” Cyrus retrieved his trusty backpack and placed a cloth-wrapped bundle in it reverently. He shouldered it and slapped Will’s arse, too forcefully to be playful. “Let’s go.” At the beach Cyrus slipped immediately into the water, changing form even before he was under the wavelets. Will was left standing on the beach. He looked around, but realized quickly there was nowhere for him to go. Nowhere he could hide. He watched Cyrus reach the runabout anchored a hundred yards off the beach, and effortlessly pull himself aboard. In minutes it was nosing onto the shore, and Cyrus held his hand over the side to help Will climb in. He ushered him into the cabin, pointing at the double berth. “I want you to lie down on your side.” Will’s eyes flicked involuntarily to Cyrus’s face, to see if he was serious.
