Page 23 of Saved By the Selkie

Maybe they won’t be so upset about Lir if I just tell them what he is. That he’s a selkie, that he’s our ticket to fame and fortune. Nobody would believe us if we came back from Mythos empty-handed, but we have a selkie.

I don’t like the look in Johan’s eyes though, and the thought of sharing Lir’s secret with him makes my stomach twist unpleasantly.

I don’t want to share. Lir is my selkie, my prize. The crew mutinied on me; they don’t deserve a scrap of the riches that I’m going to make when I show my patron my real, live selkie, all the way from Mythos Island.

“I swear,” Johan says, but I shake my head and open the door to the doctor’s office.

“I don’t want to hear nothing more of this nonsense,” I tell him firmly, and I can tell he’s pissed off, but there’s nothing more for it. I’m not going to tell him anything about Lir.

The sky is dusky when we return to the ship, ready to tell the crew that they’re free to go to the alehouse. The doctor will come tomorrow to check everyone, and the supplies will arrive three days hence. I hope it’s soon enough—the night air is cold, and I wouldn’t be surprised if we wake up to see snow on the ground tomorrow. Ice in the harbor won’t be far behind.

Johan is silent; I’m not sure if that’s because he’s thinking, or if it’s because of what the doctor gave him before stitching that nasty gash on his forehead. Even though his attitude is shoddy, I feel bad for him—that cut is nasty. It must have hurt when it happened, and it must hurt still.

I give him leave to tell the crew about libations in thealehouse; I then charge Porthos with the same. I’m hoping Johan doesn’t take it into his head to use this time to plot against me, but I can’t be sure.

It’s risky, but the crew will be angrier if I make them stay here and mind the ship. If I let them go, then maybe they’ll see me as a lenient captain, one who is good to his mates.

There are only a few who stay behind to stand watch. They’ll get their turn tomorrow, certainly; we’re stuck here for three days, so I know there’s time for the whole crew to have at least some shore leave.

I’ve barely made it back to my quarters when there’s a knock at the door, and I’m confronted with Lir’s imposing form. I haven’t seen him all day. He didn’t come to me last night, and he wasn’t in his bunk this morning. I take it he went into hiding after the brawl broke out. My chest squeezes at the thought the fight was about him. I barely stay my hand, reaching for the butt of my gun. There’s no one to shoot, and marching down to the alehouse to shoot Johan in the back of his troublemaking head won’t win me any favor with the crew.

“Yes, Lir?”

He gives me a look, and I swallow tightly. There’s something wild in his eyes, something less human and more … selkie, I suppose.

“I need my pelt back,” he practically growls. No “captain,” no “Aramis,” no “please.”

I take a step back as he advances toward me. Sometimes, I forget how tall, how broad, how powerful he is. I hold up my hands. “Lir, we’ve been over this.”

“Now, Aramis,” he demands, lifting his head so he towers over me even more. Then he softens. “Please. The crew was fighting over food last night, and they feel I’ve had more than my fair share.”

He crumples a little bit, like he’s remembering something nasty. My heart constricts, wondering what cruel things the crew said to him. I know Lir thinks he could take any one of us in a fight—and he probably could, one on one—so last night would have been eye-opening.

Humans rarely fight one on one, and we don’t always fight with weapons in hand. Sometimes, words are more barbed.

I hold my hands out to my sides, palms up in a half-shrug. “It doesn’t matter now, Lir. We’ve made it to port, we’ve weighed anchor. The crew is down at the alehouse filling their faces, and we’ll have supplies loaded up three days hence.”

He gives me a sharp look. “Will it be enough?”

I almost wilt. I know it’s not; the shopkeep couldn’t sell us enough. I know he was likely holding some back, but even if he’d been willing to sell us everything he had and put his family on the street to die of starvation over the winter, I don’t know if we could have afforded that much more. “Of course!” I cry, puffing up my chest with false bravado. “It’s not far from here to Boston.”

I offer him a grin. He’s not buying it, still eyeing me warily. “I really do need my pelt back,” he offers finally, his tone much more subdued.

I shake my head. “I’m sorry, Lir—it’s just too dangerous. These waters—they’re really tricky. I don’t want you getting lost.” I lean over and squeeze his shoulder. “What if we never see each other again?”

Lir gives a huge, shuddering sigh. Then he swipes at his eyes—is he crying? The big mushball. I feel bad, manipulating him like this, but it’s the only way. I couldn’t possibly let him go. My chest gets tight and it’s hard to breathe every time I even think about what might happen if I give Lir his pelt. Maybe the first few times, he’ll just go fishing and come back. Maybe he’ll promise that he’ll always return.

But I know the stories about selkies—I’ve been boning up on my lore in the evenings; one of the tomes on mythology I brought along with us has several chapters on selkies (I’m still surprised Perry didn’t toss my books overboard). Even if Lir did come back at first, there’s a good chance that, eventually, he’ll simply slip away.

I can’t bear the thought of it. What would happen then, if I lose my only proof that I’ve been to Mythos? I’ll have to sail into New York empty-handed, a failure—and broke. None of my patrons will ever look me in the eye again, let alone give me more money to fund another expedition. I won’t be able to crew the ship or outfit her for any voyage.

I probably wouldn’t even be able to look for Lir, and that’s what hurts the most. The idea he’ll leave and I’ll never, ever see him again.

“It’s just,” he says, his voice clogged with misery, dragging me back from my anxiety-induced reverie.

There’s a thump and a cry, followed by a cheer, and then the telltale sound of gunshot. We freeze, staring at each other.

“What was that?” Lir stammers, eyes wide with terror.