by Kelly Risser
“Oh, that’s right.” My grandmother looked upset for a moment, and then she smiled. “But clearly, you met Kieran very soon after.”
“We already knew each other,” I told her. “We met last year.”
My grandpa’s eyes narrowed. “You look older than Meara. You couldn’t have graduated with her.”
“No, sir.” Kieran straightened and gave my grandfather a polite nod. “We met through a mutual friend. I am a few years older than Meara.”
Few, I repeated, snorting in my mind.
Be nice, he scolded, but I saw his lips twitch, holding back a smile.
My grandmother looked between us with a confused expression. It was like she knew something more was going on, but she couldn’t figure out what it was.
“Dad’s good,” I said to distract her. “He sends his love.”
“He didn’t want to come with you, dear?” Grandma asked. “It would’ve been nice to see him.”
“He couldn’t get away from work, but I’ll let him know that you’d like to see him.” I smiled at her convincingly. “Maybe he can come with me next time.”
We continued to visit for a while, and then Grandma excused herself to make dinner. I went to help her, leaving Kieran and my grandpa to watch a car show together.
My grandma assigned me the task of rinsing and chopping the vegetables, and then assembling them into a salad, which was exactly my speed. I wasn’t much of a cook, and she knew it. She prepared stuffed pork chops, mashed potatoes, and French-style green beans. It looked delicious, but I hoped it wouldn’t be done for a while. I was still full from our late lunch.
“How long are you staying?” Grandma asked.
“We’ll probably leave the day after tomorrow.” I felt bad we couldn’t stay longer, but Kieran’s family was expecting us.
“So soon!” Grandma turned and faced me, her eyes shimmering with emotion. “It’s not much of a visit, is it?”
“Kieran’s family is expecting us in California,” I said.
“No, no. I understand.” She wiped her hands on a towel and dabbed at her eyes with the corner of it. “It’s nice that you stopped to visit with us at all.”
Seeing her so upset made my own eyes water. I wrapped my arm around her in a sideways hug. “Of course I came to visit. I’ll come whenever I can.”
“You’re not moving back here, are you?”
“No,” I said. “I’m going to stay in Scotland with my dad.”
“You’ll go to school there?” Her hands gripped my upper arms gently as she stared into my eyes. “College is important, Meara.”
“I know,” I said. “I’ll look into it.”
I couldn’t tell her that college was not important where I was going. I was sure if I wanted to go, I could. And maybe I would, but for the most part, Selkies had a different way of educating their kind.
“Good, good.” Her sharp gaze searched my face for a moment. I could tell she was looking for something, but I wasn’t sure what. Whatever it was, she saw something. Her features sharpened, and she said, “Come with me. I have something to show you.”
I followed her into my mother’s old room. They had changed the décor, but I still felt her in this room. I swear the faint scent of gardenia hung in the air. Unlike the rest of the house, this room gave me a sense of peace. I didn’t understand why, because this was the one spot where I thought I would have the most trouble.
Grandma rummaged in the closet for a few minutes and came out with a small, wooden chest. The lid was dusty, but the wood was in great shape overall. She sat on the edge of the bed and placed the chest next to her, motioning for me to sit on the other side of it. “I have something to show you. This is something that has been in my family for many generations.”
She opened the lid, and the smell of the sea filled the air. For a moment, I heard the call of the ocean before the waves faded to silence. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what, sweetheart?” Her expression was difficult to read.
“Nothing.” I looked down, but I only saw sheets of white linen. “What’s in the box?”
With a small smile, my grandma nudged the box closer to me. “Why don’t you tell me?”
Curious, both by her behavior and by the unknown contents of the wooden trunk, I lifted the linen out of the way and gasped. Beneath the careful wrapping lay a pair of fine suede gloves. “May I touch them?”
“You may.”
My grandma’s voice had grown quiet, but I was no longer watching her reaction. My entire focus was on the contents of the box. I lifted them out and ran a finger over the smooth leather. No, not leather. Skin. This was a Selkie pelt. There was no doubt in my mind. I wondered whose it was, and how the owner had come to lose it. I knew the Selkie was female. The gloves were small and narrow. I hoped she had given them by choice.
“Where did these come from?” I asked.
“You know what they are.” It was a statement, not a question. I nodded anyway. She returned my nod once in confirmation. “So do I. This was the skin of a Selkie, my great grandmother, many times removed. Her name was Bethany, and she fell in love with a human and married him.”
My eyes widened. “You’re part Selkie.”
She held her forefinger and thumb close together and grinned. “A little, but not as much as you.”
“How long have you known?” I asked.
“I speculated for years, but it wasn’t until David returned last fall looking almost exactly as he had eighteen years earlier that I realized the truth.” She squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything to you, honey. At first, I felt it wasn’t my place, and then, the more time that passed, the harder it was for me to figure out how to break it to you.”
I wasn’t mad at her. How could I be? I was surprised, but she didn’t lie to me. There was nothing to be angry about. If anything, I was relieved that she knew so I had someone else to confide in. “And Grandpa Jamie? Does he know?”
Her laugh came out like a sharp bark. “He does. Why else do you think he changed his tune toward your father last spring? You don’t think he really forgave him or bought into David’s charm, do you?”
I grinned, remembering the icy dinners when my father first started coming around again. “I guess not. It makes a lot more sense this way.” Running my fingers over the soft skin again, I asked, “Does Dad know that you both know?”
“Not unless Sharon told him,” Grandma said, her voice growing sad. “I never showed this to her until last spring. If she would’ve confided in me, maybe I could have helped. Maybe she would’ve never left; I don’t know.”
“You can’t worry about what could have been.” Truer words were never spoken. As I said them, I remembered how often my mom had said that exact phrase to me.
She wiped at her eyes. “You’re right. But I can’t help but think, if she knew, she might’ve made different choices.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Hang on a second.” Once again, she returned to the closet. This time, she found what she wanted much quicker. It was a shoebox decorated with girlish handwriting, stickers, and drawings. “This belonged to your mother. She left it here when she moved away with you. Over the years, I looked through it, to see if I could learn anything.”
“And did you?”
“I did,” she said. “A lot.”
She placed the box in her lap, removed the lid, and tucked it underneath. “You’re welcome to whatever you find in here. Take the whole box if you want.” She rummaged through a few things until she found a small, leather-bound book. “But start with this. I think it might give you some insight into both of your parents.”
After handing me the book—it was a diary or journal by the look of it—she patted my shoulder and stood. “I’m going to go and keep your grandfather company and release your young man from his responsibility. Would you like me to send him back?”
“Yes, please.”
She shut the door behind her, but I barely
noticed. I had already flipped the journal open and begun to read.
April 1994
Uncle Angus told him not to go, but David didn’t listen. His parents were dead, and it was up to him to determine who killed them and why.
Their last-known whereabouts was Nova Scotia, home to his mother’s clan. They were Selkies, and while they didn’t live with humans, they did live nearby—close enough to enjoy the simple luxuries that human technology had created.
His family’s home was Ronac, an island north of Scotland, protected by magic and undetectable by humans. The Acadia clan lived on an island northeast of Nova Scotia. It was also hidden by magic and only detectable by other Selkies. They thought they were safe, but they were wrong. From what he had been told, his parents had gone to the mainland for dinner. His mother, Margaret, had a weakness for the Opera and Italian food. It was something she indulged in only once a year during their visit to her parents. While they were out, someone, or something, poisoned their meal. Realizing what had happened, they transported back to their bedroom in Acadia, but it was too late. His parents died on the bed, asphyxiated by their own blood. Now, he was here to retrace their steps and discover who, or what, did this.
“David.”
His grandfather’s voice was low and gravelly. His temples heavy with gray, he was old, even by Selkie standards. Margaret had been his youngest child. David was the oldest of seven and full grown, and his mother was not young when she died. Not that it mattered. It was still too early. She was healthy and should’ve had many years left. Someone robbed her of that. He would find that person and make them pay.
His grandfather, Marvin, strode forward and warmly hugged David. “Thank you for coming.”
David hugged him back, comforted by his rich, smoky scent. His grandfather had always loved cigars. “I would do nothing less,” he said.
Marvin chuckled and let David go. “I understand Angus was against it?”
Grinning, David said, “As if Angus could stop me.”
His grandfather’s eyes twinkled with merriment, and he gestured to the house. “Come along, Aggie’s waiting for you, and we mustn’t keep your grandmother waiting.”
The village spread out in front of them, simple one-story structures of gray stone. It was very different from David’s home, which was an impressive fortress built into the side of a cliff. These dwellings were modest. His grandparents, who were the leaders of the clan, lived in the only two-story building. It appeared grandiose by their standards, but small compared to the fortress at Ronac.
His grandfather opened the weathered, wooden door and waited for David to pass. The spicy, savory smell of stew meat filled the room. Grandmother must be cooking.
“My boy!”
She came around the corner with her hands raised, intent on pinching his cheeks. It was her favorite greeting. Her tiny form only came chest high on David, but she managed to get a strong grip on his face. “So handsome. Why aren’t you mated yet? Where are my great-grandpups?”
Wincing, he rubbed the spot where her bony fingers had pinched muscle. The questions made him cringe, too. It was always the same, and he had no interest in settling down, especially now.
“Leave David alone,” his grandfather grumbled. “You know why he is here, and it’s not to find a female.”
Aggie’s smile dropped, and her bright eyes filled with tears. “My poor Margaret, and your father Ian. Who could’ve done this?”
David pulled her into his arms, wrapping his body around her petite frame. She felt as frail as a bird. Of course, he knew better. His grandmother had bones of steel. “That’s what I’m here to find out.”
With surprising strength, she pushed out of his arms and waggled a finger. “You keep yourself safe, you here? I won’t be mourning another life anytime soon.”
Marvin rolled his eyes behind his wife and sank into a chair. He pulled a cigar out of his pocket and chewed on the end. He wouldn’t dare light it in the house. No one wanted to be on the receiving end of Aggie’s wrath. She was part-seal and part-pit bull, or so it seemed.
“Now that you’re here, sit, sit!” She waved her hands at the table, and David dropped into the chair next to his grandfather, who grinned around his cigar. “You look like you haven’t eaten in weeks. No man should be so thin. Let me feed you.”
Moments later, bowls laden with steaming stew were placed in front of them, along with two mugs of ale. They ate with gusto—Aggie was an amazing cook—and took seconds when they were offered. Eventually, David sat back and rubbed his very full stomach. “Delicious as always. Thank you.”
“No need to thank me,” she said, although her bright eyes filled with pleasure. “Let me show you where you’ll be staying. You are staying here, aren’t you?”
“When I can.” David stood and followed her down the hall. Although her back was to him, he knew she was listening. His grandmother also had super hearing. “I may stay on the mainland as well, depending on where I pick up a trail.”
She stopped and turned, a hopeful expression on her face. “You think you will then? You think you can find out who did this? Even our best guards had no luck.”
The best guards at Acadia were the worst ones at Ronac. This clan was not known for its prowess, and why should it be? Nova Scotia was dotted with small fishing villages, surely no threat for Selkies unless one didn’t know how to avoid the traps set for fish, not seals. Or rather, it had seemed safe. Until now.
“I will find the killer.” He couldn’t keep the venom out of his voice. “I won’t stop until I do.”
****
That night, when everyone else was asleep, David investigated the room where his parents died. Stepping into the darkness, he let his senses take over. An unfamiliar scent lingered in the air. It was slightly bitter, but not like anything he had smelled before. After lighting a lantern, he sighed. Regrettably, someone had already gotten to the room and cleaned it, which meant much of the evidence would be gone too. The bed was neatly made, the sheets fresh. It was obvious the wooden floor had been meticulously scrubbed as well. Beyond the strange, lingering odor, he didn’t find anything else in the room.
The only window was a single pane on the far wall that faced the ocean. He checked the latch and found it secured. There was dust on the ledge, which made him roll his eyes. Someone painstakingly scrubbed the clues away, but neglected the standard cleaning. Why could no one leave the damn evidence alone? Had they never heard of a crime scene investigation?
In a decidedly crabby mood, he left the bedroom and headed out the nearest door, scouting the path to the water’s edge. The real question was how someone—or something—knew his parents were here or at least knew their routine. They always came for a visit at Moon of Winds, which was the month of his mother’s birth. The only other option was that it was a random killing, but that didn’t feel right to David. Poison was personal. Poison took forethought. Unless his parents were the ill-fated recipients of another victim’s meal, which he didn’t believe, someone had targeted them.
Within a few hours, David had already determined that the island was not going to provide any clues. In the morning, he would leave for the mainland and see if he could pick up a trail there. The oily, dank scent from the bedroom imprinted in his memory. Whether it was a remnant from the killer or the remains of the poison, he didn’t know. Either way, it was a clue. If he could find it along the shore, he could surely track it to the source. At this point, it was his only lead.
****
Morning came too soon. With a pounding headache, he buried his head under the pillow when his grandfather came to wake him. The reprise lasted until Marvin pulled the pillow off his grandson’s head and tossed it to the corner of the room. “None of that,” he scolded. “You know how your grandmother feels about breakfast.”
Breakfast was sacred to Aggie. She rallied the clan around the table like the fiercest of soldiers. Although the hour was ungodly—the sun had barely broken the horizon—the reward was f
luffy omelets, fried ham, and hot coffee.
It wasn’t a problem to dive into the platters of food, and everyone else seemed to agree. Conversation was minimal as stomachs were filled and coffee consumed. By the end of the meal, David actually started to feel a little more like himself, whether it was from the food or caffeine. Maybe a little of both.
“I’m leaving today.” He set down his napkin and turned to his grandparents.
Aggie frowned at him. “So soon?”
“I’ll be back,” he assured her. “But there are no clues for me here. Who cleaned my parents’ room?”
“I did.” Aggie shuddered delicately. “All that blood.”
“All that blood was a clue, Grandma,” he said, not unkindly.
Her voice took on an edge of steel. “Well, it turned my stomach. You can’t expect me to pass by a room day in and day out that’s filled with my daughter’s blood. It was torture!”
There was no sense arguing with her. What was done was done, and David couldn’t go back and change it. It was time to focus on what he could find in Nova Scotia. A trail had to pick up there. Even if the killer had a different end destination in mind, the mainland was so close. It would’ve made the ideal hideout for a day or two. Who knew? There was a chance that the Selkies were still being scouted, the murderer targeting the next victim. Time was of the essence. While he knew his grandparents wanted him to stay and visit, there would be opportunity for that once the murderer was caught and punished.
“Thanks for breakfast.” David stood. “I’ll be leaving within the hour, but I’ll be back soon.”
Marvin stood too. He exchanged a look with Aggie, and then motioned to David. “Come with me,” he said. “I have something for you.”
David followed him to his grandparents’ bedroom at the end of the hall. On top of the dresser, Marvin opened a wooden box and pulled out a gold chain. “This was your father’s.”
“I remember.” David took the chain from Marvin’s outstretched hand.
“Your grandmother is currently wearing your mother’s necklace. If you recall, they’re a set. They allow the wearers to communicate telepathically with each other.” He paused, and then gestured impatiently. “Go ahead, put it on.”
