by Ashley McLeo
“I’m sorry,” Selma murmured. “I didn’t consider how it would affect the rest of you.”
The waiter came by their table. Selma, unsure she could keep much down after her revelation, ordered a salad and water. When she turned back to Abby, she saw her friend’s face had softened.
“It’s not that I’m jealous or upset that now I have so much more shit to do because you’re gone. I know you don’t know a lot about this city, but I was serious when I warned you against Vivienne. I’d watch out Sel, she has a lot of power in this city. Once she discovers what Andrew did, I doubt it will go over well.”
Selma bit her lip. It wasn’t like she could help it. Her magic had been acting so weird. Not for the first time, Selma wondered if she should tell her friend what she was, if only to get something off her chest. The words were on the tip of her tongue when Abby pushed out her chair.
“I have to go, I’m already late and don’t want to lose my job. I just wanted to make sure you heard what I said earlier. Be careful. You may have Andrew under your thumb, but Vivienne is a different story. She’s a beast when you’re in her way—straight up cruel. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll avoid her.” Abby threw down a twenty. “I’ll see you around,” she said and walked out of the bistro.
Selma flung her head into her hands.
What am I going to do? I need this job. The money is so good—especially now that I’m working under Andrew. And there wasn’t much else I was qualified for.
The waiter set her salad on the table with gentle hands. Selma lifted her gaze and forced herself to smile. Immediately, the man turned back toward her, clearly hopeful she would pay him more attention. Selma sighed.
“I’m fine,” she said waving him away.
At least when Mary is visiting in a few weeks I’ll have time off and won’t have to deal with the Andrew issue.
Mary, an Irish water witch with siren powers, had visited Menorca a few years ago. Selma had been instantly taken with her and they became fast friends. And although they’d been reckless party goers plenty of times, Mary had always been the one to bring their duo back to earth.
Here I am, needing Mary to be my rock yet again.
A Leak
Selma ran around her apartment, frantically performing last minute cleaning. Her morning had disappeared in a haze of walking the streets of New York. Hours spent siphoning off the abundance of power she’d woken up to singing in her blood like the call of her ancestors to men at sea. She didn’t want Mary to sense the excess magic Andrew prompted in her when she arrived. As a witch who had acquired siren magic somewhere in her family line, Mary would be qualified to give Selma an opinion on how to remedy the situation. She had an inkling Mary’s advice would be to quit the high paying, low stress job Selma had grown to like despite the effect Andrew had on her magic.
She’d done the math. Five months working as Andrew’s secretary, earning an overblown salary would afford her an entire year off doing as she pleased. Starting the fashion line of her dreams, with textiles reminiscent of her home country had never been so within her reach. Even with the recent annoyance of her magic running her ragged, Selma could not argue with the freedom those numbers provided. Five months was nothing, even if she had to contend with her feelings for Andrew every day.
She checked the clock just as her apartment buzzer sounded. Mary was right on time. Selma did one last visual sweep of the apartment before running down the stairs to meet her friend. A smile split her face the moment she caught sight of Mary’s blonde hair and hot pink suitcase.
“Chica!” Selma cried wrenching open the door to her building and leaping at Mary, who laughed and caught her.
“Sel! It’s so good to see you. I still can’t believe you live here now. I kept having to pinch myself on the cab ride here!” Mary’s sapphire eyes shone with excitement.
Selma nodded. Despite being in the city for months now—having a job, a couple friends, and even a handful of places she frequented where people greeted her by name—she had a hard time believing it, too. She was sure her lingering sense of being a newcomer came down to the fact that she had yet to find what drew her to the Big Apple in the first place. Life was good here, but she still felt something was still missing.
“Come on. I’ll show you my flat. Oops, I mean apartment. Americans don’t say ‘flat’. My friend Abby is always telling me I must get better at my American English.” Selma rolled her eyes as she hefted Mary’s rose-patterned duffle up the stairs.
“Goddess be, if I had to climb stairs like that every day I’d lose twenty pounds like that.” Mary snapped her fingers when they finally reached the top and collapsed on Selma’s couch.
“And men all over the world would weep,” Selma replied, filling a glass of water and handing it to her friend.
Mary smirked. “Too right they would. So, tell me what you’ve been up to? We’ve barely talked since you moved here.”
“I’ve only spoken with my family a few times, too. Long distance calls to Spain are even more expensive than to Ireland.” Selma settled down next to her friend and swung her legs over Mary’s as she turned sideways to face the blonde witch. Mary pulled them into her lap, a gesture of familiar friendship. Once, Selma recalled, she’d done the same to Abby, who had immediately scoffed and knocked her legs off.
That’s how you know who your best friends are. Perhaps one day Abby and I will get there.
“Welcome to my bachelorette pad!” Selma threw her arms wide.
The witch nodded. “It’s rather larger than I'd pictured it. You always hear those horror stories about New York apartments, but this must be the same size as my flat in Galway.”
“The landlord said it’s almost eight hundred square feet. I got a deal,” she raised her eyebrows.
Mary laughed. “You didn’t?”
“Si, I did. Otherwise I’d be in one of those closet apartments you’re talking about and you’d never be able to visit me.”
They chatted for over an hour. Selma told Mary about her job, omitting that the head of the company wanted her as his personal receptionist largely because he was teetering on the edge of enchantment. Mary told her about the esteemed midwifery apprenticeship she was taking on in Galway.
“Brigit is taking over all the clients for our business at home, which is suiting her fine. She’s found a man—Aengus Clery—and I don’t think I told you before, but they’re pregnant! Haven’t been to see a doctor yet, so the gender is unknown but there’s a wee McKay on the way!”
Selma clapped her hands together and beamed.
“So now Brig wants to earn as much money of her own before the birth. She’ll take time off after and Aengus will have to support them for a while. It’s why I had to do the apprenticeship now, though Gwenn has been a huge help filling in when Brig needs it,” Mary finished.
“And your little sister? Aoife?”
“Aye, Aoife is in Dublin, staying with a family friend. She’s learning how to channel energies from a master there. She’s becoming a right jack of all trades our Aoife.”
Selma sighed.
“Missing your family?” Mary asked as if she could read Selma’s mind, which Selma knew was not one of Mary’s strong suits. Siren powers, water magic, and an interest in eclectic fashion were Mary’s fortes.
“Si,” Selma admitted, her lip sticking out. “But I believe this is where I belong. Something called me to this city and I’m determined to discover what it is.”
Mary put her hand on Selma’s shoulder and Mary's cool, calming energy washed over her. It was always this way around those with siren magic. Sirens, even part sirens like Mary, had the ability to calm the magic within other sirens. It was why so many of Selma’s kind stayed with their familial group until they married, and why many more never left the communities they were born into.
“I can’t imagine leaving my family and moving so far away. I doubt I’ll ever leave Ireland.”
That was not an idea Selma understood. She�
��d known for years that Menorca did not have everything she was looking for. She’d only needed to find the courage to set out on her own. And while it had taken years, she’d finally done it. “Well, it’s not like they cannot come visit. Or I can’t return home for vacation.” Selma shrugged. “It’s the 90’s, Mar! Traveling has become easy and there’s a lot to see in this city.”
“Speaking of which.” Mary flung Selma’s legs off her own and grinned in a familiar, mischievous way. “What are we doing sitting on the couch? Shouldn’t we be out exploring?”
They entered the bar and every head turned.
“Wow! Now I can see why you never want to leave.” Mary locked eyes with a tall, raven haired man eyeing her. “There must be more attractive men in this room than all of Ireland. And they’re quite smart dressers!” Mary smoothed out the skin-tight black dress that hugged her curves.
A dozen mouths fell open. How Selma had missed going out on the town with Mary. Her friend was capable of commanding the attention of the opposite sex, and often the same sex, nearly as well as Selma. Tall, blonde and Irish, to Selma’s petite, dark, and Spanish the duo was a combo irresistible to most men. The pair sashayed to the bar and a dark haired bartender came over—bypassing dozens of people who had, by the looks on their sour faces, been waiting for some time.
“Hi there, I’m Rich. Welcome to North 40. What can I get you, ladies?”
“A lemon drop, please,” Mary chirped.
“I’d love a champagne,” Selma purred.
“My kind of gal. Although it seems I’d have competition claiming that.” Rich looked around the bar and shrugged. “What can I say? The men in here have good taste.” Deep dimples flashed in his cheeks and he went to make their drinks.
A thrill raced through Selma. This bartender was hot. As attractive as Andrew, and she could already tell, less cocky. Selma leaned over the bar and twirled her locks around her finger, watching Rich work.
Soon enough, he returned with their drinks and leaned into the bar, clearly intent on staying a while.
“I couldn’t help but notice the accents. Are you two visiting?”
“I live here, but she is visiting,” Selma replied.
“God love New York for bringing the best of the best to America. What are your plans besides setting the town on fire tonight?”
Selma laughed. There was something about this man that made her want to talk to him. And so they stayed a while, chatting with the bartender and picking up tips on what to do in the city while Mary visited.
“Well, I should probably help my partner.” Rich gestured to the other bartender, bogged down by the crowd surrounding the bar. “Would you ladies like to start a tab or cash out? I’d recommend the former. I’m sure there are a dozen men in here who would pick up your tab later.”
“Actually you can put these ladies drinks on my tab,” a deep voice said.
“Way to work it,” Rich whispered just loud enough so Selma and Mary could hear, and winked.
A pleasurable flutter rose in Selma’s belly as Rich’s dimple flashed again.
“Thank you,” Mary said, turning to the man who’d bought the drinks a second before Selma. “My name’s Mary.” Mary stuck out her hand which the man, a redhead with green eyes, clasped in his own.
Immediately, Mary’s smile fell off her face.
Selma’s eyes widened as she realized a second too late what Mary was picking up on. The man’s hazy eyes and punch drunk appearance. This man had magic all over him—Selma’s magic. He was probably one of the men she’d sprayed this morning in preparation for Mary’s arrival. A man who’d gotten too strong a dose.
“Yes, yes,” Selma fumbled to fill the awkward gap in conversation. “Thank you. My name is Selma, it’s a bit crowded in here. Do you have a table we can join you at?”
“I’m Conner, and would I dare approach two beautiful women if I didn’t?” Conner’s tone was grandiose, showy, a side-effect of his enchantment. “Follow me, ladies.”
Selma bit her lip as she fell in step behind a tight-shouldered Mary. Maybe Mary will forget about this if she can find a tasty American to snog tonight.
Selma’s hopes plummeted as they approached Connor’s table and his friends stood to welcome them, otherness pulsing off all of them—their eyes cloudy and wide.
Dios mio.
“Spill it,” Mary commanded as they left the bar.
Selma winced at the harsh tone of her friend’s normally sweet, soprano voice.
“Why did they all reek of your magic? Are they in your thrall?”
“I don’t think so.” Selma instantly realized it was the wrong thing to say.
“Excuse me? You don’t think so? What have you been doing here? And why didn’t I sense your magic when I came to your apartment? If all these people feel like you, it should be everywhere . . . unless . . . you’re releasing it randomly? That’s why you're unsure if they’re merely enchanted or slipped all the way into a thrall! Don’t you know that’s dangerous?”
Selma stopped dead in her tracks. “Yes, Mary. Believe it or not, a siren would know her actions are dangerous, even more so than a witch would.” Her shoulders cinched near her ears.
“I didn’t mean it like that!” Mary threw her hands up. “But if your apartment doesn’t feel of your magic and all those men did, I have to assume your releasing magic for some reason. If that’s not the case, tell me what you’re doing. Otherwise, I’ll assume the worst.”
“As if you haven’t already.”
“So you aren’t going to tell me?”
Selma sighed. She would have to tell Mary something. Especially if she wanted Mary to stay for the duration of her trip, which she did. Mary’s grounding influence was making her feel calmer than she had in a very long time. Her magic hadn’t slipped all day. “You have to promise not to freak out.”
Mary raised her eyebrows but nodded.
Words tumbled through the dark streets of Manhattan. Selma told Mary everything: about the night of the Faerie Fall Ball, the day afterwards, the fervor of dates she’d gone on to distract herself from Andrew, the gala where Vivienne had insulted her, then the surprise date with Andrew himself, and finally her promotion.
“That’s a right ballsy man! Commandeering your date then transferring you to work for him and not give you any say! I can see your predicament, but you can’t keep going on like this. You’re putting innocents in a siren stupor that could escalate into a thrall at any minute. When are you going to tell him off?”
Selma quirked her head. “Tell him off?”
“You can’t stay there being his eye candy. You have to leave and tell him not to contact you again. The Selma I knew would never let a man use her in that way.”
A man has never had enough money to pay me what I needed to change my life, follow my dreams, so quickly. The thought made her cringe, but it was true. Her family had never had much money, they’d never needed it in Menorca, living their simple, yet fulfilling life. But New York was different. If she wanted to do anything of value in the world, she’d need sufficient funds.
“Selma?” Mary prodded.
“Selma!” Another voice screamed before Selma could come up with an answer she thought might appease Mary. Kayla was across the street, waving from the entrance of a bar she frequented, Abby scowling at her side.
“Can we talk about this later?” Selma asked.
Preferably after a half dozen shots, so you forget all about it?
Mary nodded. “But let me be clear. We will talk about it. Tomorrow.”
The Madness Creep
“Wake up, sleeping beauty.”
Selma’s eyes cracked open as Mary flung the curtains wide.
“Ay! Why so early?” Selma whined and placed a hand over her eyes.
“Because I’m on Irish time and only in the city for a week. Now, up!” She held out her hands and Selma took them.
Without any muscular effort on her part, Selma was lifted from her bed. Her head pounded. �
�Water? And a painkiller?”
“Both are on your nightstand. Meet me in the living room when you’re done taking them—then we’ll talk. Don’t think I won’t come back in here and lift you out of bed again either.” Sapphire eyes bore into her.
Selma sighed. Apparently, her plan to ply Mary with shots so she’d forget all about their talk had only worked on herself. She took the pills and chugged the glass of water before changing into sweatpants and a sweatshirt. If she had to be interrogated at least she could be comfy.
Mary was waiting on the sofa, a mug of coffee between her hands, another glass of water and a mug of coffee on the table. Selma sank into the couch with a groan and picked up the coffee. “Go ahead, ask away.”
“Why are you planning on continuing to work for that man?” Mary held up her hand, when Selma opened her mouth to contradict her. “Don’t lie to me. I knew your answer last night, or more accurately, your evasion of an answer. I want the real truth.”
Selma frowned. It was amazing really, how well Mary knew her, despite rarely seeing each other. “Fine, truthfully, it’s all about the money. I didn’t acquire many skills at home. I never had to. Everything was easy for me and my family because people loved us so much. It’s not like that here. The job I had before Andrew promoted me was menial and I barely managed to keep up.” Selma’s eyes dropped to her mug, hating what she was about to say—the admission that went against her pride. “This city is expensive and Andrew is willing to pay me more than I’m worth. I’d like to be able to do something for myself and that wouldn’t happen with my old salary.”
Mary’s jaw hardened. “I can’t believe you just said that about yourself.”
“It’s real life, though. I don’t have a support system like I do back home. Plus, I know this job isn’t a forever thing, which makes it easier.”
