The Modern Fae's Guide to Surviving Humanity (20 page)

Ilane moved to center stage, a smile on her face. “Good afternoon, everyone. Welcome to the seal show!” She raised a hand and Carrick pulled himself up onto the stage with a dry bark, rolling and lifting fins on command as the audience cheered.

Dylan had to admit, it was an elegant solution. Nestled in the middle of the human sea park, their territory protected and preserved, the selkies held court. Sure, they carried on like new pups, rolling and barking and begging for the amusement of their audience, but in the
soft smile of a woman watching her young child clap and shout in glee, Dylan felt it all come together. There was salt enough, glittering in laughing eyes, pleasure enough to get his pulse pounding. He was off center in this world that kept changing, but here, there was a chance to settle in. Theirs was a symbiotic relationship, human and selkie—it may well be this was the better option as opposed to skulking from shore to shore, carefully guarding his seal skin and still unable to stay away from those who would take it.

Ilane made her way through the emptying stands after the show, stopping for bits of conversation here and there before reaching Dylan where he still sat. “Well?” Her teeth flashed white and sharp in her quick smile. “Perfect, isn't it?”

“I'll consider it.” He wanted to answer her wide smile with one of his own. There was an obvious, easy companionship between the selkies, one that made him almost itchy with the need to be a part of it. But he could smell the harsh tang of automobiles and unidentifiable bits of food that were too close and too strong. It made him want to back up a bit, slip into the water and reassess the situation. “Are you sure I couldn't just join the tank side of things?” Still the center of attention, inspiring salt and smile, but safe in the water—that would be easier to get used to, to deal with.

“No way. I get my bit of retirement if you join up. Who knows when the next selkie will chance through?” Ilane snorted, plopping down into the chair next to Dylan.

“Exactly. If I agree to this, what happens when I decide I've had enough?”

“Selkies are immortal. I am sure one will snatch back
a skin, or get bored of slipping around the shore and hoping for the best. Someone will come through, skin clutched, but not quite close enough, and you can have your chance at making a deal.”

“Stealing a skin seems so …” Dylan floundered around for a word that had enough disgust and discomfort in it to express the sinking feeling in his stomach, the way his lip wanted to curl.

“Better another selkie than a human.” Ilane shrugged. “It's a good life, brother. It's just been long enough for me. For now.”

There had been so many people in the stands. They had stared at her, at them, entranced. The air had been thick with happiness, adoration, exultation… . It had been enough to keep him from remembering the look on Aine's face as she left, the feeling of waking on lonely stones, the snorting and snoring of his family missing from the night.

Ilane had a flush to her skin and a glitter to her eyes that Dylan had not seen gracing a selkie in a long time. It was the poise of a Seal Maiden positioned perfectly on the shore, catching every stray moonbeam in her hair. It was the assurance of a selkie male cresting a wave, hands outstretched toward the human woman grasping after him. It was a confidence Dylan didn't remember losing, but having had that little epiphany, he couldn't bear being without.

Humans were meant to be enthralled by selkies. Dylan inhaled, tasting the salt in the air, holding it before exhaling and meeting Ilane's raised eyebrow with a crooked smile. “I will give it a shot.”

Dylan would put on a seal show they would never forget.

*    *    *

Carrick sprawled across some concrete masquerading as a bluff, dark eyes open only a sliver to acknowledge Dylan's entrance as he soaked in the afternoon sun, fins spread to maximize his basking. Ilane had settled beside him, distinctive nose propped on his back, mimicking his half-nap. Only Murel seemed restless, swimming circles around the deep tank, much to the delight of the crowd that gathered at the lower viewing area watching her lithe movements through a pane of glass set below water level. The attention of the seals was always on him, at least a little, visible in the way nostrils flared occasionally, whiskers twitched, and eyes rolled ever so slightly beneath lazy lids.

Ilane's nose worked and one eye cracked open. With a stretch and a snort Ilane rolled herself off of Carrick and into the water. She joined Murel in her laps around the tank and Dylan indulged in his own stretch as park patrons started to gather in the seating area positioned to give them a good view of water and demonstration area.

The children were his favorites, leaning as far over the railing between themselves and the seals as possible, eyes and mouth wide open in the thoughtless joy they had not yet learned to suppress. The parents had their cameras, and often a hand on the more exuberant of their offspring, just in case. They couldn't fall in, not with the additional wall of glass between rail and water, but it was a reflexive gesture, and one Dylan approved of.

Making his way from demonstration area to bluff, Dylan whistled quietly at Carrick. “C'mon, old man. Let's earn our keep.” He rubbed a hand along Carrick's speckled side, ending with a pointed push as Carrick's eyes seemed intent on sneaking back shut.

Carrick huffed in irritation, admitting Dylan was more likely correct. He wriggled to the edge of the bluff, mouth open as he gave the distinctive wheezing bark before sliding down into the water.

Dylan took a minute to be envious of his charges, gliding effortlessly through the tank, touching here and there with fin and nose, holding lengthy conversations that the audience missed, before moving back to the center of the demonstration stage. He smiled at Karen, his show partner, as she entered through the well-hidden staff entrance, and turned on his microphone.

“Good morning! And welcome to the seal show.” Ilane, familiar with the routine, made her way up into the shallow water at the edge of the stage.

Dylan lifted a hand and Ilane mirrored the gesture with a flipper, rolling on her side to accommodate the motion, mouth gaping open in a mocking grin. Dylan tossed her a fish, ignoring the amusement glittering in her dark eyes as she swallowed and wriggled off the stage and back into the water.

So clumsy on land, the seals were a delight to watch in the water. The crowd gathered to see them perform; sliding up onto the stage like Carrick was doing in response to a practiced gesture from Dylan. But the real show was in the tank where the girls swam complex patterns around each other, enjoying the feel of the water, exulting in the way the audience gaped at them in amazed enjoyment.

Dylan kneeled down as Carrick hauled himself close, moving like a sort of aquatic caterpillar as he propelled himself with rippling muscles. The bull seal was old, and his size impressed the crowd. “This here is Carrick.” Dylan bent close, allowing Carrick to press a wet snout
against his cheek. The audience clapped and laughed, but none laughed harder than Carrick, a dry rolling cough as he backed away, teasing and taunting with his expression. “Carrick is our old man, and quite taken with little Ilane.” A scatter of chuckles from the adults in the crowd greeted that statement as Dylan tossed Carrick the anticipated fish and watched as he carried it back into the water before turning his attention back to the crowd.

“Ilane, unfortunately, appears to be rather taken with you, sir.” Dylan picked a young man standing near the edge of the audience, and as close to the glass dividing them from the seals as possible. He had been back every day for some time now, staying as long as possible each time, eyes glued to Ilane's sinuous swimming. There was something twisting behind his startled expression as Dylan addressed him, enough of the Old World in that one to be caught in the glimmer of Ilane's magic as she danced through the water.

“You, sir, what is your name?”

The young man blinked wide eyes twice before answering. “Nick.”

“Karen, if you could bring Nick over to the stage here, I think Ilane wants to give him a kiss.”

Dylan was afraid for a moment that Nick was going to suffer an unfortunate bit of heart failure before he made it to the stage, the way his eyes went wide and he fumbled every other step, but Karen delivered him in more or less one piece. Dylan patted him in what he hoped was a reassuring fashion, trying to keep a toothy grin from breaking across his face.

Gesturing for Ilane to come, Dylan waited until she had slipped up into the shallow water at its edge before
coaxing Nick to kneel. It was a familiar scene—every seal show played it through daily. The audience member kneels as the seal, at a command from its trainer, moves forward to press its nose against a cheek—a whiskery, fishy kiss that never failed to bring the crowd to a frenzy of applause. Ilane carried through with the expected, and then brushed her face across Nick's, catlike in her attempt to mark territory, before slipping back into the water. The audience let out a collective whoop of excitement and applauded.

Nick wobbled, looking like his foot had fallen asleep as he tried to stand. Dylan reached out, not to steady him, but to keep him from lurching into the water after Ilane. Smitten, bewitched, Nick's muscles flexed, considering breaking free of the interloper.

“Jump in now, and the park will surely throw you out. Permanently.” Dylan whispered the warning into Nick's ear as he pulled him to his feet.

It was an ancient game in which Nick found himself a player. Dylan watched him fumble his way back to his former place by the glass, eyes tracking every twist of Ilane's body in the water. Only the setting had changed, not the rules. But behind the play was the dedication that made a seal wife so desirable, in all the old tales. Beyond the unearthly beauty was a fierce, fae loyalty. Yes, she had him—but Nick just as surely had snared her with his shy smiles and evident adoration. Dylan wondered just how long it would be before he was short a seal, before Ilane wandered off on two legs the way Aine had, to live with her human in a house by the sea.

It was a fishbowl they were living in, Dylan and his hodgepodge little family. But for every concession made there was a gain. There was salt enough in their filtered
tank, salt enough falling from human eyes. Nick's eyes shimmered with the unshed tears of having seen the sublime. A young girl in the crowd laughed so hard she cried as Carrick knocked a ball around the water with his nose.

It was tribute enough, the tears of joy, love, and worship that greeted them each day. Gone were the moonlit shores with their selkie maids brushing out their long hair, perfectly placed to catch wandering human eyes, the selkie men beckoning from just beyond each wave.

But in the evenings, when his lover's taste was still strong in his mouth, slightly salty with sweat, and he gathered his seal skin from where it was carefully folded in the closet of his small office, it seemed the niche they had settled into was nigh unto perfect.

The shoreline was fake under his feet, the water not quite the right temperature, but he had to agree with Ilane, curling his seal skin around himself in the moonlight and slipping into the water, that it was good enough.

Anton Strout

“L
eannán?” the stranger asked, his eyes filled with caution, the same as all those who had come across her doorstep before him. He was handsome enough, for a human—black hair, eyes as blue as the bright sky over Central Park itself, but he carried himself with a swagger that spoke volumes. He stood there, hands shoved down into the pockets of the knee-length wool coat he wore against the early sudden chill that had crept into September.

“Yes?” she asked from behind her partially opened cottage door. She pulled her short emerald colored robe closer around herself, letting the green of her eyes hold him in place on the dirt pathway that led back through the trees to the more travelled areas of Central Park. She couldn't help but grin as he stepped back a little. She twisted the power of her eyes along with her smile, strengthening her hold on him. She gave a toss of her head, her short, shaggy blonde bangs swaying as the tip
of her swept up ponytail swung wildly back and forth. Leannán fought back the urge to giggle. “I see you found my little home here among the trees.”

The stranger looked down as he fumbled through his pockets looking for something. She had seen his kind before. Wall Street maybe, she guessed. Probably liked it rough, and that was okay with her. The thought of it only quickened her heart, even though she was simply watching him search his pockets now.

The man lifted his head and waved a tiny slip of paper no bigger than one of the candy wrappers she occasionally saw blowing down the path past her cottage.

“I'm here about your ad,” he said, his eyes showing lust behind them. “It was on the base of one of the statues over by Conservatory Water, kinda near all those miniature sailboats the kids play with.”

Leannán took the slip of paper from his hand, but not before letting her pointer finger draw slowly across his palm as she pulled away. “Did you recognize him?” she asked.

“Him?” the man asked, looking over his shoulder with wariness in his eyes. “Him who?”

“The statue,” she said, letting out a soft laugh. It sounded like chimes in the wind.

The man relaxed at the sound and turned back to her. “No. Who was he?”

“Hans Christian Andersen.”

The man's face lit up with recognition. “The father of the fairy tale? Makes sense now.”

Leannán cocked her head. “Does it? How so?”

“Your ad,” he said, pointing to the slip of paper. “ ‘Making your once upon a time a happily ever after … one encounter at a time … ?' ”

She smiled. “Yes, I suppose that is true then. It does have fairy tale written all over it, doesn't it?”

He looked over his shoulder again, shoving his hands down deep into the pockets of his long coat. “Do you mind if I come in?” he asked. “Not for nothing, but this isn't the type of thing I want people to spot me out and about for …”