She was gorgeous. Fine features, long, thick, black tresses streaked with silvery-grey, though her face was young. Must have dyed the hair for effect. Her hips rocked as she moved, swaying with a rhythmic tempo like the waves in the sea. Her ears were bedecked with shell earrings, the likes of which they sold at tourist shops on the mainland. They might have looked hokey on most but on her? They seemed to match the whole free spirit vibe.

Her arms were bare, a loose flowy tank top hanging off a thin frame in spite of the chill I knew must have settled in the air by now. The day was already growing late and nights were cold on the island, the air thick with salty wet that penetrated all but the best lined coats even in summer. But the leather jacket she carried lay limply over her arm, unworn. Warm-blooded stock I guessed.

"So, what's good here?" she asked, taking a seat and laying her jacket on my bar like she was regular, though she was decidedly different than any that had ever stepped foot in the door here.

For a moment I was lost in her big brown eyes, words failing as I drowned within their chocolate depths.

"You always this articulate?" she asked rhetorically. The chuckle of the men at the bar brought me back.

"Ah, Rick is just a bit tongue-tied," Old Bob answered. With skin like a salted cod, Bob had been coming to the pub since my Dad was still alive. Three generations my family had owned The Rocky Perch and I was fairly certain Bob had been an old man even when my Grandfather first opened the doors.

"We don't get many the likes of you round here," Bob continued. "Don't get much but barnacle-crusted seamen like myself."

The woman laughed and the sound sent chills running through me. It was a light, musical sound, but something about it was abrasive too, like the echoes of greedy gulls fighting for scraps of food along the rocks were the tides washed up bits of dead fish and mollusks.

Still, I was determined to save face and pull myself from the spell. I was no teenage boy anymore. Though it was lonely on the island and attractive women were in short supply, I wasn't one to lose my head over a girl.

"Sorry about that, miss," I said. "Guess I forgot where I was for a second."

The woman smiled, revealing a set of perfectly white teeth. "I have that effect sometimes," she said. There was something deep and dark about her voice. A bit husky. The timbre familiar, not that I could place it...

"So drinks?" she prompted, "Maybe something to eat? I've had a long trek to get here."

"We've got the standards," I said. "No fancy cocktails like the mainland I'm afraid. As for food? A burger?"

"Anything with fish? Never did like red meat."

"Some kinda newfangled pescatarian?" Jake asked.

Jake was one of the younger guys who came in. Still in his early twenties, I knew he fancied himself a bit of a Don Juan. I could see he was watching our new customer with quite a bit of interest. Hell, all the men were. Scanning the eyes of my regulars I saw every one of em was focusing intently on our guest, their beers untouched, food ignored.

"Where'd you learn a word like that?" I asked the kid with a snort. Jake just shrugged.

"Lot of girls on the mainland only eatin' greens like a rabbit these days. Some will eat fish though. Good thing since I am a fisherman." He laughed self-consciously and rubbed the back of his neck.

"And such a lady's man," I quipped.

"It's something like that," the woman answered. "I was born by the sea. Can't imagine giving up fish."

"Think we can get you some fish n' chips," I answered. She nodded and I put in the order to the cook.

"What's your name anyway?" Jake asked with the brazen overconfidence boys his age have.

I watched the woman flash Jake a small coy grin. She was in charge and knew it.

"Ronan," she answered. "Your's?"

An idiotic grin parted Jake's lips to reveal the chipped front tooth he'd sported ever since the boom of his sailboat had hit him square in the face when he was just a kid.

"I'm Jake," he said, no doubt attempting to sound flirty, though unsuccessfully with his over-eager approach. "That's Rick," he continued, nodding at me, "and Old Bob, and Jared and Dean."

"The regulars," I said. " Let me get you a beer." No doubt she'd want it if she had to listen to Jake talk her ear off.

"Put it on my tab," Jake volunteered, all cocky and sure as I went to pour the glass. "No pretty lady should have to pay for a beer here and never will as long as I'm around."

The boy shifted his stool to get closer to the fair Ronan and pass her the drink I'd set down, but the intoxication of beauty had made him clumsy. The glass tipped before I could stop it, the beer rushing towards her leather jacket that still lay across the bar. I grabbed for the coat, trying to spare it before the skin was drowned in hops, but no sooner had I laid my hand on the leather, she ripped it from my grasp.

"No!" she cried, snatching the coat into her lap. "Don't touch it!"

I stared at her, surprised by the reaction. The sting where her long painted nails had scratched my flesh throbbed.

"Was just trying to keep that nice coat from getting beer all over it," I said.

"Yeah I know," she answered, calm returning. "It's just...It's a very special coat. Expensive ya know? I don't like other people touching it."

I nodded and passed her some napkins before mopping up the spilled drink, the smell of fermented wheat strong.

"I'm so sorry!" Jake exclaimed, the words spilling from his lips as clumsily as the beer from the tipped glass. "Coat ok?"

"It's fine," Ronan answered, wiping at the leather gently and putting the used wad of napkins on the counter, keeping the jacket in her lap.

"That seal skin?" I asked. " Don't know that there is any other leather that soft. Can't imagine that was easy to come by. Clubbing seals is pretty controversial now."

Ronan's expression grew dark. "It was passed down in my family," she answered. "The slaughter of seals is barbaric."

I nodded, feeling an uncomfortable squirming travel through me and she held my gaze. Not that I was much of a seal hunter myself, but the sport was popular once upon a time and the pelts highly prized. I'd helped my Dad process a few animals back in the day.

I thought of the black and white photo on my mantel. I was just a boy then, standing proudly next to my father beside the spoils of his most famous seal hunt. An enormous bull and two male pups, carcasses posed, dead eyes looking unfocused. Guilt bubbled deep in my gut as Ronan stared, spoiling the happy memory with the red tinge of blood...

"So you in town long?" Jake asked, interrupting us.

I was grateful for the intrusion. Something about this woman was unsettling. I couldn't place my finger on what it was exactly but my instincts were good. Had to be, living so close to the capricious seas that surrounded us. My family had survived countless squalls on the island for generation upon generation. It was the ability to sense danger that kept us safe. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off here.

I left Jake talking Ronan's ear off, setting down her meal, perfectly fried cod, crisp chips beside. But though I tried to keep myself distracted in work, I couldn't but keep looking back at her, perched on her bar stool, sealskin jacket in her lap, only vaguely listening to the foolish boy beside her. I watched as she picked at the food on her plate, carefully peeling away the breading to extract the white fish beneath, barely touching her beer and ignoring the fries altogether.

Strange. There was something strange about her. I couldn't help but wonder how she'd even gotten to the island. Not many on the mainland knew about this spot and there were no commercial boats that made the trip regularly...

"So how much do I owe?"

The sound of Ronan's voice nearly sent me jumping out of my skin. I turned to see the woman staring at me again, those deep brown eyes sharpened in their gaze.

"On the house," I answered. I was anxious to see her leave now. She didn't belong here. I was sure of that now.

Ronan nodded her head and pushed herself away from the bar.

"I'll see ya later, Jake," she said to the now drunk kid by her side. He'd had at least five beers in the past couple of hours and was a bit of a lightweight. Trying to get the nerve up to ask Ronan back home I imagined. Seemed like he'd struck out.

"Awwww," the boy whined. "You don't need to leave yet."

I saw him reach out to catch her arm, but his inebriated motion was too slow. Ronan easily avoided his grasp.

"It's late," she said. "Gotta get some rest if I'm going to go exploring tomorrow. My Ma told me we had family here a long time ago. Want to rediscover my roots."

The woman draped her coat over her arm and was out the door before Jake could protest further.

"Well she's certainly trouble," Old Bob said, draining his mug. "I oughta get goin' myself but you be careful if you see that one again, Jake."

"Aw you think all women are trouble," the boy complained.

"That's cause they are," the old man answered with a small grunt as he put on his heavy coat and headed for the door.

"You be careful too, Rick," he said, turning back around and catching my eye before he left. " Somethin' about that one ain't right."

So Bob had noticed it too? I nodded my understanding.

———

The rest of the customers stumbled out not too long after Bob, though Jake did so a bit more reluctantly, drowning his lost opportunity in another pint or two till I shut him off. I made the cook walk him home, assuring them both I could finish closing up myself. I didn't want the kid to drunkenly stumble into the ocean and the winds were pickin up. I could hear them whistling through the cracks in the window. I put on my sweater, thinking again of Ronan's bare shoulders.

By the time I left, it was nearly pitch black outside and the wind was howling. Even my sweater and heavy coat were no protection from the chill that ran through my bones with every biting gust coming off the ocean, the salt stinging my nose and eyes as I got closer to the water. Still, I kept my uncovered hand out in the elements, holding the large Maglite I carried for dark nights like this.

I wished I'd brought my gloves. It wasn't long before my hands were both numb even though I tried to stuff them into my pockets to revive em every few minutes, switching off between the one protected and the one holding the light. I only succeeding in leaving both cracked and raw.

I was nearly home when the clouds parted and moonlight flooded the sky, casting my surroundings in an eerie light and rendering my flashlight redundant. It was incredible how clear my vision was. I blinked in shock, staring at the dark waters just beside the road, the waves tossing about with crests of white foam all around. And then I saw the figure standing by the edge of the sea, perched high upon the rocks. A female figure, fully illuminated.

The flashlight dropped from my hand and my feet moved me towards her without command of my mind, somehow drawn from the road into the sands, across the rocky pebbles, towards the jagged rocks where the woman stood. As I drew nearer I saw the silver-grey hair whipping around her wildly. Ronan.

She was fully naked, her clothing lying strewn about the craggy outcrops of black stone surrounding her. All except the sealskin coat clutched in her right hand, flapping violently in the wind.

"What are you doing!" I called out. It was freezing. Surely she would catch her death out there. And the tide was coming in, the waves crashing hungrily all around her. Soon she would be entirely surrounded with no escape to the shore. Without a second thought, I started scaling the rocks.

My jeans were soaked through by the time I reached her, my hands scraped and bleeding, the salt of the ocean waters stinging the fresh wounds. All the while Ronan hadn't moved. She just watched me climb, unconcerned as the tide continued to rise.

"I was hoping you'd join me, Rick," she said as I tried to find my footing, my breath ragged from the exertion of my efforts of rescue.

"We have to get down from here," I said, trying to keep my eyes focused on her face and not her naked form. Her pale skin shining with an unnatural glow.

Ronan only laughed. The sound was horrible this time, a screech reverberating in my very bones like the cries of harpies from stories of old.

"But you love the sea," she said. She smiled wide, revealing her teeth, sharp canines I hadn't noticed before now displayed prominently. "Your whole family loves the sea, don't they?"

I didn't know how to answer.

"Your father loved the sea enough to hold our mother captive."

The words made no sense. "Our mother?" I asked in confusion. I barely remembered the mother I once had. She'd abandoned me and my father when I was only five years old. Could this woman really be my kin?

"Your father stole her skin and held her prisoner," Ronan continued. "He kept it locked away until one day he got careless. She was able to take on her true form and return to the water."

Stole her skin? I couldn't understand but the rage in her words was palpable.

"Perhaps you need a reminder," she said.

Before I could stop her, Ronan reached out with her free hand and laid it across my forehead. Suddenly my mind flashed with a vision of my mother. She and I were playing on these very same rocks, watching the seals bask in the sun. She looked so sad. I couldn't understand why.

"Get down from there!" the voice of my father rang out through my memory. He was so angry. He dragged us both home. Ma was crying.

"You'll never get it back!" he roared. Drunk. He must have been drinking. He dangled a set of keys just out of reach of my mother's hands. "You belong to me now. To us..."

Ronan released her hold on my flesh and I came back to the present, shaking.

"He was a drunk," I said.

"And a mean one at that," she answered. "When my mother escaped it wasn't enough for him to just let her go. It wasn't enough that she'd bore him a healthy child. He came back and murdered my father and brothers."

"What are you talking about!" I cried over the din of the waves, now fully surrounding us, the salt and cold burning my throat. My father had never been an easy man, but he was not a murderer.

Ronan didn't answer. Instead, she slipped the sealskin coat over her naked form.

I watched in awe as the leather began to fuse with her flesh and hair until every inch of her was speckled with gray and black marks. Her face began to morph as well, a snout, round brown eyes.

"You should never have helped him kill those seals." She said. "Those who take the lives of our brethren are doomed. Your father poisoned himself with drink before our mother could have her revenge, but now you will pay the price. When she died I knew I had to find you. My only remaining family. Who knows," she mused, "the blood of a Selkie travels through your veins too. Perhaps you can swim."

Selkie

I lifted my hand to the moonlight and saw the webbing between my fingers. A genetic disorder. That's what they'd told me. Nothing serious. Never had surgery to get it fixed. They'd teased me as a child. "Fish boy" they'd called me.

"Come back to where you belong," the seal woman crooned, a fire burning in her eyes.

I couldn't stop her as she wrapped her flippers around my body, pulling me close. I felt our bodies move towards the edge of the rocks even as I resisted, her strength too much for me.

"Welcome home, brother." The words echoed in my ears as we tumbled down into the black waters below.

Photo credit: Seehundfrau in Mikladalur, CC BY 2.0 - by Siegfried Rabanser

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