Hell and High Water

Chapter Two: Tai

Chapter Two: Tai

Fionn didn’t see me.

She never does.

I slipped out of the garden a few minutes before the end of the show, and headed for the river. The cool air hit me pretty hard after the warmth within; I never will get used to the prevailing chill they seem to think necessary in England. I think the good British people believe that April is one of the warmer months. Tell that to my toes.

It’s not really fair of me to blame Fi for missing me in the crowd: I go to some trouble to hide myself. A little gramarye. Maybe a hood. I was wearing the latter today, and grateful for it; it was some proof against the night’s winds.

Why do I hide myself from Fi? I don’t know. I do so out of habit — hoping, the while, that she’ll see through the illusions and recognise me. Fearing the same. What I think is likely to happen if she does, I have no idea.

Could be great. Could be disaster.

Hell. If she wanted to see me, she could. It isn’t as though I’m hard to find.

I crossed over London Bridge, lingering a while to admire the glitter of moonlight on the dark water. Cold waters, never very inviting, although Fionn’s never seemed to mind. There is solace in watching the currents, even if I feel no inclination whatsoever to dive in.

I went on after a time, descending into the Tube via London Bridge station. It’s quieter late in the evening; I received an unimpeded view of my own face and figure, blazoned across one of the many posters lining the tiled walls. Farewell Fatales screamed the headline — my band. We were coming to the end of a run of gigs; we’d be playing the O2 Arena in a week, and then… peace. Sleep. Restlessness, probably, until it was time to work on the next album.

Fionn must have seen the posters. Daix, too. I’d chosen the band’s name deliberately, though whether I hoped to impress them or to rile them I couldn’t tell you. Maybe just to get their attention.

It hadn’t worked.

I’ve been to most of Fi’s shows since she took to the catwalk. I wonder sometimes whether she’s ever been to any of mine.

Arriving home half an hour later, I walked up the three brick steps to our back door, and let myself in. My roommate was away in Athens, a development arousing my deepest envy. If I could’ve joined her, I would. I was left to silence instead, a thing I have never loved, so I didn’t stay long.

There’s a bar on the corner where they play live music all night long. They let me sing more than is seemly, but we never play the new stuff. Mostly oldies, from better days: Sinatra, Vera Lynn…

I disappeared gratefully into the music, letting the strains of guitar and clarinet carry me far away. Twenty-first century London disappeared; in my mind, I was miles back in the past.

…until I became aware of an insistent buzzing sound, discordant with the melody. Disharmony just slices right through me, so whoever the hell thought 4am was a great time to call my phone was rapidly earning a place on my shitlist.

I ignored the phone.

Half a minute later it rang again.

And again.

Somebody really wanted to get hold of me.

‘Hey,’ said Ted, looking up from his guitar. ‘You going to get that?’

‘I could,’ I allowed. ‘Or I could introduce it to the nearest heavy object, the interesting way.’

‘Might be important.’

‘Fine. Save me a drink.’ I turned from the mic. The bothersome device lay where I’d dumped it on a nearby table, merrily buzzing away. The things are convenient, I grant you, but I sometimes miss the days without high technology. Being constantly on call is exhausting.

I snatched it up and slammed it to my ear as I shoved my way outside. ‘Yes?’

‘Tai?’

The voice belonged to Coronis, a nymph of my fairly close acquaintance. She’s been in a steady relationship with Mearil, my roommate, for a while.

‘Something wrong?’ I said, sharply. Coronis sounded upset, and that wasn’t like her. Besides, she and Mea should be sunning themselves in Athens by now. What was she doing calling me at four in the morning?

‘I was hoping you could tell me,’ said Coronis. She was breathing too fast, almost sobbing.

‘Not making any sense,’ I said. ‘Take a breath. Talk to me.’

‘It’s Mea. Tell me she’s with you.’

‘What? She was meant to be with you.’

‘I know that.’

‘Right.’ My turn to take a breath. ‘I dropped her at the airport, what, eighteen hours ago.’

‘She wasn’t on the plane. I haven’t heard from her, and I can’t reach her.’

‘Hold on a sec.’ I scrolled through the messages on my phone, none of which I’d answered, but it didn’t matter. None were from Mea, and she wasn’t online anywhere that I could see.

‘I’ve got nothing,’ I said, returning the phone to my ear.

‘Shit.’

I dismissed most of the questions I wanted to ask. If there was likely to be a reasonable explanation for Mearil’s disappearance, Coronis would not be this upset.

This is… not the kind of thing that’s supposed to happen nowadays.

‘Called the police?’ I said.

‘The police.’ Coronis took the shaky kind of breath that suggested she was about to yell at me. ‘Tai. I can’t do that.’

‘You… could, I mean, her cover is pretty good, and so’s yours. Right?’

‘Not that good. The police will turn our lives upside down. You really think they aren’t going to find anything weird?’

Mearil is a selkie. Coronis is a nymph. I’m a siren. Camouflaging ourselves from prying — and mortal — eyes is a necessity we all become adept at, but Coronis had a point. Could their joint cover withstand an intensive missing person investigation?

Could mine?

‘s**t,’ I said. ‘Coronis, I don’t know what you want me to do.’

‘Find Mea. What else could I possibly want?’

‘Just… find her? Me? I’m a singer, Cor. They don’t issue those with special detecting powers.’

‘A singer. Yes. But you weren’t always, were you?’

‘You’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘Maybe I do.’

A rush of … anger rose, and I had to fight to push it down. I’ve worked hard to build this life, and I’ve worked just as hard to bury the old one.

‘Farewell Fatales, Tai,’ said Coronis softly. ‘Something like that name’s been heard before, and if you thought I didn’t know then you’re an idiot.’

‘Should’ve picked a better band name,’ I said bitterly.

‘Look, I’m in f*****g Athens and you aren’t. Could you at least go to the airport? If something prevented her from getting on the plane, maybe someone saw something.’

‘On it,’ I said, curtly. ‘Don’t call me unless you hear from Mea. I’ll let you know if I turn anything up.’ I hung up without waiting for a reply.

I stood for a couple of minutes in front of the brightly-lit window of the bar, seeing nothing of the darkened street around me. Really, we were both right. The person I am today has no power to track a missing person. But the person I’d once been… that Thetai’s still in here somewhere. I just have to be willing to dig deep enough to find her.

There are few things I want less.

‘s**t,’ I sighed again, and stuffed the phone into my pocket. I left without returning to the bar; I could still hear the faint strains of the music, going merrily on without me. It would keep until I got back.

If something prevented Mea from getting on the plane — something ordinary — there are lots of things she could have done. Got on the next plane instead, for one, in which case she would certainly have let Coronis know that she’d be delayed — and she would still have made it to Athens by now. If she’d changed her mind for some reason, or some emergency had come up and called her away, well, ditto. No way would she have gone eighteen hours without talking to either of us. Even if some mishap had occurred to take her phone out of use, she’d have found a way to communicate by now. Mea wasn’t flaky. She was sweet, she was thoughtful, and she’d never leave anyone to worry about her.

Coronis wasn’t at all prone to fits of panic. Something was wrong. She knew it, and so did I.

I stopped abruptly as a thought occurred to me. Mea’s luggage. What might have happened to it? Had she proceeded so far as to check it in — and if she had, had it been offloaded again, when she didn’t show up for the plane?

I snatched up my phone and called Coronis back.

‘Yes?’ she said, breathless with hope.

‘Don’t get excited. I just have a question. What does Mea do with her sealskin when she’s travelling?’

‘Wears it. She’d never let it out of her sight.’

‘That’s what I thought.’ I hung up again.

A great deal of a selkie’s powers are centred in their skins. They’re seals in the water and women (or men) on land, and to lose that skin would be… well, let’s take Fi as an example. She’d sooner lose her head than lose her skin again. At least that way she’d merely be dead.

I wished, with a stab of acute regret, that I could just call Fi. She knows what it’s like to lose her skin. She could tell me what it means. Maybe she could tell me what to do.

Tough luck. I retrieved my backbone from wherever it was I’d left it, and went in search of a taxi. Mea had already been gone for most of a day. I couldn’t let another one pass without finding some trace of her.