“The tag didn’t say,” she said. She’d looked for the research files and the reports that had arrived with the selkie, but Ottoman had locked them up before rushing off to his conference.
For all she knew, it was just a seal.
The next night, she spent most of her shift sitting on the top step of the catwalk stairs, watching it.
She heard a splash from the south tank. Marina pulled herself to the bars and watched Robin watching the other tank.
“Marina, what do you know about selkies?”
The mermaid, who’d been caught in Dingle Bay in Ireland several years before, had been humming a song, an Irish-sounding jig. “A mermaid died to save a silke once.”
“Can you tell me about it?”
“Ask ‘im.”
Robin turned to where the mermaid nodded, to where a man hung on to the bars of the selkie’s cage, holding himself half out of the water, smiling. Surprised, Robin jumped to her feet.
He was lean, muscular. Slick with water, his pale skin shone. Black hair dripped past his shoulders. His face was solid, unblemished. He didn’t grip the bars like a prisoner; he held them loosely, using them to balance as he treaded water. His smile was playful, like she was inside the cage and he was studying her.
Tentatively, she nodded a greeting. “Hello.”
He pushed himself away from the bars and glided back through the water. He was naked and totally unselfconscious. His body was as sculptured and handsome as his face. He had the broad shoulders and muscular arms of an Olympic swimmer, powerful legs and every muscle in his torso was defined. She could have used his body for an anatomy lecture.
He swam to the artificial rock, climbed out of the water, and sat back, reclining. He spread his arms, exposing to best advantage his broad chest, toned abdomen and . . . genitalia was too clinical a word for what he displayed. He was posing for her.
Next to him lay a bundle of grey, rubbery skin.
Robin stood at the bars of his cage, looking through them for an unobstructed view. She didn’t remember moving there. She took a deep, reflexive breath. Her heartbeat wouldn’t slow down.
Marina laughed uncontrollably, both hands over her mouth, tail flapping. Her voice was musical, piercing.
Robin fled the room.
Back in the main lab, she stood with her back against the wall, eyes closed, gasping.
“Let me guess. The selkie - male?” Rick’s tone was politely inquisitive.
The flush on Robin’s face became one of embarrassment. So much for the biologist and her professional demeanour. “Yes. Yes, he is.”
“They have a knack for that.”
“A knack for what?”
“Flustering young women out of their wits. I’m sure you know the stories.”
Since her posting to the Center, Robin had to question all the myths and ancient tales. They might be just stories, then again . . . She went to the bookshelves to look up “selkie” in Briggs’ Encyclopedia of Fairies.
“How do you do it?” Rick asked, moving to the end of his window.
“Do what?”
“Remain so clinical. When confronted with so many contradictions to your assumptions about the world.”
“I expand my assumptions,” she said.
“What about the magic? Your inability to control your reaction to the selkie. You are so careful, Lieutenant, not to look into my eyes.”
The impulse was, of course, to look at him. The voice hinted at rewards she would find when she did. Mystery. Power. She resisted, taking the book to her desk, passing Rick’s cell on the way. She looked at the collar of his shirt. “Why are you all so damn seductive?”