I hesitantly approach the door. I only heard two voices when I eavesdropped but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t someone else there. And I know I only heard two people leave. They could’ve left someone behind. I know that’s what I would’ve done in their shoes. 

I feel the door. The knob is simple and made of a metal of some kind. I slowly turn it, praying that it’s locked. I don’t have the strength to break down the door if it is, especially with the door being made out of solid wood. So if the door is locked, I’ll have no option but to turn around. The knob turns in my hand and the door swings open, producing a squeaking noise. I wince, hoping that no one heard that. 

I pause, listening. I hear no shuffling, no whispers, no cries for help, even muffled ones. The hostage must be unconscious. There must be no one else here, considering I haven’t been attacked or yelled at. 

I enter the room and close the door behind me. I could search the building for the hostage without sight – I would eventually find him – but that might take too long. So it’s time to use my vision. 

I close my eyes and try my best to relax in spite of my hammering heart. My vision opens and I see a blue, swirling figure in the far left corner of the room. 

I rush toward the figure and release my vision. I’m hesitant to touch him. If he’s injured, which I’m sure he is, I might only make it worse. But I don’t have the time to worry about that now, so I reach forward to try to grasp the situation. 

He’s in a chair. His feet are tied to the legs while his arms are tied behind it back. The rope isn’t very strong, nor is it tied well. I should be able to get him out. I notice after running my arms down his injured arms and legs that areas of him are covered in scales. His fingers and toes are webbed and he has a set of gills on his neck. Sure signs of a selkie. 

I’m not surprised. A selkie would be a useful slave in a district like mine, with an economy so reliant on seafood. 

I start to make quick work on the knots. After a minute, I manage to untie his hands. Then, I start on his feet. 

After I get him completely free, I try to wake him up. I shake his shoulders and speak as loudly as I can without anyone from outside hearing, but he doesn’t stir. I didn’t expect him to, but if he did wake up, I wouldn’t have to carry him. This is going to be significantly more difficult. 

Should I try to carry him on my back? He can’t balance or hold on while unconscious. I’m not strong enough to carry him in my arms. What if I just carried him over my shoulder? 

I’m bound to look suspicious no matter how I carry him. Speaking of, how am I going to explain the situation when people inevitably ask me why I’m carrying a selkie covered in blood. If I told them the truth, they likely wouldn’t believe me. And I wouldn’t be able to prove it either. I never saw his kidnappers and after only hearing their voices once, I couldn’t identify them by that either. So I’ve got to lie my way through this. 

I can’t play the ‘my brother got a little too drunk’ card considering no one will buy that we’re related. And he’s bleeding way too much to pass the situation off as a drunk accident. 

I don’t have the time to sit here and figure it out, so I’ll figure something out if the time comes.  

I crouch down, pull his torso over my shoulder, and grab his legs. After I get him into a comfortable position, I open the door and get the fuck out of there. 

I go around most of the major crowds and stalls, in an attempt to not draw attention. No one has stopped us yet. Now, that I think about it, most in the Monster Market prefer to mind their own business. I might be able to get out of here without anyone noticing. 

“Hey! What the hell are you doing?” I spoke too soon. 

I turn toward the accusing voice and feign a smile. “Hey,” I say as the footsteps come closer. Act naturally. I can do this. 

As soon as the accusatory figure stops in front of me, I attempt to answer their question. “Wow, this looks really suspicious doesn’t it?” I laugh and hope that pointing out the obvious will make it seem like I’m not actually trying to kidnap someone. “This is my boyfriend,” the words fall out of my mouth before I even realize what I’m saying. I hope the idea didn’t seem too impossible. 

“A blueskin and a siren?” the voice says, obviously skeptical. 

“He’s actually a selkie,” I say without thinking, then curse myself for the correction. Wait, this could actually work in my favor. A good boyfriend would correct someone if they misidentified their partner. “And, yeah, we get that a lot. We’ve been together for two years and it’s still crazy to me.” 

“What’s with the cloth?” The voice sounds reasonably less suspicious of me this time. 

“I’m blind,” I say, used to answering this question.

“That’s actually the reason we’re in this situation in the first place,” I explain, getting an idea. “I asked him to take me to the market because I have a hard time navigating without him.” I attempt to sound pitiful. “But while here, someone made fun of my disability and he’s just so defensive of me.” I pause, fondly looking at my caring ‘boyfriend.’ 

“Things escalated and the two got into a fight,” I explain. “The other guy was a vampire.” 

“Oh no.” The guy in front of me sounds genuinely concerned. I would be too. Vampires were no joke. Cruel and abnormally strong. You did not want to mess with one of them. 

“Yeah, so you can see why he ended up like this.” I turn so he can clearly see the selkie’s wounds. Hopefully they could pass as vampire attack wounds. 

“That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.” Hook, line, and sinker. I hold back a smirk. “Do you need any help?”

“Well I was actually going to try to get him up the ladder all by myself but now that I think about it, that might be a little difficult,” I say, shrinking slightly. 

“Let me help you.” The man offers to carry the selkie. 

“Thanks,” I say, “You’re a lifesaver. 

After the two of us manage to get him up the ladder, the man offers to carry him back to my apartment. I’m surprised at how kind he is. Most people wouldn’t take the time to do such a thing. 

It might be smarter to turn him down. If Malik sees me, he might say something about not recognizing the selkie. But I honestly don’t think I can get him back to my apartment without help. So I accept his help. 

The three of us make it back to my apartment building without too much trouble. As we approach the building, I hold my breath and pray Malik won’t say anything. 

We get to the front doors and my prayers are not answered. 

“Hey, Rhuka, you back from the market?” Malik asks. “Who are these two?” 

My pulse goes through the roof. “Well I guess I don’t know this guy’s name,” I say, trying not to stutter, “But you know… Mathew, my boyfriend, right?” I give him the best look I can muster with my eyes covered. “I left with him to go to the market this morning, remember?” 

There’s a moment of silence from both men and I think my heart might just explode. 

“Right, Mathew,” Malik says. He almost sounds annoyed or disappointed. “I must be out of it today. I guess I didn’t recognize him with all those bruises on his face. He really doesn’t look too good. Not that he looked good before the bruises.” 

There’s another awkward silence. I’m going to die after this little adventure. “Well it was good to see you,” I say, “Well I guess not really see you, but you know what I mean.” I laugh awkwardly and make my way into the building, hoping the man carrying ‘Mathew’ is following behind. 

“I’m on the fourth floor,” I say, hoping this guy isn’t suddenly suspicious from that whole trainwreck of an interaction. 

“Got it,” he says, and heads towards the stairs. I follow behind him, stumbling along the way and pretending to not know the layout of the room. I can’t seem too capable. 

When we reach my floor, I pull out my key and approach the door I know is mine. I don’t need to count the doors, I simply walk the path I’ve memorized over the years. But I do fumble a bit with the keys and the lock more than I normally do, to seem more incapable, before opening the door. 

“Thanks,” I say and turn to face him. “I never did get your name.”

“It’s Jet,” he responds. “And really, it was no problem, I’m glad I could be of service.” 

He sets down ‘Mathew’ and hands him over to me. I carry him to my bedroom and carefully set him down on my bed. I begin to walk back to the door so I can give my guest a proper goodbye when I hear ruffling coming from my living room. 

“Jet?”

Silence. Then a failed attempt at tip toeing back to the door to appear like he’d never set foot in my apartment. 

“Yes?” 

Oh god, this guy just tried to steal from me. And he thinks he can get away with it because I’m blind. How stupid does he think I am? Then again, I did spend the whole day acting incapable so he wouldn’t think I was suspicious. There really are no good people in this world.

I don’t feel like confronting him or dealing with the police so I feign ignorance. 

“Sorry,” I say, “I’d invite you in but I really have to tend to my boyfriend’s wounds.”

“Not a problem,” he says, even though something in his voice suggests that it is, in fact, a problem. “Maybe we could hang out some time? Here’s my number.”

I assume he’s holding out a piece of paper so I reach forward to grab it. I decide not to point out the irony in giving me his number on a piece of paper. 

“Thanks,” I try my hardest to sound happy. “I’ll text you.” I will most definitely not text him. 

“See you later,” he says and I can hear his footsteps get quieter as he walks away. 

I close my door, lock it and take a deep breath to stop myself from following the guy and beating him to a pulp. Despite what he thinks, I am definitely capable of doing so. 

But I have to focus on the situation at hand. There is a selkie. In my bedroom. Unconscious. 

I am in deep shit. 

I crumple the piece of paper and toss it across the room in anger. Doing so makes me feel slightly better. 

Okay, let’s focus on the simple things first. Like taking off my jacket, putting the fish in the freezer and checking my apartment to see if that dick succeeded in stealing anything. I complete each of the tasks and come to learn that, no, he did not succeed in stealing anything. 

I suddenly remember the braille spellbook and check the pocket in my bag to see if it’s still there. When I feel the book, I let out a sigh of relief. Now, where to put it? This might as well be the most valuable thing I own. I rack my brain for good hiding places before remembering the more dire task at hand. 

The selkie, right. 

He’s wounded, I know that much. The degree of which, I’m not as sure of. Enough to have been attacked by a vampire. Enough that my own clothes are soaked in blood from carrying him. I could feel him, better check his wounds but I doubt I’d learn anything of use by doing so. And I might make his wounds worse by running my hands all over them. 

God, I am literally the worst person for this job. With my blindness, I can’t fix his wounds, so I need someone to come check them for me. Which would be fine, except I am the most antisocial person I know. I mean, it isn’t much of a competition, considering how few people I know but it further proves my point! 

Okay forget about that. I must know someone that can help. 

I need someone who can see, which isn’t a difficult requirement. 

I need someone I can trust. Ixie? No, she’s busy with her stand. Malik and I are somewhat close, but after what happened downstairs I’m not sure I want to face him again. 

I need someone with at least some medical knowledge. I can’t go to the hospital, the bills are too high. Nor can I go to the police. Not with my background. 

I probably need someone with more knowledge about selkies than I possess. 

I need…

Oh fuck me. 

I know who I need. But I really don’t want to see her again. Not after how I ended things. 

But do I really have a choice? 

I run to grab my jacket and bag. But just as I reach the door, I realize a potentially big mistake I was about to make. 

What if he wakes up while I’m gone? What if he leaves? He could find his way to the police and report me, claiming that I’m his kidnapper. They’d be quick to arrest me.

“Shit,” I mumble to myself, running my hands through my hair. This is not how I imagined today would go. Think, think, think. 

I gasp at a sudden revelation and rush to grab my spellbook. There has to be something in there about trapping someone, keeping them locked in somewhere. I open to the first page and skim its contents to the best of my ability. Potions, weapon conjuring, demon summoning. Oh, here it is. Simple spells - pg. 104. 

I turn through the pages, skimming through the names of the different spells. I’m tempted to stop and read through them in further detail, but I keep focused on the current task. After ten or so pages, I find one that catches my eye, metaphorically speaking. 

indissolubilem cincinno

The majority of spells are translated from other languages, but the names are typically kept in the original language. This one is Latin.

Can be cast upon a door, cupboard, safe, or any other hinged surface of the spellcaster’s choosing, making it unopenable by anyone other than the spellcaster. This spell lasts for 24 hours. This spell cannot be undone by another spellcaster, but can be undone by the original spellcaster. After a hinged surface is cast with this spell, it cannot be cast with this spell again, by the original or any other spellcaster. 

Below it is a symbol, raised so I can feel it, and a phrase, also in Latin. Both are ways of casting the spell.

I don’t have time to think about what might happen if I cast the spell incorrectly. I rush to the kitchen, grab a glass, and fill it with water. I walk back to the front room and set it on the table. I run my finger over the symbol in the book once more, making sure I have it correct. 

Now, where should I cast it? On my bedroom door? But what if he needs to use the bathroom? I’m not that much of a monster. So the apartment door then. 

I take a deep breath and lift the water from the glass. It follows my hands. I can’t see it happening but I know, I can feel it. I bring the water over to the door and begin creating the symbol with water. After the symbol is complete, I leave the water there for a few seconds before returning it to the glass. 

I realize now, that I have no way to know if it worked. Most spells release light when they’ve been casted, but I can’t see that. I can’t try opening the door to see if it worked either because, as the spell states, the spellcaster is the only one able to open the door. 

I don’t have the time to worry about that so I grab my keys and lock the door. In case it didn’t work, I still want to keep people out of my apartment. 

I’m not looking forward to this reunion.