Night Owls

Jerry glanced down at the photograph in his hand, then back up again at the woman sitting alone at the back of the cafe.

Where the skin on her cheek had once been soft, unmarred, there was now a raised jagged ridge. But it was her sure enough, he’d recognise those violet-hued eyes anywhere. He felt his mouth go dry, his tongue sandy. Hadn’t he seen her die himself?

All at once a blinding light coursed through the space. Jerry and the woman froze. And then a creature appeared, seemingly from the air itself.

At first he thought one of the pigeons had gotten through the automatic doors again, until realisation dawned on him as the smell of salt and seawater rushed towards him: the Selkie had come back for what he had taken.