PodCastle

PodCastle is the world’s first audio fantasy magazine. Weekly, we broadcast the best in fantasy short stories, running the gammut from heart-pounding sword and sorcery, to strange surrealist tales, to gritty urban fantasy, to the psychological depth of magical realism. Our podcast features authors including N.K. Jemisin, Peter S. Beagle, Benjamin Rosenbaum, Jim C. Hines, and Cat Rambo, among others. Terry Pratchett once wrote, “Fantasy is an exercise bicycle for the mind. It might not take you anywhere, but it tones up the muscles that can.” Tune in to PodCastle each Tuesday for our weekly tale, and spend the length of a morning commute giving your imagination a work out.

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PodCastle 564, ARTEMIS RISING: One More Song







* Author : Eliza Chan
* Narrator : Sofia Quintero
* Host : Elora Gatts
* Audio Producer : Peter Adrian Behravesh
* Artist : Yuumei
*
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Previously published by World Weaver Press in their Sirens anthology.


Rated: R, for the vengeful justice of seafolk.
One More Song
By Eliza Chan
After Mira closed the door the selkie shed her skin, leaving the mottled grey fur in a heap like stepped-out-of work clothes. Mira handed her one of the many robes hanging on the hat stand and kept her eyes on her blue and green rug, only catching glimpses of the woman’s bruises. There were purple marks the size of fingers on her legs and red, raised lines across her back. Mira blinked rapidly, her hands already clenched into tight fists as she tried to keep her rising anger from bursting its banks.
“How can I help you, Ms. . . . ?” Mira asked.
“Iona, just call me Iona,” the selkie said, knotting the robe tightly at her midriff. She winced visibly and her eyes darted up. Mira moved to her drinks cabinet, deliberately turning her back so the other woman didn’t have to look her in the eye.
“I need help. I, my husband, well you can see his handiwork. I asked for a divorce, I tried to go to the police. They wouldn’t listen. Said I was only on a spousal visa, so . . .”
Mira handed Iona the mug. She clasped her hands around the porcelain like it anchored her.
“I assume he has some leverage?”
The client nodded, tucking her hair back so Mira could see a ragged hole where her right ear should have been — a void of darkness as if that part of her had simply ceased to exist. “He cut a patch out of my skin. I can’t swim far, not out of the city at any rate, or I’ll drown.”
She was smart, Mira mused. Selkie skin couldn’t heal like most, but others had tried, even with pieces missing, to escape their partners. Their bodies washed up against the buildings, waterlogged and drowned.
“Iona, I’m afraid you may have misunderstood my services,” Mira began. “I’m a private investigator. I watch, find things, report back. I don’t take direct action.”
Mira leaned back in the brown leather armchair and waited for her client’s reaction. In the pause she could hear the sea water lapping just below her window sill.
“I’ve heard otherwise. You’re the one who’ll get things done.”
Iona’s grey eyes were staring at her with hope. She would have been beautiful when she was young but now her silver-grey hair and eyes were concealed beneath weary dark circles and rippling wrinkles around her mouth. No laughter lines.
Mira had vowed she was done with all that. It was dangerous work and those who came pleading to her door rarely had the money to pay. Shell necklaces and a side of salmon didn’t keep the landlord from yelling obscenities about stinking fish wasting his time. Even a submerged studio apartment caked in coral cost more than she was bringing in these days.
“I’m sorry, I got out of that business years ago,” Mira started. She reached for the box of business cards on the side table. “I suggest you run. I know a kelpie with a small delivery business. He can get you a new ID card and hide you in the van, take you somewhere to hole up.”
“I can’t run. I ran before and he paid a seawitch to find me.”
Mira looked up and saw the blue tattoo on Iona’s ha...


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 March 5, 2019  36m