I hurried to catch up. “So, where exactly is this nightclub?”
“Near The Aegean.” Finn turned, giving me a once-over, laughter dancing in his dark eyes. “But first we’ll need to find you something more suitable to wear.”
An angry breath escaped my nose, but I followed him back toward the shops of Oia, my step a little lighter now that I had a plan.
29
Aranare
Ihefted the cool box of haddock onto my shoulder as the pale winter sun climbed over the dark, restless waves. I’d started this day the same way I began most others: up before the sun rose to train at my uncle’s gym. Then, I’d joined my dad and my uncle on the seas.
Williamson Industries held an unassuming grip over much of Ruadán’s Port and the Hebrides. My parents owned Saltmarsh Row—the bookstore, the Port House, and everything in between—while my aunt and uncle ran the fishery, the Bayside café, the local gym, and a whisky distillery. Most of my days were spent pitching in, drifting from one family business to the next.
Dad tossed our tackle into the back of my Ranger, his brown arms flexing beneath his sweater and fisherman’s overalls. His long hair, tied in a bun, was still mostly dark but now streaked with silver.
My uncle, Angus, clapped him on the back. “Bright and early tomorrow then, Dylan?”
Dad nodded, and my uncle waved goodbye before stalking to hisadjacent truck. He had the same tanned skin, ebony hair, and eyes as the rest of my family, but he was older and more worn.
Our interbreeding with humans meant we aged differently, and our powers manifested unpredictably. Some, like my father and I, were born with the gifts of High Sirens—wings and all. Others, like my uncle, barely possessed any magic. Unlike other Siren families that had dwindled, there were hundreds of Lughs across Scotland, but not all of us carried abilities.
Dad folded his arms across his broad chest, leaning back onto my truck, observing me with eyes the same amber as mine. “What are you doing today, son?”
“I’ll drop these fish at Bayside, then watch the bookstore until Mom returns.”
“Aye, where was she this time? I can’t keep track.”
“Venice.”
“Why don’t you stick around and join us for dinner tonight?”
I nodded, shoving my cold hands into the pockets of my jacket.
“The Neptunus boy was here to see me a few days back... Pisceon.”
I went still, my throat constricting. “And?”
“He wanted us to attend the summit in Okeanós.”
“What did you say?”
My father exhaled. “I said we would go. You know how I hate these things, but our people deserve a voice.”
“I’ll join you.”
He clapped me on the back, then turned and trudged up Croy Street’s slick curve toward Saltmarsh Row and the Port House.
I drove the fish to Bayside, helped my aunt set the tables, and prepared the place for the day. Then, I headed across the clifftop to Parker’s house.
When I arrived, the realtor was already waiting out front, her power suit a clear sign she wasn’t from aroundhere. She unlocked the door, and my breath faltered as memories of what had happened inside washed over me like a flood.
“The Stewarts are selling it fully furnished, as... they suffered a personal tragedy here.” The woman waved a hand over the space.
I followed her up the hallway from the open-plan living area to the bedroom, where Skye’s things still hung.
“We would get all this stuff removed, of course.” She gestured to the clothing, and my heart twanged as I saw her array of neatly arranged shoes.
“I’ll take the house,” I said through gritted teeth. “But I want to keep all the clothes. Please ensure they are left untouched.”
