“What did the sea say?” Ina pursed her lips.
“That they’re all but extinct, and if we leave them be, they’ll leave us be.” Archie nodded as if he could force the words into truth, but the lie sat sour in his stomach.
The Selkie would be out for revenge. They had no choice, not after what he did to their shoal while they slept. He massaged his temple to ease the pressure building behind his eyes. It was barely mid-morning, yet exhaustion was already creeping in. No one slept well in the days leading up to Rhys’ anniversary.
“If they take another child, we’re as responsible as they are.” Ina clutched her mug, and stared at him through the rising steam.
Archie bit into his bun to avoid responding. Ina’s judgment of the Otherworld had always been ruthless, but nowthat ruthlessness had an edge to it, sharpened by losses that never eased—first their father, who she refused to speak about, and then Rhys. She framed it as duty, as Wolfenden responsibility, but lurking under it all lay wounds that still bled. It drove her more than she’d ever admit, and that frightened him almost as much as the man he became when he slaughtered the Selkie.
“Archie,” Ina pressed on, not giving Archie time to answer, “we all know at least one person disappears from the shoreline when the Selkie are here. It’s tragic, yes, but that’s Latharna.” She set down her mug and pointed at him. “But the last time they didn’t just take someone from the coast, they took several people, and an innocent child. They had no business coming inland, but they came up the river for Rhys. Maybe they were young, immature Selkie, but…” Her voice tightened. “They should’ve been better than that. The Otherworld needs to be better.”
“Why is it our job to police the Otherworld?” Blood slicked across Archie’s palms—an old memory rising fast. A strand of long black hair, clung to his arm, warm with sweat and gore. Screams tore through the rafters, starting human and ending feral. He still couldn’t tell which part of the noise belonged to him. He blinked the memory away. “Would we be having this conversation if they didn’t take Rhys?”
Ina’s eyes snapped wide. “Wolfendens have lived on Latharna for centuries. We were one of the first families here. If we don’t protect Latharna and the people on it, who will? The police?” She scoffed and shook her head, white hair whipping across her face. “They can barely handle a boisterous evening at theCraic and Barrel.”
“I just need to be sure.” The cream on Archie’s bunchurned in his stomach—a new and unwelcome experience for anything baked by Thelma Curran.
“They took Rhys. That’s all that matters. That we are one hundred percent sure of.”
Ina’s phone vibrated across the table. Tilly’s face—from her accidental pink-and-orange hair disaster—flashed on the screen.
“It’s Tilly.” Ina sprang up and hurried into the living room, phone to her ear.
“Mad old bat probably crashed into a sheugh.” Archie took a sip of tea to settle the nausea, “Have you seen how fast she drives?”
He shuddered, staring at the place at the table where Rhys used to sit, and old memories rose like silt disturbed from the riverbed. He’d done what needed to be done for Rhys, and for Latharna. But he could never ever admit to Ina that, in the middle of the chaos, it was the first time he’d felt truly alive.
The Selkie’s behaviour had been unexpected, but not entirely out of character. They’d faded to old-fashioned tales grandparents told to frighten children. His own behaviour though, wildly out of character, but instinctive, terrified him. For a heartbeat, in the boathouse, surrounded by bodies, he’d half expected to shift—to let wolf form crack through his skin and take over. But nothing happened, only silence and a strange hollow calm.
“Archie?” Ina’s voice shook from the doorway.
Archie jumped. She stood tense, face pale.
“What’s happened?”
“It’s the mayor, Martin Johnston.” Ina paused as though choosing her words carefully. “They found his remains down at the Polar Bear.”
Archie’s shoulders tensed. Murdock said the Selkie wouldn’t arrive for days, but they were already here.
“Tilly drove past and was stopped by the police. They think it was a tragic accident, that he fell into the water while fishing and was attacked by a shark.” She scoffed. “A shark, Archie. In Latharna. Have you ever heard such nonsense?” Her eyes darkened at the sheer stupidity of those who did not see Otherworld forces even when they were right in front of them. “Archie?” Ina pressed. “Did you hear me?”
Archie gripped the handle of his mug until it cracked in two. Ina was right. It was time for action. He sprang up from the table to get ready for battle—no hesitation, fear or doubt. This time, he wouldn’t leave any Selkie alive.
Chapter 7
Ina
“Archie, wait.” Ina hurried after him as he strode towards his office. He was seconds away from doing something reckless and in broad daylight. Archie needed to be stopped before he introduced the residents and holiday makers of Latharna to the Otherworld in a fit of rage.
He burst into his unremarkable, beige office and stormed across the room with such force that a stack of blank paper blew off the desk. He grabbed a tattered copy ofTreasure Islandfrom the bookshelf, and pressed a small hidden button at the back. A soft click, and the case slid back to reveal a doorway. He bounded down the stairs into the Hideaway, the Wolfendens old training area beneath Riverside, before the automatic light even flicked on.
“It’s the middle of the day,” Ina followed, footsteps quickened by dread. She needed to get to him before his impulsiveness took over. “What in God’s name do you think you’re going to do?”
“I’m going to sort this before it gets even more out of hand,” Archie growled, his voice low and dangerous.
“By doing what? Massacring a shoal of Selkie with tourists recording it on their phones?” Ina swallowed, pulse spiking. “Breathe,” she whispered, taking a large breath herself, before exhaling. “And then catch yourself on.”
“Bob told me they wouldn’t be here for a day or two. Not only are they already here, but they’ve killed someone and left his body for all to see.” Archie wrestled with the rusty clasp on an old storage locker. “If they were starving and desperate, they wouldn’t have left the mayor’s half-eaten body on a bloody rock.”
