Ina turned. Archie looked around the Hideaway—the dusty shelves of ancient books, the old army cot with musty bedding, the cluttered desk piled with receipts from his under-the-table antiquing. A room she’d grown up in. A room that had shaped her.
Malachi had lived in Riverside for eighteen years, unaware of what lay beneath it. Ina would’ve been furious if the Hideaway was kept from her. She couldn’t imagine Daddy ever hiding anything from her, he’d been too eager to pass down their history.
“Hopefully he’ll be too distracted by the fact you’re usingTreasure Islandto hide a secret room to shoot himself with a weapon,” Ina swallowed the memory and forced a lighter tone.
When Daddy introduced her to the Hideaway, he’d been ecstatic. It was a rite of passage for a Wolfenden child to learn about their history and abilities. She couldn’tunderstand why Archie refused to share it with his own children. Maybe it was because he never got to meet Daddy—never felt the warmth of his pride and enthusiasm.
Archie’s worry hung thick in the air as he locked the weapons cache and slipped the key into his pocket. It had never left the Hideaway before.
“Why don’t you ring Jaunty and ask about the funeral arrangements? Ina hoped that giving Archie his own task would settle him. “He’s bound to know what’s happening.
Archie nodded. There wasn’t a funeral on Latharna that Jaunty McNeill didn’t know about.
Ina trudged back up to Archie’s office, stifling a yawn. When Malachi had nightmares, she hardly slept either. But she needed to push on, tired or not. This was the calm before the inevitable storm.
Chapter 8
Malachi
Malachi groaned as he set a box of Halloween decorations on the bench behind the till. Sticky with sweat, he stepped under the new air conditioning unit Nomi had insisted on installing and let the icy draught blast over him.
He brushed a strand of damp hair from his eyes and surveyed the shop floor. The morning had been chaotic—overflowing with shoppers and overexcited children. Something about being on holiday by the sea always sent people scrambling for plastic crap.
He glanced at the clock. He was running out of time. Nomi would be back soon, armed with dentist-induced irritation and ready to unleash it on whoever was nearest. Today, that meant him. The display had to be perfect, or he’d never hear the end of it.
His stomach rumbled, loud enough to echo off the gift-shop shelving. If he finished quickly, he could escape toLucky Crumbsbefore Dad arrived. The thought of food, real food, not the stale biscuits in the cupboard, sent a fresh ache through his empty stomach.
Malachi wasn’t against spending time with Dad. But Dad usually kept his distance around Rhys’ anniversary—one year he’d even taken a trip out to sea with Captain Murdock just to avoid the day. Now he was ready to talk. Malachi’s chest tightened, because if Dad had finally stopped running from what happened on the river, then he might have to stand still and face it too.
But he wasn’t ready. Telling Dad that Rhys had been taken by a sea-creature with bright blue eyes was impossible. The thought of Dad hearing that he hadn’t been paying enough attention to notice the danger curled something sharp and ugly in his gut. If he’d kept his eyes open, he could’ve seen the danger coming. He could’ve done something, anything, and Rhys would still be alive.
His breath snagged. He swallowed hard, trying to crush the rising lump in his throat before it choked him.
Maybe he could distract Dad and tell him about his plan to leave Latharna with Jeff at the end of the summer. But he wasn’t ready for that conversation either.
Planning their escape from Latharna was how Latharnian children spent their childhood. Those who left rarely came back, and those who stayed rarely left. Malachi didn’t know which he wanted—he only knew that he was tired of running.
Jeff Kilbane, his long-time but problematic friend, had family in Europe, and treated their plan to visit them like a military operation. It was his obsession and Malachi got swept along with it. Ally used to join the fantasies, but as they got older, it was obvious he wasn’t going anywhere. He was a fantastic baker.Lucky Crumbswould be safe in Ally’s hands when Thelma Curran decided to hang up her apron. Malachi had… a lifetime of selling novelty keychains to tourists and Nomi’s constant disapproval.
The fear returned, sharp and sour. If Dad ever learned the truth about the river, he’d probably throw Malachi onto theUnsinkable Mearaand tell Captain Murdock not to bring him back. Ina would no doubt have some half-remembered tale about a childhood friend banished from Latharna who never recovered from the shame and died tragically away from hearth and home. Ina didn’t trust the mainland. Malachi wasn’t convinced she’d ever been.
The shop bell jingled, snapping him out of his thoughts. He braced himself for Nomi’s commentary on his morning’s work.
“Have you spoken to your dad yet?”
Jeff strode in without bothering with the greetings, all sandy hair and narrow golden eyes that always seemed to be sizing people up. Trouble followed him like a loyal dog. He’d saved Malachi from a bully when they were seven and attached himself to him ever since.
“Not yet, sorry. But I will.” Malachi lowered his head, slipping back into the instinctive apology Jeff always seemed to pull out of him. “Pass me those buckets.” He pointed to the box sitting by the till.
Jeff vaulted over the counter, almost knocking over a display of sweets strategically placed for last minute add-on purchases. He grabbed a handful of buckets and tossed them without warning. Malachi caught them easily.
Like most older families on Latharna, they were related. Their parents were cousins now estranged as their family tree fractured. Malachi never asked for details. The risk of being bored to death with stories from the past was too high a price to pay.
“We get our exam results on the 20th. It would be great to be outta here before the holiday weekend.” Jeff tapped thewall calendar as he calculated the dates. “That gives us three weeks to get organised and get the hell off Latharna.”
The last week in August was one of the busiest of the year, with holidaymakers desperate for one more break before the grind of the school year began again. Nomi would need him to fill in for Bridget if she was still off. Malachi ducked behind his tower of buckets to avoid Jeff’s gaze.
“That soon?” The words scraped out of him, Jeff’s urgency clawing at his nerves.
