They used the waterfall as their route upriver, but even they weren’t bold enough to risk being seen by a crowd. They couldn't have lost their fear of humans completely.
Archie climbed out the car and stretched, his back clicking as he shook off the tension. He shrugged off his blazer and laid it over the passenger seat, then rolled uphis shirt sleeves to his elbows. Too hot for a suit, but custom took precedence over comfort—even during a heat wave.
He shut the car door and a twig snapped behind him. Archie spun, hand flying to the hilt of the knife at the small of his back. His muscles locked. He scanned the tree line. Leaves barely stirred. No movement at all. Even the birds fell silent. An eerie silence filled the air, as if the world itself had just stopped.
Archie’s heart stuttered. The children had gone quiet, too. Until a scream cut through the trees, sharp enough to slice the air. He ran along the well-trodden path towards the sound; he couldn’t go back for the crossbow. Every second he spent going to his car was a second a child didn’t have. Knife and wits would have to do.
“Help!” A girl stood on the edge of the rocks, staring into the water, arms outstretched. “Help us!”
“Get away from there!” Archie waved her back as he bolted over the wooden bridge that connected the walkway to the far side of the pool.
“My brother’s in there!” The girl’s shoulders heaved with sobs.
She leaned dangerously towards the water, her weight rocking forward as if about to dive. Panic clawed at Archie’s throat. He couldn’t save them both, not if the Selkie were in the water. He’d already lived that nightmare once. Malachi’s shaking body, Rhys’ sandal on the rocks—the memory flashed like a punch.
He forced it down and lunged for the girl, grabbing her arm and hauling her back from the edge before she tipped in.
“Stay here.” He jabbed his finger at the stone beneath her feet. There was no time for gentleness.
He scrambled onto the rocks, ignoring the pull in hiscalves, and scanned the surface of the water. He held his breath, eyes straining for the slightest disturbance. For a moment, there was nothing but the churn of the pool. Then a small head broke the surface, gasping, with little arms flailing towards the sky.
“Simon!” The girl’s voice cracked, choking on thick sobs.
Simon spluttered out a mouthful of water, arms thrashing as he tried to swim but something held him back. An arm wrapped around his chest, pinning him in place.
Archie’s chest tightened. The trees encasing the water closed in on him. The air stifling. Seven years vanished in an instant. A Selkie lurked under the water, holding onto the boy. Playing with him. Archie’s body coiled like a spring, ready to pounce, but he had to pick his moment.
The boy’s struggles slowed, seconds from going under from exhaustion. Archie had to dive in, to take his chances against the Selkie in the water.
Spotting a shallower edge near the bridge he sprinted, dress shoes slipping on wet rock. He didn’t care if he fell in—he’d deal with the Selkie in the water if he had to. He’d die doing it if it came to that. He would not fail another child.
By the time he reached the bridge, the boy had been dragged closer. Archie skidded to his knees, his upper body hung out over the water, spray from the waterfall dampening his face and shirt. He waited, muscles burning, until Simon bobbed within reach. Their fingers brushed once, missed. Archie stretched further, ribs protesting, and then…
The water split.
Something surged up beneath the boy—a figure rising in a smooth, terrible arc. Long black hair slicked to a sharp, handsome face; pale skin glistening, beads of water catchingthe sunlight that pushed its way through the trees. Shoulders and arms honed like a swimmer’s, with lean muscle coiled over bone. Waist-deep, he seemed to grow from the water itself, every movement easy and strong.
A Selkie.
Up close, the allure of him made sense of every story Archie had ever heard: a beauty with brutal strength. Those eyes though—impossibly bright, blue like polished glass—held nothing soft. No curiosity or fear. Just cold intent.
With casual strength, the Selkie hurled the boy upwards as if he weighed no more than a football. Archie braced and caught him, the impact jolting his arms into his chest. At least Simon crashed into Archie rather than the edge of the bridge.
Archie grunted, teeth rattling, and dragged the boy fully onto the boards, rolling onto his back beside him. For a second he just lay there. Ribs throbbing. Heart hammering. The echo of another boy’s weight in his arms almost made him gag.
Simon coughed, his body heaving with each gasp for air.
Archie snapped back into motion, pushing himself upright and rubbing the boy’s back in firm, steady circles. “That’s it, son. Get it up.”
He hadn’t been so steady the last time. On the riverbank, he’d pounded Malachi’s back with shaking hands and screamed Rhys’ name until he’d lost his voice. His chest tightened, a familiar sting settling under his breastbone. He’d dragged one child out in time. Simon now, Malachi then. Rhys had been the one he couldn’t reach. The one he hadn’t saved. The Selkie hadn’t just taken his son—they’d taken the part of him that believed he could protect anyone.
“Simon!” His sister skidded across the bridge towards them, tears streaming down her face, arms outstretched.
“Let him breathe.” Archie held out his hand to halt her before she crushed him. “Just a second. You all right, son?”
Simon nodded, eyes wide as his gaze dragged back towards the water.
“You must’ve got caught in a current,” Archie forced his tone into something resembling calm, planting his hands on his hips to stop them shaking. “You need to be careful in the water at this time of night.”
