Simon nodded again, relief and shock making him a little too eager to believe it. There was time for the truth later if the boy ever needed it. Hopefully, he wouldn’t.
“Are you staying at the holiday cottages at the top of the hill?” Archie checked Simon over—no obvious injuries beyond shaking and shock—and helped him to his feet.
Simon nodded, teeth chattering.
“Right. Take that path.” Archie pointed to the track on the far side of the bridge. “Straight back up. Don’t go near the river. Understand?”
The girl grabbed her brother’s hand, and after a breathless nod of thanks, they bolted up the path without looking back. Archie watched them until they were nearly swallowed by the trees, only letting himself breathe once they were a safe distance away.
The stench hit him then—rotting fish and old seaweed, sour and heavy under the clean evening air. He wasn’t alone.
He clenched his jaw and turned back towards the waterfall.
A male Selkie lounged on a flat rock near the pool, half in shadow. He sat, waist-deep where the water calmed from its furious drop, long legs stretched in front of him, the remnants of seaweed clinging to his bare skin as thoughreluctant to let go. He was young—on the cusp of a fully grown adult—tall and lean, with the kind of wiry strength that had yet to bulk out but didn’t need to. Matted black hair plastered to his face and shoulders. His eyes, bright as sapphires in the fading light, never left Archie.
Every story he’d heard as a child came back in a rush: maidens bewitched, men lured to sea, fortunes changed by a single glance from a Selkie. Looking at this one, it was easy to see how people might mistake him for a blessing. Archie knew better.
Archie’s body itched to charge, to close the distance and drive the knife home. Instead, he forced his legs to walk, eating up the space slowly, keeping his focus loose enough to catch movement in the corners of his vision. The waterfall roared, its spray settling in a fine mist over the slick rocks. One slip and he’d go down. On wet stone, the Selkie would be more sure-footed. One wrong move and the Selkie would get the drop on him.
Sea salt and rotten seaweed thickened the air. He scanned the pool and the river above the falls for tell-tale ripples—anything that hinted at another shape beneath the surface. The Selkie were so fluid in the water, they could move at speed without disturbing it. Just because he couldn’t see them didn’t mean they weren’t there.
He drew his knife and raised it, letting the steel catch what little light was left in the valley. A warning to the Selkie that he was armed.
“You’ll never make it in time,” his smooth voice sung, deep and alluring.
The young Selkie pushed himself up, water sluicing from his skin. The definition in his chest and stomach was unmistakable, each line of muscle shifting with careless ease. His face might have been carved by the sculptures of agolden age: all sharp cheekbones and full mouth, a face designed to be admired.
He stood up and moved over the jagged rocks towards the water’s edge with effortless grace.
“I’ll take my chances.” Archie tightened his grip on the knife until his knuckles ached. The crossbow was buried in the boot of his car. No time for regret now—saving the children had been his first priority.
“Why?” the Selkie’s voice dropped to a rasp that scraped across Archie’s nerves.
A flash of memory cut through him—the same eyes, younger, wider, staring at him in the boathouse. Back then, there’d been fear. Now, there was none. Only anger. Recognition slid into place like a blade.
“You almost killed that boy for fun.” Archie’s vision sharpened, the edges of the world narrowing to the creature in front of him. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, matching the hammer of the waterfall. “Selkie aren’t supposed to be cruel.”
“Who are you to tell us who we are?” The Selkie straightened. His gaze hardened. “Or who we are supposed to be?”
“You need to be stopped.” Archie’s voice rose, bouncing off the wall of trees that cradled the waterfall. “You don’t get to go around killing children and walk away from it. Someone has to stop you.”
“I didn’t kill a child.” The Selkie spread long fingers across his chest, mock outrage twisting his features. His nails were a fraction too long, curved and sharp like small claws. The mayor wouldn’t have stood a chance against one Selkie, never mind a shoal.
“You killed my child.” The words scraped out between Archie’s teeth. The knife hilt bit into his palm.
“That wasn’t me.” A cruel smile tugged at the Selkie’s mouth, as if he was savouring the moment. “And I didn’t kill this one either.” He flashed a grin, lips peeling back to reveal teeth a little too pointed to pass for human. “We were just playing while we waited for you.”
Archie’s legs went unsteady. He shifted his weight, forcing his knees to lock. The river above the waterfall was their route inland. It’s how they’d reached Riverside last time. How they’d taken Rhys. He had walked into a trap, just not the one he expected.
“We knew you’d eventually come here,” The Selkie twisted a strand of his long black hair between his fingers, dragging out the torment. “My father left you a little present here last time we came. But…” He tilted his head and smirked. “I’m just a distraction.”
Archie lunged. The Selkie laughed and tipped backwards off the rock, sliding into the water with barely a splash.
Rage punched through Archie, hot and absolute. He barely registered the cold as he splashed into the shallows after him. If the Selkie dragged him under so be it. He’d go down taking the creature with him.
The change happened in a heartbeat.
Where legs had been, the water swirled—dark and strange. The Selkie’s skin shimmered, light sliding off it in oil-slick colours. Muscles twisted. Bone shifted. In the ripples his calves flowed together, feet lengthening and fanning, skin turning sleek and slick. The lower half of the Selkie’s body snapped into focus — a thick, powerful tail, dark as deep water, tipped with a wide fin that sliced through the pool with effortless grace.
