Malachi rested his chin on his hand, watching them. His mouth twitched slightly, as though his dad’s panic at the thought of Ina leaving didn’t surprise him at all. Eighteen was old enough to know who usually spoke first.
It was time for him to grow up, but he could only do that if Archie let him. Based on tonight’s events, his life depended on it. Ina wouldn’t allow Malachi to be unprepared the next time the Otherworld came calling. If Archie couldn’t tell him, she would.
“There are things about us that you don’t know—” She caught herself. Closed her mouth.
Ina had been the one to tell Archie about the Otherworld when they were children. The duty had fallen to her after Daddy disappeared, and Mammy never recovered. ‘Died of a broken heart’ was the official cause of death. Ina had never believed it. She’d learned early what it meant to shoulder truths no one else wanted.
She drew a slow breath and leaned back instead. This time, she would listen. She watched Archie—the set of his shoulders, the way his eyes kept drifting to Malachi—and willed him to speak.
The silence stretched. But she stayed quiet anyway, even though every instinct screamed at her to take the reins.
“There is so much that we all need to learn.” Archie’s eyes fixed on his mug. “Together.”
Ina’s brows lifted before she could stop them.
Archie speaking first—really speaking—was rare enough that it knocked the air from the room. Malachi stared at him, mouth slightly open, like he was waiting for the sound to fade.
Ina took a sip of tea, more to steady her hands than because she wanted it, and waited.
After Heather died, Archie held himself together through sheer will. Ina had watched him fold laundry with a face torn between grief and fury, had taken the boys for walks when the house became too quiet, and slept on the sofa outside the Hideaway while he locked himself away looking for something he wouldn’t share.
Heather’s death had never sat right with her. She’d lived with one eye over her shoulder. Ina couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever she’d been running from, had finally caught upwith her.
Archie survived her loss, bent but not broken. Rhys’ death was different.
Something in Archie had gone sharp around the edges after that. Anger slipped into him like a splinter he couldn’t pull free. He tried for Malachi—Ina would give him that—but the space between them had grown quiet and dangerous. The Otherworld sat between father and son like an unspoken truth, festering for seven long years.
Malachi had leaned on Ina instead. Always had. And she’d let him, but that bond was never meant to replace Archie.
Facing the Selkie as a family could stitch them back into a pack. The Otherworld was closer than it had been for years. The McAllisters had lived on Latharna for generations and were active members of the community, but they had slipped before—and could again.
A cold chill ran down Ina’s spine as she thought about what Tilly had told her: the refuge, the clean vampires. It only took one of their clan falling off the wagon, one lapse into bloodlust, for their secret to come dangerously close to exposure.
The McAllisters were allies. Camilla was a regular fixture at Tilly’s drunken parties—she was a trusted part of their circle. But surely they could see it too: inviting the Otherworld further into Latharna wouldn’t stop with good intentions. It would open the door to more danger. More bloodshed.
If they were going to face the Selkie together—if they were going to survive the growing influence of the Otherworld—Archie had to lead this. Ina wouldn’t let them fracture again. Not now. There was too much at stake.
“Go on,” Ina nudged the moment back into Archie’shands. She tipped her chin towards Malachi, whose attention hadn’t left him for a second. “We’re waiting.”
Archie took a long slurp of tea, as though the heat might burn some courage into him. “We know very little about Latharna, what it really is and what lives on it. Those things tonight, your ‘fucking fishmen’ …"
Ina’s cup cracked against the table. She froze, fingers tight around the ceramic. She hated swearing, but she swallowed the reprimand before it could surface. Now wasn’t the time to interrupt. She leaned back instead, jaw clenched, and let Archie keep going.
“The Selkie are sea creatures of old.” Archie set his mug on the table, with deliberate care. “They return to Latharna every seven years to have their young. It’s been this way for generations.”
“Selkie,” Malachi whispered, barely disturbing the air, like he was afraid to say their name too loudly in case it might summon them.
“Selkie,” Archie echoed with a nod. “They used to be gentle, unassuming creatures. But their numbers dwindled. More people moved here. Food grew scarce when they came ashore to have their young.” His gaze flicked to Malachi. “When they’re here, they take whoever they find along the coast. Just enough to sustain their shoal until they return to sea.”
Ina watched Malachi closely.
Normally, she could read him as easily as the morning newspaper. Now, there was nothing. Not blankness, but control. He sat still, shoulders squared, eyes fixed on Archie absorbing every word without flinching.
Suddenly older than his years. Quieter than Archie had ever been. Steadier too, less impulsive. A daydreamer, but also able to take in every word when it mattered. Hedefinitely got those traits from Heather. The familiar ache settled in Ina’s chest.
“It was their hunger for revenge that almost got you killed.” Archie’s voice faltered just for a beat. “They came for you tonight because of my failure last time. When they took Rhys—” He swallowed hard, “I was blinded by grief. I left Latharna vulnerable to attack from creatures most people believe only exist in fairy tales. I put this place in danger.” His gaze locked on Malachi. “I put youin danger. I’m so sorry.”
The apology landed heavy.
