“Are you going to talk to him?” Ina placed her sunglasses on top of her head and reached for the teapot, giving it a swirl to stir the tea back to life before pouring herself a mug.
“Hmm?” Archie looked up, meeting her expectant stare.
“Malachi.” Ina didn’t raise her voice, but impatience threatened every syllable. “Are you going to talk to him?”
“What about?” Archie played dumb, though they both knew what she meant.
The truth was, he couldn’t talk about Rhys any more than Malachi could. He was the father, the supposed leader. It should’ve fallen to him to save his family from imploding, but he was being eaten alive by guilt, and couldn’t see a way out of the fog of grief. And then there was the promise. The one he’d made to Heather, his late wife, the one he wouldn’t break. He couldn’t dishonour her memory like that.
Ina’s icy stare indicated she was in no mood for games.Archie hated keeping secrets from her, but he could never tell her about the pact. Heather made him swear that if they raised their children on Latharna, they would never tell them about the Otherworld or the role their families played in it. Her deep green eyes had been wide with fear when she made him swear it. Her last words were a whispered reminder of that promise. Archie couldn’t break it, not after all this time.
“I don’t know.” He stared at his tea, avoiding her eyes.
Ina could spot a lie a mile off, and the last thing he needed was to end up on the wrong side of one of her interrogations. She was fiercely proud of their Wolfenden heritage and their connection to the Otherworld. Over the years, she’d made it clear she didn’t understand why Archie insisted on keeping the truth from his children.
“This time of year is always hard on him, and I don’t know if he could cope if he found out what really happened to Rhys.” Archie stole a glance at Ina. Her dark eyes, a colour that matched his own, softened. “How can I tell my eighteen-year-old that the Selkie murdered his brother?”
“I don’t know, Archie, but he needs to know.” Ina blew a puff of steam from her mug before taking a cautious sip. “The Selkie are due back on Latharna to breed, and we need to prepare him.”
“He’s just a kid who relives the trauma every year. If I start talking about Selkie, he’ll think I’ve lost my mind or that I’m taking the piss.” Archie’s voice rose, anger tightening his throat. He took a breath and exhaled slowly, forcing himself to calm. “People on Latharna think the Selkie are cutesy mythical creatures, terrified of being snatched by sailors, but we know they’re not.”
“You know they come back to Latharna every seven years to have their young. They’re probably here already. They were desperate last time, and they’ll be desperate again, and...” Ina pursed her lips, “they’ll want more than food.”
“Revenge?” Archie slammed his mug on the table—tea sloshed over the rim like a tidal wave. “After what they did to my family, they’re lucky to be alive.”
He closed his eyes, rubbing his temples as flashes of memory flooded back. The scream, the potent mixture of blood and seaweed, his hands slick with crimson scales. When he opened his eyes, they were clean again.
“That’s the problem,” Ina leaned in, elbows on the table. “You left some alive.”
Archie bristled and bit his tongue, letting her say her piece without interrupting.
“We know this, so we can prepare, but you need to speak to your son. It’s time he knew. You can’t keep him sheltered forever, Archie. It isn’t fair.” Ina sat back in her chair and took another sip of tea.
Archie’s shoulders sagged. He looked away, buying himself a moment to collect his thoughts. Ina wasn’t wrong.Latharna, with its lush green forests and dramatic coastline, had become a magnet for film crews and tourists in recent years. But the island’s dark history still lingered, and some of the old forces of the Otherworld were growing bolder, desperate to protect their own as modern life crept ever closer.
The Selkie were the first to push back—but they wouldn’t be the last. The McAllister’s and their Crimson Swine Society had already proven how easily the Otherworld could blend into island life without revealing or revisiting their bloody origins. But when the bloodlust surfaced, it came without warning. And that was what made them truly dangerous.
“The pack is stronger together, Archie.” Ina smiled.
Archie nodded. She’d said it countless times over the years, and it never failed to steady him. She reached across the table and patted his hand.
“I know. I’ll talk to him later.” Archie raised his voice, “If he would ever get his arse out of bed!”
Ina withdrew her hand and placed it back on her cup just before Malachi burst through the kitchen door.
“Morning,” Malachi barked without making eye contact. He wasn’t an early bird at the best of times, but he had dark circles under his eyes, and his thick, black hair was more unkempt than usual. The nightmares had started.
Archie’s stomach sank, taking his appetite with it. Every year he’d hoped they would fade as Malachi grew older, as though the passage of time would be enough to heal the trauma without either of them openly acknowledging it. But silence had its price, and guilt gnawed at him all the same. He set down his toast and took a glug of tea to wash away the bile forming in the back of his throat. The notion ofprotecting Malachi for the greater good offered little comfort.
“Morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?” Ina let her pointed question hang in the air.
“Can’t complain.” Malachi kissed her on the cheek and, without missing a beat, stole the last piece of toast from her plate. Archie and Ina exchanged a glance, barely a flicker, but Malachi caught it. He grinned at Archie, though there was anger in his dark eyes. “Waiting on you now.” Malachi snatched the keys from the table and grabbed his grey hoodie from the back of the chair—a splash of colour against his black T-shirt and shorts. “I’ll drive.”
Archie opened his mouth to protest—the backdoor slammed shut after Malachi, cutting him off.
“Malachi’s driving down to the West Harbour?” Ina smirked, lowering her voice in case he was lurking on the other side of the door. “You’ll probably crash into a ditch on the bad bend at the bottom of the Gobbins Road and won’t need to worry about the Selkie anymore.”
“Every cloud…” Archie dragged himself up from the table. His body was heavy as though warning him to stay at home. “I’ll try to talk to him later.”
