Murdock spent most of his life on the sea around Latharna. If there was something in the water, he would know about it.
Murdock opened his mouth and paused, as thoughdebating how to answer. “I’ve heard a few rumours from up North.” He leaned in speaking more to the empty boot than Archie. Worry lines cut deep into his forehead, making him look much older than his years.
“Oh?” Archie crossed his arms and nodded for Murdock to continue.
“Fishing’s bad this year, Archie.” Murdock tugged at his beard. “Very bad. There’s been sightings of… be careful, laddie! You scratch my boat, and I’ll scratch you!” He thumped the car roof with such ferocity Archie checked for a dent.
Malachi had overloaded the trolley and was struggling to navigate it down the steep gangway. The wonky wheel was making a bid for freedom in the opposite direction.
Archie held up his hand, “Hold that thought, Bob.” He jogged over to steady the trolley. It was likely Malachi overloaded it on purpose to avoid making a second trip.
“Take your time.” Murdock leant on the bonnet and stretched. “I’d help, but you know how bad my back is.”
“Better late than never,” Malachi panted, straining against the weight of the boxes.
“You could’ve made two trips.” Archie steadied the load, and together they steered the trolley to the car in silence.
Murdock took a deep drag on a cigarette and stared out to sea. Archie followed his eyeline. Nothing but clear horizon, thank God.
They loaded the boxes into the car without a word. Archie wrinkled his nose; cigarette smoke would cling to his clothes all day. Malachi dropped a box, spilling dozens of rubber vampire masks across the car park. He bent over to pick them up and sighed—a heavy, hollow sound—as though being crushed by the weight of the world.
Archie’s heart cracked. He stooped down to help, resting a hand on Malachi’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze—a small gesture to let Malachi know he was here for him, that he understood the pain, as it clawed at him as well.
Malachi let his grip linger for a heartbeat and then stiffened, stood up, and flung the masks into the car. Archie straightened, his knee cracking with the movement—a sharp reminder that grief doesn’t just tire the mind, it lodges itself deep into your joints and bones, leeching the life out of you one quiet moment at a time.
Murdock flicked his cigarette butt on the ground, stubbing out the embers with his toe. He stretched, bouncing on his tiptoes without any concern for his back, and nodded at Archie.
“Come on, Bob, I’ll walk you back toMeara.” Archie turned to Malachi, who leaned on the bonnet, and stared out to sea, lost in another daydream. “Why don’t you catch your breath, son?”
Malachi scowled and headed to the driver’s side. Archie slipped his hand into his back pocket and locked the door. Malachi would learn not to leave the keys in the ignition.
“Seriously?” Malachi threw his arms up, unimpressed at being deposed from the driver’s seat.
Malachi was an erratic driver at the best of times, but he’d been too distracted navigating the twisty roads down to Portmuck. He would sulk at being relegated to the passenger seat, but it was safer for them both if he wasn’t behind the wheel when he was having nightmares and not sleeping.
Once they were out of earshot, Murdock pulled Archie close, “Did you hear me, Archie?” Murdock looked over hisshoulder at the water as though the sea itself might be listening. “The fishing is bad this year.”
Archie flinched and turned back to make sure Malachi hadn’t followed or overheard. Malachi crossed his arms and looked away, his shoulder slumping as he covered a wide yawn with his hand.
Archie faced Murdock again, his stomach knotted into a tight coil. “How so?” A lack of fish was a sure sign the Selkie were on their way to Latharna—if they weren’t already here. His hope that they wouldn’t come back was fading fast, but he needed Murdock to confirm it once and for all. Murdock lived at sea, he guarded Latharna’s waters the same way Wolfendens guarded the land. If he said the Selkie were back, it would seal Archie’s worst fears.
Murdock drew a long breath and looked at the ground. Archie’s stomach sank.
“It’s been seven years since fish vanished, if you know what I mean.” Murdock’s eyes widened with fear, although Archie couldn’t figure out for whom.
“It’s happening again, isn’t it?” Archie’s voice fell to the low, dangerous register he’d used years ago—the night he’d gone after them. The night the sea ran red with blood.
“It’s a cycle as old as Latharna. When the Selkie return to give birth, the fish leave. If the fish don’t return next year, that’s when it’s time to panic,” Murdock joked, but he didn’t smile.
Archie didn’t smile either. The Selkie were back. Perhaps they’d have their young and leave without seeking payback for what happened to their shoal seven years ago. Archie swallowed hard. If he were a Selkie, he wouldn’t rest until he’d avenged his family.
Murdock cleared his throat. His fingers worried at his beard. “I’m assuming there won’t be as many Selkiethis year after what happened last time?” He held Archie’s gaze, false innocence already wearing thin.
“There are still too many.” Archie paced back and forth, that old heat rising in his chest, the same violent burn that had consumed him the day the Selkie took Rhys.
“Now, Archie,” Murdock took off his cap and shook his head, “their numbers have dwindled. The sea tells me there’s barely a dozen left.” He pointed his cap at Archie. “They’re frightened and desperate.”
“Did thesea tell you what they did to my family?” Archie swallowed hard, the motion slicing down his throat. His next breath trembled, tight with the kind of rage that threatened to snap loose if he let a single drop of emotion break free. “They should be bloody well frightened.”
