“It wasn’t personal Archie. It was survival.”
“Tell that to my dead son,” Archie’s voice thinned, scraped raw. “And the ghost of a big brother he left behind.” He glanced back at Malachi, still staring towards the water.
The Selkie had survived for cycles on Latharna, but they hadn’t needed to kill a child to do it. There were breeding grounds across the Orkney Islands, and even further north in the Shetland Islands. They had options.
They chose Latharna rather than admit their time here was over. They chose to kill his son. If it had truly been about survival, they would’ve gone elsewhere.
“The sea tells me the Selkie haven’t forgotten, Archie.” Murdock spoke slowly, as though choosing his words carefully, “I’m telling you this as a friend. Be careful.”
“It sounds like a threat.” A low growl crept into Archie’s voice. “The sea tells you quite a bit.”
“For the sake of our friendship, I’ll ignore that comment.” Murdock stepped back, creating distance between them.
“When will the Selkie get here?” Archie’s fingers pressed into his temple, chasing off the argument he wanted to make. Murdock was a stubborn old seadog, but he was also a trusted friend. And Wolfendens didn’t have many of those.
“Within a day or two. They won’t linger, a couple of days at most.” Murdock hesitated, as though debating whether to continue. “They don’t want to be here. They just want their packto survive.”
The word struck him like a slap. Archie’s breath caught, then eased out in a long, controlled draw. They were on their way—maybe Murdock could urge them to swim on by, head north and join another shoal. “Could their shoal not survive elsewhere?”
“Latharna is their home, too.” Murdock patted his arm.
Archie tensed and pulled away, not appreciating that type of comfort any more than Malachi did. He kept his mouth shut and stared out over the flat water. Not even a gull cried for leftover chips or melted ice-cream.
The trolley wheel squeaked in protest as he pushed it ontoTheUnsinkable Meara.
“Archie,” Murdock began with an air of caution, “if you don’t look for them, you’ll never know they’re here.”
“If they don’t eat before they arrive, they take whatever poor sod they find enjoying an evening swim.” Archie blew out a breath through his nose, jaw locking. “I can’t let that happen again. Not when they’re coming inland and taking children.” A cold pinch hit the back of his throat, gone as quickly as it came.
“Then we’d best hope they find fish before they get here.” Murdock hesitated, then offered his hand.
Archie shook it without pause, and placed his palm over the captain’s. “Bob, if they so much as brush past someoneat the beach, I’ll hunt them down. And this time, I won’t leave any of them alive.”
“And they’ll be ready for you. As I said, it wasn’t personal, just…” Murdock’s fingers fluttered as he searched for the right word. “Unfortunate.” He offered a wry, apologetic smile.
Archie held his gaze, jaw still tight. Despite the captain’s clumsy attempt at diplomacy, he understood the brutal truth of it. Females birthed on land and needed to feed themselves and their young. Every seven years, the Selkie took a life or two. It was the only way they could survive after centuries of being hunted for sport had driven them to near extinction. They were an ancient species trapped in a world that no longer had room for them.
If they didn’t move on from Latharna, they’d be gone within a few cycles. Surely they could see that and would choose another breeding ground. But understanding didn’t equate to forgiveness. They crossed a line when they came inland and took a child.
“It’s personal to me.” Archie’s fingers curled against his palm, nails biting into skin. Whatever sympathy Murdock hoped to draw from him wasn’t there. The captain might have been right about their desperation, but Archie stopped short of agreeing. The Selkie pushed past their boundaries—onto land, into homes—and the price for that was paid in blood. He would’ve reacted that way no matter who’s child they’d taken.
“Then I wish you all the luck in the world.” Captain Murdock put on his hat and shuffled his feet, itching to see to a customer who had pulled into the car park.
“Fifty enough?” Archie reached into his back pocket for his wallet and handed Murdock several notes. “I’ll see you in two weeks then?”
“If the sea is kind, aye.” Murdock gave Archie a farewell smile and a nod before turning to direct a campervan onto the boat. He turned back with a grin, “Tell that old fox, Ina, I said hello.”
Archie rolled his eyes and headed back to his car. He valued his life, so he would do no such thing, and Murdock knew it. Malachi slouched on the bonnet, staring at the ground, half asleep.
“The sea tells me there’s a storm coming, but myMearawill still sail.” Murdock announced to his customer, already spinning a yarn.
Archie glanced up at the clear blue sky. The only storm brewing on Latharna was in his head. The Selkie were coming, driven by instinct. If they bred and left, then perhaps a few peaceful cycles might soften into a wary truce. But for seven years, a cork had been jammed in his grief, and now it was ready to burst if the Selkie came seeking blood.
He couldn’t risk Malachi being caught in the firing line. Keeping Heather’s promise was putting their son in danger. Shielding him from the Otherworld was no longer the answer.
Malachi slid off the bonnet without a word and shuffled to the passenger side. Archie opened the car door, thoughts churning like tide over rock. The Selkie were coming back. Malachi would need to know what happened to his brother, and how to protect himself from what was about to wash up on Latharna’s shore. Surely Heather would forgive his betrayal.
“After work, we need to talk.” He slammed the car door and fixed Malachi with a stern stare. “No excuses.”
