Chapter 4
Ina
Ina wiped a light sheen of sweat from her forehead with the back of her sleeve and tucked a few strands of her shoulder-length, white hair behind her ears. The kitchen didn’t need a deep clean—she would never allow it to—but today, she needed a distraction. Placing her hands on her hips, she stretched her back, groaning in satisfaction. With a loud sigh, the last of her nervous energy was expelled from her body as she surveyed the gleaming countertops and polished floors.
Time had moved at a snail’s pace since Archie and Malachi left for Portmuck. She’d picked up her phone more than once to ring Archie for an update, but she never made the call. He needed space and time to talk to Malachi, and she respected his boundaries, even when she didn’t agree with them.
It was lost on her why Archie refused to tell his children about the Otherworld, especially with Wolfenden blood coursing through their veins. And even though Archie never mentioned it, she had her suspicions about their mother’s blood. Heather had flinched every time the Otherworld wasmentioned, as though it dragged back some buried memory to the surface—one she refused to share, at least not with Ina.
She flicked the kettle on and leaned against the counter while it boiled, staring out the window at the river flowing past their garden. Closing her eyes, she drifted back to the chatter of Malachi and Rhys, each convinced they would make the biggest catch of the day. The sun shone bright, the water was calm and the air thick with freshly cut grass—a perfect summer's day.
There’d been no warning their lives were about to change forever. If she hadn’t left the garden to take a call from Tilly, things would’ve been different. She would’ve spotted the danger lurking beneath the surface. Even if she didn’t, she would’ve died before letting either of her nephews come to harm.
Ina shook her head sharply, refusing to drown in guilt. The Selkie were to blame for what happened on the river, not her. She had drilled water safety into those boys since they were old enough to hold a fishing line. They were perfectly safe, until the Selkie strayed inland to hunt.
A flash of colour outside caught her eye. A blue butterfly fluttered past the window, zig-zagging until it settled on a nearby rose in bloom. Ina smiled. Tilly would say a rare butterfly is a sign of good luck. She’d also point out that Ina was neglecting the rose bushes—a job for after her cuppa. Anything to keep her mind off the waiting.
The kettle rumbled, bubbling in time with the churn of anxiety in her stomach. She jumped as the kettle clicked off and turned to make tea, but a splash on the river froze her in place. Her breathing slowed. The fine hairs on the back of her neck prickled as she stood motionless, eyes locked on the water.
She hadn’t been prepared the last time the Selkie came to Riverside. She wouldn’t be caught off guard again.
The ticking clock echoed through the kitchen as she stared, unblinking, at the river. The Selkie wouldn’t dare come to her home in broad daylight after last time. They wouldn’t be that foolish.
Gentle ripples broke the calm surface.
“I don’t think so.” The words came out low and rough, almost a growl, as she tore out of the kitchen and down to the jetty.
Breathing hard by the water’s edge, she scanned for more ripples. Nothing—only the thick, sour stench of seaweed. Ina’s stomach churned. That smell had haunted Riverside after Rhys was taken, and in Glenoe where they found his blood soaked shoe.
The air thickened. An eerie silence settled over Riverside—even the birds nesting in the trees had gone quiet. The hairs on Ina’s arms rose, prickling her skin. Someone was watching her; she could feel it. The Selkie were here.
Her body tensed, muscles tightening in readiness. The river drifted by, indifferent, as though it had no time for matters outside its concern. Ina’s fingers brushed the wolf’s head engraved on the hilt of the knife nestled against her back. This time, she was ready.
A flock of swifts burst overhead, their shrill calls slicing through the stillness. The sound snapped the tension like a thread. The stench of seaweed lifted, replaced by the sweet scent of cut grass carried across the fields on the soft breeze. Riverside exhaled.
The side gate banged open.
Tilly bustled through, short and stocky, wearing her black-and-purple uniform fromThe Enchanted Thistle. Her short hair was dyed a cheerful summery blonde, and shecarried a box in both hands, almost certainly homemade cake.
“I’ll put the kettle on, love.” Tilly waved the box at her.
Ina’s stomach lurched. Facing a shoal of Selkie was more appealing than whatever monstrosity Tilly had baked. She sighed and rubbed her temple; she shouldn’t be so glib, not after what happened the last time the Selkie came to Riverside.
“I called intoLucky Crumbson the way here.” Tilly had an uncanny habit of reading her mind. Shaking her head, Tilly plucked a dying leaf from the rose bush and scurried inside.
“Thank god for that,” Ina turned back towards the river, giving her small obsidian knife a reassuring pat.
Soon. They will be here soon.
Chapter 5
Malachi
Malachi puffed out his cheeks and exhaled loudly, looking away as Dad tried to catch his eye for the millionth time. They’d spent most of the morning organising the delivery in silence under the eagle eyes of Nomi Peterson, who’d been the shop manager for as long as he could remember. Nomi was humourless, bossy, and took her job far too seriously by dressing in a black business suit on the hottest day of the year. At least his dark ensemble was weather-appropriate.
On any other day, he’d resent Nomi standing over him, dictating where stock should or shouldn’t go while he did all the work, but not today. Her presence kept conversation to a minimum. The only sound was the incessant tapping of her pen against the clipboard she always carried, with a seemingly never-ending to-do list.
The shelves were finally restocked, and the first display of back-to-school stationery had been signed off by Nomi with an exaggerated flick of her pen.
