Chapter 7 Ina
Ina
“Archie, wait.” Ina hurried after him as he strode towards his office. He was seconds away from doing something reckless and in broad daylight. Archie needed to be stopped before he introduced the residents and holiday makers of Latharna to the Otherworld in a fit of rage.
He burst into his unremarkable, beige office and stormed across the room with such force that a stack of blank paper blew off the desk.
He grabbed a tattered copy of Treasure Island from the bookshelf, and pressed a small hidden button at the back.
A soft click, and the case slid back to reveal a doorway.
He bounded down the stairs into the Hideaway, the Wolfendens old training area beneath Riverside, before the automatic light even flicked on.
“It’s the middle of the day,” Ina followed, footsteps quickened by dread. She needed to get to him before his impulsiveness took over. “What in God’s name do you think you’re going to do?”
“I’m going to sort this before it gets even more out of hand,” Archie growled, his voice low and dangerous.
“By doing what? Massacring a shoal of Selkie with tourists recording it on their phones?” Ina swallowed, pulse spiking. “Breathe,” she whispered, taking a large breath herself, before exhaling. “And then catch yourself on.”
“Bob told me they wouldn’t be here for a day or two.
Not only are they already here, but they’ve killed someone and left his body for all to see.
” Archie wrestled with the rusty clasp on an old storage locker.
“If they were starving and desperate, they wouldn’t have left the mayor’s half-eaten body on a bloody rock. ”
“I agree.” Ina held up her palms in a rare show of surrender. “You’re right.”
Her agreement knocked the wind out of Archie’s momentum. The taught line of his shoulders loosened a fraction.
Ina crossed her arms and leaned on the arm of the dusty brown sofa—far enough to give Archie space, but close enough to the stairs to intervene if she needed to.
Archie had the brute strength, but she’d trained him.
She would have him on the floor before he realised what was happening, and they both knew it.
Archie pulled the locker open with a protesting creak.
Inside lay a cache of old weapons, most hadn’t been used or left the Hideaway in decades.
He brushed a cobweb away and reached for an old axe, its blade dulled to a ghost of what it had once been.
His hand jerked back, as though bitten by a memory.
“Archie?”
“It was a message, Ina.” His voice thinned, barely holding steady.
“For all to see. Selkie are supposed to be creatures driven by instinct, but they’re taunting us.
” He lifted a crossbow from the locker, the wolf motif carved into the oak frame had faded with time, but still a beautiful piece of craftsmanship.
“You can’t go hunting them in the middle of the day, Archie. You do know that, don’t you?”
“What else am I supposed to do? Wait for the cover of darkness in the middle of bloody summer?” Archie snatched an iron bolt from the bottom of the locker and loaded the crossbow. “I can’t sit around for twelve hours and do nothing.”
“You have to.” Ina stood up, ready to block the stairs if he so much as twitched in that direction.
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t end this now,” Archie’s anger was still there, but its edge had dulled—more wounded than feral.
“Because we’re not creatures driven by instinct,” Ina sighed. “Not anymore.”
A familiar ache spread through her. If Daddy had still been here, he would’ve dealt with the Selkie the last time.
Sebastian Wolfenden had been the head of the family—strong, steady and unshakeable.
When he and his siblings vanished forty years ago, the pack splintered.
Their abilities faded, their unity crumbled.
She had only been ten years old. Archie hadn’t even been born. Daddy used to watch her train with Aunt Sylvie in this very room, his face beaming with pride. Archie never had that. Perhaps that was why he clung so fiercely to rage: it was the only thing he knew how to hold.
Archie lowered the crossbow, tension vibrating through him like a live wire. Ina had pulled his rashness back to calm—for now. Thankfully, she always could.
“What would you have me do?” He set the crossbow back into the locker.
“What time does Malachi finish at The Den?” Ina glanced at her watch. Surely Nomi would be back by now. She never stayed away from work longer than necessary.
“Lunchtime. Mal wanted to meet Aloysius for breakfast, so I need to get him before he leaves work, otherwise I’ll end up dragging him out of Lucky Crumbs.” Archie’s shoulders sagged. “He’s avoiding me.”
“You two always avoid each other at this time of year.” Ina swallowed a lump in her throat. The distance between father and son always tightened in the days around Rhys’ anniversary—a grief she felt as keenly as they did, yet was never truly part of. “But this year, you need to talk to him.”
“I’ll talk to him tonight,” said Archie, his brown eyes filled with sadness. He couldn’t meet her gaze. Ina had seen that look before, the kind he only ever wore when Malachi was involved. “It’s time.”
“Show him the crossbow.” Ina nodded to the locker. It wasn’t the advice she wanted to give, but it was something. A thing she could offer when the real wound was one she couldn’t heal. “That’ll get his attention.”
“The way things are going, I might have to.” Archie’s brow furrowed.
Ina wished she could ease his worries, but her own butterflies were fighting against a tornado in her stomach with no hope of settling.
“Bob’s lived half his life on that bloody boat.” Ina rubbed her chin, hands restless and ready for action. “We’re loyal to different parts of Latharna, and that divide worries me.”
“You don’t trust Bob?” Archie raised his eyebrows. “You know he’d got a soft spot for you. I’ve heard the stories about him and Jaunty vying for—"
“On Latharna, I don’t fully trust anyone who isn’t a Wolfenden” Ina cut him off before he could derail the conversation with humour. They didn’t have that luxury today.
“Pack mentality never dies, does it?” Archie managed a thin smile. “I’ll speak to Malachi this afternoon. Then tonight I’ll go for a walk along the west shore to see if they’re still nesting there. It’s the most secluded part of the coast. It makes sense they’d return.”
“Nothing about this makes sense.” Ina sighed, checking her watch again. “We’re going to the Johnston house tonight to pay our respects.” She braced herself. “And Tilly’s baking.”
“Jesus,” Archie feigned horror, shutting the locker door. “Hasn’t Mrs. Johnston suffered enough?”
“I’ll put something in the oven as a backup.” Ina headed towards the stairs—baking would keep her hands busy.
“I wonder what Malachi will make of this place?”
Ina turned. Archie looked around the Hideaway—the dusty shelves of ancient books, the old army cot with musty bedding, the cluttered desk piled with receipts from his under-the-table antiquing. A room she’d grown up in. A room that had shaped her.
Malachi had lived in Riverside for eighteen years, unaware of what lay beneath it. Ina would’ve been furious if the Hideaway was kept from her. She couldn’t imagine Daddy ever hiding anything from her, he’d been too eager to pass down their history.
“Hopefully he’ll be too distracted by the fact you’re using Treasure Island to hide a secret room to shoot himself with a weapon,” Ina swallowed the memory and forced a lighter tone.
When Daddy introduced her to the Hideaway, he’d been ecstatic.
It was a rite of passage for a Wolfenden child to learn about their history and abilities.
She couldn’t understand why Archie refused to share it with his own children.
Maybe it was because he never got to meet Daddy—never felt the warmth of his pride and enthusiasm.
Archie’s worry hung thick in the air as he locked the weapons cache and slipped the key into his pocket. It had never left the Hideaway before.
“Why don’t you ring Jaunty and ask about the funeral arrangements? Ina hoped that giving Archie his own task would settle him. “He’s bound to know what’s happening.
Archie nodded. There wasn’t a funeral on Latharna that Jaunty McNeill didn’t know about.
Ina trudged back up to Archie’s office, stifling a yawn. When Malachi had nightmares, she hardly slept either. But she needed to push on, tired or not. This was the calm before the inevitable storm.