Chapter 8 Malachi
Malachi
Malachi groaned as he set a box of Halloween decorations on the bench behind the till. Sticky with sweat, he stepped under the new air conditioning unit Nomi had insisted on installing and let the icy draught blast over him.
He brushed a strand of damp hair from his eyes and surveyed the shop floor. The morning had been chaotic—overflowing with shoppers and overexcited children. Something about being on holiday by the sea always sent people scrambling for plastic crap.
He glanced at the clock. He was running out of time. Nomi would be back soon, armed with dentist-induced irritation and ready to unleash it on whoever was nearest. Today, that meant him. The display had to be perfect, or he’d never hear the end of it.
His stomach rumbled, loud enough to echo off the gift-shop shelving. If he finished quickly, he could escape to Lucky Crumbs before Dad arrived. The thought of food, real food, not the stale biscuits in the cupboard, sent a fresh ache through his empty stomach.
Malachi wasn’t against spending time with Dad.
But Dad usually kept his distance around Rhys’ anniversary—one year he’d even taken a trip out to sea with Captain Murdock just to avoid the day.
Now he was ready to talk. Malachi’s chest tightened, because if Dad had finally stopped running from what happened on the river, then he might have to stand still and face it too.
But he wasn’t ready. Telling Dad that Rhys had been taken by a sea-creature with bright blue eyes was impossible.
The thought of Dad hearing that he hadn’t been paying enough attention to notice the danger curled something sharp and ugly in his gut.
If he’d kept his eyes open, he could’ve seen the danger coming.
He could’ve done something, anything, and Rhys would still be alive.
His breath snagged. He swallowed hard, trying to crush the rising lump in his throat before it choked him.
Maybe he could distract Dad and tell him about his plan to leave Latharna with Jeff at the end of the summer. But he wasn’t ready for that conversation either.
Planning their escape from Latharna was how Latharnian children spent their childhood. Those who left rarely came back, and those who stayed rarely left. Malachi didn’t know which he wanted—he only knew that he was tired of running.
Jeff Kilbane, his long-time but problematic friend, had family in Europe, and treated their plan to visit them like a military operation.
It was his obsession and Malachi got swept along with it.
Ally used to join the fantasies, but as they got older, it was obvious he wasn’t going anywhere.
He was a fantastic baker. Lucky Crumbs would be safe in Ally’s hands when Thelma Curran decided to hang up her apron.
Malachi had… a lifetime of selling novelty keychains to tourists and Nomi’s constant disapproval.
The fear returned, sharp and sour. If Dad ever learned the truth about the river, he’d probably throw Malachi onto the Unsinkable Meara and tell Captain Murdock not to bring him back.
Ina would no doubt have some half-remembered tale about a childhood friend banished from Latharna who never recovered from the shame and died tragically away from hearth and home.
Ina didn’t trust the mainland. Malachi wasn’t convinced she’d ever been.
The shop bell jingled, snapping him out of his thoughts. He braced himself for Nomi’s commentary on his morning’s work.
“Have you spoken to your dad yet?”
Jeff strode in without bothering with the greetings, all sandy hair and narrow golden eyes that always seemed to be sizing people up. Trouble followed him like a loyal dog. He’d saved Malachi from a bully when they were seven and attached himself to him ever since.
“Not yet, sorry. But I will.” Malachi lowered his head, slipping back into the instinctive apology Jeff always seemed to pull out of him. “Pass me those buckets.” He pointed to the box sitting by the till.
Jeff vaulted over the counter, almost knocking over a display of sweets strategically placed for last minute add-on purchases. He grabbed a handful of buckets and tossed them without warning. Malachi caught them easily.
Like most older families on Latharna, they were related. Their parents were cousins now estranged as their family tree fractured. Malachi never asked for details. The risk of being bored to death with stories from the past was too high a price to pay.
“We get our exam results on the 20th. It would be great to be outta here before the holiday weekend.” Jeff tapped the wall calendar as he calculated the dates. “That gives us three weeks to get organised and get the hell off Latharna.”
The last week in August was one of the busiest of the year, with holidaymakers desperate for one more break before the grind of the school year began again. Nomi would need him to fill in for Bridget if she was still off. Malachi ducked behind his tower of buckets to avoid Jeff’s gaze.
“That soon?” The words scraped out of him, Jeff’s urgency clawing at his nerves.
“Why not?” Jeff leaned on the counter and spun a display stand, creating a blur of wolf heads and Polar Bear keychains. “There’s no reason to stay.” His gaze sharpened. “Is there?”
The keychains crashed into each other and a few clattered onto the floor. Polar Bears smiled up at them while a lone wolf scowled.
“None I can think of.” Malachi’s limbs were heavy, like they belonged to someone else.
Lack of sleep weighed on him. The last nightmare had been so vivid he’d almost woken Ina, but she stopped sitting with him while he slept years ago.
It was easier to ignore the nightmares than ask for help.
Instead, he’d lain awake and stared at the ceiling, refusing to shut his eyes.
Every time he closed them, the creature resurfaced—the strange fishman with piercing blue eyes, holding Rhys’ lifeless body.
The guilt dragged at him, threatening to pull him under. It was his job to protect Rhys, and he’d failed.
Any time they fought when they were little, Dad always told them that Wolfendens stick together.
Every summer, Dad’s temper simmered. It was only a matter of time before it boiled over, and he rightly blamed Malachi for not saving Rhys.
It was probably why they avoided each other over the anniversary—so neither of them would have to acknowledge the truth about how they really felt.
“You’re going to tell your dad then?” Jeff jumped back onto the counter. “Tonight?”
Malachi jumped. “I’ll try.” He’d almost forgotten Jeff was there.
“Never mind trying, mate, just get on with it.” Jeff was relentless and wouldn’t stop until he got his own way.
He didn’t have the energy for another round of Jeff’s demands—not today. All he wanted was a quiet corner to breathe in without someone shoving him towards decisions he wasn’t ready to make.
“Jeff, this time of year is difficult. Dad spends most nights out walking, and I barely see him. He doesn’t like being at home because of—”
The entire bucket tower collapsed, burying him in a cascade of plastic. He puffed out his cheeks, letting out a long sigh and pushed the buckets off himself. It would have been funny, definitely worth a look on the CCTV, if he wasn’t so exhausted.
“Sorry, mate.” Jeff snorted, jumping off the counter to lift a bucket that had rolled to his feet. “I forgot what time of year it was.” He shrugged. “At least next year, you’ll not have to deal with all this over his anniversary.”
Malachi looked away and gathered up the fallen buckets.
Jeff had barely acknowledged Rhys’ existence when he was alive—he never once asked about him after he died.
If Jeff didn’t have anything to gain, it wasn’t on his radar.
If Malachi confided in Jeff about the blue-eyed fishman, Jeff would laugh in his face and post about it all over social media for kudos and attention.
They rebuilt the display tower in an uneasy silence. The hum of the air-conditioning filled the shop.
“You need to tell him sooner rather than later.” Jeff’s eyes lowered. “Or else he’ll hear it from my mum.”
Malachi’s jaw tightened. Even Jeff’s kindness had barbs.
Libby Kilbane was obsessed with Jeff leaving Latharna and meeting his extended family. If she’d heard Malachi was thinking about going too, there was a good chance she’d already mentioned it to either Dad or Ina, who were as obsessed with Latharna as Jeff was about leaving it.
Malachi was stuck in no man’s land. He just needed to get through the next couple of weeks without drowning in his nightmares and waking up in a pool of sweat and tears.
“I’ll speak to him.” Malachi’s stomach fluttered. He’d had enough of Jeff pressurising him. “Just give me time.”
“You’re running out of time though.”
“Jesus, Jeff, what’s your rush?” Malachi slammed the final bucket onto the tower. It wobbled dangerously. They’d finished school almost six weeks ago; it was the summer holidays now. They had nothing but time. “It’s just difficult, okay.”
“I knew you’d do this.” Jeff stood over Malachi, fist clenched as though ready for a fight. “I knew you’d chicken out at the last minute. You always do.”
Heat rushed to Malachi’s face. He jumped to his feet, rising a few inches above Jeff, for once ready to stand up for himself after years of tiptoeing around Jeff’s passive aggressive dominance. “Screw—”
The shop bell jingled.
Jeff glared at the tourists coming into the shop. “Just get on with it.” He jabbed a finger to Malachi, eyes narrowing. The light from the door turned Jeff’s pale brown eyes a sickly shade of yellow.
The door closed—and Jeff’s distorted features slipped back to normal. He slunk passed the tourists, throwing a wink at an elderly woman before swaggering out. His shoulders were stiff, clearly unhappy he was losing control of their plans.
But Malachi was numb. He didn’t care about leaving Latharna anymore than he cared about staying. He just had to get through the next couple of weeks without any drama.