Chapter 24
Archie
The car juddered down the overgrown laneway towards the abandoned jetty at the West Harbour. Brambles scraped along the doors, the suspension groaned with every dip. The area hadn’t been used since Portmuck was revamped, becoming Latharna’s main harbour.
No one spoke a word as Malachi drove, knuckles white against the dark wheel. He didn’t fidget or glance sideways. His steadiness unsettled Archie more than nerves would have.
Archie had spent the afternoon pacing, managing only a fitful sleep on top of the covers.
Despite the events of last night, they’d barely spoken all day—passing like ships in the night, avoiding one another until it was almost time to leave.
Ina had sorted the weapons, while Archie made sure Malachi knew where they were going.
He did, of course, but Archie needed to hear it said aloud.
His stomach churned. His hand tightened on his thigh until the muscle burned. The anger that had driven him through the night before had burned itself out, leaving something colder behind.
Blood would be spilled tonight.
He couldn’t push the image away, no matter how hard he tried.
All he could do was pray Malachi wouldn’t see it.
Or worse, be caught in it. He’d suggested leaving Malachi behind, but he’d refused.
Stubbornness inherited from both parents.
Ina pointed out that they needed him to drive.
Whether he liked it or not, Malachi was part of their plan.
Archie hated that more than anything else.
The Selkie would be waiting. And if things went wrong, Malachi would ensure they got away from West Harbour without any delay.
“Dim your lights and slow down,” Archie hissed to Malachi as they reached the track leading down to the Selkie’s nesting ground.
Malachi silently obeyed, easing off the accelerator. The engine dropped to a low, obedient hum. He’d been quiet all evening, lost in his own thoughts, hands steady on the wheel, but that didn’t reassure Archie nearly enough. It made his chest tighten instead.
After a lifetime of keeping Malachi away from the Otherworld, the weight of that choice pressed hard against Archie’s ribs.
He should have trained him. He should have prepared him.
After tonight, that would change. He would turn Malachi into a warrior rather than the vulnerable teen he’d raised.
But tonight, all Malachi had to do was drive. And stay alive.
Archie glanced in the rear-mirror. Ina sat in the backseat, methodically cleaning her knife, movements precise and unhurried. Her grip on the hilt was sure. Almost too sure. She looked practically peaceful.
His stomach rolled again. Nausea, cold and slick, crept up his throat. He’d never backed away from a fight in his life, but now every instinct screamed at him to turn the car around. For half a second, he nearly said it aloud.
“Pull in over there,” Archie pointed to the old stone wall ahead. In the daylight it would’ve looked ready to collapse in a stiff breeze, but in the dark it would hide the car, and Malachi, well enough.
Malachi jumped, hitting the brakes hard. His hands jerked on the wheel. The first sign of nerves chinking through his armour.
Archie’s hand shot out, bracing against the dashboard as the car lurched to a stop. His pulse skidded with it, leaving a clammy handprint on the dash.
“Easy, love.” Ina slid the knife behind her back. Archie wasn’t sure if she meant him or Malachi. He didn’t know how she could sound like that—like this was nothing more than another one of her training exercises.
Malachi killed the engine. The silence rang loud in Archie’s ears. Malachi tugged off his seat belt and reached for the door.
“No.” Archie caught his arm, grip tight before he realised how hard he was holding. He loosened it at once, like he’d been burned. “We need you to stay in the car.”
“But—”
“Stay here and keep the engine running,” Archie forced his voice level around the tightness in his throat even as his chest constricted. “We might need to leave quickly.”
“What do I do?” Malachi’s hand slid over the steering wheel, fingers restless, as though searching for something to hold onto.
“Sit tight.” Archie swallowed. His mouth tasted sour. “Keep an eye out for us coming back. We don’t know for sure how many of them are left.”
“Then maybe I should come?”
“And do what?” Archie leaned his elbow on the dashboard. “Do you have a weapon? Any idea what you’re dealing with?”
“I can still help.” Malachi was fighting a losing battle, and they both knew it. That was the problem—Malachi still thought bravery was enough.
“They killed your brother.” Archie’s voice was sharp, cutting.
He regretted it but couldn’t take it back.
“And almost killed you. Not once. But twice.” His throat tightened.
Every time he closed his eyes he could see Malachi floating in the river, unmoving.
He blinked hard, forcing the image away.
“At what point are you going to realise this could get us all killed?”
Malachi lifted his hands in surrender. “Okay.” He turned the key, the engine rumbling back to life.
“It’s for the best.” Ina stretched her arms and rolled her shoulders like she was warming up for training. “There’ll be other chances for you to be involved.”
“We’ll see about that.” Archie shot her a look as he opened the car door.
She was already thinking past tonight—no doubt planning to teach and train Malachi herself.
He couldn’t go there. Not yet. What hadn’t sunk in—for any of them—was that after tonight, nothing would ever be normal again. “Let’s go.”
Ina headed down the dirt track without hesitation. Archie lingered, one hand still on the roof of the car, not ready to leave. He bent back inside.
The interior light caught Malachi’s face—so young and unprepared. For a split second, Archie saw Rhys there instead, all sharp grin and confidence, and his chest seized hard enough to steal his breath.
“Stay here.” His voice was low and firm. His hand closed around the door frame, knuckles whitening. “Keep the doors locked and the engine running.”
Malachi nodded, but Archie didn’t move.
He leaned closer, close enough to smell the familiar soap on Malachi’s hoodie. He’d already lost one son. The idea of him leaving another sitting alone in the dark, waiting, made something inside him feel thin and breakable.
“Promise me.” His hand banged the roof of the car, making both of them jump.
Malachi met his eyes. “I’ll stay in the bloody car.” A small smile tugged at his mouth, an attempt easing the tension and reassuring Archie. That was supposed to be Archie’s job.
“If you come down here, I swear to god Malachi—”
“I know, I know.” Malachi cut in quickly, forcing a laugh. “You’ll shoot me yourself.” The joke died as soon as it landed. Malachi’s smile faded and his eyes darkened. “Be careful.”
“I always am.” Archie forced a wink, shifting the crossbow up onto his shoulder like it was just another night, just another job. The movement was practiced, but the lie hung there between them.
He straightened, stepping back before his resolve cracked completely. He shut the door a little harder than necessary, the sound echoing like a warning shot. And turned away before Malachi saw the fear he failed to hide.
“Dad?”
Archie stopped, breath catching, then reached back and pulled the door open again. The interior light flared softly, washing Malachi’s face in pale gold.
“Yes?”
“If they hadn’t killed Rhys, would we be here? Do you really have to kill them?”
Archie closed his eyes. Just for a second.
His jaw locked, teeth grinding hard enough to ache.
Long enough for Rhys’ grin to flash behind his lids, for the remembered weight of him to press down on his chest until his lungs burned.
He braced one hand against the door, grounding himself.
Malachi always picked his moments—or maybe Archie had simply never been good at choosing his own.
He stared past Malachi, into the dark, buying himself a second. This wasn’t about revenge, not any longer. Even if part of him still wanted it to be. It was more than that. It was for Latharna. To protect its people. Malachi would understand that in time. He needed that to be true.
“Yes.” Archie opened his eyes. The dark beyond the car swallowed his gaze, safer than meeting Malachi’s eyes. “It’s our job to protect the people of Latharna.”
“So, this isn’t just about revenge?”
Archie shook his head once, sharp and decisive.
“We take no pleasure in it. The Selkie are native to Latharna, but they’re dangerous now.
We protect the island and its people.” Archie looked at Malachi, making sure his words were heard and understood.
“That’s what Wolfendens have done for generations. ”
Malachi didn’t look convinced. Archie saw it in the way his weight shifted. “Why didn’t you help them?”
“Help who?” Archie frowned, a crease forming between his brows.
“The Selkie.” Malachi’s hands lifted, palms open.
No anger, only confusion. “You said last night they were desperate when they took Rhys. Why didn’t you…
I don’t know,” he gestured helplessly, waiting for his train of thought to catch up.
“Bring them food. A roast chicken or something. Anything, before it got so bad their only option was eating people?”
Something dropped through Archie’s stomach, cold and heavy. He stared at Malachi, really stared this time—at the earnestness in his eyes, the absence of fear of judgment. Just a question. An honest one.