Chapter 26
Malachi
Malachi drove them home in silence.
The road blurred beneath the headlights, familiar bends unspooling on instinct alone.
His hands stayed steady on the wheel, even though his body felt hollowed out, like everything that had been holding him upright for the past few hours had finally loosened its grip.
The fear was still there, aching deep in his chest, but it wasn’t screaming anymore.
He checked the read-view mirror again.
Dad lay stretched across the back seat, pale and rigid, jaw clenched so tightly his neck strained. Ina’s makeshift bandage was already darkening, the fabric soaking through at a steady pace. Malachi’s stomach twisted every time he saw it.
Tonight was the first time he’d ever seen Dad get physically hurt. Malachi had grown up believing Dad was an invincible tank who would fight the world if it looked at him the wrong way. Tonight had shown that even Dad could bleed.
The thought tightened his grip on the steering wheel until his knuckles burned.
Ina had torn her shirt without hesitation, wrapped the fabric around Dad’s leg with brisk efficiency and none of her usual commentary.
Dad hadn’t complained once. They’d barely spoken to each other at all.
And Dad hadn’t criticised his driving. That more than anything else, told Malachi how bad it really was.
Captain Murdock had gone back to his boat. He’d limped down the harbour, stubborn as ever, bloodied and pale, but determined to get back out to sea. He’d insisted he’d dress the wound himself once he was back onboard The Unsinkable Meara.
Malachi half-expected Ina to argue, to snap that he was being reckless and his wound needed properly tended too, but she didn’t. Neither did Dad. They’d just watched him go.
Malachi didn’t blame Murdock, even if they did. If Murdock hadn’t been there, he would’ve been dragged out of the car before Dad ever made it back. Whatever else he’d done wrong in their eyes, Murdock showed up when it mattered.
Still… he swallowed hard, jaw tightening.
Murdock could’ve told him his plan. If the adults in his life stopped treating information like a weapon to be locked away, things might not have ended in bloodshed.
He was sick of being protected into ignorance.
He wouldn’t allow that to happen again. Not when it came to the Selkie, or anything else from the Otherworld for that matter.
Malachi eased the car off the main road and snaked his way along the stony driveway to Riverside.
Gravel crunched beneath the tyres, the familiar sound of home.
The moment he killed the engine, Ina got out of the passenger seat without a word.
She headed straight for the backdoor, stride clipped, tension rolling off her in waves.
She hadn’t said a word the entire journey.
“Dad?” Malachi unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed out, opening the rear door. “We’re home.”
Dad stirred from a shallow, pain-filled doze, hissing as he tried to sit up. Malachi didn’t give him a chance to argue. He reached in, took his arm and hauled him out of the car. Dad’s weight sagged into him as they shuffled towards the backdoor.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Malachi grunted under Dad’s dead weight.
Dad leaned into his body, making every step feel like his last. Malachi gritted his teeth and adjusted his stance, shoulder burning as Dad’s arm hooked tighter around him. He hadn’t felt this heavy in the boathouse. Adrenaline fuelled him then—now there was nothing left but bone-deep exhaustion.
“I’ll be grand,” Dad muttered, jaw set. The bleeding had slowed, but his body stayed rigid with tension as he leaned on Malachi.
They lumbered up the steps at the backdoor at a snail's pace. By the time they’d reached the top Malachi was fairly sure he’d lost an inch off his height, his shoulder screaming in protest.
Ina had left the door open for them, but she was gone.
Unease curled low in Malachi’s gut. He didn’t know what she was thinking, and that bothered him more than he liked. In the boathouse, she’d been ready to kill all of the Selkie, even the little one.
Protecting Latharna at any cost felt just as dangerous as the Selkie ever had.
Dad hopped up the last step and limped into the kitchen. Once inside, Malachi guided him to his chair and let him drop with a careful thud before shutting the door and turning the lock.
Dad shifted his weight and groaned, trying—and failing—to find a comfortable position.
“Should you go to hospital?” Malachi crouched and tugged the bandage aside just enough to inspect the wound. Blood soaked through, dark and slick against Ina’s makeshift dressing.
“Absolutely not.” Dad shook his head “There’ll be too many questions if we go to Latharna General.” He jabbed his finger against the table for emphasis. “If you’re ever injured and not dying, come home and Ina will patch you up.”
Malachi blinked. No doctors, of course not. Just another rule passed down without ceremony. A quiet understanding meant to stay inside these walls.
He nodded once. The rule slotted neatly into place alongside everything else he’d learned tonight.
“Where is Ina?” He glanced down the hall. Light spilled from the office. “The Hideaway?”
“Probably putting the weapons away.” Dad sank deeper into his chair, puffing out his cheeks as the effort caught up with him. “Never leave a weapon out in the open. You never know who might see it.”
Malachi nodded. That made sense.
Unsure what else to do, he filled the kettle and flicked the switch. So much of their life had been spent in this kitchen drinking tea. And yet something had always felt off, like his family were never fully present.
Dad and Ina had been having silent conversations for years.
Now he finally understood why. He could even understand why they hadn’t told him—fear, protection, even habit to an extent.
But never again. He wouldn’t let himself be on the outside anymore.
If this was their world, then he was stepping into it alongside them.
Malachi leaned against the countertop and looked out the window.
The river flowed past, steady as always.
The first touches of the dawning light glimmered across the surface.
Riverside looked peaceful now there were no monsters lurking in the water.
For the first time since Rhys had died, the water didn’t make his chest tighten.
“Erm, Mal?” Dad clicked his fingers, snapping him back to reality. “You wanna pass me the first aid box and some painkillers?”
Malachi turned, grabbed the box from the cupboard and, without thinking, lobbed it across the kitchen.
“Argh!” Dad barked as it smacked straight into his injured leg and clattered to the floor.
“Sorry, sorry!” Malachi ran over, scooped it up and set it on the table with the painkillers “Do you want me to sort that out?” He gestured vaguely at the bandage; fully aware that he didn’t have the faintest idea how to sort it.
“It’s okay.” Dad shooed him away and rummaged around the kit, pulling out a packet of antiseptic wipes. “I’ve got it.”
“Is this why we have such a massive medical kit?” Malachi raised an eyebrow.
Dad huffed a quiet laugh and dry-swallowed a couple of painkillers like it was nothing. “You’ve no idea, son.” His eyes met Malachi’s and stayed there. “But you will soon.”
Malachi didn’t look away. Neither of them spoke. There was no lecture or warning. Just an unspoken understanding settling into place. Dad wasn’t shutting him out anymore. He was letting him in. That was enough, for now.
Ina closed the door of the office behind her with a soft click and made her way into the kitchen. “There’s biscuits in the cupboard,” she sighed, lowering herself into her seat. She leaned forward and peered beneath the table at Dad’s leg. “You’ll live. I’ve seen worse.”
“Bloody Nurse Ina.” Dad rolled his eyes and cleaned the wound. “Your contact at the hospital comes in handy. I’ll give you that.”
Malachi set out three mugs. Ina had retired from the hospital not long after Rhys died—that much he’d always known. She’d kept one foot in that world as well and used it for information. Another layer to his family he hadn’t known existed.
Ina poured the tea and set Dad’s mug down harder than necessary. The air tightened—one wrong word away from an argument.
Malachi didn’t have the energy for it. Not after everything that happened tonight.
“You can say it, if it will make you feel better.” Dad’s lips curled into a smile. “It might take that sour look off your face.”
“You let them live,” Ina snapped, crossing her arms and legs tight.
Malachi grabbed the biscuits, and sat, eyes flicking between them. Whatever this was, he was going to be a part of it.
“I did.” Dad wrapped both hands around his mug. “Have you any thoughts about that?”
Ina exhaled, long and slow. “If it were up to me…” She trailed off, then shook her head. “I don’t know if I would’ve let them go.”
His gaze shifted to Malachi. She reached out and patted his hand. “You were really brave, though. I’m proud of you.” Then her eyes snapped back to Dad, like they had unfinished business.
Malachi cheeks warmed. Brave wasn’t the word he’d have chosen.
He’d screamed like a banshee when Captain Murdock knocked on the car window.
He half expected Ally’s dad, Minford, and the rest of the so-called Banshee Brigade to come charging down the hill with their infrared cameras.
At least Murdock had pretended not to notice.
Malachi turned it over in his head: banshees.
The Banshee Brigade were convinced they were real.
If the Otherworld existed, if creatures like Selkie were a part of Latharna, then maybe banshees were, too.
Still, he didn’t believe for one second that Ally and his family knew. Ally surely would’ve said something.
Ina poured her tea slowly, lost somewhere deep in thought. Dad adjusted his bandages with a low grunt. The only sound was the humming of the fridge.