Chapter 26 #2
They sat in silence. Not awkward, just heavy.
Exhaustion crept into Malachi’s bones. Not the sharp panicked kind that came with fear, but a deep, full-bodied tiredness that meant sleep was close. Real sleep. The kind without river water and screaming. There was no longer anything to fear in the dark.
The silence stretched further, tension coiled tight. Ina’s shoulders were too rigid, and Dad’s mouth had that familiar line to it, the one that meant he was biting his tongue. Normally, Malachi would’ve let them snap and snipe until they burned themselves out. But not tonight.
“So…” He bit into a cookie with deliberate enthusiasm. “Now what?”
He chewed loudly, crumbs dusting his fingers.
If he was going to broker peace, he was doing it on a full stomach.
He hadn’t eaten properly since lunch with Ally at Lucky Crumbs yesterday, and even then he hadn’t eaten much—nerves had strangled his appetite.
Now his body was making up for it. He could demolish a fully-loaded fry and still find room for a slice of Thelma’s chocolate cake without blinking.
“I don’t know—” Dad spluttered mid-sip, choking like he’d just swallowed poison. He clutched his throat; eyes watering then lunged for the sugar bowl with a glare directed at Ina. He dumped in several heaped spoonfuls.
Ina stared at him. “That’s not tea anymore. It’s so sweet it’s practically dessert.”
Dad waved her off, stirring furiously. “We’ll find out in seven years if we did the right thing.”
A shiver worked its way down Malachi’s spine as tiredness leeched the warmth from his limbs. He wrapped both hands around his mug. “What do you think they’ll do?” His voice stayed steady, even as something tight coiled in his chest.
“I think it’s over, love.” Ina met his gaze and smiled softly. “The elder Selkie was right. They won’t make it back to Latharna. Their focus will be finding another shoal. With any luck, the child will travel to other breeding grounds instead of here.”
Malachi nodded, the tightening in his chest loosening a fraction.
“If they come back.” Malachi sat up straighter, hoping he looked more confident than he felt.
“I’m going to help them.” He prayed they wouldn’t return.
But if they did—if desperation drove them home—he’d be waiting at the West Harbour with food, and blankets, and whatever else they needed.
Whether Dad and Ina stood beside him or not.
Fighting wasn’t the only answer. If Dad had wanted him to be a warrior, he should’ve been raised as one. Instead, the silences had given Malachi room to ask questions instead of learning where to aim. Now he was going to do both.
“That’s their right, son.” Dad lifted his mug and took a careful sip. “They’ve as much entitlement to Latharna as we do.”
He paused. His grip tightened on the handle, knuckles whitening. “They just got lost and—” He stopped, gaze dropping to the table. “We lost Rhys. And I almost lost you, too.” His shoulders sagged. “We’ll do better next time.”
Ina nodded slowly, her posture rigid.
Malachi clocked it immediately. The nod from Ina wasn’t agreement—it was restraint. A compromise, however small. He swallowed a smile.
“Do you have any questions?”
Malachi looked at Ina before realising Dad had spoken. His eyebrows shot up before he could stop them. Being asked was new. Like a door cracking open where there’d only ever been walls.
“The Selkie,” Malachi fiddled with the handle of the mug, the ceramic warm against his fingers. “We hear stories about them as children. But stories are not supposed to be real.”
“They’re real,” Ina replied. “Always have been. You should’ve known this long ago.”
She clicked her tongue as if she’d caught herself saying more than she meant to. When she looked up, whatever softness had flickered there was gone.
“Creatures from the Otherworld exist and live among us if you know where to look.” Her voice was low and measured.
“The Selkie lost their way when they came inland. They took Rhys trying to survive. I pity their plight, but I do not forgive them. And I’ll never understand why they didn’t move north and join a shoal in the Orkneys. ”
Her shoulders squared. “They’re not the first creatures from the Otherworld to make their presence known on Latharna, and they won’t be the last.”
She folded her arms. One foot tapped against the floor, and then stilled, as if even that was too much movement. This wasn’t anger—this was something hard and permanent.
If she’d been alone in the boathouse, Malachi had no doubt she would’ve killed them all. The realisation sat in his chest. Not because he doubted Ina’s good intentions or her love for Latharna, but because there was no space in her worldview for anything beyond eliminating a threat.
He’d lived on Latharna his entire life and knew nothing about the Otherworld. He glanced at Dad, bloodied and stubbornly upright, and felt the instinct to demand answers. But not tonight. This was just the beginning of the conversation, not the end.
In a day or two, when the adrenaline burned off and the shock settled, he wouldn’t stay quiet. He wouldn’t let life slip back into half-truths and whispers. Whatever lived on Latharna, whatever shared its soil and shoreline, he would know about it.
“What do we do?” Malachi sat up straight, ignoring the weight dragging him down.
“We?” Dad spluttered his tea. “It’s we now, is it?
” For a heartbeat, his face hardened. Then it softened just as quickly.
He wiped his mouth and breathed through his nose, eyes fixed on his mug like it had personally offended him.
When he looked back up at Malachi, something had shifted—not acceptance, but a reluctant recalibration.
“Yes.” Malachi tried to sound assured, but his stomach twisted. He didn’t feel ready, not really, but he was done standing on the outside.
“I don’t know.” Dad lowered his eyes. “There aren’t many older families left, and magic died out long before we were born.
” He nodded towards Ina. “But there’ve been too many unexplained deaths on Latharna.
It’s clear something is happening.” His brow furrowed.
“And we don’t know if that’s a good thing… or a very bad one.”
Malachi nodded slowly and risked a glance at Ina.
She started into her tea, unmoving. Ina never stayed quiet unless she was weighing something—or deciding what not to share.
“So what do we do?” Malachi asked again, giving Dad another chance to finish the thought.
Dad exhaled slowly and rubbed his temple. “We watch and we listen.” He let his hand fall to his side. “And we get prepared.”
Malachi’s heart gave a sharp, traitorous leap. He sat straighter, biting back the grin threatening to break free. For the first time that night—maybe for the first time ever—he didn’t feel like a bystander in his own family.
There was an entire world beyond school, shifts at The Wolf’s Den and island life… and he was being invited into it.
“Don’t get too excited, love,” Ina warned. “If you want to protect Latharna, you need to understand its history. That means books, and lots of studying.” She sipped her tea. “We’ll begin tomorrow.”
“Wait—what?” Malachi spluttered.
“Ah, Ina lessons.” Dad’s mouth twitched as he winked. “That brings back memories… not necessarily fond ones.”
Malachi smiled, but the spark of excitement dulled almost immediately. He was excited about learning, about finally being trusted with the truth instead of being kept at arm’s length—but Dad’s earlier words had lodged stubbornly in his chest.
“Unexplained deaths.”
He understood Rhys’ now, the how and the why, even though the understanding hurt. The grief no longer lurked in the shadows. It was solid enough to face. But there had been others.
“Unexplained deaths…” Malachi stared into his mug, watching the surface ripple as his fingers tightened around it. “We know Rhys was taken by Selkie, but—”
“But what?” Dad placed his hand on Malachi’s arm, worry lines and tiredness etched on his face.
“Mum?” Malachi’s voice cracked.
She’d died when he was barely more than a toddler. His memories of her were scattered and thin. Her photograph still hung by the front door, watching them come and go. Dad spoke about her even less than he spoke about Rhys.
Malachi had always assumed it was because the loss was too hard for Dad to bear. Now he wasn’t so sure. If Mum had known about the Otherworld—if she’d been part of it, or caught in its wake—he needed to know.
The room chilled, sending a shiver through Malachi’s body. The adrenaline of the night’s events had finally worn off. Weariness settled into his bones, heavy and deep.
“It was a car accident.” Dad stared into the distance, not meeting Malachi’s eyes. “I honestly don’t know if it was anything more.” His voice roughened. “It was sixteen years ago. Back then, we were starting to notice subtle changes on Latharna.” He swallowed. “I just don’t know.”
Malachi nodded slowly and squeezed Dad’s arm. “I believe you.”
He glanced at Ina. She was staring out the window, not really looking at anything. Her jaw was tight; her lip caught between her teeth. When Malachi met her gaze, she looked away at once.
Malachi let it pass—for now. Whatever Ina was hiding, it wasn’t something she planned on sharing tonight.
Dad, at least, had told the truth. Malachi believed that without question.
Dad wouldn’t keep him in the dark about something that mattered this much.
Not after everything that had just happened.
Ina pushed back her chair. “Listen, I’ve plenty of things to say about members of the Otherworld living on Latharna.” She was closing the door on the conversation. “But it’s almost dawn and I, for one, would like to get the smell of fish out of my nostrils.”
Dad lifted his mug.
Ina intercepted it mid-sip. Tea sloshed onto the table as she took it from him. “There’s always tomorrow.”
Dad muttered something under his breath and tried to stand without putting weight on his injured leg. His face tightened and he hissed between his teeth. “Painkillers are a bloody lie.”
Malachi sprang to his feet, ignoring the sharp protest in his ribs as he moved. He shoved his chair back under the table and offered his arm. Dad leaned heavily onto him, heavier than Malachi expected.
Bed sounded like heaven. He could sleep for the rest of the summer holidays and still wake up tired.
Then—
Crash.
The sound tore through the quiet kitchen. Plastic thudding against stone, lids banging. The unmissable clatter of the wheelie bins being knocked over.
Malachi froze. His pulse jumped, but he didn’t bolt. He didn’t flinch—he just listened.
Dad went rigid beside him, his grip tightening on Malachi’s arm. Ina’s head snapped towards the door, every line of her body pulling taut.
For one suspended beat, none of them moved.
Ina’s knife was in her hand before Malachi even registered the movement.
“Stay here.” She barked, already halfway to the door.
Before Malachi could argue—before he could even draw breath—she was gone, the backdoor banging open behind her.