Burnt Blood: The Werewolf Within

Twenty Six

The sun bounced through the window, a cluster of rays darting between the front chairs, tenderly warming my midriff. My neck felt sore, bordering on locked at an awkward angle. Every move sent shooting pain behind my ear. The rolled-up jacket did little to weather my movement through the night, restless with much information weighing heavily on me. How much has life changed this year?

A chill had muscled in overnight, almost arctic. I was lucky to have spare blankets in the boot. I appreciated our old navy blue, green, and red tartan woolly picnic blanket as a cover. It started at my lower chest before being dragged three-quarters over my face. To wake to that little warmth coming through was nice. My body ached head to toe, the price of having nowhere to go. Hotels would've been the second or third places on the list to check within a hundred-mile radius. Sleeping in my car wasn't on my to-do list. Still, it was a necessary evil, especially so soon after passing out from being drugged in the diner. That's my life now, unable to risk going home. The run-in at Skip's place was a sobering warning to expect the unexpected. Instead, I drove until I could drive no more, playing over the pig massacre and blood message on the wall. It felt direct, and they knew me. Never in my wildest imagination did I expect to find a misper board upstairs. It made me wonder how many years he'd been at it, how many lies he's told, and how many secrets he's kept. Finally, I pulled into a layby on the A3 and bunkered down for some needed rest.

If the map was right, I was only twenty minutes away. Still, it was not far that I couldn't turn around. What was I hoping to find? A kidnapped child from over twenty-five years ago? How does anyone comprehend a bombshell like that? If there had been a fire, there wouldn't be much left, but maybe someone knew where they moved. The fear of the unknown was real, eating me up inside.

The strange grey box was staring me down, and I'd put off trying to figure out any other letters or symbols. There was another niggle in the back of my mind, adding to the many already circling there. Wouldn't he have gone there if the Skipper had known the address all this time? Wouldn't he have told me at the end of that story? I know he's holding back from me, and it's more than the secret board in his kid's bedroom or the list of missing kids.

It was a little after seven o'clock in the morning, and I didn't know what to do for the best. The people I trust could be counted on one hand, and I've been getting even shorter with the list of truths. Charlie's behaviour had been odd, keeping in contact with Skip behind my back. I knew little about Warren Whitlock and his family, to include them on my suspect list. Now, there is talk of a resurrected Mathew. Since we parted ways, I wasn't the closest foster brother, but I didn't get why they were in touch.

Was he another pawn in Skip's crusade to find his daughter, or was there something I was missing? He's the only person left with the box, which ended up in my car. Lewis was there until the body was on the Thames. I need to find out who wore the uniform at Chris's crime scene. Harkes is always missing, carrying a chip on his shoulder. Those were the feasible ones. Who was the voice on the tape and the looming shadow outside Skip's house? Alluding to things from the past. How did they all connect? And where's the mystery bloke who gave Charlie the box in the first place? The chessboard is taking shape with pieces positioned for 'checkmate.' Who was I playing against? A puppet master that's pulled me out into the open, painting a target on my back.

Evidence moulded to fit a narrative that forced me on the run—stood outside, stretching, overlooking the relatively empty road, so used to either being drugged, followed, or attacked with a gun. Hoping to get someone's attention, I don't like being used. I had to take back some control. And there is a talisman out there that can help control what's going on with me. I need to find it.

This dead calm unnerved me. I opened my door to get in, wary momentarily, hearing cars coming down the motorway. With a check over my shoulder and watching them breeze by, I could relax again, even if only a little. About to head off, my brain felt messy and needed a distraction. I figured about playing some music to ease the tension—a little Genesis to lighten the mood.