Burnt Blood: The Werewolf Within

Thirty Three

Dalton took his turn to guide me across the floor, dragging me toward the far-end door on the right. With just eight minutes and twenty-nine seconds remaining, there was no time for second-guessing what awaited us behind the door.

The door swung open, revealing a surreal emptiness bordering on the eerie. It seemed devoid of notes or signs, nothing but soiled carpet, plain flaking walls, and a nondescript storage cupboard door. The word 'storage' painted on it was a dead giveaway.

"Welcome to your second quest," the voice spoke inside my mind, relishing our confusion. "I'm sure you're baffled, disoriented, and wondering how this genius of a control freak is making all this work. I know your thoughts, Georgie. You probably consider him a 'bastard' rather than a genius. But let's not dwell on that. The room may seem empty initially, but that's a matter of perspective. The cockney chancer would say, 'the closer you look, the less you see.' Now, Georgie, this task requires you to use your primary senses."

"Particularly you, Georgie," the voice continues, "remember 'why, Grandma, what big eyes you have'? 'All to see you with, my dear.' That's a little clue for you to get those tired gears turning. It's time to get those hands dirty, Michael. What's a little blood between friends? TikTok."

Amid the disorienting challenges and enigmatic messages, the voice hinted that there was a hidden pattern to decipher. Although I couldn't yet grasp the full significance of these clues, I knew I had to push forward.

"Cheeky twat," Dalton mumbles. "You know what he means, sunshine? Big Bad Wolf must put his skills to good use. I know little about this 'wolf' nonsense, but think about how you can see differently while I check out that cupboard."

"Yeah," I responded. "He loves stringing us along. We must be quick."

Dalton approached the cupboard door as I focused on my heightened senses. Just like at the house in Surrey, I could perceive things normally hidden from me. My body warmed, and the knots in my stomach tugged at my muscles. This time, it felt easier and less painful. I welcomed any advantage under these circumstances.

I saw a faint glow in the enhanced perception, almost like hidden patterns in the carpet, yet some seemed more chaotic and unidentifiable. My sense of smell intensified, revealing the unpleasant odours in the room. But the overwhelming scent of stale urine hinted at the room's sordid history. I couldn't help but feel repulsed by what this place had witnessed.

Then, I spotted a message smeared across the wall to my left, another smiley face, and an arrow pointing downwards. While Dalton struggled with the cupboard, I couldn't help but wonder how the puppeteer had such detailed knowledge of my past. "Why does he know so much?" I thought aloud, my voice blending with Dalton's cursing and the room's eerie silence.

A nauseating sensation overwhelmed me as I tugged at the carpet, but I had to carry on. I had a mission, and time was not on our side. With each inch I peeled back, more of the cryptic message revealed itself.

The text read, "In the early hours of Friday, 17th April 1959, the kidnapping of a young boy took place."

I was both amazed and unnerved. This was an excerpt from a missing newspaper clipping. I couldn't help but wonder how the puppeteer had gained access to this information. "How do they know about that, and how did they connect it to me?" I pondered, my voice revealing my confusion.

Dalton, who had finally opened the cupboard, overheard my thoughts and says, "We need to catch them. Maybe they'll meet a watery end in the Thames."

"Why the Thames?" I question, already suspecting that it was unwise to let any details slip. The puppeteer was manipulating us, and we couldn't afford to reveal more than necessary.