Secrets In The Bones: The Curse of Blood Bay

Eight

I had to be the watchman; our stay had gone downhill fast, and too much seemed to happen when we slept. My face hovered inches from the windows, fixated on the world beyond. I stood on guard, scanning the landscape for signs of death or, perhaps, the undead. A morbid task, considering we were all a form of the undead. These sombre reflections weighed on me as I watched the oblivious faces outside.

Amidst the ordinary scenery, a peculiar structure in the distance stole my attention—the black house. It stood hauntingly ornate, surrounded by a vast, open space. Its incongruity in this otherwise antiquated landscape struck me as strange. It was as if this part of the world had been frozen in the 1700s, and the house defied time's relentless march. Thoughts of Anna and Ellena surfaced, and I couldn't help but wonder if my eerie dream offered a glimpse of what lay beneath the surface.

A part of me wished we had turned back when I first envisioned the cave. Since then, we have descended into a nightmarish abyss. Cup of coffee in hand, acquired through a trade for the whiskey that fuelled the previous night, I sank into my thoughts so deeply that I nearly missed it. The hairs on my neck stood on end, a tingling excitement signalling her approach—Ellena's scent, capable of brightening even the darkest moments. It was almost taken from me too soon.

Ellena breezed up to me, and I felt the rush of wind as she drew closer. Her arm encircled my waist, and her chin rested on my shoulder. She seemed content, perhaps having found answers to questions that had long haunted her. Meanwhile, I couldn't shake the curiosity about what had drawn her to the cliff's edge. Her identity as a witch and a dream walker explained her ghostly eyes and occasional non-responsiveness. But what had beckoned her there? Whose dream had she walked into? These questions gnawed at me, filling me with a sense of unease.

The revelation that Locke and Ellena shared matching tattoos troubled me. Locke had not been forthcoming with his story. My thoughts and fears spilled out as I spoke to Ellena. ('Side note–I wonder if Ellena has any others')

"You saved me last night, Georgie," she assured me. "We're in this together. We don't need labels. The connection we share. I sensed it the night we met. It just took us a little while. And before you overthink things, know that I've fallen for all of you—human, wolf, and demon. But most of all, I fell for your heart. You're a good man, trying to make life better. Georgie, you balance me."

Was it a manifestation of her witch-like abilities that allowed her to read my thoughts? Or was it the profound connection we shared that made my innermost feelings transparent to her? I confessed my worries.

"I don't know how to cope with this revelation," I admitted. "I could sense my body changing. The only choice I had was to roar. It felt different, and then the claws dripped with venom. A single drop could desiccate a patch of grass temporarily."

Ellena examined my hand, scrutinising my fingers and nails as if comprehending the incomprehensible. The changes I was undergoing were beyond explanation, as were her own.

"What's your thoughts on you having abilities?" I ask, unsure if it was the truth.

"I'm not sure," Ellena confessed. "It might explain how I've been able to create the things I've used so far to combat the effects of wolfsbane."

Ellena raised a valid point. Her unique skills have always set her apart. Locke had hinted that she possessed other skills we would discover in due time, and perhaps this was what he had foreseen.

"Whatever the reason," I concluded, "we'll face it together."

Just then, Ruth reappeared, holding an ornate box that exuded a palpable aura. Blood, infused with something else, filled the air.