Burnt Blood: The Werewolf Within

Four

'Al's Diner, 20th September.'

The grating sound of stainless steel against cream porcelain reverberated through my ears. All I could do was sit silently, resisting the urge to flip through the pages until I had more answers. Charlie's words hooked me, dangling on the edge of 'weird and scary, until.' The drawing portrayed that, but I struggled to envision myself in that eerie scenario. I sipped at my coffee, half-ignoring it until it turned cold, hoping the burning sensation in my head would follow suit.

The guy in the cap kept flicking the peak every few minutes, shooting occasional glances my way. It was three-thirty, and he'd been nursing the same cup since I walked in. I wasn't faring much better, needing to push the ankle holster out of my mind amid the chaos swirling around us. Here we sat, facing each other, two strangers masquerading as individuals who once shared a deeper connection. We were supposed to be brothers; family should be there for each other, but I'd done everything but that. I understood Charlie's hostility; he had every right to be pissed.

Would he have my back if things went south? The answer hung in the balance, contingent on where he stood in the grand scheme. Not that I wished for a showdown, but the tension in the air heightened as I surveyed the dubious demeanour of 'Mary' and 'Trucker Guy.' His leg maintains a steady pounding rhythm while Mary avoids serving anyone else, and a couple of years working here—Schoolboy error. I made eye contact with her, eliciting a wry smile, before she awkwardly clomped her way over.

Her heel caught on the same raised tile, a lesson yet to be learned. I had to focus on the task and not get lost in her curves. My mind needed clarity to coax more information out of Charlie. With her alluring appearance, she could distract me. Her crisp uniform highlighted her busty figure as she batted her hazel eyes.

Mary returned to the table, this time more engrossed in the drawings than in us. If memory served, I got momentarily sidetracked by her Estee Lauder perfume, reminiscent of Helen's fragrance. I checked back; Charlie and Helen appeared again, sitting side by side. Mary's scent had triggered memories.

"Same again, please," catching Mary off guard.

"Sorry, what?" Mary looked startled, as if she'd forgotten why she approached our table.

"You were about to ask if we wanted anything else, but I beat you to it," I reply politely, while Mary's bug-eyed stare seemed oddly intrusive.

"Ah yes, two coffees, right?" Mary had already forgotten. It wasn't as if I'd seen her serve anyone else.

"Yes, that will do," Charlie grumbled, grimacing in her direction, clearly irritated by her awkward but honest mistake. Mary looked surprised and hurried away, leaving us momentarily silent. I turned to Charlie's twitching left eye, anticipating what revelation he would unleash next. The stress in the air hung thick, and I hoped the coffee foam would make things a tad smoother.

"Come on then, out with it," Charlie threw a blank expression into the air.

"You must remember; I joined the family when no one knew what was happening with you. At least no one would listen. The things you said you could see and speak to scared us. Topped off by red eyes, and you are covered in blood. You were dripping in it," Charlie spoke softly, a quiet revelation that slapped me back into the nightmare I woke from—the one with the body adorned with red eyes, not the one with Chris. Those eyes haunting the darkness still sent shivers down my spine.

I sat, grappling to respond, hoping that connecting the dots from my childhood to my recent nightmares would unveil another layer to Chris' murder. Anxiously, I scratched my fingernails across the wooden table, inadvertently causing Charlie to shuffle back in his chair, a look of fear etched across his face. Why would he be afraid of me? He seemed poised for me to lose my temper and fly off the handle.