Secrets In The Bones: The Curse of Blood Bay

Twelve

The ten-minute drive sped by, winding through the town, a maze of mysteries. The road twisted, leading us to the cliff's edge, where a breathtaking sight awaited—sunlit waters stretched endlessly, waves caressing rugged cliffs. The limousine screeched to a halt just thirty feet from the precipice, and an unsettling premonition washed over me.

Our scenario bore the hallmarks of a dark underworld drama—mob-style body disposal, with the unsettling chance of becoming unwitting players in our demise. Amid my racing thoughts, Duncan's timely offer of fresh glasses momentarily diverted my attention. The drink was exquisite, a rare delight compared to the swill Dianne had been serving.

Duncan caught me gazing out the window and remarked, "Quite the view, isn't it?"

"I'd say so. But it begs the question: why are we here?" I reply, furrowing my brow as I scanned the surroundings, looking for clues.

Duncan gestured toward the base of the cliff and says, "It's what's down there that's important."

Intrigued, I stepped out of the car, greeted by a bitter blast of sea air. As the gusts subsided, I heard another sound—raised voices and incessant metal clanging against stone. Pickaxes at work. I positioned myself in the grass, crawling closer to the edge. Ellena's tension reverberated in her trembling breath against my ear. Nearing the edge, the source of our intrigue came into view.

A scaffold-like frame rose from the ground, extending six feet from the cliff's top. At its pinnacle, a black metal platform and a ladder beckoned, a testament to the ingenuity needed to withstand coastal winds while preserving secrecy.

Within this frame, a cargo-style lift powered by a generator stood guard, overseen by a burly sentinel armed with a rifle. The stakes rose, and I couldn't fathom what warranted such elaborate precautions.

"Guns? Really? You could've mentioned that," I mutter.

"Aye, but that's not the crucial part," Duncan replies.

My attention returned to the commotion below, where the source of intrigue lay. A hole in the Cliffside opened like a gaping maw, with workers perched atop a mound of rubble. A chain bolted to the wall descended the slope, guiding the procession of wheelbarrows loaded with debris. Four men worked, their pickaxes pounding away. They were tunnelling into the cliff.

"What the hell is happening here?" I exclaim, bewildered by the unfolding spectacle.

"A tunnel is being carved toward the cliffs beneath that grand house," Duncan explains. "It's one reason I've been fighting to have it designated as a historical landmark. That way, the house and the land cannot be tampered with."

"But why tunnel from this distant spot? I cannot grasp the logic," I muse.

Duncan's voice was uncertain as he replies, "I'm afraid I don't have all the answers yet. My counterpart is involved, and it's not for mere development. He seeks access to something beneath that house for reasons unknown. But this operation is only the tip of the iceberg."

Returning to safety, my thoughts whirled, and a dreadful notion surfaced. The cavern, the telluric current, the vampires—the pieces aligned. David McNally might unleash an ancient evil, clearing the path for chaos. We were far from Ruth's watchful eye, and McNally seemed to play a dangerous game, assuming Duncan's suspicions were valid.

The presence of an armed guard, perhaps to prevent workers from escaping, further fuelled my concerns. I circled back to Duncan's cryptic expectations of what I could do alone and Ruth's mysterious agenda. Nothing added up, and a lurking sense of impending danger hung in the air as if the dots were misaligned, and an impending reckoning loomed.