Chapter 129: 129 Blood chilling investigation

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129: Blood chilling investigation 129: Blood chilling investigation Bruce cradled his coffee cup later that afternoon, watching Mishka pace across his living room.

They’d spent hours examining the photographs, and now the setting sun cast long shadows through the mansion’s windows, a reminder of how quickly time was slipping away.

“The charity gala needs to happen soon,” Mishka said, stopping at the window.

Her fingers traced the cold glass, following the path of a raindrop.

“Every day we wait gives Grandma more time to…

to do whatever she’s planning.”

“Graham’s already started the arrangements.

He’s spreading word that it’s to celebrate my return to the area and the mansion’s restoration.” Bruce set down his cup with such force that coffee sloshed over the rim.

His wolf nature was becoming harder to control as tension mounted.

“The naval commander’s wife called back – they’re quite excited about hosting an event with both Bruce Cameron fashion designer, and Mishka Stone, pop sensation.

Mishka had changed her surname for stage purposes.”

Mishka turned to face him, her expression troubled.

“Won’t Grandma be suspicious if we suddenly announce a naval charity gala?

She’s not a fool, Bruce.

She’s managed to keep secrets for decades.”

“That’s why we’re not just inviting naval families,” Bruce replied, moving to stand behind her.

His reflection in the window overlapped with hers, a visual reminder of how their lives had become intertwined.

“Graham’s making it a broader community event.

Local business leaders, artists, wolf clan representatives – everyone who’s anyone will want to attend.

Your grandmother would raise more suspicions by not coming.”

A soft knock interrupted them.

Graham entered, carrying a thick manila envelope.

His usually impeccable suit was disheveled, and there was a wild look in his eyes that Bruce had never seen before.

“More photographs?” Mishka asked, turning from the window.

“Better.

Or worse, depending on how you look at it.” Graham’s hands shook slightly as he handed the envelope to Bruce.

“I found Captain Morrison’s personal logs.

They were archived in the mansion’s library, mixed in with some old shipping manifests.

But Bruce…

there’s blood on some of the pages.”

The room went deadly quiet.

Bruce’s hands trembled as he opened the envelope, and the metallic scent of decades-old blood filled his sensitive wolf nostrils.

“These aren’t copies – they’re the original logs.

The blood…

it’s his, isn’t it?”

“According to the filing system, they were donated to your grandfather’s private collection by Myrtle Classens, about six months after Morrison disappeared.

She brought them here personally, according to the records.”

Mishka sank onto the sofa, her face draining of color.

“She had his logs all this time?

Did Rose know?

Oh god, did she…” Her voice trailed off, unable to complete the horrible thought.

“There’s more,” Graham continued, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I found a letter with them.

It’s addressed to your grandfather, Bruce.” He pulled out a yellowed envelope from his jacket pocket.

The paper was stained with what looked suspiciously like more blood.

Bruce opened it carefully, his eyes scanning the faded handwriting.

“‘Dearest William,'” he read aloud, his voice growing hoarse, “‘I trust you understand the gravity of keeping these safe.

The second stone must never be united with the first.

The price was too high the last time.

Morrison knew this – it’s why he chose to…'” Bruce paused, squinting at the faded text.

“There’s blood covering the next part, but the last line is clear: ‘Some prices are too high, even for immortality.'”

A sudden gust of wind rattled the windows with explosive force, making them all jump.

Outside, dark clouds were gathering with unnatural speed, turning the early evening sky an ominous green.

Lightning flashed, and in that brief illumination, Mishka screamed.

There, looking in through the window, was a face – ancient, twisted, with eyes that glowed an otherworldly blue.

When the lightning faded, it was gone.

“That wasn’t natural,” Graham said, his voice shaking.

“Bruce, we need that lighthouse keeper.

Now.”

“He agreed to meet tomorrow night, during the new moon when most wolves stay close to home.

He says it’s safer that way.

He mentioned something about the stones’ power being weaker then.”

Mishka stood suddenly, her face a mask of determination despite her obvious fear.

“I should go.

Grandma will be expecting me for dinner, and after that note this morning about her ‘vision,’ I can’t give her any reason to be more suspicious.”

Bruce caught her arm gently but firmly.

“Take my car.

It’s got better security, and I’ve had Graham check it for tracking devices.

The key fob has a panic button – press it if anything feels wrong.

Anything at all.”

After Mishka left, Bruce turned to Graham.

“Have someone watch her house tonight.

If Myrtle’s planning something…”

“Already arranged,” Graham replied.

“But Bruce, there’s something else.

While I was going through the logs, I found several references to a place called the ‘Moon Temple’ along the Japanese coast.

Morrison was obsessed with finding it.

The last entry…

it’s written in what looks like his blood.”

“The Moon Temple?” Bruce’s wolf instincts roared to life, making his voice come out as a half-growl.

“According to these records, that’s where your grandfather first obtained the Moonstone.

And according to Morrison’s last log entry, that’s exactly where he was headed when he disappeared.

He wrote something else too – something about a ritual that could only be performed when two Moonstones were brought together under a blood moon.”

Bruce stared at the gathering storm outside, his enhanced vision picking out shapes that shouldn’t be there, moving in ways that defied natural law.

Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

The lighthouse keeper clearly knew more than he was letting on – but would he be willing to share those secrets?

And more importantly, would Mishka be safe until then?

As if in answer, a flash of lightning illuminated the grounds, and for just a moment, Bruce saw not one but dozens of figures standing at the forest’s edge, their eyes all glowing with that same otherworldly blue light.

When the next flash came, they were gone, leaving nothing but shadows and the distinct feeling that time was running out.

In his hand, the blood-stained letter seemed to pulse with its own inner light, and somewhere in the distance, a wolf began to howl – a sound filled with such anguish that even Bruce, born to the wolf clans, felt his blood run cold.