William scanned scene around him as he pulled back out of the car, searching for clues. A stream of wet, vivid red caught his attention. It dribbled down the driver’s door. Looking closer, running a finger through the trial, William knew what it was.
Blood.
Now he’d seen it, he noticed more. He knelt, following the river of partially dried gore, until he came to a stop beneath the car. He saw something hidden in the shadows just beneath it. Reaching under the car, his fingers wrapped around something large, heavy yet soft. Withdrawing it into the dull light, he saw what it was.
A fist-sized rock had been wrapped in brown-stained bandages. There were a few noticeable spots of fresher gore, rose-red compared to the brown stains of old blood. William knew exactly where these bandages had been before – wrapped around Edward’s ruined hands.
The realisation sunk deep, burying to the hilt. Instead of physical pain, William was smacked with guilt – more of it. Clutching the rock to his chest, he knew this was his doing. Old lessons die hard. He’d kicked Archie out of his house, and he’d faced a terrible fate. Maybe Hanbury was not trying to get rid of them, but consume them just like it did for poor Robert.
William had done the same thing to Edward as he did to Archie. His actions had forced Edward to break into his car and likely hurt himself in the process. Was the blood thanks to a severed vein, the spluttering of a torn radial artery?
If so, where was he?
The shaded woods creaked and groaned, wind rustling through the undergrowth. William expected the two men to show themselves again, but they kept away. He had the impression they were still close though, watching on, judging how close William was to joining them.
He looked up, unsure where to start looking for Edward. Regardless of the secrets and the lies, he couldn’t be responsible for another person’s demise. It would kill him this time – without the need for pills and alcohol.
Something like the crack of a branch sounded at William’s side. As if a foot stood on the fragile old bones of a tree, breaking it beneath a person’s weight.
“Edward?” William called out, narrowing his eyes, trying to discern the shapes of the trees. “Edward, is that you?”
Please let it be you. Please not those men with empty eyes and the stench of age and death on their bloated flesh.
Deciding to carry the rock as a weapon more than anything, William got up. The back of his neck prickled as if unseen eyes were on him. And he knew, without question, that he wasn’t alone.
Turning in circles, he searched for the intruder. He spun so quickly the world tilted, taking a moment to settle. And the feeling of being watched only intensified.
“I know you are here,” William said, his voice shaking, giving away his fear. “Tell me what you want. Get this over with!”
He stepped from the car towards the bonnet. A distinct movement off centre from his vision caught his full attention. The skin across the side of his face prickling with the sensation of being watched.
William was about to turn back to Hanbury when he saw it. As his eyes settled on a strange shape just shy of the car, the sensation of being watched dissipated like smoke on the wind.
The same place those men had pointed with dirty nails and bony fingers.
A brick formation rose out of the ground in a clearing. It was circular, lidded by a sheet of rusted metal. The closer he got, the more he knew exactly what he was looking at.
It was a well – the one Robert had written about in his journal.
Roots from the surrounding trees rose from the earth like serpents frozen in time. Some broke through the well’s surrounding wall – the bricks aged over time, wrapped by ivy and knotted with weeds. It was as if the earth itself was trying to pry the strange-lidded contraption from the well, but the lock prevented it.
But that wasn’t all that William noticed being out of place. Etched into the top of the metal lid was a symbol– the same markings worn into every doorframe inside of Hanbury Manor.
William hadn’t been able to work out what the symbols in the house were. To him, they just looked like warped markings of the number eight. But seeing it on the well, larger and more detailed, he knew what it was.
A snake coiled on itself, its own fangs sinking into the flesh of its tail.
An Ouroboros. A symbol that William knew from his own research during one of the novels he’d written. And the very same symbol etched into the doorframes in Hanbury. Except it was clear here, larger and easier to make out exactly what it was. Not a figure of eight, but a snake eating its own tail.
Destruction and creation. Death and rebirth.
William lowered his fingers to the markings, feeling the grooves in the metal. Tracing the symbol with his index finger.
The wind sang once again, the whisper of secrets caught upon its stream. William didn’t need to look up to know the two men had returned, but he did anyway. They stood on the other side of the well, gazing down with sorrow oozing from their eyeless face. Although their mouths didn’t move, William heard the sobbing. The sound clashed in his head, loud and demanding. Like stones grating over stones, it was the noise with enough power to truly drive him mad.
“You… you’re the missing boys…” William managed to force out, and the noise stopped. “The ones who went into Hanbury, and never returned?”
They didn’t reply, but their silence seemed answer enough.
