Chapter 29
"The truth is a fire that consumes the vessel holding it." — Unknown Megan Holt did not sleep. She sat in the armchair of her quiet parlor in Keswick, watching the sun struggle to pierce the thick Cumbrian mist. Her husband, Arthur, had finally retreated to bed, satisfied with her whispered excuse of "low blood sugar." But every time Megan closed her eyes, she saw the white ceramic plate. she saw the glistening, muscular lumps of tissue that had once beaten inside human chests. Most of all, she saw the golden, predatory light in the eyes of the man she had known as Silas. The fear was a physical presence in the room, a cold hand wrapped around her throat. She knew the "Vances" were gone—she had heard the faint sound of their departure in the dead of night—but the terror remained. He w
- Writer
