One Step Closer

During her time at Uncle Brewin's bedside, Sam had held his hand and asked in low tones if he could hear her; an enquiry answered only by the old man's wheezing, strained breaths. The nurse had said that he had awoken earlier in the day and asked for her but once again Sam had missed an opportunity to converse with him.

And there may not be many more opportunities left. The cancer had now spread to his brain. The doctor wasn't sure how much time Brewin still had, but he had been honest in telling her that it wasn't much. There was also a chance that his periods of lucidity would diminish further, or disappear altogether.

The beeping of the heart rate monitor reminded Sam of the last time she had visited him in the hospital, when the ECG had sped up in reaction to her mentioning "eclipse." She remembered also Brewin borrowing her phone and—she later found out—looking up the lunar cycle.

He knew. He knew about the Hell Hounds.