21. Bella - The Next Morning
Chapter twenty-one
Bella - The Next Morning
That dream last night was more intense than anything I’ve ever experienced.
Even now, waking in the gray quiet of morning, chills still ripple through my body when I think about Darius.
What happened in that dream and his intensity.
It felt so real that for several breathless seconds after opening my eyes, I was certain he was still there beside me in the dark.
My pulse flutters—as if I was something precious and dangerous all at once. Desired. Claimed. Worshipped.
And worst of all?
Some part of me aches because it wasn’t real.
Well, work can fix this. It always does!
Tom is here in the clinic, under my care.
I sent Finn home for a day and night of well-deserved rest. I stay with Tom.
No seizures. The veins remain dark and the webbing has spread slightly.
Charlie stays next to me, my guardian. I check on Silas off and on.
Silas is better but the blood we took from him is still acting odd.
He’s not worse but not all better, either.
Lena called and is coming tomorrow instead of today for blood tests. She said she’s running late and can’t make it. The two girls, Jenna and Maris, are coming the day after for follow-up.
Have we contained what is happening or is this just the beginning? Has this disease stopped its spread. Will the attacks stop?
And what in the hell is attacking people?
I let work take my focus. Routines are forming already. I’m getting some order into my new life. Help patients, figure out my place on this island and let the Darius situation occur naturally.
This afternoon I’m looking through medical books for possible answers to the mystery of the blood. Feed Silas. Monitor Tom. Pretend everything is under control.
I check in on Silas again.
“I feel fine, doc,” he says, which is exactly what people say right before they pass out. “Maybe I’ve been here long enough.”
“That’s not the standard we’re using.”
Charlie circles once near the bed, then stops—watching Silas, head tilted slightly. Not wary but curious. He moves closer and Silas pats his head.
Charlie studies Silas carefully and leans in. He smells like fear and saltwater. He’s been alone too long on the island, and misses someone.
“Okay, doc. I’ll sit back. Hey your dog reminds me of my Scout I had years ago. Good boy, I can tell.”
I take Silas’s wrist with a smile, checking his pulse. Strong and steady.
“Listen, you’ve definitely improved.”
“I’ve had lots of rest, probably too much,” he shrugs.
“But, on a wound and attack like you suffered only four days ago?” I lift a brow. “I’d like your body’s contact information.”
He chuckles, then winces again, though the reaction is delayed—like the pain is catching up instead of arriving on time.
“Let me see it,” I say, pointing at the wound on his neck.
He tilts his head, exposing the bandage. I peel it back slowly. And stop.
The punctures are practically closed now. Not healed but clean edges, minimal swelling, wound disappearing.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say this wound was mild and three weeks into healing. Not the reality of a deep and serious wound, healing in four days or so.
I replace the bandage, my mind already racing through possibilities I don’t have enough data to support.
“Any dizziness?” I ask Silas again.
“Nope.”
“Fatigue?”
He pauses. “Less.”
“Less,” I repeat.
Everything is less. Everything except the part that shouldn’t be.
“Okay,” I say, stepping back. “I want to run some more tests. You’re not leaving quite yet.”
He opens his mouth.
“Not a debate,” I add.
He closes it.
“Good,” I say.
Charlie nudges his hand. Silas absently scratches behind his ears.
“This dog’s got better bedside manner than most doctors I’ve known,” he mutters.
I step into my office and sit down. I’ve never seen super-fast healing like this before. It isn’t normal.
I pick up his vial of blood. It moves and separates on its own accord. Looks odd.
Lena is coming in tomorrow, and I’ll run a full battery of tests then. I want to see if her blood looks like this.
There’s a knock at the door of the clinic. An actual knock this time.
Molly stands there, one of her kids tucked behind her leg, peeking out at Charlie who followed me.
“Good afternoon, Bella,” she says. “Brought you something for later. Sustenance … early dinner. You’ve got a lot on your hands.”
She holds up a small bag.
“You’re feeding me again?” I ask.
“Feeding the doctor is an investment,” she replies. “After boating yesterday and all that fresh air, and a night with Tom’s attack and everything else going on, you’ll need it! Also, I heard Silas was up. There’s extra food for him.”
“Word travels fast.”
“Small island.”
I take the big bag with thanks, stepping aside. “He’s inside. Improving. Come on in.”
“That’s good,” she says, though her eyes flick briefly past me, into the clinic. Her kids edge forward, reaching for Charlie.
My fan club can’t get enough of me, Charlie says proudly.
“Don’t smother him with your attention,” Molly warns.
Charlie sits immediately, offering his head like a professional.
“Show-off,” I murmur to him.
Molly smiles faintly, then lowers her voice. “Bella … people are talking.”
“That’s never good to hear.”
“No, it’s not,” she agrees. “They’re saying it feels like … before.”
There is silence as I take it in.
“Before what?” I ask. “Can you explain?”
She hesitates.
“Before. Twenty years ago. When things got bad.”
“That’s not specific.”
“It’s not meant to be,” she replies. “Just, be careful.”
Charlie suddenly stands, aware of something. His head turns toward the door. Something beyond the door and the house.
I follow his gaze instinctively. Out past the square. Up. Toward The Cliffs. You know animals can sense more than humans, Bella … Someone is watching.
“Great,” I mutter.
“Well, I’ve got to get back to the shop. Take care, Bella,” Molly says as she retreats with the kids following, waving enthusiastically at Charlie.
The fog has thinned just enough to reveal the upper ridge again. The estates sit there, distant and silent. Watching. Or maybe that’s just how it feels.
“Come on,” I say, shifting gears. “Let me see how Tom is. Silas might want more food. We don’t want him to complain about my hospitality. Or medical setting.”
Too late for that, Charlie laughs.
“Not helping,” I mutter.
Silas is sitting up. “What’d Molly say?”
“That people are talking,” I reply.
“They always do on this island.”
“About ‘the before times,’” I add.
That gets his attention. He nods slowly but says nothing. I look at him. He definitely knows something.
“Okay,” I say, crossing my arms. “Let’s try this again. What happened here before? Whenever that was … like maybe twenty years ago?”
Silas looks away. “Long time ago,” he says.
“And?”
He sighs. “There were … incidents.”
“What kinds of incidents.”
“People getting hurt,” he says. “More than usual. In The Wilds. Things not behaving the way they should.”
My stomach tightens. “Like now?”
“Maybe,” he says.
“That’s not good enough.”
“It’s what I’ve got.”
I exhale slowly, forcing myself not to push harder. Not yet. Instead, I move back to the counter, picking up the vial of blood again. Same oily sheen. Same subtle shift that defies gravity. Same wrongness.
“Okay,” I say quietly to myself and maybe to Charlie. “Then we do this my way.”
Charlie asks. Which is?
“We track it,” I reply. “Every case. Every symptom. Every change. Every problem. Every resident that has an issue. Even residents who haven’t reported anything. We check with everybody.”
That sounds intense. And organized.
“It is.”
Bloodhaven Cove will get nervous.
“Good,” I say.
Silence settles over the room. Charlie moves to my side, pressing against my leg. I look down at him, then back at the vial in my hand.
You were never going to ignore this, were you, Bella?
“No.”
I will help watch over you, then.
“Thanks,” I whisper.
I look at him, then toward the window.
Toward The Cliffs.
Something has happened before.
Is it just starting?