Page 36 of Tenebrous

An exasperated huff leaves its nostrils, followed by what I swear is a glower.

Seething right back, I point to the closest pile of bones. “What. Is. This?”

Those golden eyes follow my finger before snapping back to my face. Thick brows furrow. “Bones.”

Again, the gravely timbre of its voice sends goosebumps over my flesh. “Yeah, no shit. Why are they here?”

The question seems to catch it off guard. Its eyes widen, and in an eerily human-like gesture, it rests its elbows on its knees to scan the chamber. “They are dead.”

Terror clogs my throat at the fully formed sentence and the flat tone of its voice. “Who killed them?”

Slowly, its attention slides back to mine. “Sometimes me. Sometimes not.”

At first, all I can do is stare, taken aback by the simplicity of that answer. No hesitation, no guilt. Just a statement of fact, like we're talking about the weather.

“You ate them,” I say, swallowing hard.

It nods once. “Some.”

The cave swirls around me. I don't know why the honest answer unsettles me so much, but it does.

A weak scoff leaves my throat. “You expect me to believe that most of these people just wandered down here and died?”

“No.” Its immediate response makes me jump. The creature glances toward one of the older skeletons resting against the wall. “Some were brought.”

“Brought?”

“From the village.”

My heartbeat stutters in my chest. “Deadfall?”

Another nod.

I glance across the chamber, once again studying the handcuffs and ropes, the bullet holes. Evidence I'd already seen but hadn't fully accepted until now. “They… delivered people to you.”

“De… livered?” The monster's brows slam down.

“Gave,” I growl angrily. “Sacrificed. Whatever the fuck you want to call it.”

Something resembling discomfort flickers over its features. “They are afraid.”

I let out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, no shit they're afraid. You eat people.”

“Only to protect. To survive.”

Those words twist something in my chest. Not because it excuses anything, but because of how genuine it sounds, as if this monstrous being is explaining something obvious.

Maybe it is, a voice whispers inside my head.

I hate the part of me that understands—kill, or be killed. Eat or be eaten. If someone barged into my home with intent to harm, I'd fight tooth and nail for my life, so I get it, but still…

My attention drifts toward Uncle Gale. “You didn't eat him, though.”

The creature follows my line of sight. “No.”

“Why?”

Those massive shoulders rise and fall as its eyes return to mine, reflecting in the dark. “You said please.”