I slipped quietly through the tent flaps and paused, letting my eyes adjust to the dark. Eliza's footsteps had already faded into the night, but where could she be going at this hour? Was she stealing from the site? It fit, in a way. During the day she cataloged the artifacts, and at night she moved them somewhere else to be picked up before morning. It was the only explanation that made sense. The funding for this dig had to be coming from wealthy collectors, people connected to the black market.
Eldon must have used her brother's illness as leverage. She'd spoken briefly about needing money because he was sick. Is this why she looked so ill, why she wasn't eating? Was the guilt eating away at her?
A single line of footprints led away from our tent, curving around the generator shed. The generator was off, and the lamps across the camp had all gone dark. Only the moon offered a sliver of light to see by.
I paused. Maybe I was over thinking it. If she needed time alone, that was her business. And if she was moving artifacts off-site, I wasn't going to stop her. Whatever was going on, I didn't have a solution to offer; I didn't even have a real job, how would I pay for her brother's treatment? I told myself to leave it alone. If Eliza wanted to talk, she would. I turned back toward the tent.
Then I heard it.
A high-pitched, raw scream sliced through the night, brief but unmistakable. My heart kicked hard against my ribs as I broke into a run, slipping on loose sand.
The scream came again, fainter this time, tapering into a broken whimper.
It was coming from Eldon's tent.
Voices reached me, low and hurried, sharp against the stillness. I couldn't make out the words, only the tone. Something was wrong. The hairs on the back of my neck lifted.
"Hello?" I called out. My words came out smaller than I meant them to. "Is everything alright?"
The whispering stopped.
I stood frozen, suddenly aware of how exposed I was in the open space. The silence stretched, broken only by the soft hush of the wind dragging across the sand.
That's when I saw it.
A small shape limped away from Eldon's tent, its steps uneven. At first I thought it was a stray cat. Some wandered in now and then, hoping for scraps. But as I moved closer, I saw the narrow snout, the pointed ears.
The jackal hobbled forward, keening quietly.
Then I saw its leg.
The right front leg was missing.
Not mangled. Just gone.
The jackal looked at me, then started to stagger in my direction.
"Oh God," I breathed, crouching down. The limb ended in a clean, wet stump, a slow drip of blood leaving dark spots in the sand. "What happened to you?"
It raised its head and met my eyes.
I knew I shouldn't be getting close, but it didn't snap or snarl. And I couldn't just walk away. Not when it looked like that.
I shrugged off my jacket and wrapped it gently around its small body, careful not to jostle the injured leg. When I glanced down again, blood was already soaking through the fabric.
I wished I could stop the bleeding. Wished I could fix its leg. What I could only name as frustration built inside me, slow and molten.
A short laugh slipped out before I could stop it. As if wishing ever changed anything. It would be dead by morning, from blood loss or by something faster with teeth.
A heavy fatigue settled over me, and my thoughts slipped sideways before I could hold onto them.
The ground tilted.
I fell forward, catching myself with a hand in the sand. The heat of it pressed into my skin, anchoring me, though my limbs felt distant and heavy. I squeezed my eyes shut, then opened them again, hoping the blurriness would pass. But everything still swam.
"Harper?"
I shook my head, trying to clear it, and pushed myself upright.
Eliza stood behind me, only a few feet away, stepping out from the darkness.
"What were you doing out here?" she asked.
"I heard screaming," I said, pointing toward the injured animal. "This poor thing... someone hurt it. Look, its leg—"
I stopped.
As Eliza stepped closer, I noticed the streaks on her shirt, the smears on her hands, the blood visible even in the low light.
"Eliza." My words came out barely above a whisper. "You're bleeding."
She looked down slowly, studying her hands like she wasn't quite sure how they'd gotten that way.
"It's not mine."
I swallowed and looked back at the jackal. It had pressed itself against my legs, its body trembling, eyes locked on her.
"We have to help it. Someone—"
"No." Her tone was sharp. Final.
Her hand shot out and clamped around my arm. I tried to pull away, but her grip held fast, fingers digging into my skin.
"What the hell—"
"You shouldn't be out here," she said, a slight tremor in her words now. "Go back to sleep."
"No. I'm done with this." I tore my arm free, anger pushing past the fear. "There's blood on your clothes, a wounded animal at my feet, and you aren't acting like yourself. Tell me what's going on."
She flinched as if I'd struck her.
I turned and started toward Eldon's tent, following the trail of blood in the sand.
"Harper, stop." Something in her tone made me falter mid-step. "Please."
I didn't have time to reply as the tent flaps parted and Professor Eldon stepped out. The curved blade in his hand caught the moonlight, blood still dark and wet along its edge.
"Professor Eldon?" I stared at the blood-darkened blade, my stomach lurching as I forced myself to meet his eyes.
"Harper."
I saw the irritation in his expression, the brief tightening around his mouth, the narrowing of his eyes. But it passed too quickly. His features settled into something more composed.
"The jackal," I said, my words climbing higher despite my efforts to stay calm. "You cut off its leg. Why would you do that? How could you—"
The words stuck in my throat.
"Harper." His tone softened. "Are you feeling alright?"
He stood there, blood drying on his hands, talking to me like I was the one who'd lost my grip on reality. As if the blood, the knife, all of it wasn't real.
"Don't act like I'm crazy. I saw the knife, I saw what you did! There's blood on your hands, on Eliza's shirt... I can see it!"
"Harper, you need to relax," Eliza said from behind me. Her words sounded strained, like she was forcing herself to speak.
"Relax?" I spun around to face her. "He hurt that animal! Why are you okay with this? What is wrong with you?!"
I pointed toward where the jackal pup had been pressed against my legs just moments before. There was nothing there. No animal. No blood. Nothing.
"It was right there... You saw it too. The blood on your clothes..." I stepped toward my jacket, picking it up as I stared mutely at the empty space before me.
I spun back toward Eldon, but he stood there in clean clothes, no knife to be seen. His hands were spotless, and his expression held careful concern.
"No," I said, backing away from both of them. "No, I saw it. I saw what you did. It was screaming, and there was blood everywhere, and you..."
My words climbed higher with each sentence.
"You're lying," I said, my tone breaking. "Both of you are lying. I saw..."
The commotion had woken half the camp. I could see figures emerging from tents, their silhouettes dark against the sand.
Marcus appeared, a lantern in his hand. "What's going on? Is everyone alright?"
I opened my mouth to tell him what I'd seen, but the words stuck in my throat. How could I explain any of this? An injured animal that vanished? The blood was even gone. People would think I was—
"She's having an episode," Eliza said.
I felt the blood drain from my face as conversations stopped and everyone's attention focused on me with uncomfortable intensity.
"What?" I whispered.
"Your condition," Eliza continued, her words barely audible. "Sometimes people with schizophrenia can have breakthrough symptoms even when they're medicated."
"I'm not—" I started, but my words failed me. How did she even know? I never took my medication in front of her. I never told her.
"Harper," Marcus said carefully, "what happened?"
"I heard a scream," I said, turning toward him, my tone pleading for him to believe me. "It was real. There was a jackal and it..." I could feel hot tears welling up and I angrily wiped them from my face.
My words died as I realized the crowd that had formed around us. I counted at least eight people, maybe more in the shadows beyond the glow of the lantern.
Marcus exhaled slowly, the sound deliberate. He turned toward the crowd and raised his voice, taking control of the situation. "It was just a jackal, everyone." His hands moved in broad, dismissive gestures. "Nothing to worry about."
"I thought I heard something too," came a response from the back. "Sounded like a kid screaming."
The confirmation seemed to satisfy everyone, and within moments the crowd dispersed.
Marcus looked first to Eldon, then Eliza before he focused on me, his expression softening.
"Jackals can sound remarkably like humans," he said. "You woke up disoriented in the middle of the night. Anyone might be confused in that state."
He stepped closer, extending his hand toward me. "I'll walk you back. We'll all have a laugh about this in the morning."
The genuine kindness in his tone made my throat tighten. Before I could respond, Eldon's words cut through the moment.
"No. I'll handle this."
Marcus hesitated, his hand still outstretched. "Professor, I think—"
"I said I'll handle it." The words carried an edge that made Marcus step back, his offered hand falling to his side.
I reached out and briefly squeezed his arm. "It's okay. I'll see you in a few hours."
Marcus looked like he wanted to say something more, but after a moment he just nodded. There was genuine frustration in his gaze as he turned and walked away.
The walk back to my tent was silent except for the crunch of sand under our feet. I kept my arms wrapped around myself, still trying to process everything that had happened. Eldon walked slightly ahead, his posture rigid, while Eliza stayed close to me, her face pale and withdrawn.
"Sit," Eliza said when we reached my tent, guiding me to my cot. She took my jacket from my hands and tossed it on the floor under my cot.
I sat down, my hands shaking as the adrenaline began to fade. It had felt so real. It wasn't like when I was younger, where my hallucinations were always hazy and dreamlike.
"Here," Eliza said, pressing a bottle of water into my hands. "Drink this. You're dehydrated."
I took the bottle and drank deeply, not realizing how thirsty I was.
"Better?" Eldon asked, settling onto the camp stool near the entrance.
I nodded, not trusting my words. The water had helped with the dryness in my throat, but there was an odd aftertaste lingering on my tongue, almost bitter.
"Harper," Eldon said, "I need to ask you something, and I want you to be honest with me."
I looked up at him. The dim light filtering through the tent walls carved deep shadows across his face, making his features appear unnaturally sharp. "Okay."
"Have you been experiencing any other symptoms? Hearing things, perhaps? Seeing things that don't make sense?"
The pottery shard. The visions of blood that had flashed through my mind when I'd touched it. The way people's behavior seemed wrong. Those strange translations that didn't make sense either. Had I imagined all of this? How long had this been going on?
"Maybe," I admitted quietly.
He paused, his eyes resting on my face for longer than necessary. I could see the calculation in his gaze. "I think," he said slowly, like he was trying the words out first, "that Marcus is probably right. Cassie's been pushing you too hard. You're just tired."
He turned his attention to my bag, unzipping it. I watched, too exhausted to do anything more than let my gaze follow the movement. He rifled through the contents and when he reached my passport, he took it without hesitation and slipped it into his jacket pocket.
I shook my head, trying to focus. My mind registered what I'd seen, but it felt far away, like it was happening to someone else. Why was he taking my passport?
I tried to sit up, to ask, to say something. But my body wouldn't cooperate. My legs slid weakly against the cot, and my arms barely lifted. I wanted to protest. I wanted to make him stop. But the words sat heavy in my throat, unreachable.
He sat beside me and reached out, his fingers brushing my cheek. I flinched at the contact, though I barely managed the movement.
"Don't worry," he said gently, as if he were soothing a child. "By morning, you won't remember any of this."
He studied me for a moment, "It's a shame about tonight. You shouldn't have seen that."
As he spoke, something shifted in his eyes. The pale green darkened, and the pupils stretched, narrowing into vertical slits. I blinked hard, sure I was imagining it, but the image remained.
"But it had to be done," he continued. His hand slid through my hair, the motion slow and careful. "Some things just can't be tolerated."
He leaned in. I tried to turn my head away, but he caught the back of my skull and held it steady. His mouth pressed against mine. His tongue was cold. I fought the urge to gag as he deepened the kiss, his grip tightening in my hair until my scalp burned.
I tried to push him away. My hands rose, then fell uselessly against my sides. My legs slipped from under me. The fatigue had turned into something heavier, something unnatural. It spread slowly, smothering my limbs with numbness.
"What did you give me?" I managed, the words thick and slurred.
He pulled back and wiped my mouth with his thumb. "Just something to help you sleep."
Keeping one hand tangled in my hair, he slid the other down, settling on my waist. "I'll join you in a minute," he said calmly, without looking at Eliza. "I need a top-up after today."
I forced my eyes toward her. She hadn't moved, but her hands were clenched into fists at her sides, her face a mask of barely controlled terror.
"You can't. If they find out you've—" she began.
"She has no one," he said with finality. "No family, no house, no protection. That makes her fair game and I've waited long enough."
His hand slid lower, fingers grazing the edge of my waistband. I wanted to scream. I wanted to bite, claw, kick—anything. But all that came was a tremor, shallow and useless.
"No," I said, or thought I said. The sound barely passed my lips.
He leaned in again, his eyes narrowing to slits. "You shouldn't be able to resist at all," he murmured, as if speaking to himself. "Interesting."
His mouth found mine again, harder this time. I felt a pull immediately, a cold pressure beneath my skin, as something vital was being drawn out through the kiss.
Then, a sound.
Eldon jerked back, his head turning sharply toward the tent flap. He hissed, the sound slipping through his teeth like steam, and black scales shimmered across his face.
He looked at me one last time, his face suddenly sharp with frustration. His hand lifted. Fingers pressed flat against my forehead.
There was no pain. Only cold. And then nothing.