My grandmother died and passed down her cabin to my brother and me. Our uncle doesn't seem like himself anymore

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Uncle Jake ambled toward us, his pace irregular. One moment he moved slowly, the next frantically. His head seemed loose on his neck, rolling about with his momentum. “I… was so worried about you two,” he said.

“Matt…” Eric muttered.

I held up my hand indicating for him to be quiet. I was uncomfortable about all of this too, and Jake didn’t seem like himself. After everything else that had happened tonight, I wasn’t taking chances with anybody, family or otherwise. But still, I needed to know what the situation was.

I needed to hear him speak.

My eyes darted around, taking stock of our surroundings. If it came to a fight, I wanted to be ready. I cursed myself for letting the Man take the fireiron. Still, there was always the river, and in a two against one, Eric and I had a chance against our uncle -- even with my busted wrist.

I swiveled my gaze back to Jake.

He was only a couple car lengths away from us now, and I could see him more clearly. His eyes were pale, milky and faded, like he was drugged. His mess of dark hair shot out from all angles beneath his trucker hat. I’d never seen him in such a sorry state.

“Boys,” he said, burping. “I just need to talk to you for a second. About Griff. He’s just up ahead, but he’s scared of the water.” He gestured toward the wood, swaying on the spot. “Come see him?”

I didn’t say anything. I knew Griff was dead. I pulled his scorched skull out of the fireplace myself, and Eric had been there with me.

Jake took a couple frantic steps forward. I recoiled, putting myself in front of Eric. Call it older brother instincts, call it stupidity. All I knew was this cabin wasn’t going to claim any more of my family.

“Aw,” Jake said, stopping and tilting his head. “Are you afraid…” Another burp. “Of me?”

“What’s going on here?” I said quietly.

“I’m talking to my nephews,” he chuckled, feet dancing to keep his balance. “C’mon… Matthew. Eric. LEt’s go.”

Another step forward.

“Don’t take another fucking step!” I shouted. “Stay the hell back!”

He paused, his demeanor changing. His face drooped, his sing-song smile replaced by a snarl showing a row of yellowed teeth. “You boys were supposed to join us a long time ago, you know. But she got soft.”

What?

“No she didn’t,” Eric said, stepping out from behind me. He held the book in his hands, holding it up to Jake. “She realized how sick this whole thing was. She spared us.”

I had no idea what either of them were talking about, but Eric had clearly read something in Mysteries while up on that rock. And whatever he’d read, Jake knew about it too.

“Spared you?” Jake spat. He took off his cap and chucked it to the side, the corner of his mouth twitching. “At the cost of the rest of us, maybe.” He took a shambling step forward, his eyes cold with menace. “What makes you better than me?”

I knelt down, using Eric’s tall frame as cover from Jake’s vision. My good hand found a decent sized rock, and I clutched it, rising back to my feet and placing it in my jacket pocket discreetly.

“We’re not better than you,” Eric said. “But that doesn’t mean we deserve to become monsters either.”

Deserve to become monsters? What the hell had Eric read?

“You think I’m a fucking monster?” Jake bellowed, eyes bulging. He slammed his finger to his chest. “I’m a product of progress, just like you should’ve been!”

My heart thundered. I didn’t know this man anymore. “Have you been drinking, Jake?” I hoped the answer was yes. I needed something to make sense tonight.

“Drinking?” Jake said, his wild, cataract eyes looking from me to my brother. “You ain’t told him yet, have you Eric? Didn’t invite him to your bookclub?”

“What’s he talking about?”

Eric swallowed. “He’s talking about Mysteries.”

“No shit,” I said, getting impatient. “What about it? Help me the fuck out here, man!”

“I-I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. More anxiety. When it came down on Eric, it came down thick. “The book’s written like an autobiography, Matt. I thought it was a stupid pulp novel grandma wrote but… it’s like research notes, man.”

“Research notes?”

Jake took another half-step forward, and my hand tightened around the stone. “Stay back, I’m not kidding.”

He smiled. “C’mon, Matt. I’ve never hurt you before, have I?”

“Yeah, research notes,” Eric stuttered. “I didn’t think much of it, honestly. Thought it was part of the book’s gimmick but seeing Jake like this…”

Jake hunched his back, hands pumping in and out of fists. “Like what, Eric?” he growled.

“Don’t talk to him, asshole,” I said. Jake was bigger than me by about half, and in his current state, more unpredictable by a mile. If he came at me, I’d have one shot to clock him with the stone. “Talk to me.”

“Talk to you?” he said, cocking his head. “But you’re so boring, Matt. All you’ve ever done is bitch, complain, and mope.” His eyes drifted behind me, to Eric. “Your brother’s always been the interesting one. And now he’s even gone and figured out my mother’s secret.”

“Eric,” I said. “I really need you to get me up to speed."

“T-The book man. It’s--”

“English man! What about the book?” I kept one eye on Jake, my hands gripping the stone so hard that I could feel my palm cramping.

“Grandma wasn’t some writer documenting cryptids, Matt!” He brandished the paperback, then snapped it open, flipping through it aggressively until he hard stopped on a page. He thrust it in my face.

I pulled my head back and squinted, the ink had faded from years of aging, not to mention the water damage from the river crossing.

The left page looked like a list of ingredients, with pencil markings over the print, and beside them a set of tiny, bulleted instructions. On the right was a diagram, too complex for me to properly make out given the condition of the book. Wait, what? Some of the markings looked to be runes.

No, they were definitely runes.

“She wasn’t looking for cryptids, Matt,” Eric said breathlessly. “She was making them.”

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