The blood on the walls doesn't smell right. Ghost thinks even a human would be able to tell - the smell of rotting fruit overwhelms the cramped hall where there should be the tang of metal and meat. The ground is covered with a thin layer of something that squishes under his boots as water drips and echoes through the tunnel. Behind him, Gaz makes a disgusted noise.
"That's not blood, is it, Ghost?"
"Not 'uman blood," he confirms. He takes a deep whiff, and is disappointed that he can't catch the bright, clean, spicy scent of his companion over the mess. "Not vampire or werewolf, neither."
"Bloody hell," Gaz grumbles. "Do you know what it is, or just what it isn't?"
Ghost chuckles as he catches the sound of something skittering up ahead. "'S not anythin' like me."
"Thank the stars for that. Does that mean it's alive?"
"...No."
