Series 2 Episode 7
The plain white walls of the hospital waiting room were driving Dylan crazy. He was reading the tedious notices pinned on the wall about flu vaccinations and blood tests over and over, desperately praying that time would fly. However, the more he hoped, the slower time seemed to go.
He took his phone out, making use of the crummy Wi-Fi in the hospital to browse Facebook. Plenty of birthday messages from old school acquaintances that he hadn’t spoken to in years. He hadn’t browsed them any further since the morning before. All he wanted to do was re-read Jono’s post for him. It was the cutest thing ever. Cute selfies they had taken together were attached, and he loved it with all of his heart. Oh how he wished his birthday night had been spent in Jono’s treehouse, wrapped in each other’s arms, just like they had planned. Instead, he had slept in the hospital waiting room on the deceptively uncomfortable chairs while Jono ensued the others were safe.
What made him even more uncomfortable was Mr. Forsyth, sat a few seats along from him. Strangely, they actually had something in common for once, but it didn’t mean either of them wanted to converse. He still didn’t know Dylan was a werewolf, and Dylan wanted to keep it that way.
“Mr. Forsyth,” a nurse entered the waiting room. Both of them stood up in unison. Mr. Forsyth shot Dylan a dirty glare. He still seemed to think Dylan was below Yasmin’s friendship standards.
“Is she okay?” he asked keenly and nervously.
“She’s stable. We’re doing all we can to accommodate your daughter. The Sheriff will be wanting to speak to both you and her though,” she notified. Mr. Forsyth nodded, sharing the relief that rushed through Dylan’s body.
“What about Oli? The guy who arrived at the same time,” Dylan queried.
“I’m really sorry. It’s not good news. Your friend lost a lot of blood. He died not long after he arrived,” the nurse explained sympathetically.
“You’d better start talking, young lady. I leave you in charge for one night and the house gets wrecked,” Helen was furious. Jono watched a Lily sat on the sofa next to him, head down in shame, on the verge of tears.
“It’s a crime scene, mom, it’s not her fault,” Jono defended his sister.
“Don’t answer back, boy,” Steve interjected condescendingly. Both of their parents were stood facing them, horrified at the state of their house.
“And now two people get shot. Who the heck did you invite to this party? A few serial killers?” Helen continued.
“It wasn’t my fault,” Lily yelled. She had so far restrained herself, but could no longer keep quiet, “How was I to know we’d be held prisoner in our own home? Not one of you have asked how I feel.”
Helen didn’t reply. Jono watched as she struggled for words. He pulled Lily in closer, comforting her. He rubbed his hand gently up and down her arm. He knew this calmed her down after comforting her through many a break-up.
“We just want to know what happened,” Steve spoke softly, “The Sheriff isn’t saying much right now and we need to speak to our insurance.”
“You’d never believe us if we told you,” Jono tried to wriggle out of telling the truth. He looked at Lily. Her brilliant excuse-making brain didn’t seem to be working. Darn.
“Try me,” Steve responded flippantly. Jono took a deep breath. He had to do it. There was no other way out of this shitfest.
“We’re friends with a bunch of werewolves, including Dylan, my boyfriend, and they’re being hunted by Yasmin’s dad,” Jono blurted out. Lily looked at him, surprised yet proud.
“Don’t be stupid, son, we haven’t the time,” Steve sighed and rolled his eyes.
“Well you wanted the truth. Don’t go complaining to me when it’s not what you want to hear,” Jono felt furious. Nobody was listening to him. Sure, what he said sounded ludicrous, but if they had more trust in him, they would surely hear him out. Not even a mention of the boyfriend part either. Perhaps that was a good thing.
Nevertheless, he stormed out of the living room and up the stairs, slamming his bedroom door and collapsing in tears onto his bed. He really wanted to be with Dylan. One of his comforting hugs would’ve been just the remedy he needed.
Slamming his backpack down on the floor, Drew kicked the hard concrete wall of his bunker. He was angry beyond belief at the way the night before had unfolded. The hunters had no goddamn right invading their space like that. It meant war in Drew’s eyes, but Dylan would never agree to that.
What his approach actually consisted of was beyond Drew, though. He had no idea how they would be able to survive this. Although it was alright for Dylan – the hunters didn’t know about him or Freddie. Drew was enemy number one, and that terrified him. He’d gotten too used to the peace and quiet from the hunters in recent years. He’d settled down. He’d perhaps even go as far as to say he had some friends in his fellow pack members. He was settled at home with his nan too. They had helped each other through the loss of his parents. That spurred him on to fight, and to survive. Nobody innocent would die like they did.
Drew spun around. Something was in there with him. He took a sniff. The scent of blood was strong. A werewolf’s blood, too. He opted not to get the claws out – perhaps whoever it was needed his help. Only a select few people knew about his bunker after all. He just had to pray the hunters weren’t using a honey trap. He felt increasingly paranoid after the attack at Dylan’s party.
He turned down the aisle between a row of storage units and the wall, and immediately, he saw Clara and Shania sheltered and covered in dried blood, crouched down in the centre of the walkway.
“Help us, please,” Clara begged.
Scared and anxious, Freddie was feeling paranoid. He tried to act normal, strolling into the hospital, but he felt anything other than calm. He knew there were hunters out there and he was one step away from being found out. His eyes zoned in on Dylan, slouched in the waiting area with his cheek resting on his fist, supported by the arm of the chair.
“Hey,” Freddie quickly sat down, as if he were undercover.
“What’s up?” Dylan smiled. He looked shattered but was putting on a brave face.
“You look terrible. Why don’t you go home and sleep? I can wat here,” Freddie suggested. He wanted to see Yasmin, and he might as well have made himself useful. Plus he wanted to ask her something and get a little niggle off his chest.
“It’s alright. She’s awake, her dad’s in there now,” Dylan mentioned. Freddie’s blood ran cold.
“He’s been allowed near her?” he was repulsed.
“He is her dad, and he’s claiming self-defence, I listened in to his chat with Sheriff Taylor. No matter our differences, neither him nor us want this story to get out,” Dylan reasoned. He was right. That was one thing they had in common. Probably the only thing. He sighed. Then Freddie had a bright idea.
“Maybe he’ll let me in? He barely knows me, and he certainly has no idea what I am,” Freddie suggested.
“Weren’t you playing drunk last night?” Dylan recalled.
“Yeah. I was trying to keep control,” Freddie remembered. He was confused about how this was relevant.
“Good luck getting past him then,” Dylan rained on his parade, “You were drinking underage. He probably hates you more than me.”
“At least he’s not hunting me,” Freddie remained optimistic. Then he had another idea. A better one at that, “Be right back.”
Yasmin’s head hurt. It was feeling busier than ever before. It wasn’t just her own thoughts whirring round and round, but she heard voices too. Whispering away. Telling her their darkest secrets.
Her dad wasn’t helping either. He was sat directly on her left, yapping on and on about how sorry he was. However, she’d not long since had an operation to remove a bullet from her stomach. The doctor said she was lucky to be alive.
He was a dad who had shot his own daughter. He might have been attempting remorse towards her, but there was no such thing for Oli. He was probably celebrating his death inside. Another stinking werewolf gone. No thought given to his age. His potential. His friends and family. Her dad wasn’t perfect, and was mostly absent even after her mum left, but this painted him in a whole new light.
“Do you need any more pillows? I can check with the nurses,” Mr. Forsyth flustered.
“No, dad,” Yasmin was trying her hardest to tolerate him.
“I’ll just go check,” he went to get up.
“Dad, stop!” Yasmin yelled. She had hit breaking point, “You know what, just get out.” Mr. Forsyth looked at her as if she had just murdered someone.
All of a sudden, the fire alarm rang. The piercing pulses of the bell rang painfully through Yasmin’s head.
“We need to move you,” a nurse said as soon as she sped through the door.
“Where to?” Mr. Forsyth nosily asked. He seemed to be suffering from selective memory loss – specifically forgetting the conversation he was just having with Yasmin.
“Down the hall, we need to get your daughter past the firebreak doors. Sir I’m going to have to ask you to evacuate,” the nurse informed.
“But she’s my daughter,” he argued defensively.
“Get out,” Yasmin demanded as the nurse wheeled her bed out. Finally, he listened. He stood watching until Yasmin passed through the fireproof double doors. It was a relief that he has gone, but Yasmin still felt somewhat bittersweet.
Face down on his bed, Jono was feeling lower than he had in a while. He’d opened up to his parents for the first time in months, and they now knew the basic details of both his love life and werewolves. Whether they would ever believe any of it was another matter. At least he had Lily. This proved exactly why he only told her in the first place.
A gentle knock sounded on the door, interrupting his train of thought. Jono didn’t respond. Maybe they would think he was asleep. Alas, the door creaked open.
“Sweetie,” it was his mom. Jono didn’t move. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. That was his default mode when he felt down – silence. Helen continued, “It’s just mom. Can we talk?”
“I guess,” Jono mumbled. He still didn’t move. He felt the bed sink behind him as she sat down carefully. Her hand landed on Jono’s head, carefully caressing his curls. Though he wanted to remain angry, Jono couldn’t deny this calming influence.
“Your dad and I knew about you and Dylan months ago,” she admitted, “Well, we had guessed. You two were spending an awful lot of time together, and I saw you cuddling on the couch a while back. We don’t care who you date. A boy, a girl, it doesn’t matter as long as they make you happy.”
It warmed Jono’s heart to hear those kind words. He wiped tears away as they began to flow uncontrollably like a waterfall. However, he knew full well that this was only half the story. They accepted him dating a boy, but what about a werewolf?
“Everything I said downstairs was true,” Jono reinforced.
“You can understand why your dad and I are a little sceptical though, right honey?” Helen considered. Jono sat up to face her.
“Dylan is a werewolf. He’s not the only one either, and they’re all being hunted,” Jono spoke seriously with a straight face. She had to believe him.
“By Yasmin’s dad,” Helen completed, “Werewolves though sweetie? Aren’t you a little old for that?” Jono sighed. There was a gap of silence that followed, although he might as well have been able to hear the cogs in his mum’s mind whirring away.
“Is he dangerous? Dylan, that is,” Helen said after a minute.
“No, not at all. He’s far from it,” Jono quickly leapt to his defence, “Sure, he has claws and fangs, but he’s about as harmful as a wooden spoon.”
“Okay. I believe you darling,” Helen confessed, “Your dad might take some convincing though. Besides, we have to make sure you’re safe. From anything and anyone.” Jono nodded, accepting her terms. What a huge weight off his shoulders.
Passing Clara and Shania a cup of tea each, Drew pulled up a wooden stool. They were sat in a small triangle facing each other, not saying a word as the girls enjoyed the warmth of Drew’s blankets.
He looked closer at them. Dried blood was smeared all over their faces like war pant, from wounds which must have long since healed. They had been missing for the best part of a week, after all.
He needed to now more though. Where had they been? Why were they back now? Were they rogue like Oli? Somehow Drew figured that Dylan wouldn’t be happy to see them again.
“Have you seen them?” Clara questioned.
“Who?” Drew played dumb. He wanted to be careful about how much information he gave out. No more risks.
“The hunters,” Clara confirmed, “They’re all around us. Hidden in plain sight. They know about the bunker too.”
“Then why are you here?” Drew wondered. Quite how they got in was another matter.
“Double bluff. Shania suggested it. I can’t take the credit,” Clara smiled in Shania’s direction. Shania remained silent but smiled back. She seemed almost scared of Clara, but Drew had never seen them apart. A strange sort of relationship.
“You’re welcome to stay here. There are hunters everywhere, so be on your guard,” Drew suggested. He felt like a mother hen all of a sudden. He smiled at Shania. She seemed like she deserved some kindness.
Sneaking out of the gents’ bathroom after hearing the coast was clear, Freddie switched attention to his nose. The sound of the fire alarm was still sounding, but that section of the hospital had been evacuated or relocated now. He blocked out the horrible ear-piercing noise and practiced following a scent. Specifically, Yasmin’s.
Dylan followed behind, although he’d specifically told him not to interfere. Dylan was considerably more skilled at following scents than Freddie, and he wanted to get as much practice as possible. Besides, he was hoping to have a private word with Yasmin.
Freddie pushed open both double doors in front of him, one hand on each. Somehow it made him feel authoritative. The scent grew stronger beyond the doors. So strong he could almost taste it. The beautiful scent of Giorgio Armani perfume. He’d seen her take it out of her bag on numerous occasions.
He looked at the door on his left and peered through the small rectangular window on the door. There she was, looking pretty lost.
“I’ll leave you to it, I’m gonna go see Jono,” Dylan whispered, leaving Freddie alone. That was easier than he’d hoped. Now was his chance. Nervously he pushed down the door handle and strolled in.
“Hey,” Yasmin smiled, pleased to see him.
“Hiya, how are you?” Freddie sincerely questioned. He felt sick in his stomach. Nerves with a dash of excitement. He was even shaking slightly.
“All the better for getting away from my psycho dad,” she sighed. She smiled jovially as she spoke but Freddie noticed her eyes. They looked sad and depressed. A complete contrast from the beaming grin on her face. She was putting on a front; a convincing one at that.
“Well I’ve always wanted to set off a fire alarm,” Freddie grinned devilishly. Yasmin took a second, obviously digesting exactly what he meant.
“Wait, you, you did it?” Yasmin was gobsmacked. Her eyes finally lit up, and she looked joyous, “Why?”
“To do you a favour,” Freddie admitted, sitting on the chair to her left.
“You’re a lifesaver. Seriously, one more second with him would have driven me crazy. Like, why does he think he can justify his behaviour?” Yasmin ranted, before realising herself, “Sorry. I’ve been keeping it in all day. Boy do I need a distraction.”
This was his moment. Freddie willed himself on. His heartbeat intensified and the butterflies in his stomach seemed to be reproducing. His palms were sweaty and his mouth was dry.
“I’ve got an idea. For a distraction, you know,” Freddie began, trying desperately not to trip over his own words, “Why don’t you let me take you out when you’re discharged? Cinema, dinner, you name it.”
Yasmin looked at him for a few seconds. Time seemed to stop. Each second was painful for Freddie. It seemed to last forever.
“On a date?” Yasmin wanted clarification.
“Yeah,” Freddie replied, giving the impression he was self-assured but knowing he was anything but, “If you want.”
“Yeah. I do want,” Yasmin coyly smiled. Freddie couldn’t believe his luck. He giggled with glee, and placed his hand on hers. It felt incredible. His eyes met with hers – a beautiful hazel colour tinted them, drawing him in. The butterflies had gone, wiped away by Cupid’s arrow, and Freddie had never felt better.
Approaching the front door of the Chadwick house, Dylan was excited to feel the comfort of Jono’s arms. His birthday was amazing for ninety percent of the time, the best birthday ever in fact, but the final part was chaotic to say the least.
On the bright side, he had made it out of the other end. For now, anyway. He put the key in the lock and bounced in, poking his head into the living room.
“Hey Mr. Chadwick,” Dylan greeted politely as he noticed Steve sat in his usual armchair. The news was on the telly and he looked half asleep. He perked up as Dylan’s voice carried across the room.
“Please Dylan, call me Steve. I spend my whole week acting formal at work, we’re all chill at home,” he greeted with a smile.
“Alright Steve,” Dylan giggled, “Is Jono around?”
“Yeah, he’s upstairs. Look Dylan, I hope you don’t mind me giving you some friendly advice, man-to-man,” Steven mentioned.
“Go ahead,” a confused Dylan replied. This was unusual. Steve’s tone sounded serious and worrisome.
“I don’t know if what Jonathan said is true, but if you hurt my son, physically or emotionally, you won’t hear the end of it,” he threatened, “Is that understood?”
“Yes Mr. Cha…” Dylan nervously spoken, correcting himself, “Steve.”
“Go on up,” Steve dismissed him. How terrifying. Had something happened? He was scared to find out.
Nevertheless, he bounded on up the posh staircase. The excitement he felt to see Jono overcame his confusion and worry over Steve’s words. He pushed open Jono’s bedroom door as the excitement bubbled over, just like it did every time he saw him.
“Hey stranger,” Dylan greeted. He saw Jono lying on his bed, face up. His cheeks were red and he looked drained. Dylan perched on the bed next to him, before lying down adjacent. Jono didn’t acknowledge him at all. Was this to do with Steve’s words? It was confusing and terrifying, “What’s up?”
“Please don’t hate me,” Jono quaintly said. He avoided eye contact still. Now Dylan was exceptionally worried.
“Talk to me Jono,” Dylan willed him on. Every second just seemed to drag and he felt sick at the bottom of his stomach.
“My parents know everything. About us, about you, about the hunters. It all just blurted out, I’m sorry,” Jono spoke fast. He sounded just as nervous as Dylan.
“You mean, they know everything?” Dylan was terrified. In no way was he angry at Jono – something drastic would have to happen for that – but if his parents knew his secret, it would take quite some getting used to.
“I’m so sorry,” Jono apologised again.
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” Dylan placed his hand in Jono’s. Jono looked directly at him, his eyes full up with tears like an avalanche waiting to collapse, “How did they react?”
“They didn’t believe me,” Jono sighed, “I think mum has come round but dad might take some convincing.”
“He sounded pretty convinced when he threatened me on the way in,” Dylan laughed. It made sense now.
“What? What the heck did he say?” Jono was fuming.
“Nothing I wouldn’t have said in his position,” Dylan justified, “Will they keep it a secret?”
“I think so. I mean, who would believe them anyway?” Jono raised a smile, “It’s promising that this was a bigger issue than my sexuality I guess.”
“Oh my god, I’ve been so wrapped up in myself,” Dylan was kicking himself, “Congratulations babe.” Dylan hugged and kissed him in one smooth move. He’d never felt such a range of emotions in such a short space of time, but it hadn’t turned out too badly.
Now he had a heart full of pride for his favourite person in the whole world.
Just outside the bunker, Drew had summoned Lily for some guidance. Yasmin was in hospital so as far as quick thinking went, Lily was a good enough alternative. Besides, he knew anyone else would go straight to Dylan.
As Lily arrived, Drew could immediately tell she looked exhausted. He knew why, too. Despite what Oli did to her, Lily clearly had a thing for him. She was bound to be upset.
“You good?” Drew politely greeted. He knew the answer but didn’t want to act differently.
“Yeah,” Lily lied, sounding anything but. Her voice was croaky, as if she had been crying, “What can I help with?”
“I don’t know what to do with them. I’m a reactor, not a thinker,” Drew admitted. Oh, he hated admitting his flaws.
“You’ve been spending too much time with Yasmin,” Lily joked, letting her guard down again.
“Seriously though. I can’t read her. Clara. She’s convincing, but I don’t know what she wants,” Drew continued.
“Let’s find out, then,” Lily proactively pushed the heavy metal bunker door open. Immediately in front of her was Shania, injured and covered in a black substance. Her own blood.
“Stay back,” Shania warned. Her hands were pressed harshly against her chest, the source of the bleeding. Drew had seen this position before. She was trying to cover a bullet wound. Lily went to ignore her warning, but Drew gently pulled her back.
“Where’s Clara?” he whispered harshly to Lily. Food for thought. There was no sign of her. She can’t have vanished from a closed room.
“Get out of here,” Shania yelled. Drew watched as Lily took a deep breath and proceeded to walk towards Shania. No matter how much he was growing to enjoy Lily’s company, she was still a thoughtless human.
Drew stepped into the room behind her and out of the doorway, and instantly he heard a clicking sound. Before he could even register it, a BANG followed.
Losing control of his senses in the shockwaves, Drew looked down. A tingling sensation filled his chest He noticed a splatter of black liquid on the floor. Blood was dripping out of him like a tap. The tingling turned to a sharp throbbing pain as Drew realised he’d been shot.
Losing sight of the room, Drew began to feel light-headed and he collapsed into a heap on the floor.
Much to her annoyance, the hospital had received the all-clear and Yasmin was being moved back to her old suite. Freddie was still with her, and she couldn’t quite believe her luck. Her love life was traditionally terrible and for years it felt like people didn’t want her because she was more interested in passing her exams than having a quickie in the school toilets. This wasn’t something she felt ashamed of, though. Especially now that it had proved to be worth the wait.
“You’d better go, my dad will probably be back at the first opportunity and I don’t want you two anywhere near each other for now,” Yasmin suggested. He may not know about Freddie being a werewolf but she wasn’t prepared to take any risks.
However, it was too late. In walked her dad, as if he was some sort of royalty. She’d had enough.
“I’ll be off,” Freddie smiled and waved goodbye.
“No,” Yasmin put her foot down, “You’re not the one who should be leaving.
“Sweetie, I think we need to talk,” Mr. Forsyth tried to protest.
“What’s there to say? You shot your own daughter and killed another innocent teenager, and I’ve not heard an ounce of compassion filter through your lips,” Yasmin argued.
“I told you already. It was necessary,” Mr. Forsyth began to argue, “Besides, you wouldn’t really take this drunken mess over me, would you?”
Freddie did his best to keep calm, but Yasmin could tell he was reaching boiling point. Anything more could provoke a shift, which would be bad news all round. Therefore, Yasmin had to counteract it with good news. Something to calm him back down.
“I’d take my boyfriend over you easily. He’s kind, he loves me and he respects everyone unconditionally. Get out. I don’t want to see you again,” Yasmin yelled.
Mr. Forsyth looked gobsmacked. Freddie opened the door for him, not giving him the chance to argue back. He cowered out, ashamed.
As the door clicked shut, Freddie gave her a warm hug, gently being aware of her injury.
“Bet that felt good,” he suggested.
“Yeah, and no. Where does this leave me? I’ve got nowhere to live. No-one to provide for me,” Yasmin worried. Her mind was going into overdrive.
“I’d let you stay at mind but we’re short on space. No, I’ll sort you something. Even if it means me sleeping on the couch,” Freddie smiled. It meant a lot to know that she still had him.
“Thanks. Oh, and the boyfriend thing. If it’s too early, it’s fine,” she blushed.
“No. I want it, if you do too. I love the idea of having a girlfriend,” Freddie grinned the cutest grin ever. It filled her heart with joy.
Barely having moved from their positions when Dylan arrived, he and Jono were cuddling tight. Dylan had put their playlist on through Spotify on his phone. He kept going back to relisten to “Live or Die,” by Noah Cyrus and Lil Xan. He wasn’t in much of a mood for anything too cheerful, it suited his vibe quite well.
Jono didn’t seem to mind anyway. It was rare that they would find a moment to simply enjoy each other’s company, but Dylan wished it would happen more often. Dylan was little spoon as always, his head resting under Jono’s chin. He had never felt more at ease.
He was thinking about their future together. They had vaguely discussed marriage – both of them were keen in the far future – while Dylan was also hoping to be a dad one day. His own dad continued to inspire him daily and he wanted to be that source of light for his own kids. Jono would be an amazing dad, too. His delicate nature would make him approachable, and he had a brilliant sense of humour. It was undoubtedly a long way off, but all of this made Dylan very excited.
Interrupting his train of thought came a ringtone. Not his own, but Jono’s. The cheerful tone continued to sound, as Jono annoyingly had to break up the cuddle and reach for the bedside table.
“Hey Lily,” he answered. Dylan heard Lily’s muffled voice on the end of the phone, speaking frantically and worriedly. Wolf-hearing meant he could eavesdrop on phone calls nice and easily, not that Jono minded.
“Drew’s been shot and they’re taking him. Come now, please,” Lily explained. She sounded flustered on a new level, understandably by the sound of it. Dylan sat up, noticing he and Jono shared the same confused yet concerned facial expression.
“Where are you?” Jono tried to keep calm.
“Drew’s bunker. Come no– ,” Lily got cut off, followed by a blank one-tone sound. She had been cut off.
“Come on,” Dylan sprang into action without a second thought. Something was wrong, and they desperately needed to find out what.
Frantically clearing space in his messy bedroom, Freddie wasn’t stopping for anything. He had to make the room presentable and neat for Yasmin, she surely wouldn’t go near it in its current state. Loads of old posters and crap that he hadn’t seen in years was being thrown out, and for the first time in a while, Freddie was noticing his carpet.
“What’s with the clear-out?” George’s voice came from the doorway behind him.
“Yasmin needs somewhere to stay. She can have my bed and I’ll sleep on the floor. I’ve got that old sleeping bag somewhere,” Freddie explained, not looking up from his sorting.
“You can’t sleep in a sleeping bad dude,” George tried to argue. It was easy to forget that he was the parental figure of the house.
“Why not? I’ll do it for Yasmin,” Freddie refused to give up. If he had to sleep in the garden, he would.
“That bed is for you. I work after school to put food on the table, keep you comfortable and keep you clean. It’s another person on top and I can’t afford it,” George reasoned.
“Can’t it be short term? At least until she recovers,” Freddie kept on. George was considering it; Freddie could tell from the gap of silence that followed.
“Go on. Short term though,” George caved in. Freddie leapt up and threw his arms around George. It wasn’t often that they were affectionate towards each other, but this was worthwhile.
The door bell sounded.
“I’ll get it,” Freddie offered. It was the least he could do to say thanks. He bounced downstairs, feeling on top of the world. His girlfriend was moving in, what could be better?
He flung the front door open, but nobody was there. How unusual. He took a look all around outside, but the street was eerily empty.
Then he noticed the conspicuously placed package on the doormat. Freddie picked it up and instantly felt something sharp inside. He ripped the envelope open and tipped the contents gently into his hand. He was horrified to see ten pointy off-white coloured objects. All dripping in a familiar shade of black liquid.
“Who is it?” George followed him down. Freddie simply held his hand out to George, “What are they?”
“Claws,” Freddie explained, “It’s a threat.”
Wasting no time, Dylan shot out of Jono’s car before it had stopped moving. If it meant saving Drew and Lily, it was worthwhile. He pushed down hard on the bunker door – he hated having to use it, it spoke volumes to say that he struggled even with the added werewolf strength. Jono caught up, following behind, just as the door heaved open.
“Drew? Lily?” Dylan called out. No response. There was pure silence and it felt deafening.
“Lily, are you here?” Jono called after. Still nothing, “Where the heck are they?”
“I don’t know. I wish I did,” Dylan sighed. He needed a clue, something that could point them in the right direction.
“What scents can you get?” Jono queried. A good suggestion. Dylan paid attention to his nose. The room was full of familiar scents, Drew and Lily most recognisably, but there were a couple of others. Then a lightbulb lit up in his head. He knew exactly who it was.
“Clara and Shania,” Dylan alarmingly revealed.
Stirring thanks to a pounding headache, Lily took a few moments to gather her senses. This didn’t look much like her bedroom. The walls were grungy and whatever she was sat in was very uncomfortable. It was dark and smelt horrifically of damp.
She tried to get up, but to her horror, she found both her arms and legs restricted. All of a sudden, some harsh blinding lights switched on, causing her to squint. However, as she adjusted to the brightness, she noticed more of her surroundings. It looked like some sort of basement. She was strapped to a wooden chair, which in turn was nailed to the floor.
Directly in front of her was Drew. He was awake and chained to metal railings a few inches off the wall. He was soaking wet too, as if he’d been for a swim.
“Ah, our guests are awake,” an eerily familiar voice sounded. Lily spun around. The horrifying sight of Mr. Forsyth approached from behind, flanked by two guards carrying guns, and stopping in the gap between Lily and Drew.
“I swear to god, you better let me go,” Drew yelled.
“Oh dear, temper temper. So aggressive, your kind, Mr. Marsden. I think we had better teach him a lesson, don’t you, Miss Chadwick?”
Mr. Forsyth smiled smugly at Lily. She would have swung for him if she wasn’t restrained. She kept silent, restraining her anger as much as she could, but one of the guards picked up her hand and placed it on a button, which was part of a contraption next to her.
“Press it or we’ll shoot him,” Mr. Forsyth simply commanded. Lily gulped. She mouthed “I’m sorry,” to Drew, tears forming in her eyes, obscuring her vision. She allowed her index finger to press on the button, and electric shocks rallied through Drew’s body from the railings. He cried out in pain, noises that made Lily feel even worse. It was horrific, but she had no way out. She needed a miracle. And fast.