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CONTENT WARNING: This episode contains themes of domestic abuse.
Series 1 Episode 2
"Promise Promise"
There was one window of opportunity a week.
Just one occasion where the path to the outside world was clear.
It wasn’t an easy job, but Edmund was willing to work for it. After all, it had been months in the planning.
Every detail had to be meticulously planned. There was only one chance at this. If it didn’t work out, Edmund was screwed. Another opportunity would never arise. One shot, and it had to hit the bullseye.
The moment was approaching. The hairs on Edmund’s arms were stood to attention as his heart raced a never-ending sprint. The only time of the week where neither of Edmund’s foster parents were inside the house.
Typically, one would always be nearby, like his own personal security guard, except it was far more restrictive. Edmund couldn’t remember the last time he’d left the house-shaped prison he was stuck in, but with any luck, he’d never have to see those bland four walls he was forced to call a bedroom ever again.
Of course, they presented well whenever the social worker came to visit. Edmund could barely get a word in for all the bragging they both did. Home-schooling covered the façade of Edmund remaining inside, but he didn’t ever get taught anything. Why they wanted a foster child, Edmund had no idea. Neither of them had a parental bone in their body.
Seconds away. Edmund had been observing ever since he arrived. Watching for patterns. Looking for gaps. He was expected to stay in his room, but he was never locked in, and Edmund had worked hard to keep their trust in preparation for this exact moment.
The front door clicked shut. That was his cue. Creeping out from behind the banister, Edmund rapidly but daintily glided downstairs. From the coat stand, he grabbed the set of keys and ran to the back door. Mr. Murray was at work, and Mrs. Murray had to put the bins out for collection, so the back way was his only route.
Fumbling through each key, Edmund was trying not to panic. He could be caught at any moment, and that would be it. He’d never get another moment like that again. The keyring had a good ten keys fastened to it, and any one of them could have been the back door key. The first key he picked was a dud.
As was the second key.
And the third.
Each key kept failing him. One had to open the back door, right? Edmund had hope, but with each key that failed, it diminished a little more. A couple of minutes had already passed, and time was running out.
The front door clicked open. Time was up. Edmund had one more key left. The fight to remain calm had never been more challenging. As he inserted the key, Edmund took a deep breath, as if wishful thinking was magically going to contort the key inside the lock.
Success. The lock clicked open. Edmund wasted no time. He slipped out the door, pushing it to but not closing it entirely; any noise at that moment would have alerted Mrs. Murray to his location.
Quickly, Edmund ducked behind the shed. The only way out was over the fence, but he still had to avoid detection. They’d notice he was gone before long, but if he was caught escaping, they’d be on his tail. His head start would be depleted immediately.
A bewildered Mrs. Murray pulled the door shut, locking it with the keys Edmund had left behind in the lock. Clearly, she assumed she’d opened it herself.
Her back turned, Edmund wasted no time in heaving himself over the adjacent fence, into the neighbour’s garden. He was away from their grip, but he wasn’t safe yet. He had to keep running. It was his only chance of safety.
Just one occasion where the path to the outside world was clear.
It wasn’t an easy job, but Edmund was willing to work for it. After all, it had been months in the planning.
Every detail had to be meticulously planned. There was only one chance at this. If it didn’t work out, Edmund was screwed. Another opportunity would never arise. One shot, and it had to hit the bullseye.
The moment was approaching. The hairs on Edmund’s arms were stood to attention as his heart raced a never-ending sprint. The only time of the week where neither of Edmund’s foster parents were inside the house.
Typically, one would always be nearby, like his own personal security guard, except it was far more restrictive. Edmund couldn’t remember the last time he’d left the house-shaped prison he was stuck in, but with any luck, he’d never have to see those bland four walls he was forced to call a bedroom ever again.
Of course, they presented well whenever the social worker came to visit. Edmund could barely get a word in for all the bragging they both did. Home-schooling covered the façade of Edmund remaining inside, but he didn’t ever get taught anything. Why they wanted a foster child, Edmund had no idea. Neither of them had a parental bone in their body.
Seconds away. Edmund had been observing ever since he arrived. Watching for patterns. Looking for gaps. He was expected to stay in his room, but he was never locked in, and Edmund had worked hard to keep their trust in preparation for this exact moment.
The front door clicked shut. That was his cue. Creeping out from behind the banister, Edmund rapidly but daintily glided downstairs. From the coat stand, he grabbed the set of keys and ran to the back door. Mr. Murray was at work, and Mrs. Murray had to put the bins out for collection, so the back way was his only route.
Fumbling through each key, Edmund was trying not to panic. He could be caught at any moment, and that would be it. He’d never get another moment like that again. The keyring had a good ten keys fastened to it, and any one of them could have been the back door key. The first key he picked was a dud.
As was the second key.
And the third.
Each key kept failing him. One had to open the back door, right? Edmund had hope, but with each key that failed, it diminished a little more. A couple of minutes had already passed, and time was running out.
The front door clicked open. Time was up. Edmund had one more key left. The fight to remain calm had never been more challenging. As he inserted the key, Edmund took a deep breath, as if wishful thinking was magically going to contort the key inside the lock.
Success. The lock clicked open. Edmund wasted no time. He slipped out the door, pushing it to but not closing it entirely; any noise at that moment would have alerted Mrs. Murray to his location.
Quickly, Edmund ducked behind the shed. The only way out was over the fence, but he still had to avoid detection. They’d notice he was gone before long, but if he was caught escaping, they’d be on his tail. His head start would be depleted immediately.
A bewildered Mrs. Murray pulled the door shut, locking it with the keys Edmund had left behind in the lock. Clearly, she assumed she’d opened it herself.
Her back turned, Edmund wasted no time in heaving himself over the adjacent fence, into the neighbour’s garden. He was away from their grip, but he wasn’t safe yet. He had to keep running. It was his only chance of safety.
Edmund couldn’t recall the last time he’d had a cup of tea. It was a taste he’d craved for ages, especially during the chill of the winter nights spent on the street. The warmth radiating from the adorable dog-shaped mug was the cosiest feeling against his hands. The first time he’d experienced any kind of warmth in a long time.
It was representative of the vibe Dylan gave off from the moment Edmund first met him. He had a sparkle of kindness in his eyes that he’d never noticed in anyone before. He wanted to help, and that made Edmund feel at ease, but he couldn’t help wondering why. What reason did Dylan have for wanting to help? Did he have an ulterior motive? As sceptical as Edmund was by nature, he couldn’t ignore how positive his gut felt.
“Thank you,” Dylan smiled, his tone as gentle as a soft hug, much like his demeanour, “You know, for coming.” He had walked Edmund into a side room from the front door, a well-furnished office with three desks, an array of noticeboards engulfing the wall space, and a couple of plump sofas in the corner making a right-angle. Edmund was perched on the edge in the centre of one sofa, while Dylan and another gentleman relaxed side-by-side on the other. He shared the same kind smile as Dylan, his curls bouncing off his shoulders as he turned to face Dylan.
“This is Jono,” Dylan continued, introducing his peer, “He’s my husband. Don’t worry, he knows everything, we’re in this together.”
Edmund remained silent. He didn’t know what to say or where to start. He didn’t know anything at all. Nothing he’d experienced in the preceding days made any semblance of sense. He had too many questions, but where to begin?
“I know how weird this must feel. I was you once. Thrown into this strange world where nothing makes any sense. There was nobody to talk to, and who’d even believe you? Everything you thought you knew had been overturned in one moment. That’s it, right? That’s how you feel, isn’t it?” Dylan said, accurately describing the exact train of thought in Edmund’s mind. All he could do was nod in response. Dylan knew what he was talking about, but the barrier in Edmund’s mind remained up. Was he ready to jump the hurdle?
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come,” Edmund panicked. His fight-or-flight instinct had never been stronger. He wasn’t used to talking about himself. He could handle it on his own, couldn’t he?
“Please, stay,” Dylan asked, concern painted across his face, “You don’t have to talk. We don’t have to do this now. Just, take your time and know that you are safe here.”
Edmund nodded again. He figured Dylan was right, but everything was new to him. It was quite the adjustment for his brain to make, and it was performing somersaults attempting to rationalise what was happening.
“Where are you staying?” Jono questioned, keeping the gentle tone Dylan had set.
“It doesn’t matter,” Edmund brushed the question off. He wasn’t their problem to solve.
“You’re sleeping rough, aren’t you?” Jono persisted with concern painted across his face, “Stay here tonight. We have a couple of spare rooms. Take your pick.”
“No,” Edmund instinctively rejected.
“You’re safe here, remember,” Dylan added, “You can leave the door open if you want. I’ll even show you where we leave the front door key, so you can leave whenever you want. You’re not trapped here, Edmund.”
Dylan spoke as if he knew a lot about Edmund’s story. It wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have, though. They were saying all the right things, so Edmund figured all he could do was take them at their word.
“Okay,” Edmund accepted, desperately hoping he wasn’t going to regret trusting someone for the first time in a long time.
Drained of all energy, Grace threw her coat onto the sofa before she collapsed onto the plump cushions herself. The coat stand was just a little too far away when she was so tired, so the sofa was going to have to be her jacket’s temporary home.
Grace used to thrive on her social life, with plans after work almost every night meaning her front room didn’t get much use in the evenings. Clubbing with friends, drinks with hot men and women she’d matched with on Tinder, or just a cinema trip alone.
Recently, though, Grace hadn’t had the energy. Riverisle wasn’t the unassuming, uneventful place it once was. Her days were packed with reports and complaints, each of varying degrees of urgency. The result was a desperate need for a nap; a need that surprisingly outweighed her stomach’s request for dinner.
It had been a particularly peculiar day, though. Grace wasn’t sure it would get any more bizarre after James Waldon’s trespassing tale, but the entire debacle of the missing teenager had baffled her. So little of it made sense, least of all the arrival of the investigative journalists from Crystalshaw. Why was this Edmund kid significant enough to catch their interest? There was more to the story, and more they weren’t telling her.
Grace leaned back to reach her jacket. From the pocket, she pulled out the business card Jono had given her. It looked legit. She recognised the address, and the phone number seemed genuine too. There was no web or social media link, but their surname – ‘Chadwick-Drummond’ – would be easy to search up.
A Facebook search very easily brought up both their profiles, but their privacy settings were dialled all the way up, and their Instagram accounts were set to private. Neither looked fake, unless they were very good con artists. Regardless, Grace knew there was something more to them both. Something she wasn’t being told, which made trusting them difficult, no matter how personable they were.
Nevertheless, Grace couldn’t do anything more that night. She was off duty and not being paid, so anything work-related could wait. The answers would come; Grace had complete faith in her own skillset as sheriff. Nothing got past her.
Deep breaths.
Heart racing.
Nerves building.
Each of these was a staple of the seemingly never-ending walk towards the shack Alfie was forced to call home.
The evening was an unpredictable period, and Alfie was terrified of what could have been coming his way. If his father’s day had been less than desirable, somehow, it was Alfie’s problem, and in a tiny house, there was nowhere to hide.
Alfie didn’t want to seem ungrateful. He had a roof over his head, food on the table and a bed to sleep in. He didn’t require a luxury home, but the company he had to keep was a different story. Almost anyone would have been preferable.
The front door creaked open as Alfie hesitantly pushed it open, its rusty loose hinges featuring on the long list of home improvements his father hadn’t gotten round to. Immediately, the noise announced Alfie’s arrival. He was later than usual, spending a few hours at Millie’s after school, so his dad was surely already home.
“About time,” Waldon remarked. He was eating his dinner at the table, as he always did. He didn’t move an inch when Alfie arrived, not even bothering to make eye contact when he spoke.
“Millie and I were studying,” Alfie responded. It wasn’t a lie, they did study, but only once he’d made full use of her hair and skincare products to freshen himself up.
“What were you studying?” Waldon interrogated.
“Chemistry,” Alfie responded, matter-of-factly.
“A very broad topic. Anything in particular?” Waldon continued. Alfie knew this tactic. His father was trying to catch him out, but there was no way Alfie could win. If he explained, he’d be accused of lying. The alternative was to keep quiet. Both options resulted in consequences that were already unnecessarily prolonged by the entire conversation. Alfie wished he could skip to the inevitable and get it over with.
“Balancing equations,” Alfie informed, not caring to go into any further detail.
“For three hours?” Waldon judged, continuing to sip his soup. Alfie remained silent. He saw no benefit to lying. It wasn’t going to prevent anything.
Waldon slammed his fist against the table. The soup shook. Alfie flinched. Waldon raised the volume and sharpened the tone, “Well?”
“Yes sir,” Alfie begrudgingly lied. For that reason, he was grateful that his father understood nothing about beauty, so his newly cleaned hair wasn’t going to raise suspicion, “And I still have some notes to write, if I may be excused, sir?”
Waldon huffed. He was looking for an argument, but Alfie knew better. All he wanted to do was to remove himself from his line of fire. “Get out of my sight,” Waldon ordered, much to Alfie’s relief.
Alfie scuttled off to his bedroom, a box-side affair with little in the way of decorations. Alfie kept his true interests to himself; he learned to do that a long time ago. As he booted up his laptop, his dad out of his mind for the time being, Alfie thought back to earlier that day. To Edmund. He never did show up again, but Alfie kept thinking about him. About the little spark he brought out in Alfie.
Alfie was desperate to see him again, but he wasn’t sure he ever would.
Dylan woke up on red alert. There was no calm, quiet stirring as he scrolled through his phone notifications. His eyes shot open, and Dylan instantly turned his focus to his ears.
Three heartbeats. Edmund was still in the house. Relief.
Over the course of the night, Dylan had woken up several times, each in the same state. He still knew next to nothing about Edmund, yet he felt protective over him. Staying the whole night was an indication of trust, and Dylan felt privileged. It was a big deal.
With his newly regained sense of calm, Dylan snuggled back under the duvet. His alarm clock told him it was almost time to wake up anyway, so there was little point going back to sleep. Instead, Dylan laid on his left side, facing a still, silent Jono. Dylan loved to watch him sleep. He always looked so beautiful, even when his curls were all over the place in a bedhead like what Dylan was surely sporting himself. He looked so peaceful.
“Quit staring at me,” Jono smirked, his eyes still shut.
“How did you know?” Dylan smiled, feeling his cheeks glowing red.
“I heard you jolt awake,” Jono answered, opening his eyes to meet Dylan’s gaze.
“I’m sorry,” Dylan felt guilty. He wouldn’t have wished such a disrupted night of sleep on Jono as well.
“No, it’s okay,” Jono assured, “I’ve barely slept. Trying to figure out what to do.”
“I’m just relieved he’s still here,” Dylan mentioned.
“He can’t stay here, though. He’s on the run. If we leave this any longer, we’ll be accused of kidnap,” Jono theorised.
“So we report him?” Dylan considered, “Tell Sheriff Harding. What happens then? We sent a fresh werewolf back into the foster system. It’s too dangerous, Jon.”
“I know, I know,” Jono assured, “We need to talk to him. Properly. Find out what the situation is. If he talks, maybe we can do something. We’re not abandoning him, I promise.”
“Okay,” Dylan nodded, “You trust the sheriff, right? Do you think she would understand?”
“Maybe. Some people get it and some people don’t, but we owe it to him to try, right? It’s kids like him that we set up this place for,” Jono thought.
“I’m so glad I’ve got you,” Dylan grinned. Without Jono, he was lost. Being a werewolf meant nothing when he didn’t have his husband by his side.
“Come here and prove it,” Jono winked. Dylan didn’t need to be asked twice. He shuffled his body towards Jono’s, their bare chests connected as they gazed into each other’s eyes. Wasting no time, Dylan’s lips reached out to Jono’s. Together, they were magic. Nobody and nothing made Dylan feel the way Jono did, and he savoured every moment they had together.
Downstairs, the front door clicked open and then shut. Immediately, Dylan’s relief grew into panic once again.
Edmund had gone.
Doodling in his maths book, Alfie was bored. There was no way to dress geometry up as something exciting. Millie thrived in the maths classroom, but to Alfie, it was a waste of time, second only to the tedium of physics. Where was the opportunity to be creative?
The one upside was that Alfie wasn’t at home. School was boring, but it was safe. He’d made it through the night unscathed, by some miracle, but that morning’s cold shower was a rude reminder of just how callous James Waldon was.
“Need a hand?” Millie offered from the desk in front.
“Need? Yes. Want? No,” Alfie laughed. He could always be truly honest with Millie.
“It makes a right-angled triangle,” Millie explained, tracing her finger around the shape scruffily drawn in Alfie’s book, “You’ve got the opposite and the hypotenuse, so you can work the angle out.”
“I hate this,” Alfie admitted defeat. There was too much to remember, “I’m never going to pass.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. Are you free after school again? I can offer one of my masterclasses,” Millie smiled.
“As much as I appreciate the opportunity, I’m not sure it’s a good idea. I can’t handle the third degree from my father again,” Alfie groaned. He didn’t need to relive the night before.
“He won’t have a go if I’m there,” Millie reasoned, and she was right. Any time Millie was there, Waldon was a model father. Irritatingly, he saw Millie as wife potential for Alfie; as much as he adored her, it couldn’t have been more platonic, on both their accounts.
“Alright,” Alfie nodded, “But you know the deal. Bring snacks. My stash is running low.” Of course, Waldon was very particular about anything resembling a treat entering his house.
“Obviously,” Millie chuckled.
Immediately, Alfie’s attention gravitated to something moving outside. It wasn’t difficult to distract Alfie, especially when he was already bored, but this was just the distraction he was hoping for: across the lawn outside stood Edmund, waving directly at Alfie.
Alfie’s heart fluttered. A cute smile was painted onto Edmund’s adorable face. He looked cleaner and well-rested, a vast contrast from the previous day. The same glow surrounded him, though. The little magical spark Alfie had been drawn to. He’d come back, just for him.
“Excuse me, Mr. Khan. I need the bathroom,” Alfie raised his hand, getting up and rushing out before Mr. Khan could refuse permission.
By the time he reached the corridor, Edmund was already inside waiting for him. A soft, floral scent graced Alfie’s nostrils, while his eyes couldn’t escape the gaze he shared with Edmund.
“I’m sorry I didn’t show last night,” Edmund immediately apologised. Alfie was trying to remain calm. Maybe he was onto something. Maybe a little luck was finally heading his way.
“Cup of tea,” Selena placed Jono’s long-awaited beverage onto his desk. His mouth was desperately craving the precious, steamy taste of his much-needed caffeine boost. He had been trying to distract himself with admin all morning, but he couldn’t deny that he was worried.
“Got anything stronger?” Jono chuckled, attempting to cover up his concern with a spot of humour.
“Always,” Selena winked, “But I won’t have my fabulous reputation tarnished.”
Jono smiled, but in the corner of his eye, he could see an even more anxious Dylan who was in no joking mood. His leg was furiously bobbing up and down – the clearest telltale sign – and he was desperately trying to focus on work to keep his mind off Edmund. Jono knew him far too well to know that was bound to be unsuccessful.
“Hey, he’ll come back,” Jono reassured. Dylan usually brought the optimism in spads, so it was time for Jono to offer some back to him.
“I don’t get it. Why do I feel so protective? It’s not like we actually know him,” Dylan vented.
“Because you care,” Jono reminded, “Because, at one point, you were Edmund. You were put into this impossible position where you didn’t recognise yourself anymore. You care because you’ve been there, and you know how isolating it is.”
“Do you think he heard us talking?” Dylan wondered.
“Maybe,” Jono considered, “It’s no good dwelling. We just need to do what we can to help, and he’ll make his way back. We gave him space, a bed, food, a shower, and we made him feel welcomed. A conversation won’t have put him off.”
“I hope you’re right,” Dylan nodded, his leg relaxing a little.
The doorbell rang. Selena, who had just sat back on her luxurious desk chair, heaved herself back up without a single bit of urgency. “Don’t all rush at once,” she remarked sarcastically. She returned to the room a few seconds later with their visitor: Sheriff Grace Harding.
“Good morning,” Grace greeted, “Sorry for dropping in unannounced.”
“Not at all. Please, take a seat,” Jono flashed his biggest, most welcoming grin, ushering Grace to the sofas in the corner of the office, “Can we get you a drink?”
“I’d love a coffee, if you don’t mind,” Grace nodded, keeping an unbreakable poker face.
“One coffee, on the way,” Selena knew her cue and headed to the kitchen, leaving Jono and Dylan alone with Grace.
“So, how can we help you?” Jono kicked things off. He wasn’t expecting to see Grace again so soon, and she clearly wasn’t calling round for a chit-chat during work hours.
“I wanted to cross-reference some details of the Edmund Franklin case with you both,” Grace explained, maintaining her sturdy expression, “Firstly, you mentioned learning of the case through Crystalshaw’s sheriff. Could I take a name and number? It would be great if we could work together on this.”
“Um, sure,” Dylan grabbed his phone off his desk and scrolled frantically, before reading the number aloud, “And his name is Ed Taylor. My stepfather.”
“I recall you saying. Well-connected,” Grace nodded. Jono couldn’t tell if that were an approving comment, or a judgemental one. The polite chat had turned into something resembling an investigation.
“We try our best,” Jono styled it out, “Anything else?”
“I wanted to ask what you knew of the foster parents,” Grace continued, “The current ones. I’m wondering if we can establish a motive for Edmund choosing to flee.”
“There’s not much to say,” Jono admitted, “They reported him missing three days after they last saw him. When asked why they waited so long, the foster mother, Mrs. Murray, accused Edmund of being violent and threatening towards her.”
“She refused an examination to check for bruises, and the house showed no signs of damage. When Edmund left, he left discreetly,” Dylan added.
“That doesn’t sound violent,” Grace pondered.
“Exactly, and that’s only half of it. The next day, the Murrays vanished. Nobody’s heard from them since. The house was totally wiped, too. Not only were their clothes and possessions gone, but every piece of furniture disappeared. Even the carpets were ripped off. Nothing remained from their time in that house,” Jono detailed, sharing every fact he knew. To his relief, the facts didn’t suggest a supernatural involvement to anyone who wasn’t involved.
“And then Edmund showed up here,” Grace fills in the rest. Jono’s heart skips a beat. For a split second, he thought they’d been busted. That Grace had found out Edmund spent the night at their house. Quickly, he realised she was referring to Riverisle in general; a relief, but it hit too close to home, “Okay, thank you both. I’ll get photos of all three of them and circulate around the deputies. Let me know if you learn anything more, and I mean anything.”
“Of course. Thanks,” Jono concluded the chat, “I’ll show you out.”
“No need. I’ll be in touch,” Grace promised, making eye contact with each of them on the way to the door. As it clicked shut, Dylan glanced over to Jono, his eyes widening.
“That was close,” Jono remarked as Selena re-entered the room, Grace’s cup of coffee in her hand.
“Oh,” she sighed, noticing Grace’s absence, “I guess this is mine then.” Jono smiled, but inside, he was scared. They were on thin ice, and he was praying Edmund would find his way back before Grace caught up to him.
There was a comfort in Alfie’s eyes that was insatiable to Edmund. He was unfailingly kind in a way he wasn’t used to seeing. There was no doubt that he had to see him again, just to admire Alfie’s friendly smile and warm expression once more as the sun shone through the window of the empty classroom they’d crept into.
Edmund’s heart warmed when he noticed the sparkle on Alfie’s face the second their eyes met. He looked just as happy as Edmund was. Perhaps Alfie had been feeling the same way? Edmund didn’t want to misjudge the situation, but for the first time in a long time, there was someone he wanted to stick around for.
“You washed your hair,” Edmund noticed, recalling Alfie’s predicament with his father, “It looks nice.”
“Same to you,” Alfie coyly replied, “You found somewhere to shower then.”
“Yeah,” Edmund felt embarrassed. Alfie’s kind smile faded into a neutral expression, but Edmund could tell he was concealing disappointment, “I’m sorry, I got caught up last night. I totally forgot about your offer.”
“It’s okay. We don’t really know each other, after all,” Alfie shrugged, but Edmund knew better. He was feeling let down, and Edmund couldn’t have felt guiltier.
“No, it’s not okay. I broke a promise. The one and only promise I will ever break,” Edmund tried his best to make up for it. He’d never sounded so corny in his life, and to his surprise, he wasn’t hating it.
“A promise promise,” Alfie’s slump lifted. Edmund believed that trust and respect had to be earned, and that didn’t happen overnight, but he figured he was on the right track with Alfie, “How did you find me?”
“Um,” Edmund paused. Just as he got out of one hole, he found himself in another. He didn’t know how to answer Alfie’s question. How could he answer a question he didn’t know the answer to himself? It was like he recognised Alfie’s scent. Like he knew exactly where he’d be, but that was what an animal did, right? “I just knew you’d be in school. I got lucky that you had a window seat.”
“Gives me the chance to daydream during math,” Alfie laughed. He had grown more comfortable the more they spoke, and Edmund was envious. How could he be so trusting of someone he barely knew? It was an alien concept to Edmund, “Why did you come back?”
“I mean,” Edmund tried to consider his words as carefully as possible, “I wanted to make it up to you.”
“You came back for me?” Alfie summarised what Edmund had danced around saying. A huge smile beamed across his face unapologetically, and Edmund knew his own face was pulling a similar expression. He couldn’t have been imagining it. There really was a certain magic in the air. There had to be.
Grunting. Panting. Thudding.
Edmund’s smile swiped away like rain on a windscreen.
The hairs on the back of his neck shot upwards.
He knew that sound. He’d heard it before.
“Everyth-,” Alfie began to speak, but Edmund put his finger on Alfie’s lip. He couldn’t make a sound. Alfie looked baffled, but Edmund had his reasons, and if Alfie knew the whole situation, he’d be thanking him.
The thudding continued. A figure swept slowly past the outside window, its identity shrouded in the bushes. Alfie’s confusion morphed appropriately into horror. And then…
Silence.
Edmund didn’t move. He turned his attention to his ears. He could hear so much. Sounds from far away. The cars on the road outside. Indistinct chatter from other classrooms. Breathing. Heartbeats.
Including one just outside the window.
Two red lights shone into the classroom. Edmund had seen them before. They looked him up and down, like a predator sizing up its prey.
“What is that?” a horrified Alfie whispered.
“Stay behind me,” Edmund directed, keeping his voice as low as possible, but there was no real need to whisper any longer. They had already been spotted, because they weren’t just lights.
They were eyes.
A clawed arm traced its way up and down the window, caressing it, until…
SMASH!
The window shattered into tiny pieces in an instant, forced apart by the weight of a large beast covered in fur as it leapt through, landing on all fours and standing far taller and wider than both Edmund and Alfie, blocking the door. Their only way out.
“What is that?” Alfie whimpered, more urgently this time, as it bared its gigantic teeth and snarled at them. Their hands were linked together, like some sort of reflex to bring them as much comfort as possible.
Before Edmund could think of an answer, it lunged at them. Edmund fell backwards onto Alfie, who collapsed onto the floor with a heavy thud, narrowly missing slamming his head on one of the desks. The creature, with its wolf-like face eyeing them up with glee and drool spilling from its oversized mouth, towered over the both of them supremely.
Edmund looked up in horror. He had lost. It had found him, and now Alfie’s life was in danger too.
It was representative of the vibe Dylan gave off from the moment Edmund first met him. He had a sparkle of kindness in his eyes that he’d never noticed in anyone before. He wanted to help, and that made Edmund feel at ease, but he couldn’t help wondering why. What reason did Dylan have for wanting to help? Did he have an ulterior motive? As sceptical as Edmund was by nature, he couldn’t ignore how positive his gut felt.
“Thank you,” Dylan smiled, his tone as gentle as a soft hug, much like his demeanour, “You know, for coming.” He had walked Edmund into a side room from the front door, a well-furnished office with three desks, an array of noticeboards engulfing the wall space, and a couple of plump sofas in the corner making a right-angle. Edmund was perched on the edge in the centre of one sofa, while Dylan and another gentleman relaxed side-by-side on the other. He shared the same kind smile as Dylan, his curls bouncing off his shoulders as he turned to face Dylan.
“This is Jono,” Dylan continued, introducing his peer, “He’s my husband. Don’t worry, he knows everything, we’re in this together.”
Edmund remained silent. He didn’t know what to say or where to start. He didn’t know anything at all. Nothing he’d experienced in the preceding days made any semblance of sense. He had too many questions, but where to begin?
“I know how weird this must feel. I was you once. Thrown into this strange world where nothing makes any sense. There was nobody to talk to, and who’d even believe you? Everything you thought you knew had been overturned in one moment. That’s it, right? That’s how you feel, isn’t it?” Dylan said, accurately describing the exact train of thought in Edmund’s mind. All he could do was nod in response. Dylan knew what he was talking about, but the barrier in Edmund’s mind remained up. Was he ready to jump the hurdle?
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come,” Edmund panicked. His fight-or-flight instinct had never been stronger. He wasn’t used to talking about himself. He could handle it on his own, couldn’t he?
“Please, stay,” Dylan asked, concern painted across his face, “You don’t have to talk. We don’t have to do this now. Just, take your time and know that you are safe here.”
Edmund nodded again. He figured Dylan was right, but everything was new to him. It was quite the adjustment for his brain to make, and it was performing somersaults attempting to rationalise what was happening.
“Where are you staying?” Jono questioned, keeping the gentle tone Dylan had set.
“It doesn’t matter,” Edmund brushed the question off. He wasn’t their problem to solve.
“You’re sleeping rough, aren’t you?” Jono persisted with concern painted across his face, “Stay here tonight. We have a couple of spare rooms. Take your pick.”
“No,” Edmund instinctively rejected.
“You’re safe here, remember,” Dylan added, “You can leave the door open if you want. I’ll even show you where we leave the front door key, so you can leave whenever you want. You’re not trapped here, Edmund.”
Dylan spoke as if he knew a lot about Edmund’s story. It wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have, though. They were saying all the right things, so Edmund figured all he could do was take them at their word.
“Okay,” Edmund accepted, desperately hoping he wasn’t going to regret trusting someone for the first time in a long time.
Drained of all energy, Grace threw her coat onto the sofa before she collapsed onto the plump cushions herself. The coat stand was just a little too far away when she was so tired, so the sofa was going to have to be her jacket’s temporary home.
Grace used to thrive on her social life, with plans after work almost every night meaning her front room didn’t get much use in the evenings. Clubbing with friends, drinks with hot men and women she’d matched with on Tinder, or just a cinema trip alone.
Recently, though, Grace hadn’t had the energy. Riverisle wasn’t the unassuming, uneventful place it once was. Her days were packed with reports and complaints, each of varying degrees of urgency. The result was a desperate need for a nap; a need that surprisingly outweighed her stomach’s request for dinner.
It had been a particularly peculiar day, though. Grace wasn’t sure it would get any more bizarre after James Waldon’s trespassing tale, but the entire debacle of the missing teenager had baffled her. So little of it made sense, least of all the arrival of the investigative journalists from Crystalshaw. Why was this Edmund kid significant enough to catch their interest? There was more to the story, and more they weren’t telling her.
Grace leaned back to reach her jacket. From the pocket, she pulled out the business card Jono had given her. It looked legit. She recognised the address, and the phone number seemed genuine too. There was no web or social media link, but their surname – ‘Chadwick-Drummond’ – would be easy to search up.
A Facebook search very easily brought up both their profiles, but their privacy settings were dialled all the way up, and their Instagram accounts were set to private. Neither looked fake, unless they were very good con artists. Regardless, Grace knew there was something more to them both. Something she wasn’t being told, which made trusting them difficult, no matter how personable they were.
Nevertheless, Grace couldn’t do anything more that night. She was off duty and not being paid, so anything work-related could wait. The answers would come; Grace had complete faith in her own skillset as sheriff. Nothing got past her.
Deep breaths.
Heart racing.
Nerves building.
Each of these was a staple of the seemingly never-ending walk towards the shack Alfie was forced to call home.
The evening was an unpredictable period, and Alfie was terrified of what could have been coming his way. If his father’s day had been less than desirable, somehow, it was Alfie’s problem, and in a tiny house, there was nowhere to hide.
Alfie didn’t want to seem ungrateful. He had a roof over his head, food on the table and a bed to sleep in. He didn’t require a luxury home, but the company he had to keep was a different story. Almost anyone would have been preferable.
The front door creaked open as Alfie hesitantly pushed it open, its rusty loose hinges featuring on the long list of home improvements his father hadn’t gotten round to. Immediately, the noise announced Alfie’s arrival. He was later than usual, spending a few hours at Millie’s after school, so his dad was surely already home.
“About time,” Waldon remarked. He was eating his dinner at the table, as he always did. He didn’t move an inch when Alfie arrived, not even bothering to make eye contact when he spoke.
“Millie and I were studying,” Alfie responded. It wasn’t a lie, they did study, but only once he’d made full use of her hair and skincare products to freshen himself up.
“What were you studying?” Waldon interrogated.
“Chemistry,” Alfie responded, matter-of-factly.
“A very broad topic. Anything in particular?” Waldon continued. Alfie knew this tactic. His father was trying to catch him out, but there was no way Alfie could win. If he explained, he’d be accused of lying. The alternative was to keep quiet. Both options resulted in consequences that were already unnecessarily prolonged by the entire conversation. Alfie wished he could skip to the inevitable and get it over with.
“Balancing equations,” Alfie informed, not caring to go into any further detail.
“For three hours?” Waldon judged, continuing to sip his soup. Alfie remained silent. He saw no benefit to lying. It wasn’t going to prevent anything.
Waldon slammed his fist against the table. The soup shook. Alfie flinched. Waldon raised the volume and sharpened the tone, “Well?”
“Yes sir,” Alfie begrudgingly lied. For that reason, he was grateful that his father understood nothing about beauty, so his newly cleaned hair wasn’t going to raise suspicion, “And I still have some notes to write, if I may be excused, sir?”
Waldon huffed. He was looking for an argument, but Alfie knew better. All he wanted to do was to remove himself from his line of fire. “Get out of my sight,” Waldon ordered, much to Alfie’s relief.
Alfie scuttled off to his bedroom, a box-side affair with little in the way of decorations. Alfie kept his true interests to himself; he learned to do that a long time ago. As he booted up his laptop, his dad out of his mind for the time being, Alfie thought back to earlier that day. To Edmund. He never did show up again, but Alfie kept thinking about him. About the little spark he brought out in Alfie.
Alfie was desperate to see him again, but he wasn’t sure he ever would.
Dylan woke up on red alert. There was no calm, quiet stirring as he scrolled through his phone notifications. His eyes shot open, and Dylan instantly turned his focus to his ears.
Three heartbeats. Edmund was still in the house. Relief.
Over the course of the night, Dylan had woken up several times, each in the same state. He still knew next to nothing about Edmund, yet he felt protective over him. Staying the whole night was an indication of trust, and Dylan felt privileged. It was a big deal.
With his newly regained sense of calm, Dylan snuggled back under the duvet. His alarm clock told him it was almost time to wake up anyway, so there was little point going back to sleep. Instead, Dylan laid on his left side, facing a still, silent Jono. Dylan loved to watch him sleep. He always looked so beautiful, even when his curls were all over the place in a bedhead like what Dylan was surely sporting himself. He looked so peaceful.
“Quit staring at me,” Jono smirked, his eyes still shut.
“How did you know?” Dylan smiled, feeling his cheeks glowing red.
“I heard you jolt awake,” Jono answered, opening his eyes to meet Dylan’s gaze.
“I’m sorry,” Dylan felt guilty. He wouldn’t have wished such a disrupted night of sleep on Jono as well.
“No, it’s okay,” Jono assured, “I’ve barely slept. Trying to figure out what to do.”
“I’m just relieved he’s still here,” Dylan mentioned.
“He can’t stay here, though. He’s on the run. If we leave this any longer, we’ll be accused of kidnap,” Jono theorised.
“So we report him?” Dylan considered, “Tell Sheriff Harding. What happens then? We sent a fresh werewolf back into the foster system. It’s too dangerous, Jon.”
“I know, I know,” Jono assured, “We need to talk to him. Properly. Find out what the situation is. If he talks, maybe we can do something. We’re not abandoning him, I promise.”
“Okay,” Dylan nodded, “You trust the sheriff, right? Do you think she would understand?”
“Maybe. Some people get it and some people don’t, but we owe it to him to try, right? It’s kids like him that we set up this place for,” Jono thought.
“I’m so glad I’ve got you,” Dylan grinned. Without Jono, he was lost. Being a werewolf meant nothing when he didn’t have his husband by his side.
“Come here and prove it,” Jono winked. Dylan didn’t need to be asked twice. He shuffled his body towards Jono’s, their bare chests connected as they gazed into each other’s eyes. Wasting no time, Dylan’s lips reached out to Jono’s. Together, they were magic. Nobody and nothing made Dylan feel the way Jono did, and he savoured every moment they had together.
Downstairs, the front door clicked open and then shut. Immediately, Dylan’s relief grew into panic once again.
Edmund had gone.
Doodling in his maths book, Alfie was bored. There was no way to dress geometry up as something exciting. Millie thrived in the maths classroom, but to Alfie, it was a waste of time, second only to the tedium of physics. Where was the opportunity to be creative?
The one upside was that Alfie wasn’t at home. School was boring, but it was safe. He’d made it through the night unscathed, by some miracle, but that morning’s cold shower was a rude reminder of just how callous James Waldon was.
“Need a hand?” Millie offered from the desk in front.
“Need? Yes. Want? No,” Alfie laughed. He could always be truly honest with Millie.
“It makes a right-angled triangle,” Millie explained, tracing her finger around the shape scruffily drawn in Alfie’s book, “You’ve got the opposite and the hypotenuse, so you can work the angle out.”
“I hate this,” Alfie admitted defeat. There was too much to remember, “I’m never going to pass.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. Are you free after school again? I can offer one of my masterclasses,” Millie smiled.
“As much as I appreciate the opportunity, I’m not sure it’s a good idea. I can’t handle the third degree from my father again,” Alfie groaned. He didn’t need to relive the night before.
“He won’t have a go if I’m there,” Millie reasoned, and she was right. Any time Millie was there, Waldon was a model father. Irritatingly, he saw Millie as wife potential for Alfie; as much as he adored her, it couldn’t have been more platonic, on both their accounts.
“Alright,” Alfie nodded, “But you know the deal. Bring snacks. My stash is running low.” Of course, Waldon was very particular about anything resembling a treat entering his house.
“Obviously,” Millie chuckled.
Immediately, Alfie’s attention gravitated to something moving outside. It wasn’t difficult to distract Alfie, especially when he was already bored, but this was just the distraction he was hoping for: across the lawn outside stood Edmund, waving directly at Alfie.
Alfie’s heart fluttered. A cute smile was painted onto Edmund’s adorable face. He looked cleaner and well-rested, a vast contrast from the previous day. The same glow surrounded him, though. The little magical spark Alfie had been drawn to. He’d come back, just for him.
“Excuse me, Mr. Khan. I need the bathroom,” Alfie raised his hand, getting up and rushing out before Mr. Khan could refuse permission.
By the time he reached the corridor, Edmund was already inside waiting for him. A soft, floral scent graced Alfie’s nostrils, while his eyes couldn’t escape the gaze he shared with Edmund.
“I’m sorry I didn’t show last night,” Edmund immediately apologised. Alfie was trying to remain calm. Maybe he was onto something. Maybe a little luck was finally heading his way.
“Cup of tea,” Selena placed Jono’s long-awaited beverage onto his desk. His mouth was desperately craving the precious, steamy taste of his much-needed caffeine boost. He had been trying to distract himself with admin all morning, but he couldn’t deny that he was worried.
“Got anything stronger?” Jono chuckled, attempting to cover up his concern with a spot of humour.
“Always,” Selena winked, “But I won’t have my fabulous reputation tarnished.”
Jono smiled, but in the corner of his eye, he could see an even more anxious Dylan who was in no joking mood. His leg was furiously bobbing up and down – the clearest telltale sign – and he was desperately trying to focus on work to keep his mind off Edmund. Jono knew him far too well to know that was bound to be unsuccessful.
“Hey, he’ll come back,” Jono reassured. Dylan usually brought the optimism in spads, so it was time for Jono to offer some back to him.
“I don’t get it. Why do I feel so protective? It’s not like we actually know him,” Dylan vented.
“Because you care,” Jono reminded, “Because, at one point, you were Edmund. You were put into this impossible position where you didn’t recognise yourself anymore. You care because you’ve been there, and you know how isolating it is.”
“Do you think he heard us talking?” Dylan wondered.
“Maybe,” Jono considered, “It’s no good dwelling. We just need to do what we can to help, and he’ll make his way back. We gave him space, a bed, food, a shower, and we made him feel welcomed. A conversation won’t have put him off.”
“I hope you’re right,” Dylan nodded, his leg relaxing a little.
The doorbell rang. Selena, who had just sat back on her luxurious desk chair, heaved herself back up without a single bit of urgency. “Don’t all rush at once,” she remarked sarcastically. She returned to the room a few seconds later with their visitor: Sheriff Grace Harding.
“Good morning,” Grace greeted, “Sorry for dropping in unannounced.”
“Not at all. Please, take a seat,” Jono flashed his biggest, most welcoming grin, ushering Grace to the sofas in the corner of the office, “Can we get you a drink?”
“I’d love a coffee, if you don’t mind,” Grace nodded, keeping an unbreakable poker face.
“One coffee, on the way,” Selena knew her cue and headed to the kitchen, leaving Jono and Dylan alone with Grace.
“So, how can we help you?” Jono kicked things off. He wasn’t expecting to see Grace again so soon, and she clearly wasn’t calling round for a chit-chat during work hours.
“I wanted to cross-reference some details of the Edmund Franklin case with you both,” Grace explained, maintaining her sturdy expression, “Firstly, you mentioned learning of the case through Crystalshaw’s sheriff. Could I take a name and number? It would be great if we could work together on this.”
“Um, sure,” Dylan grabbed his phone off his desk and scrolled frantically, before reading the number aloud, “And his name is Ed Taylor. My stepfather.”
“I recall you saying. Well-connected,” Grace nodded. Jono couldn’t tell if that were an approving comment, or a judgemental one. The polite chat had turned into something resembling an investigation.
“We try our best,” Jono styled it out, “Anything else?”
“I wanted to ask what you knew of the foster parents,” Grace continued, “The current ones. I’m wondering if we can establish a motive for Edmund choosing to flee.”
“There’s not much to say,” Jono admitted, “They reported him missing three days after they last saw him. When asked why they waited so long, the foster mother, Mrs. Murray, accused Edmund of being violent and threatening towards her.”
“She refused an examination to check for bruises, and the house showed no signs of damage. When Edmund left, he left discreetly,” Dylan added.
“That doesn’t sound violent,” Grace pondered.
“Exactly, and that’s only half of it. The next day, the Murrays vanished. Nobody’s heard from them since. The house was totally wiped, too. Not only were their clothes and possessions gone, but every piece of furniture disappeared. Even the carpets were ripped off. Nothing remained from their time in that house,” Jono detailed, sharing every fact he knew. To his relief, the facts didn’t suggest a supernatural involvement to anyone who wasn’t involved.
“And then Edmund showed up here,” Grace fills in the rest. Jono’s heart skips a beat. For a split second, he thought they’d been busted. That Grace had found out Edmund spent the night at their house. Quickly, he realised she was referring to Riverisle in general; a relief, but it hit too close to home, “Okay, thank you both. I’ll get photos of all three of them and circulate around the deputies. Let me know if you learn anything more, and I mean anything.”
“Of course. Thanks,” Jono concluded the chat, “I’ll show you out.”
“No need. I’ll be in touch,” Grace promised, making eye contact with each of them on the way to the door. As it clicked shut, Dylan glanced over to Jono, his eyes widening.
“That was close,” Jono remarked as Selena re-entered the room, Grace’s cup of coffee in her hand.
“Oh,” she sighed, noticing Grace’s absence, “I guess this is mine then.” Jono smiled, but inside, he was scared. They were on thin ice, and he was praying Edmund would find his way back before Grace caught up to him.
There was a comfort in Alfie’s eyes that was insatiable to Edmund. He was unfailingly kind in a way he wasn’t used to seeing. There was no doubt that he had to see him again, just to admire Alfie’s friendly smile and warm expression once more as the sun shone through the window of the empty classroom they’d crept into.
Edmund’s heart warmed when he noticed the sparkle on Alfie’s face the second their eyes met. He looked just as happy as Edmund was. Perhaps Alfie had been feeling the same way? Edmund didn’t want to misjudge the situation, but for the first time in a long time, there was someone he wanted to stick around for.
“You washed your hair,” Edmund noticed, recalling Alfie’s predicament with his father, “It looks nice.”
“Same to you,” Alfie coyly replied, “You found somewhere to shower then.”
“Yeah,” Edmund felt embarrassed. Alfie’s kind smile faded into a neutral expression, but Edmund could tell he was concealing disappointment, “I’m sorry, I got caught up last night. I totally forgot about your offer.”
“It’s okay. We don’t really know each other, after all,” Alfie shrugged, but Edmund knew better. He was feeling let down, and Edmund couldn’t have felt guiltier.
“No, it’s not okay. I broke a promise. The one and only promise I will ever break,” Edmund tried his best to make up for it. He’d never sounded so corny in his life, and to his surprise, he wasn’t hating it.
“A promise promise,” Alfie’s slump lifted. Edmund believed that trust and respect had to be earned, and that didn’t happen overnight, but he figured he was on the right track with Alfie, “How did you find me?”
“Um,” Edmund paused. Just as he got out of one hole, he found himself in another. He didn’t know how to answer Alfie’s question. How could he answer a question he didn’t know the answer to himself? It was like he recognised Alfie’s scent. Like he knew exactly where he’d be, but that was what an animal did, right? “I just knew you’d be in school. I got lucky that you had a window seat.”
“Gives me the chance to daydream during math,” Alfie laughed. He had grown more comfortable the more they spoke, and Edmund was envious. How could he be so trusting of someone he barely knew? It was an alien concept to Edmund, “Why did you come back?”
“I mean,” Edmund tried to consider his words as carefully as possible, “I wanted to make it up to you.”
“You came back for me?” Alfie summarised what Edmund had danced around saying. A huge smile beamed across his face unapologetically, and Edmund knew his own face was pulling a similar expression. He couldn’t have been imagining it. There really was a certain magic in the air. There had to be.
Grunting. Panting. Thudding.
Edmund’s smile swiped away like rain on a windscreen.
The hairs on the back of his neck shot upwards.
He knew that sound. He’d heard it before.
“Everyth-,” Alfie began to speak, but Edmund put his finger on Alfie’s lip. He couldn’t make a sound. Alfie looked baffled, but Edmund had his reasons, and if Alfie knew the whole situation, he’d be thanking him.
The thudding continued. A figure swept slowly past the outside window, its identity shrouded in the bushes. Alfie’s confusion morphed appropriately into horror. And then…
Silence.
Edmund didn’t move. He turned his attention to his ears. He could hear so much. Sounds from far away. The cars on the road outside. Indistinct chatter from other classrooms. Breathing. Heartbeats.
Including one just outside the window.
Two red lights shone into the classroom. Edmund had seen them before. They looked him up and down, like a predator sizing up its prey.
“What is that?” a horrified Alfie whispered.
“Stay behind me,” Edmund directed, keeping his voice as low as possible, but there was no real need to whisper any longer. They had already been spotted, because they weren’t just lights.
They were eyes.
A clawed arm traced its way up and down the window, caressing it, until…
SMASH!
The window shattered into tiny pieces in an instant, forced apart by the weight of a large beast covered in fur as it leapt through, landing on all fours and standing far taller and wider than both Edmund and Alfie, blocking the door. Their only way out.
“What is that?” Alfie whimpered, more urgently this time, as it bared its gigantic teeth and snarled at them. Their hands were linked together, like some sort of reflex to bring them as much comfort as possible.
Before Edmund could think of an answer, it lunged at them. Edmund fell backwards onto Alfie, who collapsed onto the floor with a heavy thud, narrowly missing slamming his head on one of the desks. The creature, with its wolf-like face eyeing them up with glee and drool spilling from its oversized mouth, towered over the both of them supremely.
Edmund looked up in horror. He had lost. It had found him, and now Alfie’s life was in danger too.
Next: TBA
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