The Golden Prodigies

Chapter 26

Beware, you may find yourself feeling triggered or shook. Sensitive content ahead, read at your own risk!

- Sian

Beth walked the chaotic town streets. The January sales started today, and she had to move to the other end of the city. Her hood was up, and she had dark sunglasses on, doing her best to look suspicious, or deeply hungover. She clutched a pastel blue canvas bag, holding it close to her chest.

Eventually, she turned away from the busy streets and down a quiet alleyway, looking behind her like she was scared of being followed. When she reached the end, she flung the bag over her shoulder and climbed a bin, making herself tall enough to hoist a leg over the wall.

Silently, she dropped down the other side, staying still until she was sure nobody was around.

The ground was wet and slimy, with rubbish everywhere and a foul smell of mould crinkling Beth's nose.

"Come on," she muttered, checking her watch and scowling at the time. "You're late."

"I'm never late."

Beth jumped at the deep voice coming from the shadows. She narrowed her eyes and detected a dark figure who crouched under the concrete stairs.

"You could've told me you were already here, dad." she rolled her eyes and pulled the bag in front of her, smiling when a man came out of the darkness. "I have pictures to confirm that it is the William Jones you knew. He hasn't aged a single day."

The man rushed forwards, snatching the bag from his daughter's grip. He opened the drawstrings and rummaged around to pull out the pictures his daughter had printed.

Beth shined the light on them, watching her father's face as it turned from confusion, shock, and anger in less than thirty seconds.

"I have pictures of Jacota Jones, Hunter Rayson, and Sam Fletcher."

"He looks exactly the same," the man breathed. "I last saw him twenty years ago when he left college in the middle of a lesson. I never saw him or his brother again."

Beth gave him the other pictures, and her dad creased the photos in his clenched fists. His bearing teeth and heavy breathing indicated to her that he was a little more than angry.

"What does this mean?" Beth asked, almost afraid of his temper. "Are they what you think they are?"

"Werewolves, they have to be."

"So what do we do?" Beth asked, watching her father pace with eyes as crazed as an attacking panther.

"We kill every single one of them," he snarled, chucking the photos at his daughter. "Your mother didn't die for nothing. They said it was an animal attack; I knew the scratches on her body were too big for a fox, or a dog. I want justice."

"Wait, how do you know it was them who-"

"I don't," the man yelled, and Beth sank down again, flinching from his raised hand. "They are not human. They don't belong here, killing the innocent and pretending to be like us. How dare they."

"You don't know if they have killed-"

"Shut up!" he yelled, grabbing his daughter's arms and pushing her against the wall. "Your mother was killed by one of these creatures."

Beth lowered her head, nodding in fear.

"Tonight, I'm going to end this once and for all. Stay away from their house if you don't want to get hurt. William Jones is a monster, a freak of nature. I searched for him and his family for years, thinking something awful had happened. It did, they turned into beasts, and it's time he sees how wrong he was to lie to me."