Find the young heir

In the dark I moved quickly, my eyes seemed to have adjusted to the lack of light despite being red and itchy. With bated breath, I managed to quietly sneak back into my tent without waking anyone up and changed into a set of pyjamas. Then I placed the clothes I had worn outside before climbing into bed. I felt exhausted but my mind remained untested.

As I laid there with my eyes wide open, the day's events replayed back in my head over and over again. I kept mauling over the question that had been bugging me all along.

Why was he still in wolf form?

It has been a while since I'd seen my father injured, the last time was a few years ago when he fought with a new werewolf called Stan who had tried to challenge him for the Alpha role. But from what I could remember, I was almost certain my father had reverted to human form straight afterwards, because I remember visiting him at his bedside, and his upper torso had been wrapped up in bandages.

The members of our pack transformed under the Full Moon, but it wasn't something they had any control over, certainly not something they could do out of choice. The force of the moon was too great for them to resist, as soon as the moon disappeared they would revert to being human again.

My father had a potion that could allow a werewolf to transfer freely at will. It was something we used for the live stage shows, usually, Owen and Elijah and Colin were the ones that volunteered to take it. Hazel and Selena were the 'wolf-tamers', they were both tall and beautiful, and looked like magician's assistants, they were perhaps even more eye-catching than the wolves on stage.

The potion was perfectly safe and didn't cause any harmful or weird side effects. Although they had transformed into wolves, it also put them under a trance, so that they could be easily controlled by Hazel and Selena using a simple whistle instead of letting them run around wild, killing all the audiences.

It was literally for 'one-night only', because no matter how well the shows were perceived, we'd always get up and leave straight after and we never performed in the same place twice.

There were places which I would have liked to have stayed on for longer, such as Berlin, where they had one of the best Christmas Markets and the most amazing churros...

But it was always a very strict 'no'. Non-negotiable.

I stifled a yawn and felt my eyelids starting to close. I turned to my side and snuggled deeper into my sleeping bag.

As soon as the warmness spread to my hands and feet, I felt myself starting to doze off.

****

At the Callaghan country estate in Hertfordshire, roles of men in black suits and white shirts with security earphones lined up the hundreds of acres of land.

A helicopter descended from the dark sky and landed on one of the five helipads furthest to the left. The strong torrent of wind blasted away at the suited men nearby, causing their hair to go wild but none of them dared to flinch, they continued to stand tall as if their feet were rooted into the ground.

The door of the helicopter opened, two security men stepped out followed by a tall, handsome man with blond hair. Everything about the man was immaculate, from his perfectly combed back hair to his flawless facial features, and his expensive grey suit.

"Good evening, Mr Halliwell, " the Head of Security jogged up to him with his head bowed low.

"Mr Chalmers, have you found the young Master yet?" Toby Halliwell asked pleasantly, his voice was like the sound of a cello playing, deep and soothingly mesmerising.

"No...not yet...Mr Halliwell," he stuttered, "believe you me, my team is doing everything they can to find the young Master."

Luke Chalmers had been ex-military, he'd served in the special forces and fought in the war for many years. He was used to seeing people of all sorts, from High Ranking Government Officials to international terrorists to serial killers. He could easily kill someone without batting an eyelid and was used to seeing dead bodies piled up high. Yet every time he sees this man he still feels a sense of unease as if he couldn't read him.

Toby Halliwell smiled, but the smile never reached into his eyes. Behind those gold-framed glasses, his deeper than ocean blue eyes were as icy as the Antarctic.

To outsiders, he was the Callaghan's family lawyer, the CEO's personal assistant, the Old Master's running dog. But he was more than just that, being the illegitimate son of Mr John Callaghan, the uncle of the missing young heir, Aiden Callaghan.

"Mr Callaghan would like me to pass on a message," his words were light as if he was just talking about the weather, "for every minute that passes without finding the young Master, someone from your team's family will die. Starting from now."

"You cannot be serious!" Luke Chalmers tried to reason with the man. "Every minute someone will die. 10 minutes would mean 10 people, 60 minutes is 60 people. Some members of my team have very young children, some aren't even married, they only have elderly parents!"

"Then I suggest you better get a move on." Toby said almost with delight.

He briskly walked past the stunned man and into the direction of the country Manor House.

Not to his surprise, it was the Callaghan's family butler, Mr Ewans who came out to greet Toby, "Good evening Mr Halliwell, the Master is waiting for you in the Drawing room, please follow me, Sir."

Toby Halliwell nodded in silence and followed the old man along a corridor that was decorated with Monet's masterpieces.

Inside the Drawing Room was a tall man, who looked not too dissimilar to Toby, but maturer, maybe ten years older and with dark hair instead of blond. He was prowling up and down the room, sat on the leather sofa near him was a beautiful and petite woman in a black dress.

"Mr Halliwell is here, Sir." The butler knocked on the door and announced.

Eric Callaghan halted his steps, both he and his wife glanced towards the entrance.

"Hello Eric, hello Mrs Callaghan," Toby greeted both of them.

"Toby, good, you're here. Any news on Aiden?"

"Unfortunately no news yet. We have just given the search team a little 'incentive', I have a feeling they will find him soon."

"How's the old man doing?" Eric went over to the bar and took out two crystal tumblers. "Whiskey?"

Toby nodded in agreement, "Old Master is still in hospital, but he is doing well after the heart operation." Toby said.

"I'm surprised that he still has a heart, " mumbled Eric, as he poured the golden coloured liquid into the glasses and handed one over to Toby.

Toby took the glass and 'thanked' him before slowly turning his head to the direction of the woman. "Old Master asked if Mrs Callaghan would kindly be able to help us on this occasion? It wouldn't take very long and would help us greatly..."

Before he'd even finished speaking, a loud clattering sound ran across the room and the next thing he knew, Eric had grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off the floor.

"Leave my wife out of this!" He roared, fire practically spitting out of his eyes.

Toby dropped the glass he had been holding, his feet were dangling two feet in mid-air. He struggled to breathe and tried to prise open Eric's hand with both hands, but it was tighter than a vice grip.

Somehow his hand felt very strange to the touch, Toby glanced down, poking through between his splayed fingertips was the claw of a werewolf.

"Eric, stop!" Mrs Callaghan shouted as she saw Toby's face turning redder and then changed to a pale shade of blue as he gasped for air.

Suddenly, the tightness gripped around his throat was gone, Toby fell onto the floor like a sack of potatoes and coughed violently.

"Tell the old man, if he ever tries to have any ideas about my wife I will cut off his oxygen tube with my finger." Eric held up his clawed hand and made a flick with his long fingernail, before reverting it to a human hand right in front of their eyes.

"Let's go, Tilly." He called out to Mrs Callaghan, who got up from the sofa with a blank expression on her face as if she hadn't just witnessed her husband's violence.

He held the door open for her and she followed him out of the door.

Toby stayed on the floor and felt his breathing slowly returning back to normal. His shirt was soaked through, but the pain he had felt was nowhere near as paramount as the mountain of shame and hatred building inside his chest.

He knew he still had a long way to go before he could ever become the Apha of this pack.

But he will, one day.