Hi everyone, I'm back with a new story!

Please leave a review and tell me what you thought + if I should continue this. Be honest! If I get at least ten reviews by the end of the day I might be swayed to upload more soon :)

Check my profile to see the inspiration pics for this story.

Also, make sure to check out my other fic, Life Force, if you haven't yet!


Chapter 1: Shivers

The sudden beeping of Scott's alarm rang through his ears causing him to jerk up in his bed, bumping his head on the headboard on the way up. In frustration he placed his hand on the back of his head, rubbing the sore spot. He hadn't hit his head that badly but his extra strong senses intensified the pain. That's one thing people seemed to overlook with werewolves; even though they healed, the pain was more intense. Every little brush against his skin was magnified ten fold, which worked out in some situations but was a bitch in others. He had learned to control his senses and ignore the pain, but on days like this it was tough. Scott was not a morning person and the thought of having to get out of bed on this cold, damp Wednesday almost hurt worse than the bump to his head.

With a heavy sigh he slowly began to climb out of his bed. He stumbled into his bathroom, peeled off his clothes and stepped into the warm fountain of water that poured out of the shower. After getting clean, he threw on the most presentable clothes he could find on his floor and headed downstairs to the kitchen. After descending the stairs he turned the corner into the kitchen and jumped at what he saw in front of him.

"What the hell, Stiles," he said as he entered the room. His best friend sat at his kitchen table, eating from a large bowl of cereal as if he lived there. "Can't you eat at your own house."

"Well, single dad's aren't exactly the best when it comes to grocery shopping," Stiles replied. "Your mom buys way better food."

"How did you even get in here?" Scott asked. He poured himself a bowl of cereal and sat down next to Stiles.

"Someone's a grumpy little wolf today," Stiles mocked, prompting Scott to give him a sharp look and a faint growl. "Ok, fine, I took the spare key your mom leaves in the planter by the door. I figured I was doing her a favor, considering there's all kinds of crazy shit running around Beacon Hills."

"Yeah, I'm well aware," Scott said with a mouthful of cereal. "Do you mind if we leave for school early today? I wanted to talk to coach before class."

"Right, school," Stiles sighed. "Why don't we just take Wednesday off, like French kids?"

"Because we're not in France," Scott replied.

"Thanks for the update," Stiles added sarcastically, prompting another annoyed look from his friend.

The two boys made their way out of the quaint house and into the driveway. The light rain splashed their heads as they got into the worn-in Jeep. The fog was thick and caused what was twenty feet in front of them to disappear. Stiles slid the keys into the ignition and began to turn them as he had hundreds of times before. But this time instead of bringing the rusty old car to life, it simply sputtered and died out. He tried again and again, but the car would not turn on.

"Are you kidding me? You were fine five minutes ago!" Stiles shouted as he threw his hands up in frustration. He sighed loudly and turned to Scott. "Look's like we're taking the bus today."

"Great." Scott muttered under his breath.

Stiles got out of the car and slammed the door. They began to run down the street towards the bus stop, rain dripping down on their hoods as they went. The two boys barely reached the stop in time for the bus to pull up in front of them. The driver opened the door and they climbed up the stairs and onto the bus. Since anyone in their grade with a license or a shred of dignity avoided the bus at all costs they didn't recognize many of the faces staring back at them. It had been a long time since either of them had ridden the bus and it brought back memories of being pushed around by the older kids who tossed their books down the aisle or worse, out the window.

"This is going to be fun," Stiles said as they began to walk towards the back of the bus, looking for an empty seat. Scott managed to find the eyes of the one person he recognized on board. He was a tall and handsome boy who sat next to a much smaller, nerdy boy with glasses and bluntly cut red hair. The tall boy leaned towards the other boy and began to speak.

"You might want to move," he said.

"Why?" the red haired boy asked. "This is my seat. I always sit here."

"Let me rephrase this," the boy began with a devilish smirk on his face and a wild look in his eye. "If you don't move, I'm going to shove those glasses down your throat." Without hesitation the younger boy quickly got up and moved to another seat near the back of the bus. "Freshman," he sighed to himself as he watched the boy scurry away. Then he looked up and made eye contact with Scott, signaling that the seat was free for him.

Scott approached the seat and sat down, Stiles close behind him. Since it was only two per seat, Stiles had no choice but to sit one row back. He leaned over the back of the row his friends shared in front of him so he could still be part of the conversation.

"So Lahey, you're terrorizing freshman now?" Stiles snarked.

"I wouldn't say terrorizing. Just keeping them in line," Isaac retorted, giving a sideways glance at the boy who was hovering over his shoulder. Ever since his abusive father died Isaac Lahey had become known for his cockiness and aggressive way of handling things. He was a good kid at heart but he definitely needed some fine tuning.

"Do you always ride the bus?" Scott asked Isaac.

"Only when my chauffeur is out of town," Isaac said sarcastically.

"I remember when we used to ride this bus everyday," Stiles said. "Damn, that really sucked. So glad I have a car now." Isaac turned his head towards the chatty boy and gave him another intense look. "Not that riding the bus is that bad," Stiles added quickly.

The bus traveled along the road for a few minutes until it came to a fork. At this point the road diverged into two parts; on one side the busy street continued and on the other it turned into a narrow dirt road. They passed several small, worn down houses that were quite different from the massive suburban paradises that characterized Beacon Hills. Scott began to remember what it was like riding this route everyday. He would always feel uncomfortable until they reached the end of the neighborhood where the road became paved again and the houses began to look run-down houses always used to give him the creeps. No one really knew anybody that lived in them. They were abandoned for the most part but there were rumors that strange people still occupied some of them. And then there was the creepiest house of them all: the Delacroix House.

The Delacroix House stood tall amongst the trees that surrounded it, almost blocking it out of sight. The mass of trees obstructed the light of the sun, causing perpetual darkness to fall on the house. The yard was covered in dead flowers, fallen branches and eroded bricks that once paved it. The house was old and victorian in style, which only added to the notion that it was haunted. The most likely lead paint was peeling off and the windows were covered in a dirty film. No one had lived there for decades, and it was rumored that the house was the sight of terrible murders a few decades ago.

"Why don't they just bulldoze this place?" Scott wondered aloud. He had always hated the sight of the house and did not like being reminded of it. "It's not like anyone's ever going to live there."

"I heard someone does live there," Isaac said.

"No way," Stiles replied. "Its been abandoned for years. And besides, who could live in a house that was completely dilapidated...oh yeah." He trailed off, remembering a certain werewolf who spent a great deal of time in derelict buildings.

"My dad used to tell me this story of a crazy old hag who lives there," Isaac began. "And every year kids come snooping around her house to see if its haunted and then she-"

"Bakes them into pies?" Stiles quipped.

"No I think she just kills them," Isaac continued.

"Yeah, I don't know what it is but something about that sounds completely made up to scare children," Stiles added.

"I didn't say it was true, smart ass," Isaac retorted.

"Well, I know its not because me and Scott have been in there," Stiles said.

"Really," Isaac said dubiously.

"Yes," Stiles replied. "Haven't we, Scott."

"Oh yeah, we did, didn't we," Scott said. His mind began to wander off and he thought back to the night he and Stiles went into the Delacroix house. It was definitely one of the most terrifying nights of his pre-werewolf life. It ended with Stiles collapsing after a panic attack and Scott having to drag him out of the creepy house. They didn't even make it past the foyer. Events which, naturally, were left out when telling the story to Isaac.

Scott snapped out of the memory he was lost in and began to take note of what was going on around him again. "Why are we stopping?" he asked. In years of riding this bus it had never once stopped at this house. He clearly was not the only one confused by what was happening, as the other students were asking similar questions. The fog that day was so thick he could barely see what was happening outside the window. He thought he saw something move out of the house and towards the bus, but he could not be sure. With a creek the doors to the bus opened and a burst of cold air rushed inside, giving everyone shivers. All of the students fell silent as they watched what happened next.

A pale girl with big, light green eyes had boarded the bus. She had long, mousy-brown hair that was parted in the middle and lay strewn down her shoulders and back. Her face was soft and round, almost like a doll's. She had a thin body and long limbs that made her appear much taller than she was. She was dressed completely in black except for the rounded, white lace collar that laid across her neck. Her ankle-high black boots clicked against the floor as she moved down the bus. She was effortlessly poised and would have looked angelic if it were not for the dark glint in her eyes. By this point everyone was staring at her and she either did not notice or did not care. She glided down the isles like a shadow and kept her eyes directly in front of her, not looking at any of the students she passed. That was until she neared the row where Scott and Isaac sat. She gave them each a cold look that sent an eerie chill over them and then turned her gaze back towards the aisle. Then she found an empty seat near the back of the bus and sat down, crosse legged and stony faced. The bus began to move again, heading down its usual route as if nothing had happened.

"What the hell?" Stiles whispered to the boys in front of him.

"I told you someone lived there," Isaac said smugly.

"Why did she look at us like that," Scott wondered aloud.

"Like what?" Stiles asked.

"Wait, you didn't see that?" Scott said.

"She completely gave us the death stare," Isaac stated.

"Didn't see it," Stiles answered. "She is kinda creepy."

"She's kind of hot though," Isaac said, causing the other two boys to give him a look. "What?"

"You must have a collection of very weird and specific magazines under you bed," Stiles mocked, prompting a small growl from the other boy.

"There's definitely something different about her," Scott said. "I can feel it. We should get to know her."

"Gladly," Isaac replied, a smirk spreading across his face.

"Calm down wolf boy," Scott said. "We just need to find out what her deal is, you know. Make sure she isn't the bad kind of different."

After a few minutes the bus finally pulled into the school's parking lot. The students emptied out of the bus row after row and made their way up the familiar steps of the school. Word about the new girl was spreading fast. Yet, she still hadn't spoken to anyone and no one knew her name or grade.


The girl walked down the hallway towards the front office. She quietly strolled into the room and approached the front desk. The young woman sitting behind the desk was on the phone and signaled to her that she would be with her soon. Once she hung up the phone she smiled sweetly at the girl and began to speak.

"May I help you?" she asked, looking at the girl in front of her.

"Yes," the girl said. "I'm new."

"Oh right," the woman said, reaching down and pulling out a beige folder. She also pulled out a stack of textbooks from under the desk. "You must be Clara De-"

"Delacroix," the girl finished, cutting the woman off before she could butcher her name. The woman handed her the books and the folder, which Clara began to look through. It contained her class schedule, her locker number and a map of the school. "Thanks," she said as she began to walk away. She wasn't much for small talk and preferred to figure things out herself. Clara had not been to a normal school since she was a child. She had been home schooled by her grandmother whom she lived with. They were solitary people and did not like when others encroached on their privacy, which happened a lot when curious kids decided to snoop around their house. They had their own special way of dealing with those types of people. The thought of going to a school full of normal kids was not ideal. She knew everyone was going to talk about her. About how mysterious and weird they thought she was. She didn't really care what other people thought of her. She was mysterious and weird. But she could do things most of these students couldn't dream of.

Clara continued to walk down the hallway, looking for her locker. The school was a complete maze but she managed to find the one that belonged to her. She attempted to open it but the lock wouldn't budge. She tried again and again and became frustrated that a piece of metal was beating her.

"You need help?" a male voice called out from behind her. Clara wasn't much for friendly gestures but she needed to get into her locker.

"Sure," Clara said reluctantly, moving aside to let the boy help her. She was surprised to see it was one of the boys from the bus. She wondered why someone like him would approach her after the warning look she gave him earlier.

"My name's Scott," the boy said.

"Clara," she replied as she watched him effortlessly toy with the lock.

"What brings you to Beacon Hills?" Scott asked as he opened the locker door for her and stepped aside.

"I've always been here," Clara said coldly as she shoved the massive load of textbooks into her locker.

"In the Delacroix house?" he asked.

"Is that what you call it?" Clara replied.

"We always thought no one lived there,"

"We're just private people," she said, trying to limit the small talk.

"And that it was haunted," the boy added, a goofy smile on his face.

"Who says its not?" she said with a serious look on hers. A moment of uncomfortable silence passed, but to Clara's dismay the boy started speaking again.

"So, do you know anyone here?" he asked.

"Not really," she responded. She didn't know any of the other students, but she wasn't really looking for a best buddy.

"You should eat lunch with us," the boy said.

"I don't know about that," Clara stated.

"Don't worry, it won't be just guys," the boy continued. "There's some girls that sit with us too. There pretty friendly. Well, one of them is."

"That sounds great and all but my kind doesn't really get along with yours," she said, causing a confused and worried look to spread across the boys face. She began to walk away, but he quickly caught up with her.

"What do you mean?" he asked, tying not to give himself away.

"Werewolves," she stated bluntly. "I don't like them."

Alarmed, Scott made a gesture for her to keep her voice down as he pulled her over to the side of the hallway. "How did you know that?" he asked.

"I have my ways," she said. "And you smell of wolf."

"I don't smell," Scott said defensively. "Who else do you know about?"

"Well, your friend on the bus for starters," she said. "What was his name, Ivan?"

"Isaac," Scott corrected. "So what, you're a hunter?" he said, prompting the girl to release a small laugh.

"My kind doesn't really get along with them either," she scoffed.

"What exactly is your kind?" Scott asked.

"You really don't know," Clara said, raising her eyebrows at the boy as she peered into his naive face. After a moment she began to walk again, the boy still trailing close behind her. "Well, I figured you out on my own, I don't think it would really be fair if I just told you."

"I'll figure it out," Scott replied. He was thrown off by how frank she was being about all of this.

"You can try," she said condescendingly. "You're not exactly the puzzle solving type are you?"

"How would you know that?" Scott asked, half offended and half shocked at her ability to see through him so easily.

"Like I said," she answered. "I have my ways. Now if you don't mind I have to get to French."

Scott watched her dumbfounded as she walked away. How did she know so much already? And what was she? The one thing he did know was that he had to tell Stiles immediately.


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