Hey, guys, so this is my OC teen wolf story - my third one - but this one is a little different from the others.
Look, I never wanted to be a werewolf. A lot of the time, it can get you killed in some really awful, nasty ways but when I was bitten, I couldn't exactly turn around and say "hey, can you respect my personal space, please?" This is the one where I join a werewolf pack and get caught up with not only a vengeful huntress but also another shapeshifter that risks exposing us all. But not everything adds up. Could something bigger be going on and if so, just what is happening in this town?
I moved to Beacon Hills to get away from werewolf drama, but I might have just stepped out of the eye of the storm and into the hurricane.
Claire de Lune isn't your ordinary werewolf. Attacked at the age of seven, no one thought she would survive. Against all odds, she managed it but only scarcely. As you can guess, the life of an omega is pretty hectic and after transferring from school to school either by losing control of her powers or being chased out by rival packs: Claire has never had a single place where she's fit in.
Until she moves to Beacon Hills and is given an ultimatum, join the Hale pack or die. Although she feels like a prisoner at first, she soon warms to the pack members - a charismatic group of social misfits like herself who say they only want to help; finally, she feels she has found family but when a dangerous new creature threatens her newfound peace, she will stop at nothing to protect those she loves, even if it means putting her own life at risk.
Look, I never wanted to be a werewolf.
It's brutal, scary and downright dangerous. I mean, besides the hunters that'll chase you around the globe, there's always other packs' to think about – other werewolves that don't take too kindly to omegas on their territory. A lot of the time, it can get you killed in some painful, messy ways but when I was bitten, I couldn't exactly turn around and say: "hey, can you respect my personal space, please?"
If you're an omega (a lone wolf) like me, my advice to you would be to shut this book right now and never get involved in any of this or find yourself a pack and soon because something bad is coming. Something that will affect us all.
You should be okay but if you begin to recognize these pages and think you're one of us. Run, because there is nowhere on Earth safe for you now.
If you're a normal kid reading this because you think it's a piece of fiction, then great. I envy you for your ability to look at our world and see a story. Well technically it is a story, my story plus few other stories of my new friends. I could start anywhere in my miserable existence to begin our tale but maybe I should begin with when I moved to Beacons Hills.
Don't say I didn't warn you.
Mom was fusing with my hair. I swatted her hand away, trying not to seem ungrateful but at the same time trying to get her to stop trying to braid it. To me, having the long brown waves fluttering in front of my face was fine by me. My mom on the other hand thought it was unruly and made me look like a delinquent – which I suppose I kind of was. When you're a werewolf, chaos seems to follow you around like a lost puppy only not so cute. I'd been forced out of two towns because of werewolves packs and been kicked out of five different schools in two years. I had never had order, not since I was attacked whilst hiking in Yellowstone when I was seven with my dad. The memory still brought unsettled agony to the surface but I managed to push it back down with all my might.
"Mom," I told her firmly, "I look fine. Really. I'll be better here…I promise." My voice cracked slightly on the last two words. I knew I had no right to go around using those words – not after my track record. Maybe I'd strike lucky in Beacon Hills. I had in Penance, Ohio. I'd been in the school for almost a year before I'd been driven out by a bunch of bible-bashing werewolves who thought they were messengers of God.
My mom eyed me warily, taking in my outfit. I was wearing a graphic t-shirt under a red hoodie and blue jeans with Converse. To me, I looked fine – just your average girl with locks of dark brown hair and stormy grey eyes dressed up for a day of boring school. Eventually, she cracked a smile. I knew she wanted this to work and I felt ashamed for putting her through all this crap. She really was trying her best with me, even if she knew of my lycanthropic tendencies. She'd known about a month after the attack what I'd become, when I'd tried to rip her throat out with my blunt incisors. She hadn't known what to do, of course. I mean, it wasn't like there was a Werewolf 101 class or anything to deal with this. Werewolf attacks were extremely rare because omegas usually died if they didn't have anyone to guide them through the transition. But I wasn't your usual omega.
Graceful as a butterfly, my dad's rich Southern voice rang in my ears, lethal as a hornet. You're a de Lune, my dear. You're a fighter. I had never understood this until recently. Why my dad had told me this growing up perplexed me but now I finally for the message. I had the de Lune blood in me. It meant I was going to survive this, even if it destroyed me.
So, eventually my mum had found someone who could help. Abe Lancaster, a veteran werewolf who served two terms in Iraq back in the day. He'd trained me up, taught me how to control my impulses but there was always one thing I struggled with and that was anger. I could rein it in most of the time, but when I really got angry – well, it never ended well. After six months of intensive training, Abe had offered to make him part of his pack. It had meant settling down in New Orleans, maybe a bit of stability for a while but it meant my mom had to leave and I couldn't do that to her.
"You have my number, sweetheart," my mom said, standing on her tip-toes to kiss me. I had just outgrown the small woman last July when I'd added two inches to my height. Now she had to practically jump to peck my cheek, "If anything happens, just call me. Try to stay out of trouble. I know – I know it's hard… but please, do try."
I snatched up my house keys from the dresser in the hall and fluffed my hair one last time in front of the mirror before shouting, "Bye mom!" over my shoulder.
"Be good, honey," I didn't catch the rest of what she said because the door slammed shut behind me. I padded down the front porch of the quaint house, tucked away into a more secluded part of the town and made my way down the road to wait for the bus.
Pulling my hood over my head against the onslaught of rain, I waited until the hideous yellow thing slid into view. It was painted the color of mustard and repulsed my senses, even without the added advantage of the enhanced sight, sound and smell. Racist graffiti was scratched into the back of it that someone hadn't bothered to clean up. God, I hated the bus. Most kids at my last school had avoided it like the plague, me included but that was only because I had been banned for blowing one up on a field trip (it was one little canon ball and I hadn't even been aiming for it anyway). Anyone who had a shred of dignity found some way to wriggle out of it, but unfortunately for me I had no other option.
The doors slid open for me and I hopped on, glancing around the lower deck for a spare seat. No one paid me much attention; they were too engrossed in whatever they were doing on their cells to stop just to glare at the new girl. Those that did notice me either looked up and dispelled me quickly or began indiscreetly whispering behind their hands. I caught snippets of conversation like, "Woah. Loser alert." Or "Check out new freak over there."
Sometimes being new really sucked.
Eventually, I spotted a spare seat next to the window. The guy – probably a freshman by the looks of him – stood up so I could slide in. I smiled with forced gratitude as I flung myself into the seat and pulled out my IPod. I snuggled my headphones into my ears so I could zone out the gossips for a while. For half the ride to school, I had to put up with harsh speed bumps that panged through the seats and made my legs scream in painful complaint. That's one thing people tend to overlook about werewolves. Sure, we heal from pretty much anything but like our senses, pain is amplified, too. I also had to put up with a bunch of shrieking seniors who kept throwing wads of tuna sandwich at the kindly boy next to me which occasionally missed him and hit me instead, much to my disgust and their amusement. It smelled like moldy fish, as if someone had kept it in the sun for a week, "Ugh!" I exclaimed, wiping the horrible thing off me. It only made them shriek with laughter. "That's it." I muttered to myself. I was about to get up, ripping my earphones from my head when the freshman's voice stopped me. "No, it's okay," he said calmly, "I like tuna."
I stared down at him in absolute astonishment. I couldn't understand how anyone wouldn't want to fly at them for what they'd just been doing but I reeled in my rage and sat back down. Injustice grinded my gears. I hated bullies, despised them even. What right did they have to make someone else feel like crap?
The bus pulled to a stop a couple of blocks later and the boy took the opportunity to slip away from the seniors whilst they were distracted. I pushed my bag onto the seat next to me for a moment as I slipped my IPod back into it. I pushed the satchel to the floor once more and waited for the bus to set off again. A sophomore around my age sat next to me. He was kind of geeky with a shock of blonde hair slicked back and small glasses that slipped down his nose. "Get up." A rough voice said a moment later. At first, I thought they were speaking to me so I snapped my head around to the sound of how furious it sounded.
Some jock in black leathers stood in front of us threateningly. He had side-swept curling brown hair but it was sort of tawny colored, as if it couldn't decide to be blonde or brown. His eyes were this weird color of blue, almost as transparent as water. "Can't you find another seat, man-?" the sophomore asked half-heartedly but he seemed to be withering under this kid's glare. A familiar sense of anger started to rip at me.
"Let me try again," blue-eyes said, this time I could practically feel the hate radiating from him as if it was an actual thing. "Either you get up or I pull your spine out through your mouth, four-eyes."
"Hey!" I snapped suddenly, "Quite being such an asshole!"
His eyes met mine and it was like a virtual slap in the face. I was hit by an overwhelming wave of recognition even though I had never seen this kid before. It was the same as all the other places, that tugging sense of belonging and I knew I was screwed. His eyes glinted amber slightly, luckily not fully though and the kid presumably didn't see anything as he slid away and blue-eyes slid down next to me.
"Look," I said, suddenly becoming very uncomfortable, "I don't want any trouble, okay? I just got here. I – I'll leave you alone, I promise."
He seemed a little taken aback by my clear panic, "What are you talking about?" he gave me a curious look, "You didn't do anything."
I frowned at him, "Oh my god," I said very slowly as my eyes widened in realization, "Your new at this, aren't you? You don't know."
"What the hell are you talking about?" he snapped.
"You – you have a pack, but you haven't been told everything…" I pondered this for a moment, "You don't know about what they do. To Omegas."
"Omega?" he echoed, his voice drowning to a whisper so not to be overheard by prying ears, "You're an omega?"
I bit my lip, considered lying. It might save me if I did. If his pack found out about me…I'd be back on the road with my mom transferring to some other school. I couldn't let that happen but at the same time – I felt so angry. At being treated like some kind of outcast. I wanted to make a home here, and I wasn't about to be driven out. "Yeah, I am and you can tell your stupid Alpha that I'm not going anywhere so just… go die!" I finished lamely. I shoved past him as I watched his face cloud with confusion. I threw myself down the steps of the bus and out into the open air of the school parking lot. Thousands of teens swarmed the steps of Beacon Hills High as I made my way forward, stalking through the halls until I eventually found the deputy head.
I knocked lightly on the door and he asked politely for me to enter. I shuffled in, arching my back in an attempt not to seem like an unconfident shut-in or "delinquent" as my mom called me though it was hard not to drag my feet and act like I was actually enjoying my first day at a new school so far. "You must be Claire," the man said with a proud smile. The plaque on his desk proclaimed he was Mr. Meyers and had two small children judging by the family portraits angled towards me slightly. He reached out his hand for me to shake and I took it getting a waft of coffee, cheap cologne and the stagnant smell of whiskey. "I'm Mr. Meyers. You're probably looking for your timetable. I'll have my assistant fax it through."
"Thanks," I said awkwardly, "So… A teacher told me that you would be doing my – um – orientation. Miss Swtkcho- Swtchkowit-"
"Miss Swotchokwitz?" he asked me with sympathetic smile.
I nodded with gratitude, "Yeah," I replied.
"I will be taking you to your first lesson but the floor plan should tell you where else to go." I felt relieved. Maybe I could retain a little shred of street cred after all.
Meyers handed me my floor plan and let me borrow the appropriate books for the day before he led me to my first lesson. My heart was thudding almost unbearably loudly when I reached the door of the Chem lab. It crept open and Meyers sped in, pulling me with him. "Class," he announced and I almost cringed, "We have a new student. This is Claire de Lune. I'm sure you'll all make her feel very welcome." All the kids were staring at me. I knew this routine, they were sizing me up. I'd been through enough of this at my other schools to know.
So naturally as soon as I stepped over threshold I tripped over my own feet with nervousness and made a complete fool of myself. There were some snickering around the classroom but no one said anything. A bored looking man in his mid-thirties smiled at me sarcastically, "Miss de Lune, you may take a seat… next to Isaac please." I glanced in the direction he was motioning to and almost audibly groaned. It was blue-eyes from the bus.
His eyes were full of mocking glee as I pulled out my borrowed Chem book and my notepad, "You again." he grinned devilishly. I only gave him the cold shoulder. This was going to be hell. "This is going to be fun."
"Yep, I'm ecstatic to see you, too," I said in an irritated tone, "Still terrorizing freshman?" I tried to concentrate on not snapping my pen with the overwhelming sense of anger. I didn't know what was wrong with me; I just got so furious sometimes. In freshman year I had been thrown out of anger management for being too angry for the councilor to handle. Now I just solved my problems by punching people who annoyed me, which wasn't exactly the greatest solution to my issues but at least it made me feel better.
"I like to think of it as keeping them in line," he retorted turning his attention to the front of the class. I tried my best to ignore the boy but as predicted he was soon trying to get me to indulge him. "So, what brings you to Beacon Hills, Claire De Lune?"
"Oh you know, just the usual stuff," I replied sarcastically. "I set fire to my history room before I broke four windows. Nothing big or anything."
I kept my eyes purposefully fixed on my notes. I just had to get through this week and then I would have the weekend to do whatever the hell I wanted. Isaac laughed beside me, "I like you," he finally announced, "You're…different."
"Thanks." I spat harshly.
"Different isn't always bad you know."
"It is when you're-" I stopped myself, glancing around the room cautiously, "When you're a WW."
"A werewolf?" he asked a little too loudly.
I slapped his arm, "Keep your voice down!" I scolded.
He just shrugged, "Not for me."
"You have a pack," I told him bitterly, "Life is probably all unicorns and rainbows for you. But for me it's life or death, so just stay the hell away from me."
When class ended I pushed up abruptly from my seat and slunk out the classroom, so full of anger I could have ripped someone's head clean off their shoulders right then and there.
SCOTT
The first thing I noticed about the new girl was her striking silver eyes. They were what gave her a menacing quality. She looked brittle enough that you'd be able to snap her wrist just by poking it but somehow the eyes were the warning flashes that she was not everything she appeared. "You're sure she's a werewolf?" Scott prompted, taking a cautious sniff of the air. His senses relayed a similar message but he couldn't completely place it. Something about her didn't smell right, something he was having trouble placing.
"Absolutely," Isaac told us from the vantage point we were on the stairs. "She told me she was an omega, so she knows at least that much."
"Oh man," Stiles said warily, "This could either be bad or catastrophic. Either way though….what are you gunna say to Derek?"
"I don't know yet," Isaac replied, glaring at the girl who was currently trying to prize open her locker and failing. She didn't look strong enough to pick up a pencil, never mind working out the trick to opening one of the cursed lockers in the school. She wasn't too small but the height did nothing for. It made her look skinny and pale. Her olive skin had turned the color of clay from the stress of the day and she was currently trying to juggle four textbooks, a satchel, her lunch and trying to jimmy the lock. She did not look at all happy. "It feels like she's telling the truth," continued Isaac, "She looked scared on that bus today, Scott. Like, practically terrified."
Stiles sneered, "You have that effect on most women, though." This prompted a growl from the taller boy.
"Let's not involve Derek," I finally deduced, shooting a warning look at the boy whose loyalties I still doubted, "Let's get to know her first."
Isaac lips curled into a smile, "Gladly."
Scott smirked at him, "Calm down, beta boy."
"She might be here for a specific reason – I don't know," Stiles offered, "Scouting for another pack?"
"Maybe," I replied, my mind trying to think of what could have brought her here, especially at a time like this when everything was going awry. "But she told you she was an omega. I don't think someone would lie about that. I mean, are werewolves stronger in a pack? Why would she lie about being weaker?"
Isaac only shrugged, "Dunno," he finally said, "Maybe she's trying to throw us off the trail…?"
"Look, we've got the Kanima to worry about," Stiles breathed, "I'm sure one little omega isn't going to tip the balance."
If only Stiles knew how wrong he had been.
CLAIRE
The day passed uneventfully, though I hated it. People whispered about me in the halls, trying to work out where I'd come from, what I was doing in such a small town. Wild theories flew around classrooms, catching like wildfire. Some actually knew I had been kicked out of my last few schools and avoided me like the plague. Others thought I was probably some daughter of a congressman or business owner, which was why I lived far out in a more secluded area of town, away from the prying eyes of photographers. Most were unanimous in deciding I was probably some drifter who'd be here for a couple of months before an abrupt departure. It probably wasn't far from the truth.
Jerks from the popular clique shoved into me more frequently and I shoved them right back. I knew this routine. They were deciding if I was an easy target, or a force to be reckoned with. So far, I was passing the stuck-up test with flying colors. People thought I was being a bitch – no pun intended – because I was blanking them and refusing to sit with them if they offered. It wasn't that. They were probably really nice people; only I didn't do socializing well and hated making bonds with people especially considering how much I moved around and the whole werewolf thing. In my nine years of werewolfness, I had divulged my secret to only one but that had been an exception.
By lunchtime, I went to my locker to dump a few books and my gym kit but nothing was ever just that simple and I spent another five minutes trying to get it open.
"God damn it!" I dropped my books with a clink on the floor; just preventing myself from wrecking the locker with werewolf strength. A soft feminine laugh sprung into my ears. My head snapped towards the surprising sound as a girl hid her behind a curtain of blonde hair. I glared at her, but strangely my heart wasn't in it. Usually I could hold a death stare for as long as it took but the blonde girl looked ashamed. "Sorry," she said after a moment, closing her locker door. "I – it's just…you have to kick it." She mimed kicking the door but stopped and flushed red.
I did what she said, restraining myself from totally destroying the battered piece of metal. I had to get my foot up quite high but my flexibility had always been one of my key traits. "Thanks." I said awkwardly as I began to grab for my books currently in a scattered pile at my feet.
She swayed on her feet for a moment, pushing back a strand of loose ice blonde hair off her face revealing a gleam of intelligent hazel eyes. "Need some help?" she pointed to the books I was currently trying to juggle in my arms.
"Sure," I said as she bent beside me. She wasn't like the other girls I'd met today. She was shy and if the Doctor Who t-shirt of an ink-splatter tardis was anything to go by then probably bit of a Sci-Fi geek, too. I could feel how uncomfortable she felt, how uncomfortable I was making her feel. Maybe she'd heard some of the rumors flying around about me but as she engaged me in conversation the waves of awkwardness lessened. "I'm Ella. Ella Tremain."
I felt obliged to reply. "I'm Claire," I said, "Claire de Lune."
She smiled and the entire room seemed to brighten around her as if her aura alone was affecting everything from the brightness of the bulbs to the moods of the students. "So - um – do you know anyone here?"
I thought about it. I had met blue-eyes who I sort of knew but I wasn't about to go around blurting that out – especially seeing as this girl looked sweet and the boy I'd met definitely hadn't. "Not really." I replied earnestly, "I just got into town. I don't really – I'm not a people person." I doubted I was even a person anymore.
Once I'd stuck the mountain of books into my locker, she pulled out her glasses, cleaned them and put them on. They transformed her face, making her look like some kind of sophisticated politician and not a shy sophomore. "You should eat lunch with me," she added hastily, "If you want to. Not many people do."
I felt my body language soften. It was a new experience for me, dropping my guard, letting someone in. At my old schools I had had some friends to laugh and talk with but the barriers had always been up. With Ella, my defenses seemed useless.
Why not? I thought, what harm could it do?
If I'd known I'd be involving Ella in this mess, maybe I would have kept my distance. But seeing as I'm not exactly a master of forethought, I followed my new friend towards the canteen.
