Beacon Hills, California lies in the northern rural valley of the state of Beacon County, approximately sixty miles south of Redwood and eighty miles east of the San Francisco peninsula. Established around the early 1800's, the quaint little town had an economic boom from its coal mining industry and lumber mills increasing its population over the years with steady profits. In addition, the historical value of the location and its natural wonder has helped the tourism trade with guests coming in droves to camp, visit historic landmarks, and enjoy the quite town atmosphere.
Sixteen year old Stiles Argent grabbed the algebra textbook from his locker slipping it into his backpack while raking a hand through his buzz cut brown hair. He listened to the ruckus of teenagers coming down the hall. His sister Allison, older by one year, giggled parading past the leering gazes of hormonally charged males in her path. Dark, curly hair cascaded down her back covering the Beacon Hills insignia of the cheerleading uniform that she wore as she crossed over to her younger sibling.
"Dad is going to be late from work," she informed him. "Mom wants to know if you can pick some milk and eggs from the grocery store."
Stiles sighed slamming his locker shut. "Why me? Can't you do it?"
Allison rolled her eyes. "I got cheerleading practice afterschool, dummy. Besides, you don't have anything going on." She blinked her eyes several times. "Please?"
The sixteen year old inhaled a breath. "Fine. I'll pick up a few things on my way home. Since Mom and Dad gave me the car, do you want me to pick you up after practice?"
"No," she shook her head. "Lydia is offering me a ride so that's not necessary."
Like clockwork, seventeen year Lydia Martin and her entourage marched their way down the corridor. Like Moses parting the Red Sea, her classmates divided as this queen bee commanded the attention of everyone around her. By the junior's side, lacrosse captain Jackson Whittemore shot an arrogant grin at his peers as he held Lydia's hand tight. Beacon Hills High sophomore goalie Danny Mahealani completed the trio walking parallel to Jackson while they approached Allison in the hallway.
"Hey!" Lydia smiled at her BFF. "Excited about this weekend's party?"
"What party?" Stiles blurted out.
Jackson shoved him toward the locker. "The one you're not invited to Stilinski!"
Stiles hated it when Jackson called him that. For one thing, it was stupid pet name for an insult. Second, it did not make any sense. The name Stilinski began in middle school because Stiles had difficulty sitting still in class. His teachers believed it was due to his ADHD but, unbeknownst to his instructors, there were other factors involved. With this constant restlessness in class, students began taunting him with the name Stilinksi which still stuck when he entered high school.
"Lay off my little brother, Jackson!" Allison shouted.
The dumb jock took the hint and backed away. Slipping the strap of his backpack over his shoulder, Stiles pressed his lips in annoyance and started down the hall.
"I'm going to be late for class," he muttered. Shuffling his Converses, he meandered toward the other side of the school. Squeaky footsteps caught his attention as he turned around to see Danny Mahealani following him. "What do YOU want?"
The Hawaiian teen grabbed the sixteen year's old wrist dragging him to a secluded corner near the stairs. Dark, brown eyes gazed at him tossing his duffel bag aside to the young athlete to look at Stiles's eyes without flinching. In return, the brown haired lad gave Danny his undivided attention. A painful lump formed in his throat attempting to find the words to express his emotions but realized with agonizing muteness that silence was the best answer.
"I want to apologize…" Danny started. His tone appeared to be sincere but Stiles had his doubts.
"For what?" The sophomore clucked. "For everything? Like having a great summer together and then you desert me to be with your hotshot, in-crowd friends? Allowing your steroid juicehead teammates to insult and humiliate me every day in school? How about the truth that you prefer co…"
Principal Lahey passed the two boys in mid-conversation as he came down the stairs. "Ah, Mr. Argent and Mr. Mahealani! Don't take too long with your private conversation or you'll both be late for class. I'm afraid I caught the tail end of your comment. Something about Mr. Mahealani preferring something?"
"Cockroaches!" Stiles raised his eyebrows. "Danny here has a thing for those little pieces of vermin. I suggested he try a career in entomology!"
"Well you can't fault the man for having an interest in the topic," noted Principal Lahey. He patted Danny on the back for support. "If entomology is a field you're interested in, I say go for it Mr. Mahealani! Now if you excuse me I have some paperwork to fill out." With that said, the high school principal disappeared around the corner leaving the two students alone.
"Stiles," Danny whispered. "I want you to know that this summer meant a lot to me. You're the only person I've told with my secret. You're the only friend I can confide in."
"You know I begin question this friendship," snorted Stiles. "Look I get it. It's high school and you're part of popular clique so you have to maintain the image of the ideal straight jock. But I really think you should consider who your real friends are because in the end that's all that matters. Plus, I don't like being used."
"That was never my intention," explained the Hawaiian teen. "Stiles, I never meant to use you."
"I wish I could believe that," the brown haired lad's eyes looked away. Sensing Danny's sorrow, he stroked the back of his palm against the lacrosse goalie's cheek. "It's funny. I think you look really handsome when you're sad."
Placing his hands on both sides of the brown haired man's face, Danny glanced at Stiles. Soft fingers caressed his cheeks as the teen tried to ignore the bewitching spell the lacrosse goalie had on him. Leaning in close, Stiles felt the hot breath of Danny's mouth near his lips as his fingers grazed the back of the jock's lithe, well-formed body and the arch of his spine. Gentle skin caressed his mouth as the sixteen year old started to close his eyes slowly submitting to the touch of the Hawaiian man's comfort.
Then the bell rang. Stiles opened his eyes wide withdrawing quickly from the athlete. He grabbed his backpack and began to bolt up the stairs.
"Stiles! I still care about you!" Danny called to him.
With his back turned, he shifted to face the jock. "Sounds like the beginnings of a heartfelt story, but I'm gonna pass. Unrequited love can be a bitch!"
Danny watched sadly as Stiles race up the steps and disappeared around the corner.
Way up in the evening sky, the full moon illuminated the celestial heavens. Shadows of night owls in flight and echoes of crickets chirping paled in comparison to the ghostly howls of wolves surrounding the atmosphere. A young woman wearing camping clothes ran through the dense thicket of the forest. She could hear them coming from behind her, stalking her, hunting her with bloodlust in their hearts. Her lungs expanded with oxygen as her hiking boots trailed through the mud tearing through the deep foliage as her hands displayed deep cuts where the sharp twigs lashed at her skin. Her eyes scanned the rural area to see an open field giving her no other choice but to run in that direction.
With her legs carrying her, the young woman ignored the cramping pain in her thighs. Dirt and dust kicked up where her heels touched the ground, racing with her heart pumping furiously in her chest. Then she made the mistake that all victims in horror movies do, she looked behind her shoulder. Large black fur, huge canine teeth, and menacing red eyes glared back at her causing her to scream but it was no use as the beast behind her gained momentum and leaped. The last thing she saw was the enormous wolf descended upon her as she cried out for help.
Fifteen minutes later, the other members of the pack scattered into the open field. Shifting in their human forms, the skin-walkers padded naked into the grass to see their Alpha leader enjoying his co-ed meal. Red eyes roared as his mouth dripped crimson from his victim's remnants.
"Baby, leave some for the rest of us," the blonde named Erica purred. "Share."
"He's right Scott," agreed the older gentleman next to her. "There's plenty to go around."
Scott McCall transformed into his human shape and moved to the side to allow the rest of his pack to feed which included his mother Melissa, her lover Peter Hale, his girlfriend Erica Reyes, and his best friend Boyd. Together the pack feasted on the corpse relishing in their feral nature.
"Exactly where are we now?" The African American Boyd asked.
Curiosity drifted through the group. The pack had been traveling for weeks killing and feasting on the locals until their shaman Peter had foretold of a great prophecy that needed to be fulfilled in this current town. The older gentleman bared his wolfish fangs as blood dripped from his lips.
"Beacon Hills," he growled. "This place has great power. We must be ready for next month's blood moon."
"Why next month's moon?" Melissa McCall inquired of her lover.
"It's time we release the Kalona," grinned the older wolf.
"The Raven-Mocker?" Scott asked. His eyes smiled wickedly. "I thought he was only a legend."
"There are truth in legends, Scott," informed Peter. "Even the existence of the skin-walkers is only believed by our people. The general world knows nothing about our kind."
"What happens when we release the Kalona?" Erica twirled a strand of her hair.
"Then we will be the most powerful pack out there," laughed Peter. "No one can stop us. Scott, as the Alpha of this pack, it is your duty to ensure our survival. Embrace your destiny son."
"I will," the werewolf howled proudly. "What must we do?"
"Blend in," advised the shaman. "Our immortality grants us the benefits of youth. You, Erica, and Boyd are young enough to pass as teenagers. Enroll at the local high school and recruit more to our pack. When the blood moon occurs next month, we shall be ready with the ritual to free Kalona."
"As Peter said," noted Boyd. "Then we will be the most powerful pack to rule over all our other rivals."
"I can see myself as queen," giggled Erica.
"Get in line sister!" Melissa hissed. "Now that we're done with all this governing business, let's not waste this precious meal that we have. We should take advantage of our fresh kill."
"Mom's right," smirked Scott. "As the Alpha, I order everyone to dig in!"
And they did.
Far off in the distance, green eyes examined the scene. Five skin-walkers consuming the poor body of a dead girl they hunted and killed. It nearly made him want to wretch. Derek Hale gritted his teeth as he fought the urge to avenge the poor woman's death. The skin-walkers had no right to take the life of an innocent. Such things were forbidden by law according to the spirit of the wolf but then again skin-walkers abide by no such rules. They preferred to live outside the boundaries of the laws. Therefore, they were expected to die and Derek Hale was going to be their Grim Reaper.
As an aningan, a hunter and protector, the wolf spirit readied his rifle to snipe at their Alpha. Locking and loading the gun in his hand, he inserted the silver bullet and put on his night vision goggles. Blurred thermal images appeared on his screen as he targeted the dark haired leader of the pack with his rifle. Wrapping his finger around the trigger, he waited until the crosshairs targeted Scott's forehead and counted to ten. Then he moved his finger.
Yet Derek hesitated. Releasing his finger from the trigger, he put the rifle down next to him. Something seemed wrong with this picture. The pack would not situate themselves into this town without just cause. He needed to know more. He would have to wait. Pressing his back against the boulder in frustration, he cursed to the moon goddess housed in the evening sky.
"Hanwi, give me strength," he sighed.