UNDER THE SIGN OF THE BLOOD RED MOON
Chapter 1: GENIM
Beacon Hills.
Provincial town, the Earl of Beacon.
California.
He had never explained how the people back to the founding of the city, had given to these places, the evanescent rehash of "lighthouse hill."
Had a lot of hills.
Extensive and vast plains interspersed with forests in kilometres, that marked the beginning and the end of the boundaries between the various counties, but to call Lighthouse ...
A howl in the bush caught his eye, beyond the forest, from his high position, where he could view the city at night, with thousands of lights from the houses to keep their inhabitants safe.
He sighed, giving a last look at the bright surface dispersed in nature obscured by night ... seemed like a lighthouse, jokes of a tired mind and too many mental associations, and as he went, following the muffled sounds that reached up to his ears from the woods, followed the footsteps of his brothers up to see them.
Brothers.
He had never had in reality if not for Scott to consider it as such from the first time they met one evening at the hospital during the turn of his mother while his dying from cancer.
They had two children with the same problem but two different stories.
The cancer had taken his mother ahead of time. Retained very little of her and many photos. His father never talked about it, yet often, when the alcohol dulled the senses and the pain that he had never left.
Scott's father however, had always been a violent person, that one day he took and went, back into their lives, through lawyers, to damn his soul to the deserted wife and a son who was martyred.
Both had lost a parent in one way or another and had always known that it was still devastating, irreparable.
Now, however, Scott was not the only ... and some shrewish sister in the middle.
Jackson, on which even would not have bet a penny, it was revealed to be the sweetest person and insecure, he had ever met under the shield of false arrogance and determination to make real proud of their adoptive parents.
A bitter smile escaped his lips.
Perhaps he too, also that brother, suffered, as did Scott and him.
Do not remember them all but he did not know what was involved. You could be sick without remembering someone who has forsaken me? He had always tried not'd have to think after the long nights to let him talk about his uncontrollable need to have the answers, confirmations, which was a good boy, that would make proud all and did not deserve to be abandoned again.
'Laugh?' The question of Scott made him shake his head in denial.
'No. .. you know, it would be strange for you, given the occasion.' Jackson interjected doubtfully reached it with Scott.
'Yeah, I think.' Howling said high and mighty hidden by a black coat at night, hearing a cry to join his brothers to his.
They ran through the woods, avoiding trees, brush and leaving the hunt for another time.
That night, no.
That night I had to remember those no longer with them.
When they reached the plain of the forest stood. The house loomed eerie chill in the air, although no longer a mass ruined by the flames.
Despite the lights inside and wait for them to live appearances on the input, the car parked a few feet from the porch.
Lydia Allison intent and a few nodded without a word, overwhelmed by the seriousness of the encounter.
'Found it difficult to be able to come?' Church fixes.
'My are not too involved in the divorce, regardless of where I sleep.' Replied the blonde, running a hand through his hair bob.
'Lydia ...' He whispered so irritated by dementia.
'Genim?' Allison called him, distracting him from the other to want to chew, a finger.
'Yes?'
'My father phoned his, telling him that she was to me in the night.' Solved up closer to them with a backpack in hand.
'Chris has not had anything to say? 'Churches to reassure her that she could stay, she was welcome.
'No, and even if he should come to terms with.' Said, placing the small individual candles on the steps of the porch.
'In fact, sends you greetings and words of condolence.' Lydia did, touching his arm, while he followed Snow White, like Scott, the apostrophe sometimes sweet, light the candles.
A new revived bitter smile on his face.
He had to correct himself. A sister and an enchanted vixen sister.
Allison and Lydia were part of the package even if it had never been bitten. They did not have a choice, not even wanting to. He would have prevented, at the risk of suicide.
Lydia grabbed his arm before leaving to go to Jackson kissing up and lean on the hood of the Argent.
Lydia Martin.
She had a crush on her since third grade.
After the incident with Peter Hale where he had been almost torn to pieces had survived but had become a werewolf.
Lydia had become something more than what she was staying, human.
The dark side that had been aroused, ancestral, which made it a formidable enemy and a strong ally, ever, but his own personal gain.
Invaluable friend, in the broadest sense, but above all, material of the word. The gain was not so low as to pay them on time.
Allison was raised by Scott and jokingly brought to sit further back on the pile of wood around.
Allison.
A mixture of conscience, warmth, torn between what he loved, Scott and what had to, to follow the family.
Allison was the daughter of a werewolf hunters for generations and generations. Once she had shown him a book containing their story leading to the legend, but before becoming a werewolf, a lot of things for him were legends.
Chris, his father was always supervise them despite the truce that now prevailed. He could not consider it a total stupid or arrogant. Their nature was wild, uncontrolled, if not from fluctuating phases of their heavenly woman, the Moon.
He took a deep breath, the breath always needed, when commemorating the night, the fire of the Hale family.
A family burned alive who had brought enormous consequences in their lives. Had produced so many misfortunes, feuds over the death of an entire family, who had grandparents, mothers, parents, children, cousins.
Deaths that weighed about Allison and Chris because of Kate.
A sister lost in his own madness to exterminate what was secret, which really made her afraid of crowds. A madness that has swept away, with years of irrational murders that no longer follow the ancient code of the hunters.
An aunt who had raised a young nephew in the purity and happiness to make it sink into his twisted nightmare of their nature.
Chris knew it.
Allison knew.
It was unbearable to carry on their shoulders.
'It's time to go, we all have something to do tomorrow.' He said when the air became too cold and wet, even for them. The girls trembled for hours and had barricades in the silent machines.
'Genim, the candles? Do you want them to stay on? ' Jackson asked, approaching the porch. It was a recurring question that the appellant deserved response.
'Turn off and Allison. A fire was more than enough. ' He said, exchanging glances with all starting in the woods. The car was Allison and Lydia slept with her.
Would be safe until the route home. Scott and Jackson were not left alone, then they ran home after a quick kiss and a grimace of Christopher.
He heard the voices of radio service center before being in the line of sight of the plant. He entered, saluting Florance at the reception, passing the calls as fast as ever.
'Stiles?' He entered the sheriff's office in that whisper surprised.
'Hey Dad, you're the only one who still calls me that ... I do not know whether to be raised or rehashing the much-hated high school years well. ' He answered with a grim look out the windows.
'What brings you here?' Her father asked as he closed the door.
'Today is the anniversary of the fire, made me want to come and see you before you go to the hospital. Are you all right? ' Churches remain near the exit, feeling the length of the irregular heartbeat of his father and sad surprise on the face paint.
'Yes, anything suspicious, as much now, thankfully. The boys were with you? ' Churches saw him smile.
'Wow, Dad. I bet that when they ask, you say you still have a baby, waiting for you at home. ' He joked quietly.
'You'll be always the Stiles who was thrown from the roof of the house after having imitated the construction of a machine Da Vinci believed to fly.' Snapped apparently serene.
'That summer I broke both legs.' Commented ashamed of that as the escalation of all the stupid things he did as a child. He spent August on a wheelchair with Scott who shuttled around the city.
'You did the bat mobile and Scott was your mechanic.' Is once laughed and he was happy, but now he must go.
'Even if, now, I could not go breaking my legs. I go Dad. I want to go to the hospital and tomorrow I have an exam in college, I just can not miss. ' He said, bowing out of the station and, even more cold air meeting, walking towards the hospital.
His father knew.
It was necessary, how to say it to Scott's mother.
After Derek had become the alpha, rather than quieten things were exploded, breaking into pieces irreparable.
As if the biting Jackson, by Derek had not been dictated by the madness needs to get back a bunch of wolves.
As if the arrival of Kate's grandfather, had not led to a war in the open air, among the forests of Beacon Hills and Christopher Argent alliance to prevent a new craze driven by the deep pain of losing a daughter.
He still remembered so clearly when the unthinkable happened.
The hunters in the woods, the herd to escape quickly, agents, and his father among the factions, in a mixture of chaos that was still indescribable.
Some nights he swore again to feel the sting of those bullets in his stomach like coals.
The screaming of Allison and Scott in finding him hovering between life and death.
His father shook him in a panic.
Derek towering over them to wipe them out and spread on the grass smelling fast and ask her father if she wanted him to live, even if it would make more wild, less human.
His father had chosen well. Although the prospect of becoming a werewolf was always an open question for him and doubtful since the days of Peter, did not want to die. He had always wanted to live to honour the gift of life that his mother had done.
Allison's grandfather was finally stopped by his son in the impetus of the innocent death. He dug up the codes, charges, and that being a butcher was not hunting them as defenders of humanity.
It had reached a truce, sanctioned by the last bite that Derek had given the alpha.
Derek
Entering the emergency room, Scott's mother greeted him sadly. She remembered the anniversary, she remembered everything as if it were yesterday the day that his son had gone ashen-faced, covered with dirt and blood, with Chris and Allison had told her everything.
'How are you?' Churches returning the hug he received.
'Steady, as yesterday. As always. ' She whispered, taking him to that room immersed in the scents of aseptic medicines disinfectants and detergents.
'I stand for a while, do you mind?' Another common question. There were still many, many others.
'Exit entry?' The woman asked. Here's another. Almost a cliché, perhaps it was, certainly was.
'No, do not worry. Tomorrow is a busy day. ' Responded politely indicating the window. It was not even that high, not that made any difference.
She left after a kiss on the cheek and close to the arm.
A slight tingling, walked away the ghost of that bite on the shoulder, when he sat on the couch next to unsuspecting patients.
The body traversed by needles, the breathing, the stomach tube, the catheter.
It was almost unbearable to watch.
The pallor of the skin, once tanned, twisted the entrails like every time I was there.
'I know you wake up, it's just a matter of time.' Whispered like every night since that night.
'Peter drive was ten years out of the coma.' Continued even knowing or hoping that this time was the right time to have a sigh in response.
'I'll wait for you there even if you put twenty. Even if I stay all life in this remote desert town in California. '
He stared at the motionless eyelids nearly covered by the mask of the respirator. Two deep dark gray circles, and even unhealthy.
It took five years to clear from the purple black had travelled.
It was his fault.
We had to wait and they did not have the time and ... there was no time for second thoughts and he had to do was load of responsibility that he had never considered.
'I know you hate me when you wake up. Even if you give me ravenous ... you have every right. ' He continued that it was decided he had to go.
Anger had taken the body as soon as he jumped from the window and was running in the isolated roads to get home.
The growl was spat out in frustration and his eyes burned with the change.
Had no choice.
He had not had.
It was not even two months of beta.
Derek
Their relationship in the package was different from the beginning.
He was talented, addressed him as sourly - when he asked hauntingly any time of day - not to give total satisfaction to be a beta better than Scott.
But when he had to start talking about the wolf that had become, still seemed so unreal to have more control over his wolf like Jackson and Scott would not have ever done.
A matter of instinct.
He had, and had become his second, a valuable advisor.
A second, who had betrayed his alpha, in the worst way.
Stealing the title, the herd, the membership.
As he ran he remembered the past.
The moments in which everything had gotten out of hand and they had decreed it.
That pack of wild wolves. Migration, which denigrated humans and fed on them.
Their alpha was scary, adult, experience and Derek was strong, but just to master all that power, and had been crushed by both.
The Argent had not been able to do anything at that age. They had lost men, resources, and although young, their herd was the only window of opportunity to get out.
But Derek had fallen under the assault. The other alpha had torn, cracked his head and after the race crowd in clinic the veterinarian, the head of Scott, the decision was irrevocable.
He was alive, but he was in a coma and his body sewn effort.
The power of alpha would help but not knowing when, had impregnated with fear all the wolves and the flock migrating to reap even in the woods and in town.
What to do? What to do?
Lydia proposed the most sensationally stupid, brilliant idea that now, he realized at the time, they could put into practice.
If they did not want Derek to kill the power of alpha, had only one choice.
But who?
Scott? He still did not accept to be a wolf, let alone a leader of the pack.
Jackson? By nature he did not feel up to it, despite the qualities he possessed and would only be turned against itself, destroying it.
Him
Stiles Stilinski.
To say that he jumped at the throat of Lydia would have been little if Scott and Jackson had not stopped.
Christopher Argent was even agree ... was not stupid. There was always a gain for the Family Silver.
An alpha-teen, and more impractical, was eliminated before a beta, but that became alpha was always a wolf.
When he was bitten, was a night of red moon.
Derek had told him the legends and traditions.
According to the ancestral believe people are born under a red moon is a right Alfa or a future Alfa.
Derek and Laura were born under the same moon, but Laura was the eldest of the family and that his death had left him no right to intercede, but because her sister, because larger, because he did not feel ready yet.
"A beta must kill an Alpha to become in turn ..." Lydia had pronounced the words of fire in his brain and mocked his sense of guilt, like a slow motion always ready to turn in a circle on his thoughts.
"If you choke up to kill him, we can revive him. We have to try Stiles. If you choose the power of alpha, as it should, Derek will return to being a beta and can still heal. It will take longer, but will wake up"
They had done.
Derek brought to the hospital, in one of the most remote rooms, organized everything and had tightened his hands around her neck.
So strong and so tight for a moment when he stopped breathing, that he feared he had broken his neck.
The euphoria that had hit him making him the highest hierarchical positions made ?him long and loud growl, stopping only when the pulse by electrocardiogram Derek had resumed regular reporting.
That night there was a murder without any comparison.
He remembered having broken and torn limbs and heads too paste with himself for that gesture.
When all was quiet that night, with the grass that smelled blood and pain transpired Stiles was dead and was born from the ashes Genim.
He stopped growling.
Howling at the dark night.
Showing their teeth
and
red eyes wide.
Genim, Alpha Beacon Hills ..
End of Part One.