The Banshee and the She-Wolf
1.
The moon hung fat and swollen on the horizon like the sky had given birth to a dim, red sun. The blood moon. A full moon. The moon rose after a perfect Southern Californian sunset, and the pastel rainbow sky left from the setting sun served as a deceptively scenic backdrop. The lights from the small town of Beacon Hills glimmered in a basin as families sat down to dinner. Well, not every family, Alison thought, gazing down at the fading lights. Above in the pine hills, unseen danger lurked. All those people below…unaware of the monsters that walked among them…all the monsters that came out during the full moon.
Werewolves. Tonight, she'd come out to hunt them.
The only problem was, they hunted her, too.
They'd never won before…not until tonight. Grimacing, Allison gripped her bloody arm. Swallowing hard, she lifted her fingers, revealing canine puncture marks. She was an Argent and trained by her family to fight these monsters, not to become one of them. Yet, she had the bite.
A howl went up in the forest, and Allison started. The wind picked up her ponytail, blowing it out like streamers behind her. A few strands of hair blew into her mouth, but Allison didn't notice. Her gaze fixed on the forest, and each beat of her heart pumped more blood out of the bite wound. Her blood leaked between her fingers, and Allison shuddered.
If she went back to the hunt now, her family would know. If they knew she had the bite…the Argents weren't a forgiving family. Hunters typically weren't, especially towards werewolves. Yet, if she ran, she'd be a coward. She'd never abandoned a hunt before, and she struggled to lay aside her pride. In her heart, Allison knew she didn't have the strength to keep hunting, either. She couldn't hold her bow, and if she came across that thing again...
It's red, glowing eyes blazed in her mind. There had been a pair, but she'd noticed the alpha too late. It had snuck up behind her. The werewolf had been cunning, and they'd hunted in a pack. She had thought her family had corned the alpha, and she'd drawn off one of the betas.
When her phone buzzed, Allison fumbled for it with blood-slicked fingers. Drawing a sharp inhale to dull the pain, Allison tapped the screen. Whoever it was…whatever it said…that would decide where she'd go and what she'd do.
She spared a brief glance for the moon. Even if she didn't turn tonight, she was one of them now—she was a werewolf.
Earlier that day…
Allison's first week at Beacon Hills High School went by like a hazy dream. She'd transferred high schools before—four of them, not counting Beacon Hills, which was her fifth high school alone. Until high school, she'd been home schooled by her mom, Victoria, who was a licensed teacher. She could read several languages—English, French, Latin, German, and Spanish—and speak all of them with some fluency. She'd spent part of her childhood in France, so French had actually been her first language for a time. Her family, the Argents, descended from a long line of French hunters, and Allison considered that her heritage.
Of course, her mom's curriculum included more than literature, math, science, and history. While her mom prepared her for life in the non-supernatural world, she also taught Allison about the things that went bump-in-the-night. She'd spent her formative school years studying her family's bestiary and other texts on monsters. Were creatures and chimeras were the most common, but other strange and deadly monsters existed. If humanity ever had a myth about it, some form of that monster had existed. They didn't always follow the prescribed stories, but some version of the supernatural truth leaked into the normal world.
While her mom taught her the theory and the history about what they hunted, her dad taught her the practical, physical reality of going on a hunt. And it was brutal. Her dad taught her how to shoot both bow and guns. Against a monster, distance was her friend. If she couldn't bring it down from afar, she'd need to employ hand-to-hand combat. Her dad taught her how to handle a knife, too. If she lost her knife, she could wrestle and employ mixed martial arts techniques. Of course, Allison hoped she never had to get that close to any monster, and she'd only had to draw her knife once on a hunt.
"Psst, Allison," Lydia whispered and poked her in the side with a pen. Allison blinked and turned her eyes away from the window. She'd blanked out again, staring into the distant parking lot.
"Hmm?" Allison asked.
Lydia mouthed, "Dr. Harris asked you a question."
Whipping her head around, Allison gave the sour-faced Mr. Harris an earnest and apologetic smile. On any other teacher, it might've won her a brief reprieve, but not with her chemistry teacher. Mr. Harris's flat gaze cut right through her, and Allison understood how other students were scared of him. Hell, she faced down monsters and still felt small in his condescending presence that seemed to make her intelligence wilt like flowers in the summer, desert heat.
"I know you lot think the weekend starts on Thursday now," Mr. Harris drawled, "but we have twenty minutes left in class. Miss Argent, I asked you how many valence electrons Phosphorus has."
Allison shot a quick glance at the periodic table. "Umm…five."
"Could you come to the board and draw the binding pattern for PO3-?"
The chair screeched like the scream of someone being strangled when Allison pushed it back. Mr. Harris handed her a marker, and she approached the whiteboard. Allison kept her face purposefully blank, but she ducked her head, putting on an act of embarrassment. Mr. Harris sent people to the board alone when he wanted to make an example of someone he thought didn't respect him. He hadn't asked her something difficult, and she was new, but if she acted like he'd punished her, he was more likely to leave her alone in the future.
Play the damsel, Allison, she told herself as she drew the chemical structure. She took her time, but when she turned away from the board, she knew her answer was correct. Mr. Harris scrutinized it, drawing out the tension, and Allison let her shoulders sink and fidgeted like she wasn't sure if she'd gotten it right.
"You may sit," Mr. Harris said, and Allison shuffled back to her seat. Lydia gave her a pitying look, but Mr. Harris moved onto other students. All of them, Allison noted, paid a bit more attention after her 'humiliation'.
When the bell rang, Allison snatched her back and trailed after Lydia. Their last class of the day—Allison allowed herself a little smile.
"You coming to Danny's party tomorrow?" Lydia asked, leaning against the lockers.
If it was tonight, she would have had to say no because it was the full moon tonight. However, tomorrow night was a different situation. "I don't know how my parents would feel about it," Allison said truthfully. At her old schools, she hadn't stayed long enough to make many friends. Sure, she'd gone to the movies, skating, or to the mall with new friends eventually, but she'd never quite fit in. She'd always been shy, and until a recent trip to the dermatologist, she had horrible, pizza-faced acne.
A social whirlwind like Lydia had never adopted her on the first day of school, either. What possessed the vivacious red-head to notice her, Allison couldn't fathom. Maybe it was her skin. It had really cleared up in the last several months.
Lydia frowned at a chipped nail, but she shot Allison a coy look. "Tell them what I tell my mom—we're going to watch some movies and swim in Danny's pool. They'll be snacks. You'll be home before midnight. Those things are true. Just lie through omission."
Allison sighed, but her stomach twisted in discomfort. "I'm usually honest with my parents."
"Are you a born again Christian?" Lydia asked, arching an eyebrow. She tapped at her book with little, nervous insect-like clicks from her manicured nails. "I won't be offended if you are, but I didn't think you struck me as the type."
"I'm not," Allison said, slamming her locker. "I was homeschooled, though, so I'm used to having a very open and honest relationship with my parents."
With a pouty sigh, Lydia asked, "So that's a no to Danny's?"
Allison shrugged and stuffed her books into her bag. "No, it's not a no. I'll ask, but I can't guarantee I'll be able to go."
"It won't be too crazy," Lydia said, pushing off from the wall. "Danny doesn't host ragers, but it'll be fun. Promise."
Allison shrugged, feeling more embarrassed declining Lydia's invitation than she had in any of Mr. Harris's classes. The back of her neck heated—she wasn't used to having a social life. Wake-up, Allison, she told herself. She didn't have a social life now. Being a hunter left little room for parties. She didn't know how to make small-talk. 'Hey, killed anything lately?' didn't go over well with other teens.
Lydia's irritation faded back into her face and didn't even leave a wrinkle in her make-up. With a subtle head tilt, Lydia indicated Allison should follow her out to her car. Shouldering her pack, Allison walked in Lydia's wake while she cut her way through the crowded hallway like a boat cutting across waves. People moved for Lydia because she expected them to.
They didn't move for Allison, which is how she ran into a boy with a buzz cut.
"Oh, sorry!" Allison said, catching herself and swerving around another boy to avoid a second collision. "My bad!"
"No, it's definitely his bad," the tall boy with curly hair said. He gave Allison a small, half-grin.
"Yeah, what a clutz," the buzz cut boy said, picking up the books he'd dropped. "Man, I put another crack in my phone screen, too."
Allison opened her mouth to say it was fine, but Lydia stepped up beside her. "Really, Stiles? I have SAT tutoring tonight and can't be late, and my mom wants me to have dinner with my aunt afterward."
"I didn't know you were that busy," Allison said, turning to Lydia. "I can take the bus, really."
Lydia grimaced, wrinkling her nose like she'd just smelled garbage. "Allison, no one rides the bus anymore. It's gross, smells like feet, and takes forever to get home."
"Hey, I ride the bus," the curly haired boy said, shooting Lydia a miffed look. Lydia shot him a helpless, one-shouldered shrug that didn't imply that she was the least bit sorry about her blunt opinion.
"I'll give you a ride," the buzz cut boy said and stuck out his hand. "I'm Stiles, and this is Scott."
Allison shifted her books into her left arm. She took his sweaty hand and gave a little smile. His introduction felt very formal, but she'd gotten used to being around grown-ups, so she didn't think much of it. Lydia cocked an eyebrow, shooting Stiles a glance like she'd found him stuck to her shoe like a wad of gum. Lydia glanced back at Allison and said, "Look, I've made time to take you home, so if you don't want to ride with him—"
"It'll be fine," Allison said, giving Lydia a tight yet bright smile. Allison didn't want to ditch Lydia, who'd given her rides all week because they lived less than five minutes apart, but she really didn't want to inconvenience her new…friend? Acquaintance? What was Lydia to her?
Another friend destined to be added online and forgotten when she moved away, Allison thought. She pushed those dark thoughts down and kept a smile plastered on her face.
"You're busy, and I can ride with…Stiles?" Allison wanted to sound confident, but it came out as a question. Real cool, Allison. Way to make friends.
As if she wasn't acting like a home-schooled introvert, Stiles grinned at her, nodding towards the parking lot. "Sweet. All I've got on the schedule tonight is playing video games and smoking weed."
Lydia narrowed her eyes. "Isn't your dad the sheriff?"
"It's called the woods," Stiles snapped.
Allison's shoulders tensed, and her shoulder blades felt like they'd risen into her ears. "Not tonight," both Allison and Scott said together.
Whipping her head, Allison shot Scott a dagger-piercing glare. For the first time this week, her teenage girl act fell away. Scott caught her knife-sharp glance and physically flinched away from her. Taking a breath, Allison pulled her innocent mask across her face like a curtain falling. Instead of a trained hunter, she scrunched up and gave a sheepish, teenaged-girl shrug. Yet, she knew by Scott's worried gaze that he'd seen too much of her real self. Drat. Hopefully, he wouldn't think too much about her little slip-up.
"I've just heard there've been animal attacks in the forest," Allison said. "Didn't you hear about the missing hikers last month?"
"Yeah, but people always go missing in the mountains," Stiles said, shrugging. "Besides, my dad's the sheriff. He'd let me know if there were any serious criminal activity around Beacon Hills right now."
Scott cleared his throat. "I mean…I've heard there's been a lot of mountain lions around lately. Lots of missing pets, too. We've had lots of people come into Dr. Deaton's office looking for them and posting pictures around town. Haven't you seen them?"
"Yes," Allison said a bit too quickly. "I've definitely seen them. Besides…it's the full moon. Animals are supposed to be more active then, too. Something about gravity and tides."
Lydia let out a dramatic sigh. "What website did you read that nonsense on? Besides, Stiles, if you want to smoke, just come to Danny's tomorrow."
"I mean, duh, but my dad is on patrol tonight," Stiles said, but when Allison shot him a pleading look, Stiles sighed. "I don't get why you're so worked up by this but fine. No smoking for Stiles tonight."
Lydia rolled her eyes, but Allison caught the subtle deflation of Scott's chest and shoulders. Allison kept her gaze down, refusing to meet his stare. He knew about the full moon…about werewolves. How did he know? She wasn't certain, but he'd pressured Stiles too much about not going out tonight for it to be a friendly coincidence. Maybe he didn't know about werewolves, but he knew something, Allison thought. She didn't dare talk to him about it now. She'd have to approach him carefully. It wasn't common for normal people to know about the supernatural, but if werewolves were around—and there definitely was a pack in Beacon Hills—normal people sometimes got wise to the supernatural presence in their lives.
He could be a supernatural creature himself. That would complicate things. Allison's stomach squirmed. For Scott's sake, she hoped he wasn't a wolf or else they'd meet in the woods tonight. It wouldn't go well for him.
That would be her life, though—making a friend and then having to kill him.
"See you tomorrow, then," Lydia said.
"Yeah, I've got work to do, too," Allison said. She strode towards the parking lot and kept pace with Lydia. She'd have to wait for Stiles, but she didn't want to hang around Scott anymore. Anything to get away from the prickling between her shoulder blades.
In the parking lot, Allison stopped beside Lydia's car. Unburdening her arms, Lydia tossed her bag, purse, and books in before turning back to Allison. Turning to Allison, Lydia gave her a pitying look. "You don't have to go with Stiles just because you feel bad. He's just going to try and hit on you, you know."
Allison let out a shaky laugh. She'd kissed two guys before, and both times, it had been awkward. The one guy that planted a mistimed kiss on her during a movie had looked like Stiles's doppelganger. Her insides shriveled like they'd gone pruney in the cold. Just thinking about that slobbery kiss dampened any excitement for flirting.
"I think I'll be fine," Allison said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. She shot a glance back towards the school. Stiles walked out of the building, waved to her, and pointed several rows over from where Lydia parked. "It's a friendly thing. I think he'll take a hint."
Lydia snorted. "That boy? Good luck."
Allison gave Lydia a hapless smile. With a wave, Allison said, "See you tomorrow."
"Yeah, yeah, ask your parents about Danny's party!"
Even while smiling, Allison let out a tiny sigh. She didn't really care about Danny's party, but it seemed to mean a lot to Lydia that she go. This felt different than when other new friends had asked her to hang out from obligation. Lydia actually seemed earnest about ensuring Allison pursued a social life. After patrolling the woods tonight, she allowed herself the sinful thought that she might want some fun tomorrow. She didn't want to be a socially-stunted shut-in all her life, either. Beacon Hills was as good of a time as any to get out and meet people.
And that would start with riding home with Stiles.
"Ready?" Stiles said, opening the door to his blue Jeep. It couldn't be more than ten years old, but Stiles had already put a series of dents in the right side.
"We have a new Jeep Sahara," Allison said, hoping in the front seat and dropping her books on her lap.
Stiles's eyebrows raised, and Allison fidgeted with the strap on her bag. She recognized that needy gleam of hope in Stiles's eyes. They had something in common now…well, shit. No problem…keep it casual, Allison told herself. She could just be friends with a boy—even a horny, teenage boy over-eager to give her a ride home.
Stiles slammed the door and started the engine. "So your family's loaded then? Sahara's aren't cheap."
"My dad works for the forest service," Allison said. It wasn't a total lie. When her dad wasn't working a job—a highly illegal one involving supernatural assassination—he took local jobs in conservation as his cover. Having a member of the family that had an excuse to always be out in the woods served as a convenient alibi when monitoring werewolf activity. Allison planned to follow in his footsteps as she enjoyed the outdoors herself.
"Neat," Stiles said. "Where do you live?"
Allison gave him her address, and Stiles popped it into his phone. "Other side of town from me," he muttered, slamming on the horn. The blond boy in the Porsche that cut Stiles off also flipped him off. Stiles returned the gesture.
"Jackass," he muttered and cut out of the parking lot, peeling away from the school.
Settling back into the worn seats, which had a déjà vu sense of comfort, Allison stared out the window at the ranch houses set on regimented plots of land with questionably alive grass. The drought hit Beacon Hills hard this year, and while Allison's family had rented a house with natural, desert landscaping, many of their neighbors still kept up the futile fight against nature and tried to keep a grassy lawn. The water restriction ordinances that her dad told her to happen would make their vein neighbors' goal of a manicured lawn doubly difficult.
"So, you enjoying little, old Beacon Hills?" Stiles asked, rubbing the back of his head nervously.
Allison shrugged. "We haven't been here long…two weeks for me. A month for my dad. This is my first week in school."
Several months ago, her dad received a tip about an active werewolf pack in the Southern California mountains. With a frown, her dad had said, 'Beacon Hills…has to be. Thought they left that town years ago. It's stupid to go back there, but monsters work on instinct.'
He'd gone back and scouted, confirming the reports. There had been people that had gone missing around the town, but that wasn't all. Her dad had found tracks and other subtle traces of werewolf activity. He'd called them and said, 'There's a pack back in that town. They've probably killed people, but they're operating further into the wilderness this time. They're laying low, but they've definitely come back. Why and how many…can't say.'
'I thought they were taken care of last time?' her mom had said while Allison listened intently over her shoulder.
'We missed some,' her dad said, voice heavy and tinged with the smoky hint of danger. 'How they got away in the fire…I don't know.'
'They can't do it twice,' her mom said. 'I'll put out the word. There can't be that many. It should be a quick job.'
"Allison? Allison?" Stiles asked.
Blinking and shaking away her thoughts of the upcoming hunt, Allison gave Stiles a bright yet subtly tight-lipped smile. "Sorry. Mind just wondered. What did you say?"
"Just asked if you were going to try out for any teams," Stiles said. "It's a bit late into the season, but if you're good, they'll probably take you. You seem athletic."
Allison's laugh loosed itself from a genuine place in her gut. "I am. I run, but I'm not that fast. I used to play football…err, soccer, too."
"Cool…cool," Stiles said, running a hand over his head again. Allison fought the urge to grab his hand and slam it back on the steering wheel. "I play lacrosse. Well, I mostly bench warm for lacrosse, but sometimes I play…when a starter gets injured. I was too slow for soccer."
Allison tried to form her lips into a reassuring smile, although the frown on Stiles's lips made her think she'd failed. "I'm sure you're a fine player," Allison said.
"You don't have to patronize me," Stiles muttered.
She rolled her eyes. "I'm not…I'm just…home-schooled."
And she killed monsters in the woods at night. That dampened her social skills, too. At least she didn't have to try and be smooth around Stiles, who was someone less adept at talking to people than she was. While Allison found she could barely speak at all, Stiles seemed unable to stop himself.
"Man, I can't even imagine being home-schooled by my dad," Stiles said. "He's the sheriff, so he's over-worked, but I have a police radio at home, so at least I know what's going on. He doesn't like that I listen, but what else am I supposed to do? There are not too many dangerous things in Beacon Hills beyond wildlife, robberies, the occasional drifter, and some arson. I guess that's a lot, though."
Allison nodded, but something had sparked in her mind. She asked, "Has your dad heard anything about the missing hikers?"
Stiles shrugged. "No, not his jurisdiction. They went missing on federal land, but he has their pictures. They weren't even in Beacon Hills before they went missing. They're from up around Sacramento."
"Oh," Allison said, filing that information away for later. Having an in at the sheriff's office might be useful later. Her dad had stressed the importance of canvassing the local community and using its resources.
'Sometimes normal people stumble across things they can't explain, but you can,' he'd said. 'They could have valuable information for us. Keeping a pulse on the locals is a valuable skill to have.'
Stiles pulled into her driveway, and Allison opened the door. She hopped out of the jeep, making sure not to linger. She didn't want to give Stiles the impression this was anything beyond a friendly ride home. "See you tomorrow," Allison called. "Thanks for the ride!"
"Yeah, no problem," Stiles said, slamming the door behind her. Allison opened the door to the house, dropping her bag and books on the counter. Once inside, the timid school girl act fell away, and she let her face relax. At home, she didn't have to worry about acting a certain way—talking too little, not smiling enough, or not laughing at the right time. Around her family, she was just Allison—daughter and hunter for clan Argent.
"Hey, girl!"
Allison whirled around, and a big grin spread over her face. The tall, athletic blond woman strolled from the living room and threw open her arms. Allison rushed forward and threw herself into the hug.
"Kate!" Allison said, stuffing her face into Kate's thick hair. "I didn't know if you'd come."
"I was in the area," her aunt said. Kate pushed Allison back and gazed into her face. Kate took her hand and measured the difference in height between them. When she moved her hand from the crown of Allison's head into the center of her forehead, Kate's eyebrows shot up. "Damn, Allison, you got tall."
"She takes after her father."
Allison gave her dad a crooked grin. He still wore his forest service uniform, which meant he'd been up in the mountains scouting during the day. However, no other forest service ranger Allison knew carried a crossbow slung over his shoulder.
"Anyone else in town?" Kate asked, glancing over at her older brother.
Chris shook his head. "No one yet. I came across two sets of tracks, but there might be a third that's covering itself well. The two are fresh, which means they're shifting around the full moon regularly."
Kate's gaze hardened. "They've had no one to fear…until now."
Chris nodded, casting a gaze between Kate and Allison. "They'll just be the four of us out there tonight—the three of us and Victoria. We'll have to be careful. We know the previous alpha was killed, but that doesn't make betas or omegas any less dangerous."
"Then we need to set some traps," Kate said, crossing her arms.
Stroking his chin, her dad frowned. "I don't think they know we're in town yet. We have one hunt where we might be able to take them unawares, but I'm not against having some nets ready to slow them down."
"I'll change and get my bow," Allison said. She raced upstairs and stripped out of the cute blouse and jeans she'd worn to school. Allison put on an old, tattered pair of jeans and a loose t-shirt and jacket she felt comfortable shooting in. From under her bed, she pulled out her bow case. With a grin, she pictured telling Stiles that this was the sport she really did. She shot things—and she did it well.
Allison lugged her bow case downstairs where her dad, mom, and aunt readied their own supplies. Allison's heart leaped. She hadn't hunted with Kate since her first hunts when she'd been a novice. Of course, she wasn't a fully-fledged hunter yet, but she'd come along way in earning her family's trust the last several years. Tonight, she could forget about all the things she did in the normal world to blend in. Tonight, she got to hunt.