ISLEWORTH

CHAPTER FOUR

THE NIGHT WATCH

Ava and I spent about an hour at Waffle House, Googling lycanthropy on our phones and trading information we found. We mutually decided not to trust Wikipedia, but beyond that, it was difficult to find anything we agreed on. I personally liked websites based around mythological creatures—I knew all of them, I browsed them on the daily—but Ava wasn't sure she could trust them. She preferred collegiate websites; but there were hardly any, and the ones that were there only shared information that could be proven.

Long story made slightly shorter: we didn't find much information that could help us, or my brother. We only discovered that Scott would have to transform into a werewolf himself and have some trial runs before we could really know anything.

Usually we both liked arriving at parties fashionably late, but I knew my brother would be there a bit earlier. We left in order to make it to the party about the same time he and Allison likely would. I tried texting him a couple of times—notably our last texting interaction had been last August, when he'd asked where the car keys were—but he didn't answer. Either he was busy with Allison or he was busy morphing into a crazed wolf-man-child.

Lydia threw the best parties in the grade, as upperclassmen on Yearbook liked to tell me. Jackson Whittemore was the only other one who could give her a run for her money, and that was only because his parents were stupidly rich. Lydia, on the other hand, was a generally good hostess, and she always made the rounds herself, chatting with people and offering drinks.

Her house was a large, sprawling affair in one of the wealthier neighborhoods on the edge of town. I'd been there a few times before, but somehow her house still managed to impress me every time. As far as I knew Lydia just lived with her mother; I didn't know what they needed all the extra room for. The aesthetic, probably.

Ava and I parked along the street, a couple of houses back from Lydia's. Then we walked alongside the other cars already there, following the curve of the street toward Lydia's driveway. Even as we walked up more people parked on the other side of the street; and there was a startling amount of people here already.

"Damn," said Ava, glancing around at the other guests. "It might be hard to find Scott in this."

"Not if he's turning into a wolf," I answered. I looked up briefly at the sky overhead. There were wispy clouds floating by now, and the wind was picking up a little. Still the full moon managed to shed an impressive amount of milky light.

Ava and I parted after we headed up the brick steps into the house. She decided to work her way through the living room to see if she could find Scott there, and I took the other half of the first floor, heading for the dining room and the kitchen. In the dining room I found Cara Wilson and Hannah Beckett standing around the punch bowl. "Hey," I said as I wandered over to join them. Both of them were on Yearbook with me.

Cara and Hannah turned toward me and smiled. "Hi, Kalyn," said Cara. Hannah greeted me at the same time. Cara turned to pluck up a plastic cup from the table, and then she poured some of the pink punch into it. "Here you go," Cara said, handing the glass to me.

I accepted it and sniffed it. "What's in it?"

"Vodka," said Hannah matter-of-factly. She turned to hold out her own plastic cup toward Cara, who obligingly poured her some more punch. "But not enough, let me tell you." She took her refilled cup back from Cara and sipped it; then she turned to look around briefly. "Who are you here with tonight?" she asked me.

I glanced back, like I might be able to see Ava over my shoulder. "Ava Ruiz," I supplied. Cara and Hannah nodded. "Anything interesting happen yet?"

"Well, the music sucked until Tucker took over," remarked Cara. She was referring to Tucker Logan, one of my two or three most-hated people in the universe. I must have made some sort of face because Cara and Hannah both snickered. "Come on," Cara said, nudging me with her elbow. "He isn't that bad."

"He's pretty bad, Care," said Hannah. She turned back toward me, blue eyes wide. "But that's not interesting. Caitlin Moody already went upstairs with Michael Sherwood."

I raised my eyebrows. "It's only nine o'clock!"

"It's never too early for Caitlin," said Cara.

I rubbed my temple. I was really quite uninterested in senior class drama. "Well," I said, taking a step back, "I'm trying to find someone, so I'll see you two around." I nodded at both of them. "Don't drink and drive. Or text."

Cara laughed, and Hannah nodded seriously back at me. "See you around, Kalyn," called Cara, as I turned around and walked away. In a couple of seconds there were a few Briarcliff kids between us. I managed to take a quick look around the dining room—no Scott, or Stiles, or Allison—before I turned back to pay attention to where I was going.

On my way into the kitchen I set my untouched plastic cup aside on a little decorative table. I had no interest whatsoever in drinking of any kind. I had learned long ago there wasn't much point in arguing with people, or trying to explain why; instead I usually just accepted the bottle or the glass and dumped it out later, or passed it off to someone else.

The kitchen was crowded with various jocks playing beer pong. I found Matt Daehler leaning against the counter by the sink, drinking punch and watching with faint amusement. "Hey Matt," I said when I arrived. I turned to lean against the marble-topped counter beside him.

Matt glanced over at me. "Hey," he replied. Then he made a show of looking around. "No Stiles to drag you away this time."

"He was having a crisis," I said, waving one hand dismissively. Matt snorted. "Who's winning?"

"Well, not Hughes, that's for sure," said Matt. He was referring to Brian Hughes, a junior on the lacrosse team. Brian already looked remarkably tipsy and, as I watched with increasing skepticism, he missed magnificently and had to chug. "Yeah," Matt said, after we had both watched this happen. "He's a goner."

"Did I miss the start time of this party?" I asked. "I thought Ava and I were here early."

Matt shrugged one shoulder. "Lydia just said after the scrimmage," he replied. "I think half of these people came immediately after it ended."

Speaking of the scrimmage: I needed to find my brother. "Well, I'm gonna get out of here before it gets embarrassing," I told Matt, as Dylan Moreau chugged beer, and his friends cheered him on. "See ya."

Matt echoed a similar sentiment back, and I moved on, slipping out of the kitchen and making it to a fancy sitting room. From what I'd seen nobody I was looking for had been in the kitchen. And, from what I could tell—it was dimly lit in here, and since there were couples making out I tried not to stare and ruin their moods—nobody was here, either.

At long last I reached the back of the house, and the open latticed doors that led to the backyard. There was a pool out there, and what looked like a makeshift dance floor. I hesitated for a second in the doorway and considered going back to try and find Ava in the living room. Instead I walked outside, into the blessedly cool evening air.

It was harder to find people when everyone was jumping around like idiots. I managed to crane my neck and look around for maybe a few seconds before I had to move again, to stay out of peoples' ways. I moved to the side of the dance floor without looking and slammed right into none other than Stiles Stilinski himself. "Hey, watch it!" he started; but when he turned and saw it was me he grinned. "Oh, hey, Kalyn."

"Have you seen Scott?" I asked him, as I looked back out and around.

"Yeah, he's right over there," Stiles replied. I followed his gaze and found my brother dancing with Allison. Awfully close, I noted, folding my arms. I wasn't sure how I felt about this. I knew I didn't know Scott well at all, but in that moment he seemed like—a total stranger. I was quickly realizing I knew nothing about him and we'd shared a bathroom for sixteen years. "He hasn't done anything yet," Stiles said, recapturing my attention.

I turned back toward him. "So what did you find out about lycanthropy? What was the bloodlust thing you mentioned earlier?"

Immediately Stiles turned grave. "His urge to kill should be through the roof right now."

Startled, I turned to look out and find Scott again. He and Allison were still dancing and they looked about as normal as they could look to me. Scott was the nice one, I thought. He was the one who saved spiders and released them outside, the one who picked worms up off the sidewalk when it rained to put them back in the grass. I wasn't nearly as kind.

The more I thought about the entire ordeal the stranger it became. My little brother—by two minutes, but still—was dating a girl and going to parties, and he was first line on the lacrosse team, and apparently he was ready to kill. "Has he done anything weird today?" I finally asked, turning back toward Stiles.

Stiles glanced at me and nodded. "I tried to cancel his date with Allison earlier and he clawed the daylights out of my desk chair."

"Good Lord," I blurted.

"Hang on, he's leaving," said Stiles suddenly. I turned to see where he was looking—Scott was pushing his way through the crowded dance floor.

Stiles and I were close enough to see that Scott did not look good. He paused outside the double-doors and practically swayed on the spot. "Hey, Scott!" I called, immediately heading for him. He seemed pale, and he was covered in a light sheen of sweat. "Scott—"

But I didn't even manage to reach him before he was continuing onward, stumbling into the house and presumably down the main hallway. Stiles and I exchanged alarmed glances before we took off after him. I passed Angelie on my way down the hall and barely resisted my urge to elbow her drink out of her hand. Unfortunately I didn't manage to spot Ava, but I was moving pretty fast.

When Stiles and I reached the front of the house I led the way out, galloping down the brick steps and running into the driveway. I caught a glimpse of the sedan peeling away from the curb. I stopped and drew in a deep breath of the cold night air. "What now?" I asked—but when I looked, Stiles was no longer behind me. He'd been waylaid at the door by a tipsy blonde girl.

However Allison was standing in the middle of the driveway, looking out after the sedan with clear concern. I took a few steps over to join her. "Hey, Allison," I said when I reached her. "You good?"

Allison turned toward me. "Oh, hi," she said, offering me a distracted but polite little smile. She reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear. "I'm fine. Um, I'm not sure what happened, but I think Scott must be sick or something…"

"Allison?"

The girl in question jumped, startled, but I only turned to find the source of the voice. There stood, several feet away, Derek Hale, the Gatsby man of the woods. I stared for a second. Then I rubbed my eyes, like the image might change—but I certainly hadn't drunk any punch, and I knew I wasn't crazy, so when I looked back he was still standing there. "I'm a friend of Scott's," Derek added.

Interesting. He was, per usual, wearing his black leather jacket, but he was also wearing a strangely friendly expression. This may have been for manipulation purposes. I narrowed my eyes at him and folded my arms. "Interesting to see you here, Derek," I said to him, as Allison, who was between us, twisted around to look after Scott again.

Derek glanced toward me with the faintest of smirks. "Hey, Kalyn."

Dammit, I loved the way he said my name. He took a step closer to Allison; when she turned back Derek said to her, "I'm Derek."

Then he glanced back and forth between Allison and I for a moment. "Do you two need a ride somewhere?" he asked. "I thought I just saw Scott drive off."

"Yeah, he did," muttered Allison, glancing over her shoulder almost reflexively. She looked at Derek, who was now playing with car keys in his hand, and then at me.

I couldn't tell what she was looking for here. I didn't know her well enough to be able to read her expression. I could only assume that she wanted to know if it would be safe to accept a ride, and I had no clue what to tell her.

Allison raised her eyebrows slightly at me, clearly expecting some kind of response. So I shrugged. "He should be safe," I said. "Maybe." I half-glanced at Derek, who was beginning to look genuinely amused. "He may or may not be the woods hacker from the other night."

At that Allison actually snorted. "Really," she said.

Again, I couldn't tell—whether she was amused at my expense, overly skeptical, or just in disbelief. The combination of all three was something I was far too used to experiencing from literally everyone in my life, outside Ava. I ground my teeth together. "I see my reputation precedes me," I said with probably too much salt.

"For the record, I am not the woods hacker," said Derek. Allison and I turned back toward him, me with some reluctance. Derek was actually half-smiling. His beauty was ludicrous. How could he look this majestic just in moonlight? Goddamn. "But I am about to leave, so if either of you do need a ride…"

"A ride would be great, actually," said Allison. I decided she had definitely listened to Angelie at least a little bit. Her amount of distrust of my opinion was way too high for someone I'd spoken to what, twice? "Thanks."

"Kalyn?" asked Derek, looking back at me.

We stared at each other for a second. I considered. If I went with them, what could I do, really, to protect Allison and I, if Derek was the woods hacker and tried to kill us? I decided it might be a better idea not to take him up on it. "I'm good," I said. I nodded politely at him. "Thanks, though, I guess."

"I'll see you around," Derek said, already turning away. I was barely able to say "See ya," before he and Allison were walking off to his car. Which, I realized as I watched them go, my eyes widening, was a fucking Camaro—

I was about to choke on my spit when Stiles ran up to me. "Kalyn!" Stiles yelped, grabbing my arm in a vice-grip. "Did you see that?!"

"Camaros are my one weakness," I said faintly. I watched as the sleek black Camaro pulled away from the curb and started down the street, revving audibly as it went. "Stiles," I said, turning toward my brother's idiot friend and ignoring his tightening grip on my arm, "you know how I feel about Camaros."

"You've lost it," Stiles observed. He released my arm and shook his head. "Oh my God, you've lost it." He looked out after the Camaro, too, and he put his hands on his hips. "Is he really that good-looking?"

"It's the car, Stiles!" I exclaimed. This may or may not have been false, because, I mean, Derek Hale was the prettiest guy I'd ever met. But I loved Camaros.

Time for a bit of backstory: Scott and I's grandmother, Alicia Delgado, lived a couple of neighborhoods over from ours. In fact she lived in the neighborhood that Erica used to live in. I could skateboard to her house from ours in about ten minutes or so, which really wasn't bad. I loved hanging out with our grandmother—she was super cool for a grandma, and she always had great advice that she would offer without judgment.

But that is not the currently important part. The important part is that, for the past two years, I'd been rebuilding a '68 Camaro in her garage. It used to be my grandfather's until he crashed it, and he'd always said that he would fix it up himself, but he never had. He'd died a few years ago, and my grandma had let me take over the rebuilding. I planned to drive it when I got it together.

All in all, if I were a superhero, my Kryptonite would be Camaros.

"Okay, did you just let Allison get kidnapped because of a car?" Stiles asked me.

I gave him a flat look. "Allison was not kidnapped," I retorted. I did not appreciate the insinuation that I had lost my marbles. "He just offered to give her a ride home, and she accepted."

Stiles glanced at me in surprise. "Wait, really?"

I nodded.

"Well, whatever," Stiles decided, kind of throwing one hand in the air. "I guess if she can't have Scott she can have whoever she wants. I'm gonna go see if Scott went home—you want to come with, or are you waiting for Ava?"

I was mildly annoyed by Stiles' statement about Allison being able to have whoever she wanted. Could Allison Argent really shoot as high as Derek Hale and get him? I mean, she was pretty, but was she that special? I personally thought nobody except someone at famous model status could get him. Like Kate Upton.

Whatever, it didn't matter. It wasn't like I could date him. I glanced back at the house and pulled my cell phone out. "She has her car," I said, even as I started to scroll through recent calls to find Ava's cell number. "I'll come with you."

"Good," said Stiles, and led the way to his Jeep.

Stiles sped the whole way back to my house. He passed illegally a couple of times, but I didn't protest; the amount of sincere concern written all over Stiles' face was worrying enough in itself. Plus I didn't like the way Scott had looked earlier. And if he was transforming into a werewolf, this was his first night doing so: surely he had no clue what he was doing.

I called Ava a few times, and she didn't answer; I left a message that I'd already left the party with Stiles. I texted her that, too, just in case. I was in the middle of texting Riley when I had to grab my seatbelt and hold on for dear life as Stiles made a precariously fast turn. I opened my mouth to say something but then closed it again.

I quickly texted Riley an update—I'd been texting her about Scott's possible werewolf existence all week—and then put my phone away. Then I thought about it as Stiles ran a stop sign. This was truly wild. Last week my worst problem had been convincing Wesley the bag boy that Zachary Taylor might have actually been poisoned, despite what government-funded scientists had said in '91. Now my twin brother was turning into a supernatural creature. Damn.

Stiles pulled into the driveway of our house soon enough, the Jeep's tires screeching slightly as he did. The car tipped alarmingly for a second before settling down beside the crookedly-parked sedan. Stiles jumped out of the car and ran for the house—I hurried after him. My phone started to ring, and when I glanced down for a split second it was Ava, but I declined the call—

The front door was unlocked. "Hey, Scott?" Stiles shouted as he ran in. "You okay, buddy?"

"Scott!" I bellowed, almost tripping into the front hall. "You better not be a fuckin' werewolf!"

Stiles let out a vaguely hysterical high-pitched laugh as we raced up the stairs. He turned and flew down the hallway, reaching Scott's bedroom first and ramming straight into the closed door—"Scott!" Stiles yelled at the door.

I skidded to a stop directly beside him and pounded on the door, too. "Are you in there?" I called.

The door opened just a crack in response. "Hey!" Stiles blurted, pushing his shoulder against the door. "Let us in, we can help!"

"No," came the plaintive response. Then Scott added, "Listen, you gotta find Allison."

"She's fine!" Stiles and I said at the same time. "I saw her get a ride from the party," Stiles continued. "She's—she's totally fine, alright?"

"I think I know who it is!" Scott answered, voice rising.

"Who what is?" I demanded. Now I was getting annoyed. "Scott, just let us in! We want to make sure you're not—deceasing—"

"It was Derek!" interrupted Scott. "Derek Hale's the werewolf, he's the one that bit me and he's the one that killed the girl in the woods!"

I froze. Stiles stopped pushing against the door and turned to give me a look of pure panic that I was certain I was also giving him. "Oh, shit," said Stiles. "Oh, shit, man."

"What?!" Scott shouted.

I shook my head and put my hands to my temples, stepping back from the door. Don't jump to conclusions, I told myself. How would KARE handle this? "How do you know it was Derek Hale?" I called to Scott, as I dropped my hands. "What evidence do you have for that? How do you know it wasn't someone else?"

"I just know, okay?"

"That's not good enough!" I yelled. "Derek drove Allison home from the party!"

There was a split second of silence—and then Scott's door slammed shut. Stiles scrabbled for the knob and tried to let himself in, but it seemed Scott had locked the door. I whirled around and sprinted for my own bedroom, where I hurtled in the door and then to the bathroom—but Scott had locked that door, too, and there was no way to reach him.

I stood back from the bathroom door in my room and drew in a deep breath. I thought about Derek Hale and the torn-apart girl found in the woods. Derek being a werewolf made sense, I thought, and it would explain his tendency to vanish into the wilderness, but why in the world would he have murdered that random girl? He'd had plenty of opportunities to kill me, both during the day and at night, and one of those times was on the same day that girl died, so if he'd been looking for a victim—

It didn't add up at all. I turned and took two running steps back out into the hallway, where Stiles was turning away from Scott's door. "We have to check Allison's house!" Stiles yelled upon sighting me.

The two of us stampeded down the stairs and right back outside. I slammed the front door behind us, and we sprinted to Stiles' Jeep. Stiles flung himself into the front seat and I whipped into the passenger's side; in seconds we were out of the driveway and speeding down the road. "How do you know where she lives?" I asked as I fumbled with my seatbelt.

"Your brother's a stalker!" Stiles replied. "A wolfy stalker!"

"Scott's a werewolf," I said to myself. I reached out to brace one hand against my door as Stiles took a wild turn, skipping a stop sign completely and almost hitting a faded red pickup. "Scott Ivan McCall is a werewolf."

"Yeah, he's a werewolf, and so is Derek Hale!" Stiles answered. "And Derek Hale is murdering people in the woods!"

"That makes no sense," I snapped. "He could've killed me like seven times already and he hasn't." I stopped then, though, refraining from ranting at Stiles, because he was barely paying attention to me as it was—he was too busy focusing on slamming down the gas pedal and reaching Allison's house.

Allison's house was apparently located in a higher-end neighborhood about ten minutes away from mine. Stiles managed to shave five minutes off the time with his speeding.

"We're here," said Stiles, when we pulled up in front of a large stone house with a circular driveway. "Let's go!" He whipped off his seatbelt and hopped out of the car, and I followed suit—in moments we were standing on the front step of Allison's house. Stiles rang the doorbell three times before standing back and waiting impatiently, on the balls of his feet.

I stared at the carved wood of the door and the intricate pattern of the window inset. Nice-ass house for someone whose father sold guns to law enforcement, I thought somewhat wildly. Then I almost laughed at my own train of thought—I stuck my hands in the pockets of my jacket and tried to focus.

The door swung open inward just as Stiles reached for the doorbell again. A stern-faced redheaded woman was standing there. "Uh, hi," said Stiles, dropping his hand and standing back. "Mrs. Argent—um—"

"We're friends of Allison's from school," I said, cutting in before Stiles could ruin it. "I'm Kalyn McCall and this is Stiles Stilinski. We were supposed to be Allison's ride home from a party but she left—we just wanted to stop by and make sure she made it home alright."

I saw Stiles give me an awed and incredulous look out of the corner of my eye, but I ignored him and smiled brightly at Mrs. Argent. Mrs. Argent smiled politely back, and then turned around. "Allison!" she called. "It's for you!"

Allison appeared on a visible balcony above the front hall. She spotted Stiles and I and looked both pleased and confused. "Ah," said Stiles. "Great to see you, Allison!"

I just waved, because now that I knew her opinion of me she bothered me.

"Well, if that's all," said Mrs. Argent, stern again. "It was sweet of you to check up on her. Goodnight."

With that she closed the door.

Immediately I turned around to hurry away to Stiles' Jeep, where I climbed into the passenger's seat as Stiles clambered into the driver's. "Where to now?" Stiles asked. "I mean—we know Allison's okay, but where the hell is Scott?"

"I don't know," I said, shaking my head. "If Scott's already out in the woods trying to kill Derek—"

Stiles sighed and rubbed his head. "We'll never find him," he finished. Then he gave me a determined look. "But we can try."

We spent the rest of our Friday night looping around the woods of Beacon Hills Preserve and anything else nearby. We went off-course once to go to a 24-hour McDonald's, but other than that, we circled, watched for lone figures wandering the woods, and listened to dubstep.

It wasn't until the sun was up the following morning that we saw Scott. I'd taken to doodling on the backs of receipts that had been in Stiles' glove compartment, and Stiles was banging his hand on the steering wheel along with whatever Skrillex song he'd just started blasting. Stiles narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, turning down the music as he did.

I saw this movement and looked up. "Yup," I said, inordinately relieved. "That's him."

My foolish brother was indeed walking along the side of the road, muddy and shirtless, clutching his left forearm. Stiles slowed the car to a halt; I rolled down the window on my side and leaned out. "Hey," I called. "That's indecent exposure, son."

Scott turned around and smiled, although he looked exhausted. "Thanks for finding me," he said as he walked over to the Jeep. I unbuckled my seatbelt and twisted around to climb into the backseat over the console, as Scott clambered up into the passenger's seat. "Guys," Scott added, pulling his door shut, "I'm really sorry for losing it last night. I don't know what happened, it's—"

"It was the full moon," said Stiles. "We know." He turned to give Scott a bizarre sort of grin. "And you know what, man? That's pretty freaking awesome!"

"So you're really a werewolf?" I asked, leaning forward to poke my head between their seats.

There was a significant silence for a moment. "Yeah," Scott finally said. "Yeah, I'm really a werewolf. I transformed last night."

Once he said it there was no possible doubt. I relaxed into the backseat and moved to lean against the side of the Jeep. I pulled out my phone, intending to text Riley and Ava, but I'd forgotten my phone had died hours ago. And Stiles' phone was an Android, which meant his car charger used a totally different plug than my phone had.

This made me think, though, back to the days of yore at Sisterhood Camp. Erica and I had been right, I thought, a stupid smile starting to spread across my face. We'd been right all along. There had been a werewolf out in those woods and we'd almost encountered it on the full moon. Take that, Poppy Trent, I thought triumphantly. I hoped that wherever she was, she felt uneasy.

We started on our way back to civilization, taking the highway to town. I passed Scott a hoodie Stiles had in the backseat and he pulled it on. "So what else happened last night?" I asked him.

"Well," said Scott, "I ran into the woods to find Derek and Allison. I found Derek's car, but there was no Allison. Out in the woods, after I ran for a little while, Derek found me. We sort of fought for a minute, and then he told me that"—Scott made full use of air quotes—"'the bite was a gift' and I should be grateful to have it."

I snorted. "I hope you asked for the receipt."

Stiles snickered, but Scott twisted around to give me an unamused look. I stared challengingly back. If Derek Hale had confronted me while I was running wild in the woods under the influence of lycanthropy and the full moon and told me the bite was a gift, I probably would've yelled, "Well where's my fucking receipt?!"

Fortunately Scott and I had very little in common, as you should know by now. I'm honestly surprised I haven't gotten myself killed.

Scott turned back around and sighed. Then he continued, "Derek also said we were brothers now. And he didn't hurt Allison, but he pretty much admitted to biting me. That means he was the one that killed that girl!"

I was tempted to say something about Scott's extremely faulty logic, but I kept my mouth shut instead. He was clearly already having a time of it without my commentary. "Anyway, then these people came out of nowhere and shot at us with arrows," Scott said heavily. I raised my eyebrows. "One hit me in the arm, but it healed. Derek said they're called hunters, and they basically just hunt us."

Stiles scoffed. "Great," he said. "So you're basically the hero of a fantasy book and you've got a love interest and villains to prove it."

"And a Yoda mentor," I pointed out.

"And a Yoda mentor!" Stiles exclaimed, smacking his hand on the steering wheel. "God dangit, Scott Ivan! This is not fair!"

I laughed at Stiles' reaction, because it was totally what I'd been thinking. Hey, I realized, frowning approvingly to myself, Scott could be a superhero. He had the powers for it. "You know what actually worries me the most?" Scott piped up, after I'd been considering superhero name possibilities for a few minutes.

Stiles gave Scott a dirty look. "If you say Allison, I'm going to punch you in the head."

"She probably hates me now!" Scott said, shrinking into the door he was closest to.

Stiles released a sigh of disgust. "Well, I doubt that," he told Scott. "But you might want to come up with a pretty amazing apology. Or, you know, you could just—tell her the truth, and revel in the awesomeness of the fact that you're a freakin' werewolf!"

I saw Scott turn his head and knew he was giving Stiles a nasty look. Stiles glanced over at him and grimaced. "Okay, bad idea," he said fairly. Scott turned his head again, leaning against his car door. "Hey," Stiles added, punching Scott's arm. "We'll get through this. Come on. If I have to I'll chain you up myself on full moon nights and feed you live mice." When Scott glanced up Stiles, without looking, said, "I had a boa once. I could do it."

I snorted to myself and leaned back, turning to look out the window, and watch the trees flash by. Werewolves were real, I thought, and couldn't help but smirk. Because if mythical wolf-men could exist, that meant unicorns and mermaids and fairies could be just as real. Sadly I'd never seen any of them, but who knew? Maybe I had and hadn't known.

Stiles dropped us off, of course, at our house. The sedan was gone. "Mom had a morning shift, right?" I said to Scott, once we were both standing on the lawn and looking up at the house in front of us.

"She usually does," Scott replied. He half-glanced at me before shuffling across the dewy lawn, leading the way.

We both headed inside. I went straight to the kitchen to find my box of blueberry Pop-Tarts in the pantry. Once I grabbed it I turned around, closed the pantry door, and walked over to the refrigerator, to find one of my various things of Arizona Tea. (I'd stocked up not too long ago. I was in love with those things.)

With this done I wandered upstairs to my room. Scott was already in his from the sound of it. I considered walking over to say something to him, something reassuring, but I didn't know what I could say. And I was sure he didn't want to hear about the superhero nickname ideas I'd come up with on our way back.

So instead of trying to talk to my brother I walked over to push open the door to my room. When I walked in and turned I found a visitor sprawled out on my bed, fast asleep and snoring lightly. I stared for a second—Riley Tanaka, my aforementioned neighborhood best friend, was here.

I tried not to laugh as I gently closed my door behind myself. She'd left the window half-open, and my room smelled like the outdoors. I walked over to set down my Pop-Tarts and my Arizona Tea on my desk; then I leaned over to find my charger. I plugged my phone in—it was so dead it didn't even beep—and then sat down in my desk chair and turned toward the bed. As I debated waking Riley up I ate a Pop-Tart.

It was not unusual for me to wander into my room and find Riley already there. She also had a tendency to appear in the magnolia tree outside my window at 2 AM, and occasionally I would walk into my room and find her doing homework on the floor, or passed out on my bed. Since we lived so close to each other there were no boundaries anymore. I'd visited her room at odd hours myself.

After I finished a couple of Pop-Tarts and drank half of the thing of Arizona Tea, I went into the bathroom to take a shower, because I felt pretty gross. I was also sure I smelled like Stiles' cologne, because his car smelled like it, and I'd been in his car all night. Smelling like a dude's cologne was always incriminating evidence, and I never even wanted to think about me and Stiles being a thing. Yikes.

I blow-dried my hair and made sure my side-bangs looked decently fluffy. Then, because why not, I redid my eye makeup. I decided to leave my hair curly, because the red streak on the right looked pretty good with the curls today; and at long last I wandered out of the bathroom.

Unsurprisingly Riley was still asleep. I snickered to myself, because Riley would sleep through a hurricane, and walked over to throw my towel and dirty clothes into the laundry hamper by my closet. I found a pair of dark skinny jeans, because I had to work later today and I didn't want to have to change out of leggings, and pulled those on.

When I was rooting around in my drawer for a long-sleeved shirt Riley made a noise, and then mumbled something. I glanced over. She wasn't awake, she was just talking in her sleep. I shook my head and wiggled into my chosen shirt. Then I decided Riley had been asleep for long enough and walked over to take her shoulder and shake her.

At first I went for the generic "Riley, wake up," but that didn't work. I tried saying, "Riley, Pokémon are real," and "Green Day is coming to town," but neither of those worked. At long last I stood back, folded my arms, and then shouted, "YOUR BAND IS PLAYING AT RAPTURE!"

Rapture was one of the most popular clubs with a live band around here, and Riley was, of course, in a band. She played the guitar and did back-up vocals. This sentence was what woke her up. Riley blinked open her eyes, focused on the ceiling, and then sat straight up. "Rapture?" she said, straight hair flopping everywhere.

Somehow she looked totally alert. "No, not Rapture," I said, walking over to push her feet aside. I sat down at the end of the bed and Riley moved her feet obligingly, rubbing her eyes as she did. "You weren't waking up."

"Oh," said Riley. She grinned sheepishly. "Oops." Then she leaned over to shove my shoulder. "What the hell is going on with your brother?! Is he actually a werewolf? Are they real?" She gave me a very serious look. One of her eyes was red, most likely from lack of sleep. She never got enough, even though she took naps all the time. "Tell me!"

I turned more toward her and proceeded to explain the night before, and what Stiles and I had learned from my brother. Riley listened with rapt attention. At long last, when I'd gotten through most of the story, Riley reached out very calmly to place her hand on my shoulder. "Kayla," she said seriously, "I hope you know this means I'm rejoining the team."

"Aw yeah!" I exclaimed. I turned more toward her and held out my right hand. "KARE forever."

"KARE forever," Riley repeated back. She flashed a smile at me and held out her own right hand, and we did the complicated detective team handshake we'd all come up with way back when. I would have been surprised Riley remembered it, but she remembered everything.

When the handshake was finished Riley and I nodded at each other. "So you know what this means," Riley said significantly.

"What?"

Riley huffed. "This means we have to meet to work out how to solve the case," she said. "We have to have a team meeting." I hummed in agreement. "And," Riley added, pointing at me, "having Erica with us would be extremely helpful, you know."

I gave her a look. "You know we haven't spoken to each other in years."

"We didn't talk to each other for two years but we're still friends," Riley pointed out. I had to admit this was fair. After the original break-up of KARE, when we'd all split up and gone to different middle schools—except me and Ava—we'd gotten busy and just sort of stopped talking. Riley and I had reconnected through a church thing and then we kept bumping into each other around the neighborhood.

Erica had only transferred to Beacon Hills High about halfway through last year. Nobody was sure why, and I didn't feel like I was close enough to her to ask for that story. She had epilepsy, and I thought something traumatic had gone down in one of her classes at Abernathy Prep involving it. I didn't know what—nobody did.

Except, most likely, her two current best friends. Whenever I saw Erica around school—and, for the record, we always said hi—she tended to be with either Isaac Lahey or Vernon Boyd. Isaac was cute, a little quiet, and he always sat in the back of the classroom. I'd seen him working in the cemetery by the park before. And Boyd was, like the other two, fairly quiet, but he also struck an intimidating figure. He was in ROTC and on the basketball team. I'd never had any classes with him.

I considered. I could try and catch Erica on her own to talk to her about this. I did want to tell her that werewolves existed, and that we hadn't been wrong. I was sure she'd be happy to tell her older sister about that. "You know what?" I decided. "I'll talk to her."

"Oh, good," said Riley, lightly swatting my shoulder. "Yay! I've always dreamed of getting KARE back together again." She sighed happily. "And we're going to solve a real mystery this time. With murder and everything."

Before I could respond to this, I heard my phone start blasting Panic! At the Disco across the room. I turned to hop down off my bed, and Riley followed suit. "I'm outie," said Riley as she padded back over to the window. Her Vans were on the carpet over there. "Keep me updated."

"Will do," I replied, heading over to my desk. In the background I heard Riley push my window open more, and then the rustling of branches outside. Meanwhile I checked the Caller ID on my phone, which had gotten up to 24%. It was, of course, Ava. I answered. "Hello?"

"Yeah, so, you're going to have to explain more to me later," said Ava without taking a breath, "but for now you need to explain leaving the party with Stiles."

I furrowed my eyebrows and leaned over to pick up my half-finished thing of Arizona Tea. "We left to go after Scott," I said before taking a sip. Then I set it back down. "I would've gotten you to leave with us but you weren't answering your phone."

"Channery Kissinger was having a crisis," said Ava dismissively. She knew Channery from the Beta Club. "A meltdown would be more accurate." She paused as I moved to perch on the edge of my desk chair. Riley had already disappeared, and the only sign she'd even been there was my wrinkled galaxy-patterned comforter and the open window. "Uh. I may or may not have told Bethany and Macey that you left with Stiles."

I groaned and leaned forward, bringing my palm to my temple. "Ava," I whined. "Why?"

"I don't know, I panicked!" Ava answered. "And nobody knew where your brother was either." I heaved a sigh. "You might want to call them later."

Great, I thought. Now Bethany and Macey thought I'd—ew, never mind. I didn't even want to finish the thought. "I will," I said. I straightened back up and glanced over at my bed. "But, uh, I didn't sleep at all last night. For a reason that will be explained later, which has literally nothing to do with Stiles." It more had to do with his uncomfortable car, and my werewolf brother.

"Okay, you go," said Ava. "I have to volunteer soon anyway." There was a shuffling sound from her end of the line. "Seriously, sorry about that," Ava added. Her voice was a little further away this time. "I'm sure you'll be able to clear it up in no time."

I wasn't quite so sure, but I told Ava it was fine anyway, and then we both hung up. When that was done I sighed again. Then I walked over to flop onto my bed. From there I leaned over toward my nightstand and adjusted the alarm time—if I went to sleep now I'd get in a few good hours before I had to leave for work.

Hey, y'all! Thanks so much for reading; I hope you enjoyed this chapter :) Sorry for taking so long to update! I'll do my best to update in a timelier manner :3 Hope y'all have a great weekend!

I don't own Teen Wolf!