Hi everyone! Wow, it has been a very long week, but here is the next chapter as promised :)

Chapter 7: Skin

Stiles drove down the long stretch of road for miles in darkness. They knew they had finally reached town when they saw the light that shined from the gas station. The night had been a complete disaster and they were no closer to finding out what was going on with Clara or what she did with Lydia. Scott was drifting off against the passenger seat window when the scent of something familiar caught his attention.

"Wait, wait," Scott began, jerking up in his seat. "Turn there," he added, pointing at the light up sign that read "Gas."

"Why," Stiles said, slightly annoyed. "I have a full tank."

"No, look" Scott said, pointing towards a black car that was parked by a gas pump. "It's Lydia."

The boys turned into the gas station and pulled up beside her car. She was standing in front of a pump, a bored expression plastered on her face as she examined her nails while waiting for her tank to fill.

"Lydia, you're ok!" Stiles cried in relief as he jumped out of his Jeep.

"What?" Lydia said, looking around for the source of the sound. Once she saw the familiar blue Jeep she sighed heavily. She wasn't in the mood for the boy's eagerness. "Of course I'm ok."

"We saw you go off into the woods with Clara," Scott began. "We thought you might be-"

"Dead?" the girl said bluntly. "I know you followed us."

"What? How?" Stiles asked.

"I saw you," Lydia said. "We both did. Why the hell were you following us?"

"Uh, we just-" Stiles began.

"Thought I needed saving?" Lydia finished. "Because that's who I am to you, the girl who can't help herself."

"No, that's not true," Scott said.

"Look, Lydia," Stiles said. "Clara's insane. She's not safe to be around."

"Insane? That's rich coming from the boy who happens to turn up at every crime scene in town," Lydia retorted, her stare burrowing into the boy.

"Lydia listen, she killed someone," Stiles blurted out.

"Yeah, after the game last night," Scott added.

"And why would she do that?" Lydia questioned, clearly doubting the boys' information.

"I don't know, because she's evil!" Stiles said.

"Stiles, I don't believe you," Lydia replied as she pulled the gas pump out of her car and placed it back into its slot.

"How could you not believe me?" Stiles said.

"Do you have any evidence," Lydia inquired, raising her eyebrows.

"Yes, as a matter of fact we do," Scott said, pulling one of Madame Esmerelda's business cards out of his pocket. "It was a psychic who was killed and Clara had this in her bag."

Lydia reached her hand in her purse and pulled out an item. She held it out in front of her face, showing it off to Scott and Stiles. It was a business card, identical to the one Scott held in his hand.

"I have one too," Lydia said. "Maybe I killed her."

"What? Why do you have that?" Scott asked.

"When I was having all of those creepy visions I went to see a psychic," Lydia said. "Admittedly one of my few lapses of judgement."

"Lydia, I know you don't believe us but were telling you the truth-"

"Truth," Lydia said, raising her voice. "When have you two ever told me the truth? You left me in the dark for months. I thought I was going insane. Clara has been completely honest with me since day one. And right now, frankly, I trust her more than you. Now, just stay away from me, ok?"

"Lydia," Stiles began, but he was cut off by the sound of her car door shutting. Then she drove off into the night, her car disappearing amongst the lights of the city.

Derek walked cautiously through the forest, the glow of the morning sun casting a sharp light on his pale face. The woods were silent this time of day, save for the sound of birds chirping and trickling water that could be heard from a distance. Peter trailed beside him, carefully observing the environment that surrounded them. Suddenly, he veered off track and strolled up to the trunk of a tall tree.

"Here," Peter said, breaking the silence that they had been submersed in. "This is where I found it." Lying under the tree was a dead mountain lion. Its body completely skinned and the rest of it was torn and slashed, revealing its innards. The poor creature was mangled from a killing that could only be described as savage.

"A mountain lion," Derek said in his usual exasperated tone of voice. "This is what you wanted to show me?"

"No, God," Peter began. "How is it that you once actually defeated me? Look closer."

Derek leaned down nearer to the animal. Its revolting smell violated his nose as he got close. He painstakingly observed the slashes on the body.

"Not werewolf," he said.

"Good job," Peter mocked. "Forget being the alpha, you should just open your own detective agency."

"You do remember that I am allowing you to live, right?" Derek retorted. The power dynamic between him and his uncle had grown increasingly complicated the past few months. Tensions between the two were high, to say the least. Peter wasn't nearly as strong as he used to be, but he was just as irritating. "The claw marks look almost feline," he continued, lifting up the paw of the animal and examining its claws. "But they're way too big and too deep have been another mountain lion."

"Exactly what I was thinking," Peter replied.

"What do you think it is then?" Derek asked.

"I don't know, I've never seen anything like it." Peter said. "Maybe a new shapeshifter in town."

"Werecat?" Derek said.

"That's what I thought at first, but they're never this brutal," Peter said. "I once dated a werecat. They're very clean when they attack...very clean."

Derek wondered what kind of woman could ever date his uncle. He shook the thought away and turned his focus back to the animal. "They wouldn't have skinned it either."

"True," Peter agreed. "My second thought was maybe a skinwalker."

"I thought those were just myths," Derek stated.

"I don't know about myth," Peter said. "According to Native American folklore, skinwalkers are supposedly humans who have gained control of an animal by procuring its pelt and enhancing it with dark magic. With the right kind of knowledge, a person can teach themselves to skinwalk and become anything they want. If they're powerful enough they can become larger than life. That would explain both the flaying and the size of the claws. There are a few tribes around here, we could get a second opinion...If they're willing to help, which is doubtful."

"We should show Deaton first," Derek said. He took out his phone and began to snap some pictures of the animal that lay dead before him.

"You go ahead," Peter replied. "That guy does not like me."

"Wonder why?" Derek said sarcastically.

"It might have to do with that chair I threw at him," Peter answered.

"Yeah, I'm sure it was the chair," Derek said. Suddenly he heard a strange noise causing him to whip around. He surveyed the stretch of forest behind him, but there was nothing. "Did you hear that?" Then he heard the noise again. Now both Hales were on the defense with claws and teeth displayed menacingly. They looked at every inch of forest they could see, but still there was nothing.

All of a sudden Peter was knocked down to the ground. Blood started to seep through his white t-shirt out of the jagged claw marks that now lined his back. He slowly started to get back up onto his feet. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a blurry streak of motion move past him and then vanish out of sight. A split second later Derek was on the ground wrestling with a giant beast.

It clawed at him, bloodying his face and body. Peter ran towards the beast and lunged at it in an attempt to free Derek from its weight. But with a swift kick of its hind legs it sent Peter flying, crashing spine first into a tree. Derek's eyes glowed red with rage as he tried to fight the beast. He stuck his own razor sharp claws into its side, causing it to release an earth-trembling roar in Derek's face. It pinned Derek's arms down and began to thrash wildly. The animal had clawed through Derek's chest so badly that some of his ribs were now exposed. He had managed to unpin his arms from his side and use them to block his face but it was hardly any use.

Suddenly he heard an ear-splitting bang and a second later felt the weight of the beast lift off of his body. He opened his eyes to see the beast skitter into the forest and disappear out of sight. Derek looked around to see what had frightened the creature off. He looked up and saw a large man towering above him. It was Chris argent, a gun in his hand and a stony look on his face.

"What was that?" Argent said as he extended a hand to Derek, pulling him up to his feet with sheer force.

"We don't know," Derek answered. Instinctively he began to brush the dirt off of himself, not that it would help considering his clothes were soaked in blood. "What are you doing here?"

"A thanks would have sufficed," Argent said bluntly. "I was patrolling the area. Got a call saying there was a savage animal attack."

"And whenever there's an animal attack, Chris Argent's on the case," Peter said mockingly. "It's not a werewolf this time, sorry to disappoint."

"It certainly was not," Chris replied, furrowing his brow into a quizzical expression.

"So it just attacked them out of nowhere?" Scott asked as he pulled his books out of his locker.

"Yeah, early this morning they were in the woods. It just sprung itself on them," Isaac answered. "They said it was real grizzly too. It tore Derek's chest open."

"How'd they get away?" Stiles inquired.

"Argent shot it."

"Why was Argent even there?" Scott wondered.

"He said he was patrolling," Isaac explained. "Got word there was an attack, so he went to investigate. Lucky for Derek I guess, that he had something else to shoot besides him."

The boys fell silent as they noticed a familiar figure moving towards them. It was Clara, clad in a black, long sleeved lace dress. As she walked passed she turned her head towards the boys, giving them a devilish smile that sent chills down their spines. They all looked down the hallway, watching Clara as she walked. She stopped by Lydia's locker and the two girls began to talk like they had always been friends.

"How can she walk around here acting like she's this little angle," Stiles said.

"Do you really think that skinny little thing attacked Derek and Peter? And the psychic?" Isaac asked.

"Well, we know she was at the psychics, she hates werewolves, why wouldn't it be her?" Stiles retorted.

"I wish we had better evidence," Scott added. "We can't really justify doing anything at this point. For all we know it could have been someone else. I don't want another 'Lydia is the Kanima' repeat."

"Then what are we gonna do?" Isaac said.

"Catch her in the act," Stiles said as he slammed his locker shut.

Clara casually strolled up to Lydia's locker and leaned against the wall. Lydia was touching up her mascara, but she quickly put it down as she noticed Clara. She turned her head towards the girl, giddy with excitement.

"I've been practicing," Lydia said, a smile spreading across her face.

"Teacher's pet," Clara teased.

"I lit my bunsen burner all by myself. And I put it out. Elemental manipulation is a very convenient skill to have."

"It really is," Clara said. "We can practice again today. I can show you how to freeze water or make things float."

"Ooh, can you teach me how to make my hair curl by itself?" Lydia said, laughing.

"I think we could make that happen. But that's just the small stuff," Clara said. She reached inside her bag and pulled out a soft, leather bound book that had a taupe ribbon wrapped around it. She handed the book to Lydia, who examined it with keen eyes. "This book has all the basics. Everything you need to know before we take it to the next level. Just wait until we get to the fun stuff, like illusions and reading."

"Ooh, what's that, I'm intrigued,"

"You can read the history of an object just by touching it. Past owners, where it's been, everything. For example," Clara began to say as she picked up the bottle of mascara Lydia had been using earlier. She looked at it intently before beginning to speak again. "This tube of mascara was made in Canada. It was later tried on in the store by three different people before you bought it last Wednesday."

"Oh my God, that's disgusting," Lydia said, throwing the bottle back into her locker.

"It works on people too, but that's a bit advanced," Clara continued.

"Sounds fun," Lydia replied. "Let's go to my house this time. All that mud totally ruined my suede shoes. I'll pick you up after seventh period."

"Oh wait," Clara said. "I just remembered I have to do something for my grandmother after school. It won't take long. I'll meet you at your house around six."

"Sounds good. Want to walk to class?"

"Of course," Clara said. Lydia pulled the strap of her bag over her shoulder and then linked her arm with Clara's. Their heels clicked against the tile as they stepped in synch with each other. Everyone turned to stare at them as they walked down the hallway. Who was this new girl and how was she friends with Lydia Martin so suddenly?

The evening sun was setting as Clara walked down the streets of Lydia's ritzy neighborhood. She observed the houses as she strolled along, they were all so large and suburban. They were nothing like the house she lived in. She wondered what it was like to be able to just live out in the open. To not have to charm your house into looking like a shack to hide the wonders that were inside of it.

Once Clara found the right house, she walked up the steps to the door and rang the bell. She could hear the sound of barking after the bell chimed. Lydia opened the door, a tiny dog with a pink bow attached to it nipped at her feet.

"Down Prada," she snapped. "Sorry about her. Come in." She moved aside and gestured for Clara to enter. Lydia's house was quite lovely, Clara thought. It had wide windows and big open spaces. Everything was much simpler, unlike the lavishly ornate stylings of the Delacroix house. Lydia led Clara upstairs and to her bedroom. "Mom, don't bother us, we're studying," she called out before closing the door.

"So what were you up to earlier?" Lydia casually asked, referring to the errand Clara had mentioned.

"Oh, just doing something for my grandmother," Clara said. "Visiting one of her old friends at the hospital, boring stuff."

"She couldn't do that herself?" Lydia asked. She couldn't work out if Clara was telling the truth or not. The girl seemed to go a little bit shifty every time her grandmother was mentioned.

"She doesn't like to leave the house much," Clara explained, growing bored of the conversation. Quickly she changed the subject. "Have you looked at the book I gave you?"

"Yes," Lydia said, grabbing the book off of her bedside table. "Looks like a great excuse to put my French to use."

"C'est vrai, " Clara said, smiling at the other girl. "So what do you want to learn today?"

"How about levitation?" Lydia suggested.

"Nice choice," Clara replied. "Let's start with something light." She walked over to Lydia's desk and grabbed a small item off of it. It was a paper crane, made out of thick, silver paper. With the crane she walked back to Lydia's king sized bed and sat down, crossed legged. "Ok," she began to explain. "The trick to levitation is to feel light yourself. Like gravity doesn't exist anymore. And then say 'léviter.'" As she said the words, the crane began to float above the bed.

"Incroyable," Lydia remarked as she watched the crane linger in front of her face.

"Now you try," Clara said, letting the crane fall onto the bed.

Lydia closed her eyes and began to relax her mind. "Think weightless," she thought to herself. Then she said the magic word. She opened her eyes and was disappointed to see that the crane was still perched on her floral sheets. She inhaled slowly and tried again. "Léviter," she said again. Still, the crane did not move. "I said, léviter," she said once more, this time frustration showed in her tone of voice.

"It helps to relate it to something you've felt before," Clara advised.

Lydia closed her eyes once more. After a few moments her mind began to wander back to when she was a little girl, about seven or eight. Her parents were still together and they took her to this fair in the park. Her father surprised her with a ride in a hot air ballon. She remembered what it felt like to float away into the sky in the balloon. It was almost like being weightless. "Léviter," she repeated, this time in a whisper. She opened her eyes and looked down. She did not see the crane sitting on the bed, or hanging in front of her. She watched as Clara pointed upwards with her index finger. Lydia tilted her head back and smiled as she saw the crane levitating above the bed, almost touching the ceiling.

"You really are a natural," Clara said softly.

The two girls spent the next three hours practicing all sorts of different tricks. Lydia was picking everything up very quickly. Clara was excited to finally have a friend she could share her craft with. She had almost lost track of time before she looked at the clock that hung over Lydia's desk. It was completely dark outside.

"I have to get going," Clara said as she began to gather her things. "Grandmother would want me home soon."

"Aww, that's too bad, we were really on a roll," Lydia replied. "See you tomorrow?"

"Definitely," Clara answered. She thought for a moment and debated weather or not she should say what was in her mind. Then she began to speak. "Actually, there's something I think you might be able to help me with."

"Ooh, what kind of thing?" Lydia asked, intrigued.

"I need to open something," Clara began. "It's locked with magic and there's a spell I want to try to open it with. It's more powerful if two preform it."

"What are you expecting to find?"

"I'm not sure," Clara said with ambivalence. She knew the box was none of her business, but she couldn't help but be curious. "Tomorrow after school, I'll meet you by your car."

"Sounds good," Lydia said with a smile. Then she showed the girl out and Clara made her way home.

Thanks so much for reading. Please leave a review down below!

Next week there will be much more of the boys, and some Isaac/Clara interaction...