The 'new school' charm was beginning to wear off on me. I trudged depressingly through the hallway, as did many of the other students. It was like we were all walking towards our execution – in a way, it wasn't too far off; Chemistry was next and Mr. Harris' monotone drawl was enough to make me die of boredom.

'Hey, Percy!'

I looked up from my plodding as a familiar pair of best friends shoved their way through the crowd towards me.

'You coming to the game?' asked Stiles.

'Game…?'

'Lacrosse! Scott's gonna be playing and we need backup'.

I swiveled my head towards Scott and raised my eyebrow quizzically. The teen wolf smiled knowingly and rolled his eyes.

'What Stiles means to say, is that we reckon the Kanima is going to strike again – Jackson's on the Lacrosse team and he'll be playing at the big game tonight'.

After all our exhausting efforts to trap the kanima and its master at the nightclub, they were both still running amok. Although a vague conversation with Scott two nights ago had informed me that the Kanima's previous master was now dead and it's new master was our high school principal – Gerard, who was coincidentally part of the group of Werewolf Hunters that had tried to kill us.

'Are the rest of the pack going to be there?'

Stiles' attention was diverted by a certain strawberry blonde girl passing-by. Scott spotted his friend's lovesick expression and sniggered before addressing my question.

'Ah… no. Derek is having trouble with his betas – they reckon they've found a new pack and they want out'.

'Can't blame them,' said Stiles mildly as Lydia turned the corner and disappeared from sight, 'any beta in Derek's pack basically signs a death warrant when he gives them the bite'.

Scott gave him a look. Stiles noticed and turned towards his best friend with a complete look of innocence.

'What? You know it's true!'

'Yeah I can make it,' I interrupted before their byplay could continue any further, 'you sure that Gerard plans to kill someone at the game?'

'Absolutely,' Scott told me seriously.

I nodded thoughtfully.

'Game on'.

Surprisingly, the bleachers were relatively crowded. I grimaced as I squeezed through the tiny crevice between the metal seats and the row of kneecaps. I switched by gaze to the front of the bleachers and spotted Scott and Stiles in their lacrosse uniforms. Noting the considerable distance between us, I sighed wearily and began to maneuver my way through the seated crowd once more. As I got closer, their conversation became discernable.

'We're loosing dude.' I heard Stiles say.

Out of nowhere, Coach Finstock appeared behind the pair and stooped between their heads.

'What the hell are you talking about? The game hasn't even started. Now put on your helmet, get out there – you're in for Greenberg.'

'What happened to Greenberg?' Stiles twisted his head around, searching for his missing teammate.

'What happened to Greenberg!? He sucks, you suck… slightly less'.

'I'm playing? On the field? With the team?' Stiles asked disbelievingly.

Coach rolled his eyes as the teenager's naivety.

'Yes, unless you'd rather… play with yourself'.

'I already did that today – twice'.

Coach's patience finally ran out.

'GET THE HELL OUT THERE!'

Stiles started at the sudden change in tone and scrambled to collect his headgear before running as fast as he could onto the field.

'Aw no'.

I twisted my head around as I heard a groaning complain behind me.

'Why is my son running onto the field?'

Huh, so that must be Stiles' dad.

'Because he's on the team?'

I spotted a dark haired lady sitting next to him answer his miserable sounding question. Stiles' dad seemed to stare out into nothingness until the fact clicked in his head.

'He is… he-he's on the team – he's on the field!'

The level of incredulity in the Sheriffs remark made me question if he really supported his son. My doubt was quickly dispelled as Stiles' dad burst with so much excitement he resembled Stiles on caffeine.

'MY SON IS ON THE FIELD!' he announced triumphantly, standing up and raising his fist in the air victoriously.

Then, seeming to notice the slightly concerned parents around him, he hastily sat down. I soon lost interest and continued my descent towards the front of the stand.

'Scott,' I hissed, sitting in the row behind him.

He jerked his head around, his body tense.

'Oh, Percy,' he said, relief clouding his voice, 'it's you'.

'Yep…' I replied awkwardly.

Suddenly, Scott's tone became serious and he leaned over the metal barrier towards me.

'Gerard's here. He said he's going to kill someone unless I give him Derek before the last 30 seconds,' he hissed.

'What?' I exclaimed, 'in front of everyone?'

'Gerard won't be the one doing the dirty work – Jackson will, remember?'

'But… the Kanima! He'd be letting all these people see a shapeshifter!'

In New York, I had always taken precautions to hide the immortal world from the mortal world – failure to do so usually resulted in a legal, sticky mess. Scott sighed.

'I really don't know with Gerard – we'll just have to wait and see. In the meantime, get ready. I have a feeling there's going to be a messy fight'.

I nodded and he shifted around so that he was facing the field once more. I kept my eyes peeled for Jackson although it was much easier said than done – Everyone out there looked identical in their red uniforms and it was hard to discern individual faces through the helmets.

Meanwhile, Stiles' father buried his face in his hands as Stiles 'played' lacrosse. The teenager laughed gleefully as the ball landed in his stick, though his triumph was short-lived as a bulky opposition player slammed into him.

'I got it, I got it, I got it!'

Stiles rhythmically shoved his stick into the grass like a shovel as he tried (and failed) to make the ball go into its net. Hearing the approaching thud of footsteps, he glanced up in time to see two players slam their bodies into his.

The next few minutes saw Stiles staggering around the field with his stick, following the ball as it flew through the air… and used his helmet as a crash pad.

WWWWTTTTTT!

A piercing whistle signaled halftime. Seconds later Isaac trudged over and plopped himself beside Scott.

'Hey Percy,' he greeted.

I gave a short wave.

'You came to help?' Scott asked, amazement filling his voice.

'I came to win,' Isaac replied, chucking a knowing grin at his werewolf friend, 'you got a plan yet?'

'Uh… right now it's pretty much just keep Jackson from killing anyone'.

'Well, that might be easier if you were actually in the game – we have to make it so Coach has no choice but to play you'.

'How do we do that? He's got a bench full of guys he'll use before he ever puts me on the field'.

'Then get rid of them,' I muttered quietly, knowing all too well that the two werewolves could hear me perfectly.

Stiles slowly turned his head around until he made eye contact with me.

'Can you do it without putting anyone in the hospital?'

I nodded.

The whistle blew and the players moved. Hunching over, I carefully hid the view of my hands with my legs and concentrated on the water that soaked the playing field. I twitched my palm and felt a familiar tugging sensation in my gut.

Thump!

A player tripped and skidded across the slippery grass. Muffling the sound with my thighs, I scanned the spectators around me innocently as I clapped my hands together.

Crack!

Two players were shoved together simultaneously and collided into each other.

I waited until a body from the opposition team obscured the view of one of our players…

Wack!

The unlucky teenager flew through the air for a few seconds before slamming into the ground.

'McCall, you're in or we forfeit,' Coach notified Scott irritably.

'Ok'.

Scott ran onto the field, chucking a grin towards Isaac and I.

WWWWTTTTTT!

Scott looked panicked as he glanced at Isaac and I from the field. The timer had run out and the whistle had been blown, signaling the end of the game. If Gerard had been telling the truth, someone was scheduled to die any second.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

One by one, the spotlight's turned off and the vicinity was plunged into total darkness. After a moment of silence I heard a horrified scream. In a matter of seconds, the area swarmed with panicked spectators. They all ran in different directions, fleeing from an unknown danger in the darkness.

Then, as quick as they had been extinguished – the lights turned back on.

'Percy! Isaac!'

We exchanged a worried glance before running towards the sound of Scott's voice. When we reached him, he turned to us and wordlessly nodded towards the kanima's latest victim.

It was Jackson.

'He did it to himself,' murmured Isaac.

Sure enough, Jackson's fingertips were stained with blood.