Disclaimer: I do not own Lorien Legacies or Teen Wolf.
Chapter 9 – Abomination
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John/Four
"So… you guys are aliens?" Scott asks, for about the tenth time, as Dr. Deaton is hurrying around the room, gathering materials to sew up the gash on his abdomen.
"Not all of us," I reply. "Just me and her." I indicate Six with one hand.
"I'm human," Sam puts in. "One hundred percent. Which kind of sucks, since it means I don't get any badass powers."
Scott grins faintly; that expression vanishes as Deaton approaches him with a bottle of some kind of liquid and some cotton balls. "What is that?"
"Rubbing alcohol," Deaton says simply, soaking one of the cotton balls in the liquid and pressing it against the wound, causing Scott to hiss in pain. "You don't want it to get infected, do you?" He glances up at Scott, a kind expression on his face. "You will heal the same. Just not as quickly, because of Derek."
"All right, so let me get this straight," Six says, taking a step forward. "You, Isaac Lahey, Erica, and that guy Derek are werewolves?"
"You're an alien," Scott counters, with a grunt of pain as Deaton begins sewing up the cut. "Are werewolves really so hard to believe?"
"Fair point," Six concedes with a shrug.
"And Allison's family are…" I say.
"Werewolf hunters, yeah," Scott replied.
Sam whistles. "Well, that must suck for your relationship."
Six slaps him on the back of the head. "Hey!"
"Ow!" Sam protests, rubbing his head. "That hurt!"
"Yeah, I know," Six replies. Sam promptly shuts up.
Scott turns to face Deaton. "And you… how do you know all of this? Actually, how… how do you know anything?"
"And how the hell do you know who we are?" Six puts in.
"It's a long story," Deaton says. "What I can tell you is that I know about your kind." He looks over at me. "And yours. In either of those cases, I can help. But this…" He indicates the body on the table. "This is something different."
"Well, do you know what did it?" Scott asks.
Deaton shakes his head. "No. But the Argents will. And this is the crucial part; they'll have a record or book. It'll have descriptions, histories, notations, of all the things that they've discovered."
"All the things?" Six asks, her eyes wide. "How many things are there?"
A noise from the front of the clinic – the bell on the front door ringing softly – causes all five of us to freeze in place.
Deaton immediately turns to the four of us and waves towards the back of the room. I nod, and we hurry out of the examination room, into a back hallway around the corner. All four of us tuck ourselves into the shadows as securely as we can, hoping to avoid detection.
I hear Deaton's voice ring out. "I'm starting to think I need to buy a more prominent 'Closed' sign."
Another voice, deep, gravelly, and slightly accented, responds. "Hello, Alan. It's been a while. The last I heard, you'd retired."
"The last I heard, you followed a code of conduct," Deaton counters.
Scott's eyes are wide, with a horrified expression on his face.
"Do you know who that is?" Six asks softly.
Scott nods. "It's the Argents," he whispers. "Allison's family."
"The hunters?"
"Yeah."
Six and I exchange a glance. This is not good.
"If you hadn't noticed, this body is one of ours," another man's voice says, this one sounding younger than the first.
"I did," Deaton acknowledges. "I also noticed the gunpowder residue on his fingertips. So don't assume I will be swayed by your philosophy just because I'll answer a few questions."
"He was only twenty-four," the younger man replies.
"Killers come in all ages," Deaton states.
"All ages, sizes, and shapes," the older man says. "It's the last one that concerns us."
"How about you tell us what you found?" the younger man adds.
I hear the sound of footsteps, as the three men move around; I'm guessing they're examining the body on the lab table.
"See this cut?" Deaton asks. "Precise. Almost surgical." He pauses briefly. "This isn't the wound that killed him, however. This had a more… interesting purpose."
"Relating to the spine," the older man muses.
"That's right," Deaton confirms. "Whatever made this cut, it's laced with a paralytic toxin, potent enough to disable all motor functions." He pauses briefly, then carries on. "These are the cause of death. Notice the patterns on each side."
"Five for each finger," the younger man says.
"Each claw," the older man corrects him.
"As you can see," Deaton continues, "it dug in and slashed upward, eviscerating the lungs and slicing through the bone of the rib cage with ease."
"Have you ever seen anything like this before?" the younger man asks.
Deaton hesitates for a moment. "No."
"Any idea at all what killed him?"
"No," Deaton says. "But I can tell you it's fast, remarkably strong, and has the capacity to render its victims essentially helpless within seconds."
I feel a chill run up my spine. The four of us silently exchange glances.
"If you're saying we should be cautious," the younger man says, "we get it."
"I'm saying you should be afraid," Deaton says grimly. "Be very afraid. Because in the natural world, predators with paralytic toxins use them to catch and eat their prey. This prey wasn't eaten. That means whatever killed him only wanted to kill him. In fact, killing may be its only purpose."
I stare wide-eyed at the others. I lock my gaze with Six's, my mind whirling. Whatever they're talking about, I'm pretty sure it's the thing that Sam saw at Isaac's house a couple of days ago. And if it's killing people now, then we have a serious problem on our hands.
.
After the hunters leave, we walk back into the main room. Deaton is still there, waiting for us. He glances calmly up as we enter the room. "I take it you heard that conversation?"
"Yeah," I say shortly. "What did this?"
"As I told them, I don't know," Deaton says. "But if we want to find out, you need to find that book."
"And what about us?" Six asks. "You still haven't explained that part yet. How do you know about the Loric?"
Deaton looks at us with an unreadable expression on his face. "I've known about you for a long time, actually. I'm something of an expert on this sort of thing; anything relating to the supernatural, which includes records of your kind. As a result, I have knowledge of the Loric, enough to recognize their language." He smiles. "Recognizing the scars on your leg wasn't complicated. It took me a second to make the connection, but I was able to recognize them as Loric in origin."
Six clearly isn't satisfied. "All right, I'll grant you that. But you knew that I was one of the Garde, and you asked me what number I was. That makes you a lot more knowledgeable about these things than just a passive observer."
Deaton smiles. "You're smart." He sighs. "That, in truth, was only the beginning of my experience with the Loric. Some years ago, I was recruited by an old friend, who'd been my roommate in college, to join a secret group of like-minded scientists with a connection to the supernatural. An organization that became known as the Greeters."
"The Greeters?" Six asks. "Is that why my Cépan told me we had friends in this town?"
Deaton nods. "Yes. If your Cépan told you that, then they must have been talking about me. I'd known about the Loric for a long time before I was recruited by the Greeters, but I'd never met any before." He smiles faintly. "Until the day my fellow Greeters and I watched your ship land on Earth."
Stunned, Six and I look at each other, our eyes wide. I turn back to Deaton. "You were there when we landed?"
"I was," Deaton acknowledges. His expression turns wistful. "Watching that ship land… it was one of the most incredible things I've ever seen."
"Then… you recognize us?" Six asks.
Deaton nods, looking back and forth between the two of us. "Not at first, but now that I know… yes, I remember you. I remember all nine of you, actually. You were only children, but I could tell even then that you were unique. Special."
"Well, if you know about us, then you know what we're running from," Six says.
Scott looks at Six in confusion. "What?"
A shadow crosses Deaton's face. "I do. But you should be safe in this town, at least for now." A faint, humorless smile flickers across his face. "Although, considering that whatever did this" – he indicates the body – "is still out there, I'd say that 'safe' is a relative term."
"Agreed," I say, glancing over to the body on the table and immediately looking away again.
Suddenly, Scott's phone rings. He takes it out of his pocket, checks the screen, and then holds it up to his ear. "Stiles? What's up?"
I turn to Deaton, lowering my voice slightly. "Look, we probably don't have a lot of time, so we need you to tell us everything you know about us, and fast."
"Unfortunately, right now we don't have that kind of time," Deaton says. "But rest assured, I will help you in any way I can. It's the least I can do."
I exchange glances with Six and Sam. Six nods in response. It's obvious we're not going to get any more out of Deaton right now, so there's really no point in continuing this discussion.
Scott interrupts us, raising his voice. "What?" he asks incredulously. He pauses for a moment, then quickly replies, "Okay, I'll be there in a minute." He hangs up the phone, turning back to us.
"What was that?" Sam asks.
Scott's eyes narrow. "The thing that killed him." He indicates the body. "According to Stiles, it just killed someone else. He needs me there now."
"We'll come too," Six says immediately.
"I'm not sure that's such a good idea," Scott replies. "He said there are police all over the crime scene. Stiles's dad – he's the sheriff – will know me, but he won't know you guys."
"Well, let me put it this way," Six counters, unflustered. "We have a car. Would you rather catch a ride with us or walk?"
Scott ponders that for a moment, and then sighs. "All right, fine. We're going to have to explain this to Stiles, though. The alien thing, I mean."
Six and I exchange a worried look. Scott catches it immediately, though. "Relax, he's not going to tell anyone. He's known that I'm a werewolf ever since I was bitten a couple of months ago; we can trust him."
I think that over for a moment, then shrug hesitantly. "Okay, then. Let's get going."
.
We pull up outside the building that Scott directed us to, just in time to see Stiles standing near the entrance, talking to a man in a beige police uniform who I'm assuming is his dad. Scott hops out of the car, and I follow, leaning against the car. Scott waves, and Stiles nods to his dad and walks over to join him.
As they get into the car, Stiles's eyes widen, seeing me standing behind Scott. "Carter?" He turns to Scott. "Why are they here?"
"They're here because Carter saved me from Derek about an hour ago," Scott replies immediately.
Stiles's jaw drops. "Okay, back up for a second. First of all, what?! And second, does that mean he's a–"
"No, he's not a werewolf, Stiles."
"But I'm not human either," I say.
Stiles looks over at me. "Okay, so then… not to sound rude or anything, but what the hell are–"
"He's an alien," Scott says, cutting Stiles off before he can finish the question.
For the first time since I've met him, Stiles Stilinski is at a loss for words. His mouth works for a few seconds, but no sound comes.
"You're… an alien?" he asks incredulously.
"Well, the technical term is Loric, but yeah, I'm an alien," I reply.
Stiles stares at me, his eyes bulging in shock, for a long moment. Then, to my astonishment, he grins. "Okay, that's totally awesome!"
This time, I'm the one who's dumbfounded. "Um… aren't you at least a little surprised?"
"Surprised? Oh, yeah, absolutely. But another part of me is just relieved that we finally know what you are," Stiles says. "Seriously, it was starting to drive me crazy."
"Uh, Stiles?" Scott asks. "Not that this isn't an interesting conversation, but…"
"What was it that you called him about?" Six asks coolly, stepping out from behind the car; she clearly got out the other door while we were talking.
Stiles flinches involuntarily when she speaks; clearly, he had no idea that she was there. "Whoa! Okay… hang on a second." He points to Six. "You're his sister, so… alien?"
"Alien," Six confirms. "But I'm not actually his sister; that's just a cover identity."
Stiles nods. "Ah. Got it. That makes sense, actually." He refocuses on Scott. "Okay. Moving on. I come in to get the Jeep fixed, since Erica ripped the starter off of the engine yesterday. While I'm here, arguing with the idiot mechanic who spent the entire time trying to rip me off, I walk back into the office and realize there was some kind of goo on the door handle. A few seconds later, my hand goes numb, then the rest of me, and I just fall over. I couldn't move; I could barely breathe." His expression turns haunted. "That's when I saw it."
"Saw what?" Scott asks, as I feel a chill.
"I don't know what it was, but it sure as hell wasn't human. It came up on the other side of the door and just looked at me, for a few seconds. Then it turned and walked away, and I heard the mechanic screaming. Turns out he got crushed to death under the carjack." Stiles shivers. "Whatever the hell that stuff did to me, it wore off after a few minutes and I was able to get up and call my dad."
"Are you okay?" Scott asks anxiously.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." Stiles looks slightly dazed. "But you were right. It's not like you. I mean, its eyes were almost, like… reptilian. But…" He hesitates. "There was something about them."
"What do you mean?" I inquire.
Stiles glances over at me. "You know how, when you see a friend in a Halloween mask, but all you can actually see are their eyes, and you feel like you know them but you just can't figure out who it is?"
"Are you saying you know who it is?" Scott asks.
Stiles looks back to Scott. "No. But I think it knew me."
.
The next day, I find myself standing in a hallway with Scott and Sam, listening to Stiles as he starts talking to Scott with a strangely sickened look on his face. I chuckle as I listen to him.
"I'm so sorry about the other day. I'm trying. We'll get through this." Stiles pauses. "Uh, I know, because I love you. I love you more than – oh, my god, I can't." He spins away from Scott, practically gagging. Sam and I burst out laughing.
"You and Allison just have to find a better way to communicate," Stiles says.
"Come on, you're the only one we can trust," Scott says earnestly.
"Slightly offended by that," Sam points out.
"Rude much?" I ask.
He sighs. "Yeah, point taken."
"Sorry, sorry," Scott says. "But Allison doesn't know about you guys yet, so it'd be even weirder if you started taking these messages instead of Stiles." He turns back to Stiles. "Is she coming to the game tonight?"
"Yes!" Stiles yells, exasperated. "Okay, message complete. Now tell me about your boss."
"Well, aside from the fact that he knows about werewolves, and that he knew that Carter and Angela are aliens–"
"Loric," I correct. "'Alien' just sounds stereotypical."
"Okay, Loric, then – anyway, he also said that he thinks that Allison's family keeps some kind of record of all of the things that they've hunted. Like a book."
Stiles snaps his fingers in realization. "He probably means a bestiary."
"What?" Scott asks, echoed by Sam and I.
"A bestiary."
"Um, I think you mean 'bestiality'," Scott says with a faint chuckle.
"Nope, pretty sure I don't. It's like an encyclopedia of mythical creatures."
"Well, that definitely matches the description Deaton gave us," I comment.
"How am I the only one who doesn't know anything about this stuff?" Scott asks.
Stiles sighs. "Okay, you're my best friend, you're a creature of the night; it's kind of a priority of mine."
"Okay," Scott says. "So, if we can find it, and it can tell us what this thing is–"
"And who–" Stiles interrupts.
"We need that book!" they say simultaneously.
I nod. "Great. Any ideas on how we go about getting it?"
Their faces fall.
"We'll think of something," Scott replies.
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Jackson
I hurry down the hallway, carrying the video camera that was supposed to record my transformation on the full moon. It recorded nothing but footage of me sleeping, which is why I decided to go to Danny. He's really good with anything computer-related, so if anything went wrong with this footage, he'll be able to tell.
"Hey, Danny," I call, walking up to him; he's at his locker, getting books out.
Danny glances up to me. "Yeah, what's up?"
I hold out the camera. "I need you to see if you can brighten the resolution on this."
He nods agreeably. "Sure."
I place a hand on his shoulder, looking seriously into his eyes. "Whatever you find, you need to keep it to yourself. Got it?"
Danny seems confused. "What's on it?"
"It's just me in my room, in bed," I say, waving that off. Best to tell him as little as possible.
Danny frowns. "I'm supposed to watch you in bed? You remember all of the times I told you you're not my type, right?"
I sigh, exasperated. "Just do it." I hand him the camera and start walking away, but pause briefly and turn back to him. "Oh, and, uh, FYI? I'm everyone's type."
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Stiles
"I think you mean–" Allison starts to say.
"No, I mean bestiary," I snap, cutting her off. "And the two of you… I don't want to know what's going on in your heads."
"Okay," she says, holding up a hand in apology. "So, can you describe this thing?"
"Uh, it's probably like a book. Old, worn…"
She seems to be considering something. "Like, bound in leather?"
.
"Yes," I pant, skidding to a halt in front of Scott, Carter and Zach. "Seen… her grandfather… with a book like that."
.
"Where…" I gasp, running up to Allison. "Does he… keep it?"
.
"She says…" I wheeze, leaning against the wall next to Scott. "Has to be… office."
.
"You know, drug dealers have been using disposable cell phones pretty successfully for years," I complain as I reach Allison again.
"My parents check every call, email and text message I send," Allison says calmly. "Trust me, they'd find it."
"All right." I shrug it off. "Can you get the book?"
She shakes her head. "Not without his keys."
Then she smiles faintly. "But I think I know how I can get them."
.
John/Four
I glance around the lacrosse field as we finish preparing for the impending game. The other team is practicing at the other end of the field; all of their players are fairly muscular and athletic, but one in particular is about six and a half feet tall, with the mass of a professional football player.
"That one's going to be trouble," I mutter.
"Carter!" I turn around, to see that Scott was standing behind me. He walks closer and says softly, "We have a problem. Tone down the strength and speed as much as you can during the game."
"What?" I ask, surprised. "Why?"
"Because he's here." Scott jerks his head towards the stands. I turn, to see Allison with an elderly man in a brown jacket as they walk up the stands and sit down in the top row.
"Who is that?" I ask. "The old guy with Allison?"
"That's Gerard, Allison's grandfather. He's the older guy we heard at the vet clinic last night."
"Ah. One of the hunters. Got it." My eyes find Six and Sam, sitting near the sidelines, right behind where Stiles is seated on the bench. They're fine, so I'm not worried about either of them.
"Right. So neither of us can afford to slip up here and let him know that we're anything other than human, or he'll kill both of us without blinking. I've seen him kill one werewolf already since he's been here."
That's when it hits; realization. What I saw in the woods that night… the man who was murdered, cut in half. He was a werewolf. And those other men, the ones who had apparently trapped and killed him… those must have been the Argents.
"Not good," I mutter.
Scott sighs. "No kidding."
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Jackson
My eyes widen in anger and shock as I see Danny seated on the bench with Matt beside him, both of them intently focused on the camera in Danny's hands. The camera I loaned Danny yesterday, so he could check out the footage.
I storm over to them, scowling. "What the hell is this?" I accuse Danny. "Dude, I thought I could trust you–"
"Relax!" Matt cuts me off. "It's my camera, okay? He just needed to ask me some questions."
"Matt's the one who found it, anyway," Danny defends.
My eyes widen in surprise. "Found what?"
Matt opens the camera and starts replaying the footage. He turns to me, handing me the camera. "Watch."
I look closely at the screen, which still shows an image of me sleeping. As I watch, the image flickers.
"There," Matt says, pointing at the screen immediately after it flickers.
"There what?" I ask.
"It's an edit point," Danny explains. "It's been looped. Two hours' worth."
I turn to face the two of them, staring at Danny. "What does that mean?" I snap.
"That means," Matt says, "there's two hours of footage missing."
.
John/Four
The game is getting bad; with Scott and I restricted by the presence of Allison's grandfather, the huge kid on the other team is taking out our players one by one. Personally, I'm getting seriously annoyed at this point; part of me wants to put this kid through a wall, but I know that wouldn't accomplish anything.
"Come on, is that thing even a teenager?!" Coach Finstock yells from the sidelines. "I want to see a birth certificate!"
I chuckle faintly, but my smile fades when I glare back at the guy he was talking about.
"Who or what is that genetic experiment gone wrong?" Coach mutters.
"Eddie Abramovitz, Coach," Stiles says. "They call him the Abomination."
Coach snorts. "Oh, that's cute."
I jog back out onto the field, rejoining Scott. Jackson hurries over as well, his eyes narrowed. "McCall, what are you waiting for?" he snaps. "This is the semi-finals. Pound that 'roid-head into the ground!"
"Me?" Scott asks incredulously. "You're the one who said that I was a cheater!"
"And that freak of nature being on the field is fair?" Jackson growls. "Do something!"
"I can't!" Scott protests. "Not while Allison's grandfather is here."
Jackson glances up at the stands, where Allison is sitting with Gerard.
To sum it up, things keep getting worse. Although Scott, Jackson and I are able to stay in the game, the rest of our team is taking a beating. The huge kid, Abramovitz or whatever the hell his name is, keeps flattening our players, and we're down to the bench players.
That's when Scott taps me on the shoulder, and I realize that Stiles is gone. A quick glance shows that, although Sam is still sitting in the stands, Six is no longer there.
I exchange a meaningful glance with Scott. He smiles faintly and nods.
I nod back, a faint smile coming to my face.
The plan's underway.
The plan in question is for Stiles and Six to use the key to Gerard's office – which Allison should have surreptitiously stolen from him during the game – find the bestiary, and return the key before the end of the game so he'd never know that it was gone.
With any luck, we should be able to get out hands on the Argents' bestiary without anyone else finding out.
.
Scott
The game wears on, and the huge kid, Abramovitz, continues taking our team apart. More and more of our players are sent to the bench with injuries, and it's becoming possible that we won't have enough healthy players left to finish the game if this goes on.
"How many fingers am I holding up?" Coach asks Danny.
"Four," Danny replies, sounding somewhat dazed.
"Say two."
"Two."
"Perfect, get out there!"
"We're still short one player, Coach," one of the other players comments.
Coach looks around. "Where's Stilinski? Where's Stilinski?!"
As Coach paces back and forth, his gaze falls on somebody in the stands. "Hey!" he calls. "You! You play lacrosse?"
I glance over, trying to identify who he's pointing at, and my eyes widen in shock. Seated in the back row, looking down at the field, are Erica and Boyd.
As Boyd, who's obviously the guy Coach was pointing to, starts to stand up, Erica puts a hand on his shoulder. "Uh-uh," she says, audible only to my superhuman hearing. "Derek won't like this."
"Yeah," Boyd agrees. "But I will." He stands up, shrugging off her hand, and strolls down the bleachers, grinning.
"Oh, ha, ha, ha! We've got ourselves a player!" Coach cheers.
Carter – or whatever his real name is – and I exchange glances, and I can tell that we have the same thought in our minds.
This isn't good.
.
Six
Stiles and I meet up outside the entrance to the school. He's in a hurry, and is glancing back regretfully over his shoulder.
"You okay?" I ask.
He nods. "Yeah, I'm okay." He glances back toward the parking lot again. "Can we get this done quickly, though?"
I shrug. "Sure. You've got the key?"
"Yep," he says, producing it.
"Then let's go."
We hurry down the school hallway, straight to the principal's office. Stiles opens the door with the keys he got from Allison, and we duck inside.
"All right, you check the shelves, I'll check his desk," Stiles says, beginning to rummage through the drawers of Gerard Argent's desk.
Nodding, I turn away and check the shelves, running a hand along the lines of books, checking each of them for anything that looks like Stiles's description of the so-called "bestiary"; anything old, or anything with a leather binding. Unfortunately, none of the books on these shelves matches that description.
"Nothing here," I say.
Stiles doesn't reply immediately; he's still busily searching through the filing cabinet next to the desk, muttering "Book, book, book," under his breath. It'd be hilarious under other circumstances, but it doesn't seem like a good idea to start laughing right now, so I keep my amusement to myself.
"Stiles?" I try again, this time with a slightly louder voice.
This time, it gets his attention, and he turns to look at me. "Yeah?"
I indicate the shelves. "It's not here."
Stiles stands up with an exasperated sigh. "Not in any of these, either." He glares around the room, running his fingers through his hair. "Oh, this is so not good. Everyone's counting on us finding this freaking thing, and it's not even here–" He turns to face the doorway and jumps back in shock, almost falling over. "Oh, my–"
A girl's voice, one I recognize, speaks from the doorway, just out of my view.
"Hello, Stiles."
Sure enough, Erica enters the office, smirking at Stiles's obvious fear.
That's all I needed to see. I loudly clear my throat, stepping forward. "Evening, Erica. So, are you here for a reason, or do you just like stalking him?" I indicate Stiles.
Erica's eyes narrow, and her smile fades slightly. "Cute." She shifts position, so that she's facing me. "Are we going to have a problem, Angela?" She reaches out, as if to put a hand on my shoulder.
My eyes narrow, and before she can so much as touch my shoulder, my hand snaps up, catching her wrist. I feel a familiar surge of cold in my hand, but I maintain my composure. "I don't know. Are we?"
Erica jerks in surprise when I touch her wrist, and then she glares at me with fury in her eyes. "Big talk from a little girl." She tries to yank her hand away, but I apply a significant portion of my true strength, and her eyes widen when she realizes that she can't pull free.
"Big talk from a little wolf," I say coolly. Her eyes widen in shock, but before she can do anything else, I spin her around, twisting her right arm behind her back. Pushing her out of the office, I slam her face-first against the lockers on the other side of the hallway. She struggles, letting out a snarl, but I pull back and then slam her into the lockers again. That seems to do the trick, and she stops struggling.
"I'm assuming Derek sent you," I say. "Now, I'm giving you two choices; either you take us to him right now, or I'm going to break your arm. Scott already told us that werewolves heal fast, so I have no problems whatsoever with hurting you." I yank on her arm a bit to show her that I mean business, triggering a growl of pain. "Now. What's it going to be?"
Erica snarls at me, but I tighten my grip, forcing her to remain motionless.
"Fine," she growls. "I'll take you to him."
I smile. "Good. Then let's go."
Erica leads us off down the hallway. I walk right next to her, keeping a hold on the back of her neck and her right wrist, while Stiles trails behind us, sending a text to Allison reporting our failure to acquire the bestiary.
.
Scott
The two teams – now even, thanks to Boyd – line up, ready to continue playing. The huge kid, Abramovitz, is now lined up across from Carter. Carter eyes him, unafraid. Abramovitz grins back at him, right as the whistle blows.
Boyd snatches the ball out of the air and charges, barreling down the field. Just as Abramovitz charges Carter, obviously trying to knock him out of the game, Boyd slams into him, his shoulder smashing into Abramovitz's abdomen with so much force that the larger boy is flipped completely over Boyd's shoulder, before crashing to the ground, either dazed or unconscious. Either way, he's out of the game.
"Oh, yeah! That's what I'm talking about!" Coach yells at the top of his lungs. "The bigger they are…" He seems to be struggling to finish the phrase for a few moments. "The bigger… they… are!"
Carter glances at me and raises an eyebrow. "Impressive," he says, not bothering to yell because he knows I'll hear him anyway.
I nod, but I still have severe misgivings about this. The last time I got too excited on the lacrosse field, without an anchor to rely on, I almost broke Jackson's shoulder. So, if Boyd loses it right now and transforms on the field… things could get very bad, very fast.
.
Six
Stiles, Erica and I walk through the last set of doors and into the swimming pool. I've still got Erica's arm pinned behind her back, so she's bent forward slightly, and she keeps shooting glares at me. If looks could kill, I'd be dead five times over already.
Derek, as I expected, is standing next to the pool, glancing around. For some reason, he's holding a basketball in his hands. He turns to face us as we enter the room, his eyes widening in surprise as he sees that I have Erica pinned. "Erica? What's going on?"
"We just had a little disagreement," I say casually. "I'm guessing this is yours?" I let go of Erica, pushing her towards Derek. She staggers forward, but he catches her and places a hand on her shoulder to steady her.
I smirk, keeping my eyes on them. If John was right, then Derek was able to fight on an even level with him, so taking them both on at the same time would be challenging, but I think I can deal with them if it comes to that. I've had considerably more combat experience than John, so I'm confident that I can handle myself. Stiles, however, I'm more worried about, so I've shifted position slightly to place myself between him and Derek.
"Stiles," Derek greets him calmly.
"Derek," Stiles replies.
Derek glances at me appraisingly. "Who's your bodyguard?"
"She's Carter's sister, Angela," Erica says, glaring at me again. "And whatever the hell he is, so is she. She's stronger than I am."
I keep my gaze on Derek, my expression composed. "I don't really appreciate your sending your minions to kidnap my friends."
"I just wanted to talk to him," Derek says. He glances past me, to Stiles. "What did you see at the mechanic's garage?"
"Uh, several alarming EPA violations that I'm seriously considering reporting," Stiles says. I chuckle, but don't take my eyes off Derek.
Derek grins humorlessly, then tightens his grip on the basketball in his hands. To my surprise, it suddenly pops and deflates with a loud hiss, crumpling in Derek's grip.
Stiles jumps back with a mutter of, "Holy God."
"Let's try that again," Derek says.
"How about we try something else?" I say. "Either the two of you leave, or I kick your asses and make you leave."
Derek smirks. "You're going to make us leave?"
My expression doesn't change; I don't even blink. "Yeah."
His smirk grows. "You've got some spirit, little girl."
.
John/Four
The game continues with just as much intensity, except that now we're on a huge comeback, led by Boyd's furious style of play. He's taken several of the other team down already, and most of them have had to be helped to the sideline.
Unfortunately, although everyone is cheering for him, Scott and I know that this isn't a good thing. According to Scott, if a werewolf gets too excited, then they can transform involuntarily. And the absolute last thing we need is for Boyd to go full-on werewolf on the field.
The crowd is going crazy. While we were originally down by four, we've tied the game with less than a minute remaining.
I see Scott facing Boyd and hurry over to join them. As I get closer, I realize that Boyd's eyes, behind the facemask of his lacrosse helmet, are glowing yellow.
Oh, crap.
"You've got to get off the field!" Scott snaps. "Your eyes. Someone is going to see you!"
Boyd ignores him; instead, he grins predatorily and turns back towards the other end of the field, walking away.
"Go! Now!" Scott yells. "The game's over in thirty seconds! Keep him busy!"
I nod and promptly take off after Boyd, chasing him down the field while Scott goes after the ball. Before Boyd can reach the other team's side, I grab his ankles with telekinesis and pull, yanking his feet out from under him. He hits the ground and immediately scrambles to his feet, but I yank on his feet again as soon as he's up, putting him back on the ground. Hopefully, people will just think he tripped.
I hear Coach yell, "Get it to McCall! Get it to McCall!"
I glance over, just in time to see Scott hurl the ball from his net, directly into the goal, as time expires. The crowd erupts in cheers, the sound deafening.
An instant later, Scott is body-slammed by one of the tall kids on the other team, knocking him sideways and sending him slamming to the ground with a crunch. I instinctively run towards him, my eyes wide, as several people run down onto the field. Allison is in the lead, and reaches Scott a few seconds before I do.
"I'm fine," Scott gasps, barely audible even as Allison falls to her knees beside him. "I'm healing, it's okay." He looks up at her. "The book?"
Allison shakes her head. "It's not in his office, it's gotta be at the house. Let's look at your leg." She pulls up the leg of his jersey just as I reach them, and gasps. "Oh, my God, your leg is broken!"
Scott grunts in pain. "Not for long." As I watch, astonished, he grabs his leg and snaps the bone back into place. Gasping for breath, he lies back, the pained expression on his face fading as his leg heals. This is the first time I've actually seen his "werewolf healing" ability in use, and it's incredible. I've never seen anything like this before.
"Don't move!" a voice calls out, and I realize that Coach has joined us, along with a woman with curly dark hair who crouches down next to Scott, a horrified look on her face.
"Scott?" she asks anxiously, examining his leg.
"It's okay," he says. "It's okay, I'm fine." He smiles wearily. "I'm fine, Mom."
I stiffen in surprise. This woman is his mother? Now that I look at them, though, I can see it; they have the same olive skin and intelligent, friendly brown eyes.
"I could have sworn I literally heard bone breaking from where I sat!" Scott's mom says incredulously.
"Heard it?" Coach says. "I felt it."
Scott grins sheepishly, getting unsteadily to his feet. "Seriously, guys, I'm fine."
Allison exchanges a glance with him, and I realize that it's the same kind of look I would give Sarah when I lived in Paradise. That sends a pang through my heart, but I force it down. I don't have time to dwell on Sarah right now.
"We should go," Allison says, turning to Gerard, who I now realize is standing behind her.
"Hold on," Gerard says, smiling faintly. "I want to ask him one more thing." Then he turns to me, his smile widening. "You too, son."
I gaze uneasily back at Gerard. This doesn't sound promising.
.
Six
Stiles breaks the tension that's been building in the room with a loud sigh. "All right, fine. I'll tell you."
"You don't have to tell him anything," I interrupt, glaring at Derek.
"We might as well all be on the same page here," Stiles says, stepping past me. I stay close to him, however, so that I can get him out of the way quickly if this gets violent.
"All right," Stiles begins. "The thing was pretty slick-looking. Um, skin was dark. Kind of patterned. I think I actually saw scales. Is that enough? Okay, because I've got somebody I really need to talk to–" Derek's eyes narrow and he takes a step forward, causing Stiles to hold up his hands defensively. "All right, fine. Eyes are, um… yellowish. And slitted. It has a lot of teeth. Oh, and it's got a tail too. Are we good?" He pauses, noticing that Derek and Erica aren't looking at us anymore; they're looking up at something over our heads, their eyes wide. "What?"
Stiles pauses briefly. "Wait, have you seen it? You have this look on your faces like you know exactly what I'm talking about."
Feeling a tinge of foreboding, I turn around, looking up… just in time to see it, perched on the stairwell over our heads. It looks exactly like the descriptions from Sam and Stiles; something like a cross between a human and a lizard, with a tall, muscular body covered in dark scales, a long tail, and glowing yellow eyes with catlike slits for pupils. It lets out a low, scratchy hiss.
"Run!" Derek snaps, just as the thing lets out a piercing screech and leaps off of the stairs, heading straight for us.
I pivot, raising both hands and lashing out with telekinesis. The blast hurls the creature sideways, causing it to land in an undignified sprawl, but doesn't appear to hurt it at all. It instantly springs to its feet, snarling at me, and charges.
It moves faster than I'd expected; I stumble backwards, ducking under the first swing of its arm and landing an open-palmed strike to its chest that knocks it backwards, but it regains its balance in seconds and launches itself straight back at me.
Erica snarls, her eyes glowing yellow, and lunges at the creature, but it backhands her across the face with devastating force, sending her flying backwards into the wall. She hits the ground with a surprisingly loud thud and goes limp, knocked unconscious.
Derek growls as he shifts, his eyes lighting up red. He slashes at the creature with his claws, but it ducks under the blow and comes up behind him, its claws slashing at his neck. He staggers, grabbing at the cut.
"Derek, your neck!" Stiles yells, rushing forward as Derek suddenly loses his balance, stumbles, and falls. Stiles barely manages to catch him and prevent him from falling to the ground.
I stare at Derek in shock as I remember Deaton's words from last night.
"Whatever made this cut, it's laced with a paralytic toxin, potent enough to disable all motor functions."
Stiles looks back at me, and his eyes widen in horror. "Behind you!"
I feel a burst of pain at the small of my back, and I whirl around to see the lizard-thing snarling at me. Then the spot where I was cut suddenly goes numb, the feeling spreading throughout the lower half of my body.
"Oh, son of a–" I'm interrupted as I lose control of my legs, staggering uncontrollably sideways towards the water. My legs give way, the world spins around me, and I topple headfirst into the pool.
The chilling water snaps me back to full alertness. My legs are totally numb; from the waist down, I can't feel anything. I can still move my arms, though, and I quickly paddle with them, rising back to the surface.
I surface to see Stiles and Derek splashing in the water a few feet away.
"Hey, come on!" Stiles shouts, supporting Derek, who doesn't appear to be making any effort to swim; clearly, he's also been paralyzed by the creature's poison, although the effects seem to be worse for him. That makes sense, of course; I was cut on the back, so I'm paralyzed from the waist down, while Derek was cut on the neck, so he must be immobilized from the neck down. Not a good thing when you're floating in a deep pool of water.
"Where'd it go? Do you see it?" Stiles asks.
"No," Derek mutters.
"Me neither," I gasp, using my arms to swim over to them. It's not easy since I can't move my legs, but at least I can still tread water without needing someone to support me.
"Okay, maybe it took off," Stiles suggests hopefully.
As soon as he says this, a familiar screech echoes throughout the room. I glance around, but I can't pinpoint the source.
"Maybe not," Derek says sourly.
.
John/Four
Scott and I hesitantly follow Gerard and Allison up the driveway of the Argents' house. I can tell that Scott is just as nervous as I am, but he and I both try to remain calm.
I'm still not sure why Gerard invited me to join them for dinner, seeing as, aside from a friendship with Allison, I have no connection to the Argents whatsoever; but maybe that was the reason. At this point, given what Scott's told me about these people, I'm just interested in getting through the meal without any problems.
As Gerard opens the door, a woman – Allison's mother, I'm assuming – calls, "Oh, good. You're back. Dinner's almost ready."
"How was the game?" Allison's father asks. I shiver, realizing that he was the younger man from the vet clinic.
Gerard smiles, steps aside and waves a hand towards the front door, revealing that Scott and I are standing behind him. "Why don't you ask the star players?"
I nod politely; beside me, Scott raises a hand in greeting, smiling. "Hi."
.
"All right," Gerard says. "Why is everyone so quiet? Is it that uncomfortable that they dated?"
I glance around the table, examining each face in detail. I'd never met Allison's parents before, but they're exactly what I'd expected based on Scott's description.
"Did you ask them if they'd be uncomfortable?" Allison's father – Chris, as he told me to call him – points out.
"Okay, I know it's been a few centuries since I was a teenager," Gerard says with a faint, dry chuckle, "but even back then, we dated and broke up all the time."
"We're fine," Allison says. "Right, Scott?"
"Totally fine," Scott confirms.
Gerard leans forward, seemingly interested. "Then… why did you break up?"
Scott glances to Allison, then back to Gerard. "She… dumped me?"
Inwardly, I sigh and slap myself on the forehead. Oh, my god.
.
Six
"Get me out of here before I drown!" Derek snaps.
"You're worried about drowning?" Stiles asks incredulously. "Did you notice the thing out there with multiple rows of razor-sharp teeth?!"
"Did you notice that I'm paralyzed from the neck down in eight feet of water?!" Derek retorts.
"Not feeling too good over here either," I point out. "Arms are getting pretty tired."
"Okay!" Stiles replies, glancing around. "I don't see it."
Slowly, we start to swim towards the side of the pool, but are interrupted by another hiss.
"Wait, wait, wait, stop, stop!" Derek shouts as the lizard-thing suddenly appears on the side of the pool, directly in front of us. All three of us jerk back quickly. The creature tenses and lets out another hiss, but it doesn't do what I would have expected; jump in after us. It shouldn't be that hard. Instead, it turns away and begins stalking around the perimeter of the pool, stopping occasionally to hiss at us.
Stiles voices what we're all thinking. "What's it waiting for?"
.
John/Four
"No offense, Scott, but I think maybe Allison felt that the two of you were just growing apart," Chris says.
"As if the father's opinion isn't biased," Gerard scoffs. "How do you know they weren't as passionate as Romeo and Juliet?"
A strangely accurate comparison, in this case, I think.
"Romeo and Juliet committed ritual suicide," Chris retorts. "We could use a little less passion."
"Can we please talk about something else?" Allison asks.
"Brilliant idea," Allison's mom – Victoria, apparently – replies.
Chris decides to shift the topic of conversation. "Scott, how about you help me grab dessert from the kitchen?"
Scott nods and stands up, following Chris into the other room.
"Well," Gerard says, "while they're doing that, why don't we stop ignoring our young friend here, who's probably feeling very awkward right now?" He smiles at me in a friendly way.
"Uh, thank you, sir," I reply.
"Oh, for heaven's sake, call me Gerard, not sir!" Gerard says with a laugh. "You look like you're in an interrogation room. Relax, why don't you?"
I smile sheepishly. "Thank you… Gerard."
Gerard grins, clapping me on the back. "So, Carter… that is your name, right? What's your story? Allison tells me you just came into town a few days ago?"
I nod. "Yeah, it's me, my sister Angela and our cousin Zach. We move around a lot; we'd been living in Phoenix, Arizona, for a few years, but we decided to move out to California a couple of months ago. We looked at a few different areas, and we decided on Beacon Hills. Personally, I'm very glad we did."
"And your parents?" Gerard inquired. "If that's not too forward of me?"
I hesitate. "We're basically on our own, actually. We haven't really had any legal guardians in quite a while. My dad took care of me, but he…" I pause for a moment, thinking about Henri, and my eyes narrow in sadness. "He passed away a few months ago. That's why we decided to move, actually."
Gerard's face softens in sympathy. "I understand how it feels to lose someone that close to you, Carter. Trust me, you have my deepest sympathies."
I nod. "Thank you, sir – uh, Gerard."
Gerard nods, patting me on the shoulder. "Well, at least you still have family left to support you. If there's one thing I've learned in my life, it's this; you should always be able to count on your family."
.
Six
"Wait, did you see that?" Stiles asks, pointing over to where the lizard-creature has just tentatively reached one clawed hand down towards the water. Instead of diving into the pool, as soon as its hand touches the surface, it recoils with a hiss.
"It's scared," I realize, still treading water and fighting the ache in my arms.
Stiles nods. "I don't think it can swim."
.
John/Four
After Scott and Chris return from the kitchen, the rest of dinner goes fairly smoothly. We all sit and eat quietly, no one offering a new topic to consider.
Once we've all finished eating, Allison turns to Chris and says, "Do you mind if we're excused? There's actually some notes from English that I need to go over with Scott and Carter."
"I'm not sure it's appropriate," Chris says.
"Okay, I'm the one who's supposed to be old-fashioned here!" Gerard interrupts with a grin. "The three of you; go!"
Allison, Scott and I nod and leave the room, hurrying upstairs.
"Come here, come here," Allison says quickly, leading us to what has to be Gerard's room. We begin searching through his bookshelf, looking for anything that might be the bestiary. Nothing presents itself.
"So what's your story?" Allison asks me. "I'm guessing you know why we want this book?"
"To find out what that creepy lizard thing is? Yeah, I know about that," I reply.
"And… what are you? Human? Werewolf?"
I smile faintly. "Neither."
Allison stares at me for a moment, dumbfounded. "Well, then what are–"
"Alien," Scott explains.
I nod. "Yep."
Allison's mouth is hanging open as she stares at me. "Um… okay. That's a new one."
"I know, I thought the same thing," Scott replies.
I sigh, turning to face Allison. "I'll explain later. Right now, we need to find that book."
After a moment, Allison nods, refocusing on the task at hand. "Right. Right. Okay, let's think. It's not on the shelf, so where could it…" Her gaze falls on the small metal safe in the corner of the room, and she walks over to it, pulling at the door. It doesn't open; it's locked.
Allison frowns. "All right. There goes that plan."
"Wait," Scott says. "Actually… let me try something."
Scott, to my surprise, leans in, placing his ear against the safe door, and begins turning the tumbler on the front slowly. It takes me a second to realize what he's doing, but my eyes widen in disbelief when I figure it out. He's using his superhuman hearing to figure out the combination of the safe by listening to the clicks made by the tumbler as he turns it.
In about two minutes flat, Scott has the safe open. Allison and I are duly impressed.
"You want to do a few banks later?" Allison asks jokingly.
Scott doesn't reply; instead, he pulls a small, leather-bound book out of the safe, showing it off to us with a flourish. I grin.
Now, that's more like it!
The three of us exit the room as Scott opens the book and starts reading, but his expression becomes confused after a few seconds. "Salmon, tarte, crème fraiche… what is this?"
"A recipe," Allison says in realization, sighing in exasperation. "It's a cookbook."
Scott and I exchange a glance.
Not good.
.
Six
"Okay," Stiles says, his voice strained. "Okay, I don't think I can do this much longer."
I'm exhausted too; I've been treading water for over an hour, and it's getting very hard to stay afloat. On the bright side, I think the paralytic effects of the poison are starting to wear off; I can feel my toes again.
Derek's eyes narrow. "No, no, no. Don't even think about it."
"Would you just trust me this once?" Stiles asks. I glance over, to see that he's looking towards the side of the pool, where he apparently dropped his phone when he jumped into the pool to rescue Derek.
"No," Derek growls.
"I'm the one keeping you alive, okay? Have you noticed that?"
"Yeah. And when the paralysis wears off, who's going to be able to fight that thing, you or me? You don't trust me, I don't trust you. Either of you. But you need me to survive, which is why you are not letting me go!"
Stiles and I exchange a glance, and he shrugs. "Sorry."
"Stiles!" Derek roars, but he's too late; Stiles lets go of Derek, and immediately swims for the side at top speed. I wave a hand in his direction, using telekinesis to speed him up, and then reach down into the water with my mind, grabbing Derek in my mental grip and hauling him upwards towards me while reaching down as far as I can with my right hand.
My fingers grab the cloth of Derek's shirt and I yank, pulling him back up with a combination of telekinesis and physical strength. Now relying entirely on my telekinesis to support both of us, I grab Derek with both arms, lifting him up so that he can breathe. Coughing, Derek spits out water, inhaling deep breaths of air. He looks over at me and gasps, "Thank you."
"Consider yourself lucky I didn't leave your ass on the bottom of the pool," I retort.
A sound causes me to turn; Stiles has managed to grab his phone and paddles back out to us, dialing a phone number as he does. "I'm calling Scott," he says, holding the phone to his ear.
"Tell me you got him," Derek wheezes, still coughing.
After a few seconds pass, he yells, "Scott!" into the phone. A moment later, he lowers the phone, staring incredulously at it. "He hung up on me!"
I whip my head around in shock. "He what?!"
.
John/Four
We're still in Gerard's room, debating our options, when Scott's phone starts ringing.
"Shut it off!" Allison hisses frantically. "Shut it off!"
"I know, I'm sorry," Scott replies apologetically, answering the phone.
"Scott!" Stiles's voice calls over the phone.
"I can't talk right now," Scott says, hanging up the phone.
The three of us exchange glances, considering.
"Without it, we have no idea what this thing is," Scott says urgently.
"Where else do we look?" Allison says.
"I'm open to suggestions," I say.
"Well, what haven't we thought of?" Scott muses.
Allison considers. "Maybe it's not a book. Something else he keeps close to him. Hmmm…" Suddenly, her eyes widen, and she looks over at us. "I know where it is."
.
Scott and I rush downstairs, hurrying through the living room, where Gerard, Chris and Victoria are sitting. "Principal Argent… uh, Gerard," Scott says. "Mr. and Mrs. Argent. Thank you for dinner. I, uh, just realized that I have to pick up my mom from the hospital."
"And he's my ride home, so, as much as I'd like to stay, I should be going too," I continue. "It was great to meet you all."
With that, we duck out of the house, closing the door behind us, and jog down the driveway and off down the street.
Of all the times not to have access to a car, I think.
No sooner has that thought crossed my mind, though, when a familiar truck pulls up alongside us.
"Hey there, buddy." Sam grins at me from the driver's seat. "Need a lift?"
I laugh. "No kidding."
Scott and I hop into the truck, Scott sitting in the middle while I take the passenger's side, and Sam accelerates the truck off down the road.
"Where're we going?" Sam asks.
"The school," I say. "That's where the bestiary is."
Scott dials his cell phone as we drive. "Stiles, where are you? I need Gerard's keys, there's a USB drive on it. That's the bestiary."
"Yeah, well, we've got our own problem over here!" Stiles yells over the phone.
Scott and I exchange a glance. "What kind of problem?"
"The 'trapped in a swimming pool with a paralyzed werewolf and a partially paralyzed alien while Satan's pet lizard is stalking around the pool, staring at us' kind of problem!" Stiles snaps. "Now get your asses over here and help us out!"
Scott and I exchange a horrified glance.
"We're coming as fast as we can!" Scott snaps. "We'll be there in a couple of minutes."
I nod to Sam. "Punch it, pal."
Sam grins and slams on the accelerator.
.
Six
It's official; I'm exhausted. My arms feel like lead weights, and I still can't move my legs beyond a few twitches. I'm relying almost solely on my telekinesis to keep myself afloat and to help Stiles hold Derek up.
"I can't stay up any longer," Stiles gasps. "I need something to hold on to."
Seeing the diving board, I extend one hand towards it. "How about that?"
Stiles nods. "Yeah, that's what I was thinking. Come on." The three of us move like some bizarre five-legged race, with Stiles and I supporting Derek from either side as we paddle and I use telekinesis to prevent us from sinking.
Reaching the diving board, Stiles stretches up with one hand, grabbing a bar, but his hand slips off. I reach up weakly as well, but it's too slippery and I lose my grip within seconds.
This is getting very dangerous; we're either going to drown or I'll have to lift the three of us out of the pool telekinetically – which will put us at the mercy of the lizard creature lurking in the shadows.
Stiles tries to grab the bar again, and again he slips and loses his hold. I reach up, this time for the diving board itself, but I can't reach it.
Suddenly, a hand grabs my wrist, lifting me out of the pool in one quick movement and depositing me on the ground. I can see that another figure has lifted Stiles and Derek out of the water, placing them next to me.
I hear a roar, and look up to see Scott crouching on the diving board. He's been transformed; his eyes are glowing yellow, he's grown thick sideburns while his eyebrows have vanished, his lower jaw is more pronounced, and his ears have become pointed. When he snarls, I can see that his canine teeth have extended into fangs.
John is standing next to the diving board, looking down at me with concern on his face. "Are you all right?" he asks.
I nod. "Yeah, I'm okay," I breathe. "Just going to sleep for a week now, 'kay?"
John grins. "Yeah, you're going to be fine."
A snarl from the lizard-thing interrupts John; he and Scott whirl around as the creature rushes at them. Scott leads with a slash of his claws, but the creature dodges and counters with a full-force blow to the chest that launches Scott backwards, sending him crashing into a large mirror on the wall and shattering it.
John charges, kicking the lizard-thing in the chest and following with a powerful, two-handed telekinetic blast that knocks it off its feet. The creature hisses at him as it scrambles up, ready to attack, but it turns suddenly, focusing on Scott, who's risen to his feet with a large shard of the broken mirror in his hand. The lizard-thing seems strangely fixated on that mirror; it stares intently at it for a moment, and then recoils, letting out a screech. Turning, it leaps to the nearest wall, scrambles up it effortlessly, and then bounds across the ceiling, swinging off of a support bar and smashing through one of the large panes of the skylight overhead.
John and Scott look at each other, breathing heavily, and then back at the rest of us.
"What in the hell was that?" John asks.
.
A few minutes later, we gather in the parking lot, where Sam's truck is parked next to Stiles's Jeep. The paralysis has finally worn off, but I keep rubbing my legs just to make sure I can feel them.
Fortunately, we were able to acquire the bestiary from the flash drive on Gerard's key ring; Scott currently has his laptop open, and is showing us images of the files contained within the bestiary. Unfortunately, everything in the bestiary is written in a language that none of us understand.
"Is that even a language?" Stiles complains, rubbing his temples.
Scott sighs. "How are we supposed to figure out what this thing is?"
"It's called a Kanima," a voice says. We all turn, to see that Derek and Erica have joined us. Derek glances briefly at me, then returns his focus to Scott.
"You knew the whole time?!" Stiles demands.
"No," Derek replies. "Only when it was confused by its own reflection."
"So, if seeing its reflection confused it, then…" John trails off speculatively.
Scott's eyes widen in realization. "It doesn't know what it is."
"Or who," Derek adds.
"What else do you know?" I ask.
Derek shakes his head. "Just stories… rumors."
"But it's like us?" Scott asks.
"A shapeshifter, yes, but it's… it's not right. It's like a…"
"Like an abomination," Stiles murmurs.
Derek nods. "Yeah. Pretty much."
"So what do we do about it?" Sam asks. "Does anyone have any ideas?"
"Derek?" Scott says. "We need to work together on this. Maybe even tell the Argents."
"You trust them?" Derek snaps.
"Nobody trusts anyone!" Scott exclaims. "That's the problem. While we're here, arguing about who's on what side, there's something scarier, stronger and faster than any of us, and it's killing people! And we still don't even know anything about it!"
Derek's eyes narrow. "I know one thing. When I find it... I'm going to kill it." Turning, he walks away, Erica trailing behind him.
.
AN: And here we are again. Sorry it's taken me so long to update, I've been extremely busy lately. To make it up for you, I made this an extra-long chapter; I usually divide episodes into two chapters, but I went overtime on this one and managed to fit the whole episode into this one chapter. You're welcome. :)
Also, just a comment for everyone out there; HOW AWESOME IS TEEN WOLF SEASON 3B?! Am I right?!
Hopefully, you enjoyed John, Sam and Six's introduction to the supernatural world of Beacon Hills; don't worry, things are only going to get better as this story goes on. I also hope that you guys liked the larger role I gave Six in this chapter; I personally think she's an awesome, badass character, and I definitely wanted to do her justice in this story.
For all those of you who might be wondering if the romantic pairings in this story will be the same as canon or different, well… let's just say that this chapter might have some foreshadowing in it about the romantic futures of a couple of characters. Let the guessing and shipping commence! ;)
And, in what will probably become a tradition (or running gag, whichever term you prefer) on this story; the customary scale of everyone's strength/speed/danger levels. If anyone doesn't agree with this list, that's your opinion; I'm just creating this list to remind everyone of where all of the characters stand at this point.
Currently:
Normal Betas (Isaac, Erica, Boyd): 1
Scott: 1.5
Derek: 2
John/Four: 2
Six: 2.5
Kanima: 3
(For the record, my placing the Kanima at a 3 is due primarily to its own natural weapons, particularly its extraordinary healing ability and the paralytic venom produced by its claws; that makes it more dangerous overall than John or Six).
Shoutouts to Moonyong98, sillychick13, aliciasellers75, Reading in the dark2406, and inMyOwnHead1990 for reviewing! You guys are awesome!
And thanks to everyone who's read this story for almost 2,000 views!
As always, if anyone has a question or comment regarding this chapter or the story as a whole, please review! (No hate, please).
See you all next time!
Review Q&A:
Q: OH MY GOD! I have no words to describe how awesome this is, not just this chapter but the whole story
A: Well, thanks for the compliment! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! And don't worry, things are only going to get more awesome in the future! :)
Q: LOVE THE CHAPTER! I ALSO LOVED THE FIGHT SCENE. IN MY OPINION JOHN AND SIX WOULD BE WAY STRONGER THAN THE WOLVES SIMPLY BECAUSE THEIR ALIENS… AND THEY ARE HIGHER UP IN EVOLUTION… BUT I STILL LOVED HOW THINGS TURNED OUT. AND I ACTUALLY DONT KNOW IF ITS DANNY OR NOT… IM JUST PLAYING THE GUESSING GAME! LOL! CAN'T WAIT FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER! UPDATE SOON!
A: Yeah, I though about making John and Six a lot stronger than the werewolves when I first came up with the idea for this story, but I figured that would make them way too overpowered, and the story wouldn't be nearly as fun if the villains weren't a challenge for the heroes to overcome. Still, they're each as strong as an Alpha, so that's something… and remember, John hasn't seriously trained with Six to master his abilities yet, so they're definitely going to get stronger in the future.
Q: OK TOTALLY AWESOME PLEASE ADD MORE SOON.
A: Well, here you are, then! Enjoy!
Q: This is amazing! Update soon please
A: Thanks!
Q: Dang! John can whoop some if he needs to. ; I think Derek and the others are confused as to how John did what he did ; So Deaton knows about the Loriens? Interesting…
A: Indeed, he can. And yeah, they were very confused. Regarding Deaton, yes, he does indeed know about the Loric, and we got some information regarding that connection in this chapter, so hopefully that explains some of it, at least.