Hi Everyone! It's a short one today. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 11: Help

The sound of loud voices and metal lockers slamming shut filled the air of the boys locker room. Scott, Isaac and Stiles stood huddled together, trying as hard as they could to keep their voices to a whisper. The rest of the boys in the locker room were too preoccupied with changing into their lacrosse gear to notice them anyway.

"Another attack last night," Isaac said in a hushed tone. "In the cemetery. Killed on of the night guards and dug up a grave."

"Just another day in Beacon Hills," Stiles muttered.

"It stole some things from the grave," Isaac added.

"Like what?" Stiles asked.

"We're not really sure," Isaac replied. "Some bones were missing, and maybe an object or two. Also, it left something behind." Isaac reached into his backpack and pulled out the aged piece of paper, which was sealed in a plastic sandwich bag.

"Who's grave was this?" Scott said.

"Silas Faust," Isaac answered. "Peter tried looking him up but couldn't find much."

"Great, more mysteries," Scott said.

"What's on it?" Stiles inquired after examining the handwriting.

"We don't know," Isaac answered. "It kind of looks like Latin, but I'm not sure."

"We need to translate it," Scott stated.

"Gee, if only we didn't piss off the one person who could help us," Stiles said.

"You're right," Scott said. "She's never going to help us after what happened."

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a whistle blowing loud in their ears. Coach stepped out of his office and into the locker room. He had his usual deranged look in his eyes and his hair was sticking out in every direction.

"You have thirty seconds to get on the field," he yelled, putting a temporary end to the boys' conversation. Practice would provide a nice distraction for about an hour or two, but in their minds they knew it wasn't long before their lives would be thrown back into crazy mode.

Lydia sat silently at a table by herself in the library. Her books were sprawled out in front of her and she was typing away on her laptop. Then, she noticed something appear out of the corner of her eye. She looked up over the lid of her laptop and sighed. Stiles, Scott, and Isaac were now sitting down on the opposite end of her table, peering at her with expecting eyes.

"Yes," she said demandingly as she took out one of her earbuds, giving half of her attention to the boys.

"Look, we know you're mad at us," Scott began.

"Got that right," Lydia interjected.

"But, we really need your help. It's important, and we wouldn't be bothering you if it wasn't," Scott explained.

"What is it?" she inquired, not sounding too thrilled.

"I found this last night at the cemetery," Isaac said as he placed the half piece of paper on the table. "The thing that attacked us dug it up. We only have part of it."

"And let me guess," Lydia said. "You need me to translate it."

"That would be the case," Stiles said.

"I really should start charging for my services," Lydia quipped.

"So you'll help us?" Scott asked with a pleading look in his eyes.

Lydia took in a heavy breath and began to examine their proposal. As annoyed with them as she was, she couldn't help but be curious by the markings on the paper. On the one hand, she did not want to be wrapped up in the supernatural battle that was surly coming. On the other hand, though she would never admit it, she lived for all of this decrypting secret messages stuff. It made her feel like a prettier Indiana Jones. She hesitated before answering for one more second, just to put the boys on edge, and then she began to speak. "Fine," she said. "But, only if I get full access to what's going on. None of this keep me in the dark stuff, got it?"

"Yes," Scott said, relieved. "Thank you, I promise, we'll make it up to you."

"Don't get too excited," she added with a playful smirk. Then, she reached over the table and grabbed the plastic bag that contained the piece of paper. She held it close to her eyes and began to examine it. "By the way, this isn't even a real language," she said.

"What do you mean?" Scott asked, sounding disappointed.

"I mean, I can't read it," Lydia answered. "It's like a code or something. I'm surprised you couldn't tell."

"Well, do you think you can crack it?" Stiles said.

"A challenge," Lydia began. "But I accept. I'll see what I come up with tonight and we can meet here tomorrow, k?"

"Yeah, that sounds awesome," Scott said. "See you tomorrow then."

Then the three boys left Lydia to figure it out. They hoped she would be able to come up with something fast. The situation was getting out of hand and they needed all the help they could get.

The next day, Lydia walked into the library, less enthusiastic than she normally was. She still looked perfect and put together, but there was a look in her eyes like she had been up all night. She spotted the three boys sitting at one of the tables near the back of the library and headed towards them. As she sat down, all three pairs of eyes were focused on her intently.

"So," Stiles began, eagerly. "What'd you find?"

"Nothing," Lydia said bitterly as she threw the document onto the table in frustration. "Absolutely nothing. I was up until four in the morning trying to figure this out. It's uncrackable."

"Great," Scott sighed.

"I tried everything I can think of," Lydia continued. "Whoever wanted this to be a secret meant business."

"So what do we do now?" Isaac asked, frustrated. "If the smartest person we know can't even figure it out."

"I don't know," Scott said. "But we can't just wait around for this thing to kill again before we find more clues."

"Actually," Lydia piped up, sounding a bit hesitant. "I might know someone else who could help."

"What? Who?" Stiles asked. He noticed Lydia was looking at something in the distance. He turned around to see what she was staring at. From afar he could see a fair, long-haired girl wearing a short, black skirt, and a white collard shirt glide through the rows of books. The rest of the boys turned around to see too.

"I'm guessing you mean Clara," Isaac sighed.

"The only problem is weather or not they would be willing to," she continued.

"Even if she didn't hate all of us with the power of, I don't know, a thousand witches, how would she be able to help?" Stiles inquired.

"She can do this thing where she reads the history of objects," Lydia explained. "She could tell us who wrote that and why. She might even be able to figure out the key to the code."

"There's no way she's going to work with us," Isaac said.

"Well, you never know until you try," Scott said optimistically. He got up from his chair and walked towards the bookshelf Clara was standing behind.

"This is a bad idea," Stiles mumbled.

Scott found Clara in between two tall bookshelves. She was delicately flipping through the pages of an encyclopedia. All of a sudden, she slammed the book shut and looked up, staring straight ahead. "I thought I told you to stay away from me," she said bluntly, not even bothering to look at Scott.

Scott inhaled slowly. This was going to be harder than he thought. "Hi Clara, how's your day been?" he said gently.

She shot him a look that could pierce a hole through his chest. He felt lucky it didn't. Then she slid the book back into its place on the shelf and began to walk in the other direction.

"Wait," Scott called after her, taking a step towards the girl. Suddenly, an avalanche of books tumbled down in front of him, one clocking him on the head. "Ow! That wasn't necessary!"

Clara smirked with amusement. "What do you want?" she exclaimed. She was frustrated by the werewolf's persistence.

"I just wanted to apologize," he said. She could tell he was being earnest, but she didn't want to hear it. "About the other day."

"You're lucky I didn't report you to the police," Clara said. "Or worse, my grandmother."

"I know, we were really in the wrong," he replied.

"Yeah, you were. You didn't even bother to find out anything about me first. Like, for example, why would I try to kill the man that saved me and my grandmother from the hunters, who were, by the way, tipped off by your kind," Clara explained, exasperatedly. "For your information, the Fausts aren't responsible for the death of my family. That burden lies on the Hales."

"What do you mean, saved you?" Scott inquired.

"Edmund Faust was friends with my grandmother. He was the only one of the Fausts who was brave enough to stand up for us. He hid us while the others were being killed and got shot in the head trying to save us. I visit him every once in a while because his family all abandoned him. The reason I mess with the security tapes is because we've been using magic to keep him alive."

"I didn't realize," Scott said softly.

"You wouldn't have, would you?" Clara said, narrowing her eyes.

"I'm really sorry, Clara, we all are. We're not bad people."

"You're not really even people," she said. She knew it was a low blow, but she was angry.

"Look, I know you don't like our kind," Scott sighed.

"That's an understatement," Clara muttered, cutting him off.

"But, this is really important. We have something that could help us figure out what this monster thing is and what it wants. The only problem is, we can't read it. It's like some kind of code or something."

"And what does that have to do with me?" Clara asked sharply.

"Lydia said you could read objects,"

"Did she now?"

"And that you could tell us all there is to know about it. We figured you could help us figure out what it all means."

Clara laughed. "You expect me, to help you?" Clara said in disbelief. "You must be delusional, werewolf."

"Please," Scott pleaded. "I wouldn't be asking you if it wasn't crucial."

"I don't care," Clara stated coldly. "I'm not going to help you."

"I don't think you understand. We found it at one of the Faust's graves," Scott explained. "And that connects it to you too. This thing that is out there is after all of us, and it's too strong for any of us to beat it alone. But if we work together we could-"

"The answer is no," Clara said firmly, her tone shifting from annoyed to angry. As she said the words, her big, green eyes glowed, enhancing the dark glint that was always present in them. Scott felt a harrowing feeling creep up his spine. He felt like he was being pricked with thousands of needles. The only thing he could focus on was the stinging pain. Then, after a few seconds, it suddenly stopped. He looked down at himself, and then back up at the girl, a shocked expression plastered on his face.

"Fine," he said. "If you don't want to help us, we'll just have to figure it out on our own. But understand that as long as this thing is at large people are going to keep getting hurt." Then, he turned around and walked away from her. She watched him as he left and she could tell how frustrated he was. But what was she supposed to do? Getting involved with werewolves had already caused more trouble than it was worth, and she had enough to deal with.

Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment down below! I'd love to know what you are thinking :)