Chapter 25 - Warning

Maybe I was just being paranoid, but I swear that Jackson's head twisted in Isaac's direction the second he stepped on the field. That did not bode well.

Lydia leaned in my direction. "When were you gonna tell me?"

"Tell you what?" I asked, distracted by the players getting in position for the second time, break was barely two minutes long.

Her shoulder nudged mine so I nearly lost balance and fell over the Sheriff. She did some complicated facial expressions, including some impressive eye rolls, which made me even more clueless.

"What?" I hissed, cut off by the whistle again.

She rolled her eyes the regular way now, pursing her lips impatiently. "I-s-a-a-c," she mouthed and I sent her a warning look. Not that it was technically any of the Sheriff's business, but I still felt a bit apprehensive of him finding out about Isaac, no matter how innocent he was or wasn't.

I raised my eyebrows, not looking at the game now. Did she really want to do this now? Because I would leave this game this very instant if it meant that she would finally come clean about what happened the night of our birthdays. This time her eye roll was a bit more good-naturedly, but I swear she mimed "Cute!" just to embarrass me further. Her smile was infectious though and I felt the overwhelming need to giggle and hide my face in my hands.

"OH!" the crowd went off and I returned my focus to the game.

"Lahey!" Coach shouted and the player in question just shrugged innocently – there was a player down by his feet.

"Did Isaac just take down one of his teammates?" I asked quietly.

The Sheriff nodded. "Looks like it."

"Is that- that's not a part of the game, is it?"

Mrs. McCall, the Sheriff and Lydia all looked at me. Guess not then.

Coach Finstock sent in another player while the one Isaac took down limped off the field. Werewolf-tackle? Yeah, he'd feel that in the morning.

"OWW!"

Not ten seconds passed before Isaac put another player out of the game, much to Coach's aggravation. And another. And another. Really, Isaac was the white ball in a game of pool with his own teammates and he'd end up in suspension if he kept it up.

"All body checks, still legal," Lydia commented but winced and turned away as he tackled another player. "Just not very tactic - Ooh, that's harsh."

"Isaac, what the hell?" I mumbled, under my breath, but he heard me as his helmet turned my way. I tried not to focus on how jelly my legs got when I met his eyes. He tilted his head in the direction of…Principal Argent. Then he turned his head the other way, indicating…Jackson. My eyes widened and I tried to keep my voice hushed. "Argent's controlling Jackson?"

Isaac nodded slowly, but the referee blew his whistle. I didn't get it – was Isaac trying to take out his entire team so Jackson wouldn't? How did that even make sense?

The players huddled in position for another face-off, as Lydia informed me it was called, and –

I gasped, mouth hidden behind hands. "No!"

Jackson went straight for Isaac, knocking them both over to the grass. Only Jackson got up and walked away.

"No, no, no, no," I mumbled and pushed at Lydia to get out of my way. I hated feeling this helpless, but what the hell was I supposed to do without attracting the attention of everyone? Curse it all.

Have you forgotten who you are?

By the time I pushed off the bench and through the crowd, medics were already carrying Isaac off the field on a stretcher. "What just – where are they taking him?" I directed my question at the Coach, who shrugged me off and then at Scott. "Scott, hey, where are they taking him?"

"Cassie, you need to-"

"Don't you dare tell me what I need and don't need, Scott McCall. Tell me where in Goddess' name they're taking Isaac!"

Scott looked conflicted, even through the visor of his helmet, but he reached some sort of conclusion, looking over my shoulder instead of me. I turned my head to see what the hell he was st-

Scott pulled at my shoulders, stopping me from turning fully around. "Locker rooms! Go!"

Jackson still stared after me as I ran.

Locker rooms, locker rooms, boys' locker rooms – no, can't say I've had many pleasant experiences there. Jackson's attempted assault was the first one that came to mind. And nothing should indicate this one would be great either, judging by the unconscious medics out in the hallway. Great.

"It was a good effort, Isaac. It was."

I paused by the door, trying to lean in so I wouldn't give away my position, not that I had any idea what to do with the element of surprise, but I felt better for having it.

Two Argent grunts and the Principal himself with a – with a sword?

"This would be so much more poetic if it were halftime."

Isaac was paralyzed, he had to be, no way three humans would be a match for him – Argents or not. What in Frigg's name was Principal Gerard planning to do with that sword?

And what was I planning to do with…nothing?

Your first and foremost weapon is your mind.

So I had Wolfsbane, which would knock Isaac completely out, my cell-phone and my bare hands. Yay. This called for improvisation, a subject I'd proven several times in the past that usually ended up in disaster. But the longer I stood here, the more danger Isaac was in. Damn it.

"Hi!" I said brightly and stepped through the door. "Hold on, this isn't the ladies' room."

Okay, so I was channeling Lydia's ditzy personality, let's see how that works out.

The two Argent thugs made a move in my direction, but Principal Gerard held up a hand and smiled benevolently. "Ahh, Mistress Blair."

Don't correct him, let him think that-

"I was wondering when you'd join the game."

That wiped the smile off my face.

"You call putting a teenage boy to the blade a game?" I asked, hands behind my back, walking around the Argents.

Gerard's gravely voice rasped. "This is not a teenage boy, Mistress. This is an animal." He brandished the sword again. "And it needs to be put down."

"Cassie." Isaac's voice was strained, muffled, directed at the floor. "Get. Out!"

I ignored him, walking over so I stood between him and the Argents. Outside, I tried to portray Lydia's unwavering confidence, while my mind raced at light speed to figure out a plan, how to get us both out of here in one piece.

"Step aside, Mistress." There wasn't a hint of warmth in his tone. And it came to mind that I had never been properly scared of Matt, because Matt was just a disturbed teenage kid, but this one – this Gerard Argent – scared me to the bone. He smelled of death.

"And if I won't?"

Isaac still crawled on the floor, probably forcing his body to push the toxins out of his system, fighting to regain mobility. I didn't move.

"Don't think that you're innocent just because you're not a wolf, Mistress Blair," Principal Gerard grumbled with such contempt I took a step backward. "Do not think I won't cut you down just the same just for aiding one of these beasts."

I forced a laugh, prayed it sounded believable. "You think a blade can hurt me?" My thoughts drifted to dark places, to the wounds, slashes and scars covering my grotesque visitors from the birthday party. Oh yes, they could.

Principal Gerard looked fondly on his sword, inspecting the sharpness. "Oh, I think I recall plenty of incidents where you were taken down with an iron blade!"

"Cassie!" Isaac growled more than he talked now – he wanted me out of here.

I held my ground and crossed my arms over my chest. "I'm not going anywhere."

Principal Gerard made a face that reminded of a smile the same way a teddy bear reminded of a grizzly. He raised the sword and I realized he would actually do it. He would actually kill me in order to take down Isaac – but to what end?

Behind them, I thought I saw a shadow flicker. A split second later, the hallway lights went out.

"Heed my words as a threat,

You have seen nothing yet."

The words came unbidden, but I said them all the same, with dark strength. I held my arms to my side, palms facing the Argents. They shifted uneasily; the two in the back pushed the safety off on their guns. Like firearms could save them. Principal Gerard paused, but did not lower his sword. The green emergency light gave his face a sinister shine.

"Nice trick," he complimented. "But I'm afra-"

There was a drawn-out sound as the fans shut down. The neon EXIT-sign blinked once – twice – before we were cast in complete darkness. The last thing I saw was Gerard swinging the sword. I didn't have time to duck.

The sword never hit, something stopped it mid-air. A snarl behind me. Isaac.

Chaos erupted.

The first thing I felt was something pulling at me, my back against the wall, a hand forcing me down, gentler than expected. Isaac.

He could see in the dark, right? Because I sure as hell couldn't and I instinctively ducked as gunshots erupted around in the room. Four shots in total; abruptly stopped by another werewolf roar. Isaac.

No, one last shot that ended in an organic sound accompanied by a howl of pain. No. Isaac?

Silence. Labored breathing.

"Isaac!" Scott's voice echoed in the darkness. "Cassie?"

"Isaac?" I cried first, then: "Scott?"

It was just too freakin' dar – the light came back without warning and it blinded me even more than the darkness. In the initial confusion I nearly stumbled over my curly-haired werewolf, who was on the floor with a pained expression. His hand pressed onto his abdomen, much like Scott had at the Sheriff's station.

The feeling of lungs shutting down. The pressure building up in your brain. NO! I shook my head, swallowing thickly. I was needed here, not in the past.

"Oh gods, oh no, you're bleeding, a lot, so much blood," I didn't make any sense, just sputtered out words and half-sentences while Scott helped Isaac to his feet. He scanned the room frantically.

"Where is he?"

Two Argents on the ground, no sign of the third, the head of the snake. "He- he was just here, he had a swo-"

"Cassie, here!" Scott didn't have time for explanations, just hefted Isaac heavily to his protests and put his arm over my shoulder so I supported the wounded, freakishly tall werewolf instead. Scott dashed out of the locker rooms, hot on the trail of Gerard.

I sagged under Isaac's bulk; I swear Lydia would love to hear his secrets because he dressed a lot thinner than he actually was. Wrong focus, Cassie, wrong focus! What did I know about stomach wounds, gunshot wounds, or any kind of lethal wound on a werewolf actually?

"I'm – healing," Isaac managed to croak out and I realized our height difference had him bent nearly double. That could not be good for his injury.

"Okay, come on, come on," I muttered in a hasty pace and tried to steer him over to the bench closest to the wall. I tried to be careful, but he flinched as my muscle strength completely failed in lowering him gently onto it. "Sorry!"

I helped him to lean against the wall and even though I hesitated, it was just for a split second before I lifted his lacrosse jersey up so I could see the-

"That is so much blood," I mumbled, trying to swallow the gagging feeling in my throat. I wasn't nervous around blood, not really, it was just imagining the pain that came with it. Open wounds and I didn't exactly go together. Give me a decayed corpse over a wounded living any day.

Isaac laughed at me, probably his adrenaline high crashing, but he cringed sharply. "Ah, ow."

"Okay, so what, do I clean it or-" My fingers were poised helplessly over his stomach, covered in his blood. "Do I need to take the bullet out?"

He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. "Through and through."

"Pain, you're in pain, I can take – I can help – the pain, it can be - you need to give me permission." I spluttered on, trying to talk to take my attention away from the gaping hole in his body and somehow his fingers found mine and he squeezed.

"Watch."

"No, no, thank you, I'd rather not," I said desperately, thinking of all the possibilities that the bullet was laced with poison, with wolfsbane, with any other kind of anti-werewolf substances, what would happen then?

He tightened his grip on my hand again. "Cassie! Calm down, I'm healing."

Calm down? I was plenty calm, thank you very much, the epitome of a level-headed person in a crisis, and I was just about to say so when I realized my heart went insanely fast in my chest and there were tears poised in the corners of my eyes. I was never like this when Matt controlled the kanima, but when Gerard was just a swing away from splitting Isaac in half…

"Watch."

Carefully, oh so carefully, I opened my eyes to stare straight into Isaac's incredibly blue ones. They crinkled slightly at the corners before we both looked down onto the smooth, unmarked skin of his – of his surprisingly defined stomach actually. I tried to be discreet, look away so he wouldn't know why, but ended up directing my gaze straight into the ceiling and keeping it there. Of course I knew Isaac was hot, I just didn't know quite how hot without clothes.

"You okay?" he asked, sounding concerned with a tiny little hint of smug hidden in there somewhere. I nodded rapidly, all thoughts of aching neck gone, but looked everywhere but him until my blush subsided to a manageable amount.

"Yeah." Oh gods, my voice cracked like a pubertal boy's. "You?"

There was a rustle of fabric as he pulled his jersey down, to my coinciding relief and disappointment, and he shifted his hand so our fingers interlaced together. "I'll be fine."

We sat together for a while – Isaac's breath returned to normal while I struggled to keep my pulse in check. Outside the crowd cheered, but at least it wasn't screams of terror.

"We're winning," Isaac commented, stretching his shorts-covered legs out. I nodded, not really that concerned with the game, as long as nobody ended up dead I was fine with the result. "Um, I'm not gonna ask, not today. But you're gonna have to tell me – tell us – one day, Cass."

The words 'About what?' were poised on my tongue, innocent and guilty at the same time. I kept shut. I wasn't Lydia, I wouldn't act stupid. Truth was, right now, I'm not even sure how much I had to do with it – with the electricity blacking out like that.

"Yeah," I said instead, pulling my hand out of his, but he tightened the grip instead. This wasn't the time, I knew that, but I savored the moment anyhow. Even with my hand covered in Isaac's blood and he still suffering the aftereffects of the kanima poison.

It didn't take too long. Isaac shifted, staring out into nothing, listening to something I couldn't hear. "Something's hap-"

Screams, panicked screams and a whole lot of shouting got us up and moving, out the door, down the hall, out to a – to a pitch black field. No, did I take out the floodlights too?

"Cassie!" Isaac's voice growled by me, my hand in his again. "Don't let go, come on!"

My eyes adjusted, but it didn't help. People ran around like crazy, everyone shouting to find the person meaning the most to them and I –

"LYDIAAA!" I yelled on instinct, scanning the shadowed crowed for a sign of her. What if he went after her, what if she tried to interfere somehow, what if she was hurt, what if she was bleeding like Isaac just was? "Lydia!"

Isaac pulled on my hand, forcing me in a direction that seemed as random as any other. "She's over here, she's with Scott."

A small huddle in the middle of the field, all lacrosse players staring down at –

"Jackson? What's happened to Jackson?" Her shrill voice cut through the din. Her shrill, panicked voice. "Jackson! Jackson, Jackson, what's happening!"

Someone shouted for a medic, Coach Finstock, but Mrs. McCall was already down by him and announced everyone's fear: no heartbeat, no pulse. She pulled back his jersey and I gagged. I had my fill of stomach wounds tonight and Jackson had at least five of them – punctured through his undershirt, but not his lacrosse uniform.

"Oh, oh my God!" Lydia started to hyperventilate. "There's blood. There's blood!"

I forgot all about Isaac and rushed forward to meet Lydia, who looked ready to collapse. She fell apart in my arms, shivering, sobbing, clutching onto me.

"Get down here." Mrs. McCall's stern voice came like a spear, right at Lydia. "Get down here and hold his head." She left no room for argument and while I questioned the logic in having the panicked girl assist her, I helped Lydia to her knees. She wiped tears, held back a sob.

"Tilt it up, that's it," Mrs. McCall said, gentler now, and I realized she just took care of two patients at once. Scott's mom performed CPR while the rest of us watched helplessly. I looked over at Scott and Isaac who were conducting a whispered conversation, but I didn't dare to leave Lydia's side. Not now.

"Cassie!" The Sheriff pushed through the lacrosse players. He grabbed onto my shoulder firmly and gave me an once-over. "You're okay? You're not hurt? Who's blood is that?"

Isaac's.

"Yeah, I'm…" I started to answer, but his eyes were elsewhere. "Sheriff?" They were everywhere, looking around wildly, turning around himself several times.

He muttered something under his breath, something I needed werewolf-ability to hear, still searching for something. His voice rose in volume. "Where's Stiles?"

No.

"Where's Stiles?"

No, no, please no…

"WHERE THE HELL IS MY SON?"

Stiles is gone.