I was used to being alone. I had actually come to quite enjoy my own company. It always surprises people when you say something like that, that you liked being by yourself. It was so ingrained in human beings to find their people; a life partner, a group, family- that to swim against the tide often unsettled them. You could see the looks on their faces as they whispered to their companions about the intricacies of your perpetual solitude.
When I was younger, I had begged my parents for a sibling. I found being an only child unbearably lonely and was desperate for a built-in friend. My parents were the type of people who were Richard and Elizabeth Fraser first, parents to Winona second. Having me young meant that they were desperate in their own way, to not let me get in the way of their living. It also meant that there was absolutely no chance that I was getting a sibling.
That need for company, real company- for someone who sees you so completely where others don't, burdens you with this awful hollow feeling in your chest. You walk around in a daze, aching for someone who doesn't exist.
Having only Gran left, had bizarrely patched up the hole a little. Losing everyone I loved, allowed me to fully resign myself to a life of being completely and utterly alone. I was content with my decision to close myself off from other people- this way I was finally free of those little clauses which so often disappoint people.
I had absolutely no intention of ever loving anyone ever again.
"Fuck off, before I put my cigarette out on your stupid fucking flat cap," I snarled at the group of obnoxious lads a few feet away. The one who was currently the source of my anger (the idiot with the flat cap), fell about laughing, buoyed by my irritation and his cackling friends.
Being the new girl had given my image a certain je ne sais quoi and coupled with my absolutely delightful personality, I had been the target of unwanted conversations all day. The boys all seemed to think that I was some sort of nymphomaniac Kate Winslet and the girls all wanted to know if I had ever met One Direction or Kate Moss on the tube. The English tropes were dizzying and I was running out of semi-polite ways of telling people to leave me alone. Not that I had tried too hard with the 'semi-polite' path anyway but after hours of this, I was cruising straight for downright rude.
"Oh Jack," Flat Cap said breathily. "Draw me like one of your French girls."
As the jackals set off in peals of laughter again, I was seriously talking myself down from hexing them. I had never hexed anyone and I wasn't entirely confident that hexing was something that I could even do but it sounded just witchy enough in the moment to satiate my need for blood.
The old Winona would have walked over there and started a fight. Really showed them not to take the piss out of angry English women. But if I wanted to stay on Gran's good side, I couldn't use my fists to fight my way out of a problem. As Gran would say, it was time to do the Christian thing and turn the other cheek. Sure, Jesus had all the answers but had he ever spent the day in a teenage girl's shoes? I didn't think so.
"Hey, hey, hey dude! What do you think you're doing to that truck bro?"
God?
Was that you?
I looked up from my book sharply and hesitantly raised my head to the sky. Then I caught myself being utterly idiotic and lowered my head quickly, instead catching sight of Stiles Stilinski. Of course, it wasn't God- it was my own personal anti-Christ.
The sun, caught in the branches of a low hanging tree, dappled gold across Stiles' face and it gave him an other-worldly glow. Not heavenly, there was nothing biblical about Stiles. Decidedly Other. I knew in the pit of my stomach that he wasn't supernatural, I knew now that it was Scott. But there was still a magic there, something I hadn't encountered yet. Something I desperately wanted to put a name to but constantly fell through my fingers every time I got close, like sand.
"What the hell?" Flat Cap bellowed, causing me to jump out of my skin. With his cronies at his heels, Flat Cap strode forward and struck something out of sight, viciously. I heard a distinct grunt of pain and the sound of someone hitting the ground and did the maths.
Wherever Thing 1 went, Thing 2 was never far behind. Either they were really getting their teeth into a violent kink today or Stiles was still testing Scott's control. From what I had seen on the pitch, Scott was too close to the edge to be tested on a group of high school kids, the idea verged on suicidal.
Once this was all over, I was going to seriously poison Stiles next.
I got to my feet and groaned as I rounded the corner. The group of four lads were playing a cheeky game of kickabout with Scott's head, leaving smears of blood on the asphalt.
It glittered in the sun- catching me off guard and I stopped in my tracks. I had forgotten how blood could glisten like that when it caught the light. What it looked like when it painted cement.
"How are you everywhere?" Stiles exclaimed, his voice slamming me out of my moonlit memories. I glanced at the phone in his hand and swore, my suspicions confirmed.
"You're a fucking idiot," I hissed, shoving roughly past him.
I broke out into a run and before I could overthink it, I grabbed Flat Cap by the scruff of his shirt, twirled him around and punched him square in the face. I was by no means, a terribly strong person. However, I had enough fighting experience to know that when you were under 5"5, unless you had a blackbelt in karate or a copper pipe nearby, all you really had in your arsenal was the element of surprise. Once that was gone, it was time to fight dirty.
With Flat Cap reeling from my surprise assault and my fist throbbing from the punch, I pushed myself into the middle of the scrum that the boys had created around Scott.
"Oh my God," Stiles commented in disbelief, sounding like he wouldn't have been out of place in a ring-side seat at a boxing match.
I had no time for Stiles' quips- Flat Cap was rallying.
"Leave him alone," I said, doing my best to exude calm as I placed myself firmly in front of Scott- who looked completely bemused at the interruption (and the kicks to the head). The other three boys had turned in surprise, fists raised when I had attacked their ringleader. They were hesitating now, I could see it in their faces. They seemed to be unsure as to the rules of fighting girls in school car parks, even when said girl had made the first move.
"No," Flat Cap said through a mouthful of blood. I winced as he spat. "The freak fucked my truck, so now he's gonna pay for it."
Despite my heart beating so viciously against my ribcage that I thought it might tear right through, and my adrenaline sending me to dizzying new heights, I had to fight hard to remain serious. Coupled with the American accent and shit chat, I really felt like the star in a Quentin Tarantino movie. Uma Thurman had nothing on me.
"Okay Dr Seuss, I'm going to ask one more time, nicely. Please, leave him alone." I felt Scott get to his feet gingerly, beside me.
Flat Cap advanced and squared right up to me, in a move which defied the odds, evidently deciding that I was his biggest threat. I could feel his breath, hot on my face. The scent of copper polluted the air between us.
"I'm gonna say it one more time. No."
"Fair enough," I shrugged casually. With my heart in my throat, I reeled my arm back, clenched my sore fist and hit him in the face again. He stumbled back in complete surprise, not expecting me to try my luck a second time and succeed at catching him off guard again.
I heard Stiles' sharp intake of breath as Flat Cap rocked backwards.
"Fuck!" I hissed, massaging my throbbing hand.
I looked up just as Flat Cap's eyes narrowed to slits, his face completely covered in blood.
"Get the little bitch!" he ordered thickly and his boys jumped into action.
Scott and I instinctively backed up against each other whilst the three boys circled us, and we moved with them. It all felt very primal- like an episode of Animal Planet gone horribly wrong. I could almost hear David Attenborough in my head.
"Come on lads," I taunted. "I thought you were supposed to be hard?"
I regretted baiting them instantly as the boys advanced with dizzying speed and I saw a fist fly in my direction. I ducked quickly and the boy's knuckles connected with the back of Scott's head. I winced but Scott seemed to absorb the pain and wouldn't be distracted from the guy currently trying to land a plethora of blows on him.
We broke apart at the same time, Scott taking on two of the boys and myself angling for the final one. I thought back to my English secondary school fights and tried to embody the same feral energy. My guy was big- bigger than Flat Cap, but I had one advantage and that was that he looked like he really didn't want to hit me. I could tell by the way that his eyes kept flitting nervously to my hands, that he wouldn't let me get away with a third surprise punch though and weighed up my options.
The best places to strike a man were the obvious crotch area, or the throat. I wasn't strong enough to do any damage to his solar plexus, so I made a split-second decision. I would aim for his throat and then at the last second, feint to the side and go for gold.
I lunged and the other boy stumbled forward to meet me. I curled my fingers into a fist and struck upwards in a curve, to appear like I was going to cut him under his chin. Like I had hoped, he instinctively grabbed my clenched fist and made to twist my arm behind my back. It was an awkward position and he fumbled the twist. In that second, I placed my other arm on his shoulder for balance and bent my knee, driving it into his crotch with as much force as I could muster. He crumpled with a squeal of pain.
"Oh!" I heard Stiles wince. "That was dirty!"
I turned to give him a scathing reply and walked straight into Flat Cap, who had been right behind me. Catching me by surprise at his close proximity, he took advantage of his upper hand and landed a blow straight to my stomach. The force of it felt like his fist had broken through my flesh and was manhandling my kidneys. I was completely stunned from the pain and the world around me came to a screeching halt.
I collapsed to my knees, the breath knocked completely clear of me. I clutched my stomach and wheezed, trying to force air back into my lungs.
I had forgotten how much this sucked.
"Hey!" Stiles yelled angrily and I thought I heard him run towards us. I couldn't tell if that was just wishful thinking however, because the blood was pounding in my ears like I was stranded on the dancefloor of a particularly angry disco. I couldn't gather myself enough to get to my feet and so, prepared myself for the next punch.
This was so incredibly embarrassing. I was about to be floored by a man in a flat cap.
"STOP IT! STOP IT RIGHT NOW."
Flat Cap was wrenched out of view by a surprisingly strong Mr Harris, as he mimicked my earlier actions and inserted himself into the scrum. Sheer relief washed over me- I had never been so happy to see a teacher in my entire life. Even if it was this one. I promised myself that I would never wreck his car for a scheme ever again. The man was a saint.
With the brief reprieve giving me enough time to catch my breath, I was able to get to my feet gingerly just as the lads ran for their lives. Scott was bent over at the waist and breathing heavily.
Mr Harris looked less than pleased, his black sunglasses glinting in the sun.
"What do you idiots think you're doing?" he demanded, his voice having settled back into his usual dry, monotone. Now that the immediate threat was gone, he actually sounded bored again.
Scott made eye contact with me, blood dripping from his nose. I probably looked just as worse for wear.
"Isn't it obvious?" I wheezed. "The ballroom final is next week, we were practising."
Detention on my very first day: Gran was going to piss blood when she heard. Arthur might laugh. Gran was definitely going to ask her prayer group to keep me in their thoughts. Again.
We were supposed to be doing homework silently but the tension between Scott and Stiles was too suffocating for me to focus properly. Harris had placed me square in the middle, I guess hoping that it would discourage them from chattering away. Well, there was certainly no risk of that.
It seemed that now that their little experiment was over, Stiles was back to being angry at Scott for something. I didn't particularly care what but I did need the energy between them to simmer down. It was putting me on edge. Honestly, my last boyfriend and I had had less chemistry than these two.
The room was silent, save for the sounds of Scott and Stiles scribbling in their notebooks. My knuckles were swollen and bruised from Flat Caps' face and I itched to slather them in the homemade honey salve that I kept in my bag for emergencies. Instead, I straightened my fingers against the hard surface of the desk and traced the bruising with my pen absentmindedly.
"Excuse me sir," Scott said, his voice loud in the intense silence of the lab. "I know it's detention and all, but I'm supposed to be at work, and I don't want to get fired."
Harris paused, and smiled in response, a cold and calculating grimace really, and then continued writing, as if Scott had never spoken at all. My previous claims of sainthood had been quickly rescinded when Harris had ordered us to after school detention and it was only the fact that I thought Stiles might be on to me, which kept me from blowing up his car again.
The two of us were a student/teacher match made in hell; me, the rebellious teen with authority issues and Harris, the small dick energy man with a superiority complex.
The unresolved tension once again settled over us like heavy smog, encroaching on a city sky, and I didn't know why the thought of these two falling out unsettled me so much but it definitely did. I felt compelled to bring them back together- at the very least so Stiles would stop running experiments on Scott which resulted in bloody noses and bruised knuckles.
"Would anyone like a custard cream?" I whispered.
The two boys turned to look at me, their brows creased in unison.
"What the hell is a custard cream?" Stiles asked dubiously, just as Scott answered, "okay."
Two types of people, ladies and gentlemen.
I pulled the sandwich bag full of biscuits from my coat pocket and offered it to Scott first. He eagerly took one and then I turned to Stiles, who still looked like he wasn't sure if this was some sort of trick.
"It's just a biscuit," I assured him. I took one from the bag myself and bit into it. "See? Just a biscuit."
"Yeah," he muttered as he reached for one. "A biscuit from a maniac."
"Maniac is a bit strong," I said, not the slightest bit offended.
"Where did you even learn to fight like that?" Scott asked, with a mouthful of custard cream. The question didn't seem loaded but I opted to remain vague nonetheless.
"I'm English," I shrugged. "You figure out pretty early on that if you want to survive at a comp school, you get good with your fists. You should see what I can do with a razor scooter."
"And that's it? You just insert yourself into four on one fights because you're what, English?" Stiles pressed, fiddling with his biscuit as if it might have all the answers.
I quirked an eyebrow. "Why else? Besides," I said, shifting on the uncomfortable lab stool. "It's not like you were doing anything. Scott was getting his arse handed to him."
Stiles immediately bristled. "I wasn't just standing around for my health," he said defensively. "I had a… it was under control."
I shrugged again. "Didn't look that way to me. In fact," I said pointedly. "It looked like you were trying to punish your friend."
Both Stiles and Scott rose to my bait.
"Only partially," they said in unison and I choked on my custard cream.
"God, you two are such freaks," I muttered, as Scott thumped me on the back. "Can you just make up already?"
Stiles quirked an eyebrow at me. "How do you know we're fighting?" he asked.
I rolled my eyes. "Oh please, I've been here a day and it's obvious- even to me."
"She's right," Scott said quietly. "Stiles, you're my best friend and I can't have you being angry with me."
"Don't take her side!" Stiles exclaimed. Harris shushed us with a low energy hiss and Stiles lowered his voice. "Besides, I'm not even angry anymore." I sensed he had more to say and I remained silent, waiting for him to continue.
"Look Scott," he said, with a heaviness that extended beyond his sixteen years. "You have something, okay? Whether you want it or not, you can do things that nobody else can do." Stiles seemed to suddenly remember that I was present and cleared his throat.
"On the lacrosse pitch. You can do things on the lacrosse pitch, that no one else can," he added.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes into the back of my head. It was incredible that no one had found them out yet.
"So that means you don't have a choice anymore. It means you have to do something," Stiles pressed on seriously.
"I know," Scott replied earnestly. "And I will."
Stiles seemed mollified and they smiled at each other, everything apparently forgiven.
The tension which had been polluting the air between us, immediately dissipated and I felt Scott's relief deeper than simply the softening in his features. It was odd but I was starting to wonder whether maybe I could get a read on his emotions. I had never been this astute when it came to deciphering people before my powers manifested and I filed it away as yet another thing that I would have to ask Arthur. It wasn't exactly welcome news, I had enough trouble with the voices in my head which I knew definitively were mine, let alone other people's (read hormonal boys).
"Well now that the houses of Montague and Capulet have made up," I said, interrupting the moment. "Do you know how long Harris' detentions tend to last? Places to be and all that."
"Oh yeah?" Stiles said, an edge to his voice. "And where are you rushing off to?"
I grinned. "Got to see a man about a dog," I replied. Stiles choked on his last bite of custard cream and Scott thumped him on the back whilst looking at me quizzically. I knew I needed to stop baiting Stiles out if I were to remain anonymous but man, it was so much fun to taunt him.
"Alright," Harris interrupted. "All of you, out of here. No need to punish us all by keeping you any longer."
I grinned at his timing and in one fluid movement, swept my notebook into my bag and shouldered it.
"See you around lads," I said with a wink and a salute, before hurrying out of the lab as quickly as possible. I absolutely did not want to be caught by Scott and Stiles as they were leaving so I redirected to the girls' bathroom and hid out in one of the stalls for fifteen minutes, until I was sure they would be gone. To my relief, only Harris' car was left in the carpark as I left the school.
I popped my earphones in and turned up my music as I left the school grounds, determined to enjoy the walk home. Deliberately not focussing on the fact that in a few hours, I would be confronting my very first Alpha, as the sound of the Clash filled my ears.
"How was school?" Gran asked, as I picked at my food. I knew all it would do was serve to irritate her but I couldn't help it. My impending meeting with Derek Hale was obscuring my thoughts like a dark cloud and I could barely focus hard enough to lift the fork to my mouth.
"Ok," I replied, my eyes trained firmly on my green beans.
"You got home late today," she replied coolly, an icy edge to her voice. I knew that edge- it meant that I was teetering on thin fucking ice and if I ever wanted to see the outside again, I better lie through my teeth and summon up more than a monosyllable.
"Yeah, I signed up for a club," I answered, finally raising my eyes to meet hers.
We had the same eyes, I noticed and immediately wished I hadn't. I had inherited my eyes from my Dad, light blue with little green flecks and thinking about it reminded me of how much I missed him. Looking into hers and knowing that I would never again look into his, felt like looking at a crude imitation: a painful reminder of the finality of my past. It sent little stabbing pains through my chest.
"What club?" Gran pressed, spearing a piece of chicken with her fork. I felt like she was pretending that I was the little piece of chicken and it was oddly comforting.
"Choir," I replied smoothly, knowing that I was absolutely going to regret that lie later on.
Gran raised a thinly plucked eyebrow, as her eyes bored doubtfully into mine. I found myself thinking that Stiles Stilinski had nothing on Gran's death glares.
"Is that so?" she said conversationally. "Choir."
"Yep," I nodded, finally bringing my forkful of semi-decimated green beans to my mouth to avoid having to speak again for a few seconds.
"Good," Gran said finally, after a painfully long pause. "I'm glad you've found the choir, you'll see it's a pleasant change from that awful rubbish you're blaring all the time."
I resisted the urge to take the Oasis slander bait and just nodded passively, shovelling in another mouthful. I would definitely have to learn a few hymns at some point just to cover myself but I had lied about worse things. At least it gave me an excuse to be out of the house.
"Well, on that note," I said, pushing my chair back and getting to my feet. "I'm going to go learn my lines and then have an early night. Do you mind if I wash up the dinner things tomorrow?"
Gran looked at me critically for what felt like an eternity and then finally, nodded her assent.
"Very well, good night."
"Night Gran," I said cheerfully, carrying my plate to the sink and then hightailing it out of the kitchen. I grabbed my boots from the bottom of the stairs before running up them and into my bedroom.
I closed my door carefully behind me and glanced at my old wristwatch- it was 7pm. That felt like a good time for an Alpha wolf to pay a little visit to his desecrated family home. If it wasn't, well I would just have to keep going back until he did eventually turn up.
Now that I was clear of Gran, my anxiety about the whole thing began to fully descend in waves. She had been my last major obstacle and now I was at the final hurdle, dithering about what to pack to confront a werewolf. I tipped my schoolbag upside down on my bed and combed through the detritus.
My wolfsbane water bottle seemed to be the only thing of use and I put that back in my bag. Then I thought about it and took it back out. I grabbed the mortar and pestle which was hidden in the bottom drawer of my desk and emptied the remainder of the little blue flowers that I had crushed up last night, into the water bottle. The water turned a decidedly yellow colour and even though I knew it wouldn't affect me in the same way, it felt very ominous all the same. It had to be enough to level at least one werewolf.
I was still a little hazy on the dilution amounts.
Once the water bottle was packed, I was at a loss as to what else I needed. Buffy Summers would have grabbed her trusty stake, but I doubted that would have the desired effect on a real werewolf. I settled for digging out the old switchblade which I kept taped under my desk for emergencies and slipped it into my coat pocket, to hide with my ever present lighter.
I felt a little foolish with an entire bag just for a water bottle but I figured that Derek didn't need to know that was all I had in there. I could be hiding an AK-47 for all he knew. It soothed my anxiety a little.
I strapped my feet into my docs and slipped my leather jacket on. Shouldering my bag, I felt rather like I was off to war, preparing to go over the top and never come back. With that grim thought in the back of my mind, I made my bed as well, just in case I actually didn't come back. Wouldn't want Gran to think I was inconsiderate.
Having wasted all the time that sensibly, I knew that I could, I cast one last look around my bedroom. It still didn't feel like home yet- maybe it never would. But it sure as hell felt safer than outside, with it's dying light and unknown horrors hiding around every corner.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I slid my window open and hooked a leg up onto the window sill, feeling like for a split second, I was straddling two worlds. I found the roof below with the tip of my boot and pulled my other leg over, dropping to the lower level. Thanking god for small mercies and flat roofs, I landed easily and walked quietly to the edge. The living room light was off and it appeared that Gran was still in the kitchen. I turned and knelt, feeling for the hopefully sturdy trellis. Finding a good foothold, I began the descent down, trying to avoid the roses which climbed the structure as well.
I made it to the front lawn in one piece and with minimal splinters and rejoiced briefly that it was so easy to sneak out of this new house. My first home had been blessedly easy to leave but Gran's was like a Russian gulag. There was very little getting in and certainly no getting out.
With my heart in my throat, I made off down the darkening road, feeling a little bit like Little Red Riding Hood- off to tango with the Big Bad Wolf.
The sun had almost completely disappeared by the time I made it to the edge of the woods. As I picked my way through the thickets of old trees, shadows bounced everywhere in the dying light, causing sweat to trickle down my back and the blood to start up its rhythm in my head. The woods seemed alive tonight, crackling with energy and burning with potential. It unnerved me to no end and I slipped my hand inside my coat pocked to clutch my switch blade for comfort.
I made my way further through the forest, my fear mounting as the trees began to grow closer together. The ground was littered with their old roots, waiting to trip me up and pull me into the undergrowth. Being a witch should have meant that I felt at home within nature and on any other day, I would have been in my element. Tonight however, I was a sixteen-year-old girl, way out of her depth and on the precipice of something unknown. Something terrifying.
I had been a little worried that I would get lost and not be able to remember how to find the clearing but I needn't have been. I was being guided by something else- a kin-like magic. There was definitely a wolf in these woods, I could feel it. Recognise it. On a molecular level, I felt we were the same. It was the sensation of being Other, a frequency we both lived on, which hummed with magic.
I could feel Derek everywhere, in the woods and my bones.
High on the feeling of power bristling under my skin, I took the last few steps to the clearing in a magic induced daze. I almost missed the angry voices completely and emerged from the trees onto a scene fresh from one of Angela Carter's stories.
An older version of the boy from the news articles that I had read last night was stood in what would have been his front garden, his stance defensive. Fear rolled off of him in waves and I felt it, like one might smell an animal's unease. To his credit, he didn't look afraid. I certainly would have been, had I been the one with at least four guns currently trained on them.
Evidently I had overstepped the treeline a little and Derek caught sight of me. His face didn't betray my appearance but the energy between us shifted, and I felt his concern spike. In that moment, seeing what I was about to insert myself into, I felt like exactly who Derek thought I was. A random girl who had wandered out a little too far from the path and was about to find herself in a lot of trouble.
"Winona?" someone whispered from a particularly thick bush and almost giving me a heart attack. I somehow managed to stay very still, terrified to make a noise and disrupt the scene before me (the blonde woman appeared to be monologuing) but turned my head in the direction of the voice.
"Scott?" I whispered, peering through the dark. I hadn't recognised his voice, I'd recognised his energy. In that split second, I realised that for as long as I'd live, I would always remember Scott's energy.
"Yeah it's me," he murmured, emerging slightly from the foliage so that I could see him. "You need to get over here!" His voice was meek, panicked. I heard a soft rustling and realised that Stiles was probably crouched with him.
I ached to slip over to them and hide too. Instead, I stayed where I was.
"I can help," I said faintly.
Scott's frustration visibly mounted, his normally smiling mouth pulled into a hard line.
"You don't know what you've walked in on Winona-" he tried to explain but I cut him off.
"Oh, but I do." I smiled softly.
"Who's there?" a sharp voice called, startling me.
The blonde appeared to have finally caught sight of me and was straining to see me in the dark, her gun trained in my direction. "Come out where I can see you!"
I stepped forward into the clearing and motioned for Scott to stay where he was, desperate to not fuck this up more than I already had. One day in and my plans had completely gone to shit, it was unbelievable.
I put on my cheeriest voice and pretended that I didn't notice the barrage of artillery pointed at me.
"Wow sorry to interrupt everyone, I was just going for a run and got a little lost. You couldn't point me back to the path could you?"
Now that I was out in the open, I counted four additional hunters, aside from the blonde, all armed and all looking like they were ready to shoot first and ask questions later. I swallowed thickly and hoped Derek couldn't hear how loudly my heart was beating.
We certainly weren't in Kansas anymore.
The blonde looked me up and down carefully and then arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow, in what looked like a practised show of nonchalance.
"You were going for a run- in that?" She gestured to my skinny jeans and doc martens and I smiled in a bid to cover my terror.
"Okay," I said, putting my hands up. "You caught me, I'm not really out on a run."
She smiled- a wide, shark like grin which sent cold shivers down my back. "Okay," she said slowly, advancing towards me curiously. "So, if you weren't on a run- what are you doing out in the woods all by yourself?"
"Well, I actually came to have a chat with Mr Hale over there."
The blonde laughed, a cruel little chuckle and turned back to Derek. "Wow Derek," she said sarcastically. "This is a new low- dating high school girls now?"
Derek clenched his jaw. "I have no idea who she is," he said stoically and the blonde laughed again and then turned to me.
"You know what they say honey, if women his own age won't date him, that's your first red flag."
I nodded. "You know, from anyone else, that's actually pretty sound advice. Shame though- that I don't tend to make a habit out of taking dating tips from hunters."
The blonde's posture changed immediately- her power and dominance over the situation began to slip at this new variable. Her back straightened defensively and she adjusted her grip on her gun.
"What did you just say, little girl?" she asked, all traces of humour gone from her voice.
"Sorry," I said. "You know what they say- hearing's the first thing to go with age. Or is it looks?"
"Who the hell are you?" she demanded and I loosened my grip on my switchblade.
"Do you want to see a magic trick?" I asked, my heart in my throat. I willed my legs to carry me forward, praying that she didn't just assume I was also a werewolf and shoot me. Much harder to heal a cheeky bullet wound without magical healing properties.
"Don't come any closer!" she warned. "I'll shoot."
"Don't shoot," I said, slipping my hand out of my coat to hold them both out in front of me. "It's just a lighter."
The blonde's brow furrowed and she lowered the gun slightly. I grinned.
Big mistake sweetheart.
In one smooth motion, I clicked open the lighter and instead of the normal little flame, I focussed intently on adding to it. I had been building it up in my pocket this whole time, making it massive. As the lighter opened, a great ball of fire emerged, first from the lighter itself and then from my hands.
I could see the blonde's face through the flames, her features distorted as I heard the distinct click of a pulled trigger. I admired her reflexes, even when faced with a wall of fire, she still had her wits about her. Too bad I wasn't about to be stopped by something as generic as a gun.
With one hand I juggled the ever-growing flame, and with the other I acted as a conductor, slowing the air around me. It sounded an odd thing to say but air ebbs and flows all around us, moving at its own pace like water. It wasn't hard to tap into the frequency which the elements resided in, I had been doing it for two years now. With a little concentration, I slowed the tide to resemble treacle pudding and watched the bullet come to a smooth stop a few centimetres away from my chest. She was quite the shot, the blonde.
"Sorry girlie," I said, flicking the bullet away. "But you're shit out of luck."
With two fingers extended, I spread the flames from the palm of my hand to the ground around us. I encased us in a ring of fire, kept in a solid circle simply by its nature of being magical. The flames spread on the forest floor but didn't catch on any of the leaves, leaving no trail of destruction behind it. The act of elemental magic was to defend- to protect. The earth would move with me.
I could see the fire reflected in all of their eyes as I strode forward, purposefully. The heat from the flames was dizzying but the glow which lit up the clearing buoyed my sense of indestructible immortality. My fear was completely forgotten, lying dormant in the back of my mind.
Power flowed from me with every step and it forced the hunters back against their will, as I advanced. Even Derek couldn't hide his shock and if my senses were to be believed, fear.
I brought my hands down to my sides grandly, palms out, and let the magnitude of my magic fill the clearing. I was panting with the exertion of keeping the flames alive this long but the show of strength was necessary. I had to show the hunters that they couldn't touch me.
"My name," I exhaled. "Is Winona Fraser and this pack- and all other packs which enter Beacon Hills, are now under my protection. By the will of the Council of Nyx- you will not harm these creatures." At the blonde's incredulous expression, I couldn't help but ad lib the witch's rhetoric.
"What?" I said, fire burning in my eyes and running molten through my veins. "Never met a witch before?"
The blonde backed away in surprise, until she hit the porch and she stumbled slightly. Derek let out a low growl, to remind her that he was there and she turned, gun in hand. She was quick, but I was quicker.
"Sorry- did you not hear me bitch?" I shouted over the roaring flames. With a quick flick of my wrist, her gun flew out of her hands and landed near my feet. I kicked it away. "Not a gun person. Maybe it's because I'm English?" I pondered as I watched any remaining confidence fade from her face. Her hunters had tightened their formation around us but no one made any move to shoot me.
"Now I'm only going to say it one more time," I said lightly. With a curl of my fingers, I brought the flames in closer to us and enjoyed as the hunters scrambled closer to each other in a bid to avoid them. "These wolves are under my protection now. So next time you want to do a five on one, give me a call. And bring an army."
"Kate," one of the hunters hissed. "Let's go- this girl is bat shit."
I laughed at this, the exertion of keeping my light show going for this long was starting to make me feel crazy. Like I couldn't tell where the fire ended and I began. The hunter recoiled.
"I'd listen to him if I were you Kate. I really am bat shit." I brought the flames even higher in a dramatic display of strength and they all flinched.
"This isn't over little girl," Kate warned me, the ghost of her mocking smile still playing on her sharp features.
"Oh, I think it is," I said smoothly, sweat pouring down my back. "But you just name the place and I'll show you what else I can pull out of my hat."
Like Moses parting the red sea, I broke a section in the wall of flames, creating an exit. I gestured for Kate to use it and to my relief, she did. She motioned for her hunters to follow her and with one last ugly look over her shoulder, she disappeared into the dark.
Once I couldn't see them anymore, I dimmed the fire to a more manageable blaze, too afraid to distinguish it completely yet and let the cool relief wash over me.
"Derek," I called hoarsely to the older werewolf. He was still stood on the porch, with his back pressed against the wall, like he wasn't sure if I would turn on him next. "Are they gone?" My voice cracked.
He listened for a second and then nodded slowly.
"Thank god," I murmured. "You can tell Scott and Stiles to come out now."
"What?" Derek said, looking as if he were ready to convince me that he had never met a Scott or a Stiles in his entire life.
I think he might have said something else but the edges of my vision had started to blacken and all I could hear was the blood pounding in my ears. I could taste copper on my tongue. The last thing I remembered was feeling the tell-tale trickle of blood begin to drip from my nose and then it all went dark.
A/N: Hey gang, sorry for the wait! Work has been mad but I hope you enjoyed this next chapter. Let me know in a review!