Oh I know
I can feel the shifting in my bones
Enclosed are the senses so unknown
I've been changing, falling, fading
There's demons at the door patiently waiting
Demon Limbs – PVRIS
Knock. Knock. Knock.
My eyes slipped open and I raised my head from where it rested on the edge of the tub. I felt somewhat guilty about leaving Stiles and Scott to tell the sheriff about the supernatural by themselves, but Stiles assured me his dad would probably take to werewolves a hell of a lot easier than vampires.
I'd come straight home, happy to take off my shoes and draw a lavender bath, letting myself soak in the scolding hot water. I considered not answering the door, letting whoever it was find me another time, but I knew when there were more impatient knocks that it could have been important, so I stood, bathwater dripping down my body. I reached a hand out, plucking my favourite satin robe, slipping it over my naked form before sliding from the room, making it to my front door in under a second.
I made sure the sash was tied tightly, covering everything vital before pulling open the door, raising an eyebrow at a surprised Stiles.
He was silent, staring at me with wide, chocolate eyes.
"You're wet," he finally announced, I merely cocked my head, waiting for him to elaborate. "Were you swimming?"
"I was in the bath, numb-nuts," I snapped back without any real bite, stepping aside and gesturing for him to come in.
"I can't stay long," he told me, shoving his hands into his pockets and staring resolutely at the far wall. "Dad's expecting me home in twenty minutes."
"Well?" I prompted when he didn't say anything. "How'd it go?"
"We didn't tell him."
I paused, taken by surprise by his words. "Oh?" I ended up saying, crossing my arms over my chest. "What happened?"
"Long story short: the kanima needs a master and Jackson has a restraining order against us."
I waited, but it didn't get any clearer with time. "Excuse me?" I asked carefully, waiting for a more substantial explanation.
"Ugh," he groaned, running his palm down his cheek. "I don't know where to begin."
"Okay, how about with the kanima? It needs a master?"
"So Allison met up with Lydia, who it turns out can read archaic latin," he disclosed, leaning his weight against my entry wall and for a moment seeming to forget I wasn't wearing more than a thin robe of satin. "Miss Morrell got it wrong. It doesn't say the kanima needs a friend. It says it needs a master."
"So someone's controlling him?" I asked in shock, frowning for a moment at my feet as I put it all together.
"Must be."
I paused. "And what the hell is this about a restraining order?"
"Yeah," he groaned again, suddenly looking extremely tired. "Jackson ran right to his lawyer dad, Scott and I aren't allowed within fifty feet of him."
"But not me?" I asked dubiously.
"Uh, they didn't mention you," Stiles replied, seeming to only just realise so himself.
"Why wouldn't he mention me?"
"Beats me," he shrugged, then glanced down at his phone. "Crap, I have to get home or dad's going to kill me. I'll pick you up in the morning."
"Sure," I responded, still slightly reeling from the information I'd received. "See you then," I nodded, smiling softly before closing the door behind him, happy to get right back to my bath.
"I need you to steal Lydia's bracelet then compel her to tell me everything about Jackson's parents," Stiles said, sliding up beside me in the hall, dodging a huge kid in a letterman jacket.
"Wait, what?" I asked, whirling around to face him. "Her bracelet?"
"Yeah," he muttered awkwardly. "I kind of...gave a bracelet full of vervain to Allison to give her, just, you know, to be safe."
I wanted to be angry, but I found that I couldn't. It made sense, I just had to remind myself it wasn't for protection from me, just others of my species. "Hate to break it to you, but if it's laced with vervain then I won't be able to touch it," I told him with a shrug, and he looked surprised that I didn't have anything to say about the vervain.
"We have to try," he said, and though I didn't see any point, I nodded, until it occurred to me that I had no idea why I was being asked to do so.
"Uh, Stiles?"
"Yeah?"
"Why am I doing this?"
He paused, realising the gap in his plan. "Oh," he muttered, grasping my arm and leading me away from the rest of the crowd, leaning us both against the wall where we were less likely to be overheard. "The kanima is meant to be a werewolf, but it's because of something in it's personality or state of mind that-"
"I already know all of this," I cut him off quickly.
"You do?" he frowned. "How?"
"I've known what a kanima was since the nineteenth century," I told him with a shrug. "I've just never seen one in person, so I didn't know this was it until Derek told us. What I don't know is what Captain douche-bag's parents have to do with him being the kanima."
"It's Allison's theory," he explained. "She thinks whatever happened to his birth parents is what's keeping him from transforming into a werewolf."
As far as theories went, it wasn't the worst one I'd ever heard.
Before I could comment, Stiles snapped to attention, spinning around and calling after an ignorant Lydia.
He'd barely taken a step when a hand slammed into his chest, shoving him back against the bricks. I whirled around to glare warningly at the blonde beta, lip curling back just enough to expose the tips of my fangs, incase this was some kind of veiled attack.
"Why are you asking Lydia about Jackson's real parents?"
"Why are you bringing out the claws on camera?" he asked with a raised brow, and instantly my lip dropped, covering my sharp fangs just as she balled her hand into a fist. "That's right, you wanna play catwoman? I'll be your batman."
There was a sour curdling deep in my gut, and I winced at the force of it before wiping my face clean of emotion, the blank glare I was most comfortable with settling nicely onto my face. The feeling evaporated when Stiles' hand found mine, pulling me from the situation, leading me away from the potential fight.
"If you're wondering about Jackson's real parents, they're about half a mile from here," she called out to us as we left, and we paused, Stiles turning around to fix her with a confused look. "In Beacon Hills Cemetery."
I wasn't watching, but I heard the sound of her heels clicking on the floor and she strutted away. Stiles made to pull me after her, but I was frozen when the sound of a fight met my ears from down the hall, the voices involved incredibly familiar. "Go," I told him, ripping my hand from his and beginning down the hall at a human pace. "I'll catch up."
"What?" he asked, but I'd already melted into the crowd.
I jogged to get there faster, and after what felt like forever I burst into the locker room, eyes turning red. "Damn boys," I grunted as I spied Jackson and Scott attacking each other to the side, Allison crouching, clearly scared, in the corner. "Are you okay?" I asked, appearing at her side, making her jump.
"You have to stop them!" she shouted over the sound of a porcelain sink smashing into a hundred pieces.
Nodding, I darted to the fighting boys' side, grabbing Scott by the collar and yanking him back, vaguely hearing the wall behind him crack as he hit it. I turned around on Jackson. "I'm not going to hit you," he said with an ugly grimace.
"Okay," I responded cheerily, barely giving him a second to take a breath before rearing my arm back and slamming my fist into his face. He fell back at the blow, but not nearly as much as a normal human would have. I frowned, but he'd apparently changed his mind about hitting me, because he swung around, landing a punch to my face. My head snapped to the side and my jaw ached, but I had a lot of experience taking hits and I recovered quickly.
Raising a leg to kick him in the gut, I was surprised when he caught my ankle, using my own momentum to pick me up and slam me into the hard tiles. Scott used this opportunity to get back in on the action.
He ran at Jackson, punching him in the mouth. I pushed myself to my feet, refusing to let the wolf have all the fun. With the kanima distracted I landed a kick to hit crotch that sent him sprawled on the floor. He recovered supernaturally quickly, kicking out a leg and taking my feet from under me, sending me to the floor. He was fast, a moment later he was on top of me and his fist had slammed into my mouth. I felt my lip split but barely gave it any thought, landing a punch of my own to his chin.
While he was holding his bruised bone in pain I shoved him carelessly to the side, taking Scott's offered hand and letting him pull me to my feet. Jackson, once again, recovered almost instantly.
I sighed, time to end this.
I ran at the kanima at top speeds, so fast he didn't have a hope of seeing it coming. I slammed into him, breaking the door behind him off of it's hinges and sending us flying out into the hallway. I landed on top of him and brought my fist back, punching him squarely in the nose, but not hard enough to break it, just hard enough to give him a jolt and to hurt like a bitch.
"Juliet?!" Stiles' familiar voice screeched, but I paid him no attention. The next second Scott was tumbling out the broken door, slamming into me accidentally as he tried to land another hit on Jackson's annoyingly handsome face. I rolled off the kid, sliding to my feet and nonchalantly kicking my boot into his side, making the kid groan in agony as I no doubt snapped a rib.
An arm wrapped around my waist, and though my instinct was to fight it, as I inhaled Stiles' scent I knew I couldn't, allowing myself to go limp.
"Enough!" Harris shouted furiously, stalking into the hall. "What the hell do you idiots think you're doing?! Jackson, calm down! Mr McCall, you want to explain yourself? Miss Cooper? Stilinski?"
"Hey, you dropped this," some guy told Scott, holding out one of those electric pads.
"You, you and you," the teacher growled, shoving a bony finger in each of our directions. I glared back at him, raising a hand to my mouth and nonchalantly wiping at the blood there. My lip had already healed, so I'd just play the blood off as somebody else's. "Actually, all of you. Detention. Three o'clock."
Just what I needed, to be locked in a small room with the kanima and my least favourite beta. I kicked my feet up on the chair next to me, glaring darkly at a smirking Erica who was picking at her nails. "You have a crush on Stiles, huh?" I asked quietly so we – and I suppose Scott and Jackson – were the only ones to hear, repeating what Stiles had told me on the way to detention, taking an entirely different route from Jackson to make sure another fight didn't break out.
Erica's smirk dropped for a moment before flickering back to life, her heart beating slightly faster. "We should start a club," she told me smugly.
"Excuse me?"
"You know," she continued. "A club for people who have feelings for Stiles. You can be the president."
"Bitch, what are you smoking?" I asked, lips twitching upwards mockingly. I couldn't help the way my eyes flickered to Stiles, sitting a table over, talking with Scott in low tones. After a moment he caught my gaze and smiled gently before continuing to discuss whatever it was with Scott. I was glad, suddenly, that I had no heartbeat to give me away.
"Deny it all you like, I see the way you look at him," she replied. "It's the way I used to look at him."
"I don't recall denying it," I retorted, and she raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow at me, glossy lips pulling up into a triumphant smirk.
"He doesn't feel the same way, you know," Erica trilled. "He's in love with Lydia. Always will be. You're barely a blip on his radar in comparison."
"Are you trying to stir me up? Get a reaction from me?" I asked amusedly, tilting my head at her and smirking. "Honey, I'm much too old for that shit to work. Especially coming from somebody as unimportant as Derek's bitch."
She looked about ready to blow a gasket while I continued to stare back at her, unflinching. She was stopped from making a move by the pained moan of Jackson from behind me. I threw a lazy, unconcerned glance over my shoulder, hoping I'd done lasting damage, only to see him holding his head in a place I hadn't hit. "I have to go to the bathroom," he said, grabbing his bag and moving across the room.
"Are you alright?" Harris asked in a moment of uncharacteristic compassion. "You don't look so good."
"Yeah, I'm just going to get some water," he said curtly, striding from the room.
Harris followed the boy, throwing a stern order to stay in our seats as he left. A moment later the terrific twosome were out of their chairs and across the room, Scott sliding into the open seat next to me while Stiles stumbled into the one opposite me, kicking off my legs and sitting down, barely throwing me a glance, too preoccupied with his task. "Stiles says you know how Jackson's parents died," Scott said quietly.
"Maybe."
"Talk," he commanded weakly.
"No."
"Talk," I snarled, the sound making Stiles jump in his seat.
"What are you going to do? Bite me on camera?" she asked, glancing pointedly at the camera in the far corner pointed directly at us.
"You don't wanna know how far I'll go," I warned her, and ever though her glare intensified, she still complied, eventually giving up.
"It was a car accident," she divulged reluctantly. "My dad was the insurance investigator. Every time he sees Jackson drive by in his Porsche he makes some comment about the huge settlement he'll be getting when he's eighteen."
"So not only is Jackson rich now, he's getting even richer at eighteen?" Stiles asked sourly, cringing at the very thought.
"Yep."
"There's something so deeply wrong with that."
"You know what? I could try and find the insurance report in my dads inbox. He keeps everything," Erica muttered as she opened her laptop, beginning to type away at the keys.
"Scott McCall, please report to the principal's office."
We were quiet, glancing at each other warily. "Well," I mumbled, peeking up at the speaker system like it was to blame. "That can't be good."
"What do I do?" he asked with wide eyes, blinking innocently at me as though I had all the answers.
"Go, obviously," I responded with a shrug. "You can't just avoid it."
"She's right man," Stiles interjected tiredly. "Just don't let him back you into a corner, figuratively or literally."
"And don't show fear," I added with a strong nod. "Keep your chin up and don't be afraid to look him in the eye."
"Got it," he muttered unconvincingly. "I can do this."
Before he could talk himself out of it he was on his feet and striding across the room, heading for the main office. We fell silent again, only the human's heartbeats and the sound of Erica tapping away at the keyboard filling the room.
"Look at the dates," Stiles suddenly spoke up, leaning forwards in his chair to peer more closely at the screen.
"The passengers arrived at the hospital DOA. Estimated time of death: 9:26 pm, June fourteenth, 1995," Erica read aloud, keeping her tone low so as to not be overheard.
"Jackson's birthday is June fifteenth," he replied with a frown. Before any of us could comment further, the sharp sound of a zip being tugged filled the room, and everyone slid to their feet, gathering our things as we prepared to leave detention.
Harris' mocking laughter sounded out, and I turned to look at him with an arched brow."No, I'm sorry. Yes, I'm leaving, but none of you are. You may go when you're done with the re-shelving," he told us with a smug smirk, gesturing to the stacks of books piled atop the carts. "Enjoy the rest of your evening." I wasn't in the mood, I'd done my time and I was ready to get the hell out of there. I took a step forwards, stony glare in place, only to have Stiles grasp my arm, gently pulling me back beside him. I glanced at him in annoyance, and he merely looked pointedly at the camera hanging in the corner, angled directly at us, recording our every move.
I scowled but relented, dropping my bag and raising a single finger at Harris' retreating back before sighing and sliding onto the desktop, legs swinging underneath me.
"Where's Harris?" Scott asked a few minutes later, finally bursting back into the room and looking around confusedly. "Can we go yet?"
"Look around and reassess your question, Scott," I told him sharply, but he took no notice, merely frowning at the group, watching as I handed Stiles a book from the pile that he then slipped into place on the shelves.
"Pst," Stiles hissed suddenly, catching his best friend's attention and jerking his head to the side, indicating for him to follow him into an alcove. I rolled my eyes at the theatrics, but pushed myself to my feet nonetheless, wandering over to the spot hidden from the camera's view and meeting the rest of my little squad. "So, we found out that Jackson's parents died a day before his birthday," he told Allison and Scott quietly, glancing over his shoulder to make sure we weren't being eavesdropped on. "It was a car accident."
"What does that mean?" Allison asked with a pained frown.
"It means he was born after his mom died; by c-section," he said, grimacing at the thought. "They had to pull him out of her dead body."
"I can't imagine," Allison trailed off empathetically before shaking her head and fixing a frown on her pretty face. "So was it an accident or not?"
"The word all over the report is: inconclusive."
"His parents could have been murdered?" Scott asked with a furrowed brow.
"Well if they were then it falls in line with the kanima myth. You know? It seeks out and kills murderers," Stiles explained, glancing through the books to make sure he wasn't listening.
"But for Jackson or for the person controlling him?" Allison asked smartly.
"We have to talk to him – we have to tell him," Scott began, stepping away from the cart we were ignoring. Stiles and Allison whisper-yelled after him, but I was more curious just to see how it played out.
However, I sincerely regretted my selfish decision when there was a crash from above us and a yelp from an isle over as the lights blew, a shower of sparks falling over us. Instinctively I stepped towards Stiles, backing him into a shelf and standing in front of him, preparing for an attack. There was a reptilian hiss that seemed to come from every direction at once, and I snarled into the open air, fangs proudly on display, eyes an inky black and bloody red.
It must have leapt over us, because suddenly pieces of the ceiling fell to the ground, just barely missing Stiles' fragile head. A blur shot passed me, and running once again purely on instinct I jumped out, reluctantly moving away from Stiles and stepping in front of Scott's collision course with a book cart. I caught him, stopping him from breaking anything and barely checking to see if he was okay before yanking him down to where Allison, and now Stiles, was curled up, staring at Jackson with wide, scared eyes.
Stay out of my way or I'll kill all of you.
It was a strange thing for him to do, scribble the words onto an otherwise clean blackboard, while he was half transformed into a giant lizard. Still, it wasn't entirely unexpected, the villain always gave some kind of warning, didn't they?
Before we could do anything he was snarling one last time, murky yellow slits focused on us before he leapt from the room, smashing an upper window and disappearing out into the slowly darkening day. I took a step forwards, but Scott grabbed my arm, pulling me back. "Let him go," he muttered, staring at the broken glass with distracted eyes.
The teens stood to their feet, cautiously moving closer to the words scrawled messily on the board. I crossed my arms, peering through narrowed eyes at the sentence.
"Hey!" Stiles barked loudly from being me, and I instantly turned around, locking eyes with him as he knelt down beside a seizing Erica. "I think she's having a seizure," he told us, holding the blonde in his arms, making sure she didn't hit her head.
In the blink of an eye I was knelt beside him, pressing my hand to her head so I could get a good look at her pupils, keeping an ear on her steadily rising heart rate. Scott rushed to our side, holding her shoulders, trying to stop her uncontrollable shaking.
"He's alive," Allison called, referring to the paralysed kid a shelf over, not that I cared in the slightest.
"We need to get her to a hospital," Stiles said seriously, frowning down at the girl.
"Derek!" she argued weakly, voice as shaky as her body. "Only Derek."
There was some debate, but she kept muttering Derek's name. "Scott!" Stiles shouted angrily as the wolf darted to his human girlfriend's side, whispering to each other under their breaths. "What do we do? Derek or the hospital?" he asked me, eyes wide and pleading for an answer.
I stared down at the seizing girl through narrowed eyes, grinding my teeth together as I considered the question. "Derek," I finally decided, ignoring the lovebirds an isle across. "Containment of the secret is our top priority," I explained at his doubtful expression.
"Isn't there anything you can do right now?" he asked, clearly stressed. "You have a medical degree, right? Don't you know what to do for someone having a seizure?"
"Yeah," I nodded slowly. "For humans. They don't exactly have a werewolf pre-med class you can take. Technically speaking it's impossible for this to even be happening, the bite is meant to cure her epilepsy!"
He looked like he was about to snap back, but was interrupted as Scott dashed back to our sides. "What are we doing?" he asked quickly, reaching down to pluck her from my arms, hoisting her up like she weighed nothing.
"Derek," Stiles said reluctantly, peering at the shaking girl anxiously.
The wolf nodded, clutching her to his body tightly as he fled the room, casting a hard look at the camera propped up in the far corner, little red light blinking at us passively. We only ran into two other people on the way out to the parking lot, and they were easy enough to compel into forgetting we'd been seen.
We climbed into Stiles Jeep, both boys turning down my offer to run her to Derek, mumbling something about not being sure I wouldn't just leave her in the woods. I was slightly offended and glared at them, moving to take the werewolf from Scott's arms despite their stern expressions. The blonde bitch let out a piercing scream the second my hands touched her skin, and I yanked back at the sound, staring down at her with raised eyebrows.
"I-I guess she sees you as a threat or something," Scott said, holding her tighter and frowning down at her screwed up face, watching as she jerked uncontrollably in his arms.
I blinked in surprise. "She sees me as a threat?" I asked, tilting my head in consideration, a small, pleased grin appearing on my lips. "That's so sweet."
"We don't have time for your warped sense of sentimentality," Stiles snapped, cracking open his door and sliding in, yelling out the window, "Jules, you're up front. Scott, get in the back with Erica!"
We did as we were instructed, each slipping into place in our respective seats. The drive was quiet and short, the only sounds filling the cab their breathing and Erica's irritating whimpers. It was dark when we pulled up outside the sad little abandoned space Derek had his pack holed up, and we moved quickly. Derek, having heard us arrive, instantly appeared at the top of the stairs, eyes drawn to the unconscious beta in Scott's arms.
In a movement of surprising concern, Derek surged forwards, carefully ripping the blonde from Scott and racing down the stairs, back into his dirty dungeon. I considered leaving, but both boys ran after him without a second thought, and with a sigh I knew I couldn't leave them alone with the other pack, who knew what Derek might do?
They were all piled inside an old train car, the fluorescent lights above them flickering ominously. "Is she dying?" Stiles asked, Erica's head in his lap. I slipped into place beside Scott, peering down at the shaking girl.
"She might," Derek said, more stressed than I had ever seen him. He grabbed her arm, clutching it with a wince. "This is gonna hurt," he warned, and I realised a second later what he was going to do. A wonderfully sickening snap echoed through the train car, and all the present teens flinched.
"You broke her arm?!" Stiles yelled in a rage, not seeing the logic behind the action and struggling to hold onto Erica as the girl began to shriek in agony.
"It'll trigger the healing process," he explained in a loud voice so as to be heard over the screams, "I've still got to get the venom out." He squeezed her skin, nails digging into her flesh as black, poisoned blood began to drip from her with a gruesome squelch. Erica screeched, sweat breaking out on her pretty skin, cheeks red in a way mine never could be. It lasted a long minute, everyone wincing in sympathy for the girl bar myself, as I merely stared down at the scene impassively.
"Stiles," she suddenly breathed, looking up into those warm melted chocolate eyes. "You make a good batman."
An angry snarl flared in my gut, and I felt a scowl slip onto my face. I couldn't deny it was jealousy, no matter how much I wished I could. I watched with pleasure as she lost consciousness, head lolling backwards, her eyes slipping closed.
Finally, Derek decided enough of the venom had drained from her system. His claws slipped out of her skin and he wiped his bloody hands on his pants. We were all silent, nobody sure what to say. The alpha stood suddenly, turning and striding from the car. Scott shot to his feet, stumbling after the green-eyed wolf, leaving Stiles and I behind in the harsh lights of the carriage.
"She-she's gonna be okay, right?" Stiles asked after a long moment, peering up at me with wide, innocent eyes.
I shrugged, tuning out the sounds of Derek and Scott conversing outside and crouched down, folding my legs under me and lifting Erica's hand, peering at her snapped bone and bleeding wounds.
"They take longer to heal than I do," I told him quietly, my voice at detached as I felt. "So it's hard to tell if it worked. We won't know for sure for a few hours."
"Why do you hate her so much?" he asked curiously.
I hesitated. "She's a werewolf and I'm a vampire, hating her is in my job description," I said coldly, eyeing her with distaste.
"But you're friends with Scott," he argued lightly, shifting the wolf in his arms so he was more comfortable.
"Scott isn't a raging bitch."
He sighed, staring down at Erica, lost in thought. "You're a lot kinder than you make yourself appear to be," he told me quietly, and I winced at his words, silently denying them.
He could think what he wanted, I knew how stone cold I truly was.
Well, to everyone except for him.
