Your eyes are swallowing me
Mirrors start to whisper
Shadows start to sing
My skin's smothering me
Help me find a way to breathe
Sleepwalking – Bring Me The Horizon
"They were all in the same class!" Stiles exclaimed, shoving open my front door and bursting into the room. I paused where I sat on the stairs, tying the laces to my boots, glancing up at him with a raised brow.
When I didn't immediately reply he frowned, holding out his hands. "Context?" I prompted him, finishing off my left boot and moving on to my right.
"All the kanima – and it's master's – victims," he explained after a moment, eyes bright. "They were all the same age and all in the same class at Beacon Hills High."
"Why is that important?"
"Because three is a pattern!"
"You lost me again."
He sighed like he was trying to explain thermonuclear astrophysics to a toddler. "What I'm saying is that we found what connects all the victims," he said. "They were all in Harris' chemistry class."
I frowned again, crossing my arms and leaning back against the mahogany railings of my stairs. "So this has something to do with Harris?" I asked doubtfully.
He hesitated. "Well, we don't know for sure yet."
"Who's we?"
"My dad and I."
"Your father knows now?"
"Not about the supernatural. He's been looking for a way to connect the murders, and though I can't tell him everything, I was still able to find a way to help him figure out the pattern."
I paused, pressing my lips together in thought as I slid to my feet, pulling my old trench coat off the railing and slipping my arms through the sleeves, even though I knew I wouldn't feel the cold. I led him to the door, shutting in behind us and locking it as an afterthought. "Want me to compel Harris, see if I can get anything out of him?" I asked as we made our way down my driveway to where his Jeep was parked on the curb, Scott perched in the front seat, staring down at his phone.
"Yeah, actually," Stiles said, and it was clear the idea hadn't occurred to him yet, although he wouldn't be caught dead admitting it. I nodded, pulling open the door and jumping up into the worn, comfortable seat.
"Hey Juliet," Scott mumbled, and I glanced over his shoulder at his phone, noting that he was on eBay, searching for some kind of tickets.
"What are the tickets for?" I asked in lieu of a greeting, and the teen wolf didn't have it in him to be annoyed, merely sighing in something like defeat.
"I followed Jackson last night, he bought tickets to this underground party thing that's happening tonight. Nobody's selling anymore, and we can't find any anywhere," he told me.
"And we need to be there because...?" I asked as Stiles started the engine, steering the car towards the main road.
"We're sure it's where he'll attack the next victim."
"Right," I nodded, crossing one leather clad leg over the other and peering out the window thoughtfully. "And why can't I just compel us inside?"
"We thought of that," Stiles spoke up as he indicated, driving through the gap in the traffic. "They only sold a certain number of tickets, and they're giving wristbands at the door. If we can't get the wristbands and we get caught inside without them, we'll get thrown out."
"But-" I began to argue, seeing the flaws in their plan.
"We also thought that they might have vervain," Scott added. "With the hunter reinforcements in town, it's probably only a matter of time before they start sneaking vervain into the water supply or something."
"The point is, we don't know if we can rely on compulsion. We have to have a plan B," Stiles said over his shoulder, and I had to begrudgingly admit he had a point.
"At least we have Derek and the others on our side now," his friend spoke up, seeming relieved at the thought. I cringed, remembering the deal Scott made with the alpha: to work together to get the kanima. It was hard enough dealing with one werewolf, let alone a whole pack. "There's gotta be some way to get tickets, right?" he asked after a moment as Stiles pulled into the school parking lot, miraculously scoring a park close to the entrance.
"It's a secret show, there's only one way," Stiles replied, shouldering his bag and letting the driver's door slam shut. "And it's a secret."
"Hey!" a voice asked from beside us, and I adjusted the bag on my shoulder, glancing over at the kid with a bored expression. "Do any of you three know why no one's getting suspended after what happened the other day at school?"
"Just forget about it; nobody got hurt," Stiles shrugged, clearing not bothering with the conversation.
"I had a concussion."
"Nobody got seriously hurt."
"I was in the ER for six hours."
"Do you wanna know the truth Matt? Your little bump on the head is about this high on our list of problems right now!" my friend exclaimed, gesturing to several inches off the ground. I smirked proudly at the bite in his voice, and crossed my arms, regarding the dark haired, butt-hurt teen with disinterest.
"Are you okay?" Scott asked compassionately, and Stiles rolled his eyes exasperatedly.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Matt responded with a sigh. "So you didn't get any tickets last night either?" he asked conversationally.
"Are they still selling?"
"No, but I managed to find two online. You should keep trying, sounds like everyone's going to be there."
He turned and with a small, polite smile, made his way back towards the side of the school. "I don't like him," Stiles growled, not even waiting until he was out of hearing distance before speaking. I had to agree; he seemed harmless enough, but then again, at first glance, so did Klaus. "Are you sure about this?" he asked suddenly, turning to Scott with desperate eyes.
"Last time, whoever's controlling Jackson had to kill somebody. He didn't finish the job, so what do you think he's going to do this time?" Scott asked seriously.
"Be there to make sure it happens," he responded with a scowl.
"Well, that'll be particularly hard for him," I said casually, crossing my arms over my chest and arching an eyebrow pointedly. "Since we'll be there to make sure it doesn't."
"Is it true that Isaac beat up a couple of kids in the locker room because one of them said his mother was a whore and the other threatened to tell everyone he has mouth herpes?" I asked eagerly, slipping into place beside Stiles at the lunch table we occupied most days, picking up his lemonade bottle and taking a sip, enjoying the way it fizzled on my tongue. I nodded at Scott in greeting, and he smiled back sweetly.
"What the-" Stiles began, half choking on the chip in his mouth. After a moment of coughing and an apathetic clap on the back from me, he continued. "No! Well, the part about the mother insult and herpes thing, he did kick the crap out of some guys in the locker room though."
"Why?" I asked confusedly, swallowing another mouthful of drink.
"To score us these," he replied, reaching into the bag at his feet and searching around in it's depths for something. He frowned when he didn't immediately find what he was looking for, ducking under the table to peer into the bag more closely. Finally, after a long, anti-climatic minute, be reappeared, three slips of paper in his hand.
I narrowed my eyes at the objects, head tilting as I observed them. "Tickets to the rave?"
"Rave? What is this, 2005?" he asked sarcastically. "It's a party."
"Whatever," I rolled my eyes, watching as he pocketed the tickets carefully, like they were made of gold.
"Listen," Scott said suddenly, leaning over the table so I could hear him whisper, apparently forgetting I had supernatural hearing. "Stiles and I are going to the clinic after school, we're going to talk to Deaton about a good offence, something to help us tonight."
"Four betas, an alpha and a two-centuries old vampire won't be enough?"
"It wasn't the last two times."
"...Fair enough."
It was quiet, the boys shovelling food into their mouths, Stiles turning his attention to his half finished homework laying on the table before him, scribbling down the remains of an essay he should have had completed days ago. I leaned back in the chair, turning my gaze to the room, peering uninterestedly at the gathered crowd.
I took a deep breath in, registering the aching burn in my throat, telling me I needed to feed on the blood I could smell. I, as always, pushed the instinct away, clinging to my humanity with everything I had, not willing to let go for even a second, too afraid I would lose myself, and by extension, Stiles.
"Do you think I can do it?"
I looked over at Stiles, raising an eyebrow as I picked up on the sound of his racing heart. Sensing that I was making him uncomfortable, I looked away, focusing on pulling at the skin-tight material of my leather pants. We'd stopped by my house so I could get changed, Stiles making me wear heels, which I found odd, despite his insistence that I had to 'look the part'. I'd caught him staring at my legs more than once, however.
Now we were on our way to Stiles' home, where the kid would get changed and pick up what he needed for the night.
I knew what Stiles was talking about, of course. We'd just come from the clinic, and after an intense conversation with Deaton, I wasn't surprised that Stiles was doubting his ability to carry through with the plan, doubting his ability to be exactly what we needed.
"There's absolutely nobody I would trust more to do this," I finally answered, with complete honesty. "If anyone can be the spark we need," I said, recalling the veterinarian's previous words, "it's you, Stiles."
His heart stuttered in his chest, but I politely ignored it, staring out into the darkening sky and finding myself hoping it would rain. Although I had complete faith in Stiles, I was somewhat worried about him. The plan called for us to be apart, and Stiles to be alone, meaning he would be unprotected and vulnerable. I just hoped I had the strength to keep from rushing to his side at the first hint of danger.
"Thank you."
I looked over at him, watching as he stared at the road, hands tightening on the steering wheel. "For what?" I asked, blinking at him through the dark.
"Just..." he trailed off, clearly having trouble putting what he felt into words. "Just being you, I guess." I was quiet, not sure how to respond. "That sounded less weird in my head. I didn't mean it-I mean, of course I meant it, I just didn't mean it to sound like something from a-"
I pressed my lips together to conceal a smile threatening to appear on my red painted lips as I reached across the seats, grabbing the hand clutching the gear-stick, and pulling it back across into my lap, both my hands wrapping around his warm palm, unthinkingly threading his fingers through mine.
Stiles made an odd wheezing sound from the back of his throat, and his hand was slightly clammy, but I didn't find any of it off-putting, instead enjoying the way his heart raced in his chest and his breath sped up. It was endearing, and in a way, fascinating, watching how flustered he got from simply having his hand held.
I was contemplating what he would do if I pressed my lips to the skin on his palm when he pulled into his driveway, turning the car off but not moving an inch. I stared at him through the darkness, a smile pulling at the edges of my lips as I absentmindedly counted the freckles splattered across his pale cheek.
"I should go," he mumbled, though not moving an inch.
"We are on a clock here," I pointed out with a light-hearted smirk.
He remained frozen.
Deciding I had to be the one to make the first move, I squeezed his hand once before slowly picking it up and dragging it gently back into his lap, finally letting go then crossing my arms over my chest. Stiles took a long, deep breath before nodding to himself and all but flying from the car and into his house, dropping the keys twice in his haste to open the front door.
I had no idea what I was doing. I knew without a doubt that having these feelings for Stiles was beyond wrong. I was old, and evil, and he was young and good, and that was just the beginning of the incompatibility. I mean, sure, I'd been told that opposites attract, that they balance each other out or something, but was that me and Stiles?
What if something did happen, what if the worst thing happened and I fell for him? What would my options be? Turn him or watch him grow old and die. I couldn't do either of those things. I wouldn't do either of those things.
I was lost in my thoughts, distracted, but eventually Stiles stumbled out the front door just as an unfamiliar, unmarked car was pulling into the spot beside the Jeep. I instinctively pressed myself against the seat, all but melting into the shadows to remain unseen.
"Hey! Can't talk, gotta run!" Stiles said hurriedly, jogging passed his father, keys in hand, only to suddenly freeze. "Wait, what's wrong?"
I frowned, looking over the sheriff with a critical eye. His shoulders were slumped and his face drawn with defeat and exhaustion. He looked like a broken man, and my new-found emotions almost ached for him without even knowing what was wrong.
I felt guilty for eavesdropping, even though there was nothing I could do to stop myself from hearing; I was too close to avoid it.
I compensated by staring in the opposite direction, that way if the man glanced my way it would appear I wasn't paying attention. I listened with a heavy chest as the (now former) sheriff explained that he was no longer part of the force, taking a 'leave of absence' that was 'temporary'. I didn't have to hear his heartbeat to know that part was a lie. I winced, jaw clenching in anger and pain as I listened to Stiles choke up in response, then sniffle rather sadly while the garage door slowly slid shut.
It was a good two minutes before he got back in the car, frown on his lips as he started the engine and steered us out onto the road. We both knew that I'd heard everything, but the last thing I wanted to do was bring it up. It would only make him uncomfortable, and he might even shed another tear, what the fuck would I do then?
I decided, in the end, that I had no choice. Ignoring the matter was crueler than the alternative, and the last thing I wanted to be was cruel.
Mostly.
"Are you okay?" I asked tentatively, wincing at how meek I sounded.
He took a deep, steadying breath before replying. "No."
I nodded, having expected that answer. "In the morning I'll go down to the station, find the person in charge and fix this," I told him surely, spinning in the seat to face him, watching the side of his face on the off chance he would turn to look at me.
"No."
I frowned in confusion. "What do you mean 'no'?"
"The supernatural got him into this mess," he muttered brokenly. "It doesn't seem right to use the supernatural to get him out of it."
I wanted to argue, but I knew how stubborn he could be. Instead I sighed, accepting his answer and turning back to the front, staring blankly out at the darkness. We were silent for the rest of the drive to Scott's house, then silent again after picking the wolf up, much to his confusion.
"Are you okay?" he finally asked once we'd arrived at the warehouse, unable to stand the silence any longer.
"Yeah, why?" Stiles asked, cracking open the trunk and reaching forwards to grab a bag of mountain ash.
"You didn't say anything on the way here," he explained with a shrug.
"I'm fine," he lied. "Can one of you just grab the other bag?"
"I can't, remember? Deaton said said you have to do it alone."
"Okay, this plan is really starting to suck."
"No," Scott suddenly mumbled, staring off into the distance. I tilted my head, sniffing lightly out of instinct. I was downwind from Allison, so I caught a hint of her unique scent almost instantly, and I rolled my eyes. "Not here, not now!" The boy rushed off in his love's direction, leaving Stiles and I to roll our eyes.
"Scott! What am I suppose to-?" Stiles yelled after him, before sighing defeatedly. "This plan officially sucks."
"I'd offer my help but..." I trailed off uncomfortably, gesturing to the bags of mountain ash sitting in the trunk.
"Yeah," he nodded, rubbing the crease between his eyebrows tiredly. "I'll be fine, you go inside and try to meet up with the wonder twins, see where they're at and maybe scan the perimeter for any sign of Jackson, human or lizard."
I turned to go, but paused, spinning back around to look at him. "For the record," I said, making his glance up at me in surprise. "You make better plans than anybody."
He grinned, mood lifting for a moment before I turned around, moving towards the door that the music was thundering out from. I approached it, mentally rolling up my sleeves and steadying myself. A room full of writhing, sweating humans, just what I needed. The place would reek of pheromones, I could smell it even from outside.
With a heavy sigh I stalked forwards, heels clicking on the cement as I approached the bouncer. He appraised me with a suspicious eye, and I was grateful that I didn't have to concentrate enough to use compulsion, merely showing him my ticket, gaining my wristband and entering the loud, colourfully lit room.
It wasn't easy moving five feet into the space, let alone scour it for Jackson or the two betas I was looking for. I shoved my way through the crowd, sometimes having to go so far as to lift a stubborn teen into the air and forcefully move them out of the way. I grumbled to myself unintelligently, using mostly curse words as my heightened sight cut through the shadows, looking for the any sign of my target.
"Be careful."
"I doubt it'll even slightly hurt him."
"I mean you. I don't want you to get hurt."
It wasn't Jackson, but it was the next best thing. I headed straight for the pair of werewolves murmuring to each other by a stone pillar. "What's the plan?" I asked, seeming to appear next to them from thin air. Isaac jumped, and Scott flinched, both spinning around to look at me.
"We could actually probably use you," Scott said suddenly.
"The words every girl dreams of hearing," I retorted slyly, and he was too focused to even roll his eyes.
"You have a sort of natural allure as a vampire, right?" Scott asked eagerly, scanning the crowd in case anyone was listening then staring back at me.
"Are you calling me pretty?" I asked with a grin, only to frown when he scowled. "Right," I nodded awkwardly. "Not the time. Carry on."
"Isaac needs to get close to Jackson to inject him with the serum," he explained.
"Why's he doing it?"
"Because the Argents are here."
"The Argents are here?!"
"It's a long story-"
"Then make it shorter."
He sighed, but complied to my order. "Allison told her dad and Gerard about Jackson, they have a plan of their own and they're here to carry it out."
I swore under my breath, gritting my teeth and glaring at a random girl in the crowd, taking pleasure in the way she moved away uncomfortably. "There are only so many of us," I hissed, knowing both wolves could hear perfectly. "We can't take down Jackson and keep the Argents busy."
"We have to try," Scott replied with conviction.
"I'll text Derek," Isaac interjected, pulling out his phone and beginning to type. "He and Boyd can stall the hunters, at least for a while."
"Good," Scott nodded, glancing over his shoulder at something I couldn't see from this angle. "I have to go," he said, before pausing and turning to me. "Be careful," he told me seriously. "It would destroy Stiles to lose you."
Before I could question his words he was gone, lost in the sea of panting, sweating, gyrating youths. I grimaced, deciding to file that away for later and spinning around to face Isaac.
"What's the plan?" he asked before I could get a word out.
Great, why the hell did all these kids think I always knew what I was doing?
"We find Jackson," I said with way more confidence than I actually had. "I'll distract him and you wait for an opportunity to jam that needle into his slimy neck."
"Got it."
Erica appeared by our side a moment later, and though she curled her lip in disgust when she spotted me, a few muttered words from Isaac had her centred and concentrated, focused on the task at hand. She told us she'd seen him only a minute before, heading towards the DJ.
He wasn't hard to find after that, it was easy to find him since he was the only person not dancing, he stood out from the crowd.
I felt my posture change, pure instinct driving me as I held my head high and pushed out my chest, making my cleavage stand out in the flashing lights. A sultry smile spread across my blood red lips, and my eyes turned into pools of swirling, forest green. I stepped out in front of Jackson, my arms wrapping around his neck, my leg hooking around his hip. I exhaled gently onto his ear, and he froze, heart hammering in his chest. His skin was cool to the touch, not as ice cold as mine, but enough to be noticeable.
I rolled my hips against him in time to the beat of the music, and his hands shot up to grasp at my waist. I wondered whether he was more human or snake in that moment, but in the end it didn't matter.
He pulled away suddenly, turning back to the speakers lining the back of the warehouse, but my fingers curled around his shoulder, using enhanced strength to yank him back to me. His blank expression dropped into a dark glare, and he tugged away from me once more.
With a frustrated huff I forced him back to me, this time capturing his lips with my own. Instantly he sagged, all the fight to get away gone from within him. His lips were firm and moist as they moved against mine in a forceful way. I sighed into his mouth, and he took it as one of pleasure, when in reality it was annoyance. He was an aggressive kisser, and while, ordinarily, I would enjoy that sort of thing, I found myself longing for something softer, something human, someone shy and inexperienced with brown eyes and freckles...
Suddenly Jackson dropped to the floor. In a panic I grabbed him, hands hooking under his arms as I effortlessly held him up. I glanced at Isaac who stood beside us, needle in hand, surprise that it had worked spread clear as day across his face. I glanced at Erica, who looked just as shocked.
I rolled my eyes at how pathetically useless the two wolves were, not caring how suspicious it looked for a 5" girl to be carrying a 6" guy and throwing an unconscious Jackson over my shoulder.
"Where?" I grunted roughly.
"Storage unit," Erica said. "This way."
She and Isaac led the way, shoving dancing teenagers out of my path, allowing me to walk through to the edge of the crowd. People standing along the walls started to look at me oddly, so I shoved Jackson into a surprised Isaac's arms, gesturing for him to hold him and keep walking.
My phone began to vibrate in my back pocket, and with an impatient huff I tugged it out, pressing the green button and holding it to my ear. "Yeah?" I asked, hoping whatever it was wasn't urgent so I could get away quickly.
"We have a serious problem," Stiles said through the line, and I internally sighed. Nothing was ever easy.
"Are you okay?" was my first question, and the most important one, as far as I was concerned.
"I don't have enough of this stupid fairy dust crap to complete the circle and Scott isn't answering his phone!"
I paused, mulling over his words.
"Well?!" he prompted me desperately. "What the hell am I supposed to do?!"
"Juliet!" Erica hissed from beside me, gesturing to where Isaac had just disappeared down a hallway with Jackson.
"Look," I began seriously, striding across the floor and stepping into an alcove. "This is going to sound stupid but it's the only thing I know to say. You need to believe, Stiles."
"...Believe?" he asked incredulously.
"In my two hundred years, I've seen a fair few things, and I've learnt a hell of a lot more. Out of all the smart things smart people have ever said, one I know without a doubt is true, and that is that imagination-"
"-is more important than knowledge," he finished, suddenly sounding more confident than I expected him to.
"Juliet!" Erica hissed again, glaring daggers at me from the entrance to the hallway.
"I believe in you, Stiles," I blurted hurriedly. "I'll always believe in you."
There wasn't anything else I could say, so I hung up, all but shoving my phone into my pocket and darting across the room and into the hall, following the wolves' scents until I found myself in a storage unit.
"I tried to find some zip-ties or something but they seem to be fresh out," Isaac said once I'd slipped into the room, peering at Jackson who sat blissfully unconscious in an uncomfortable looking chair.
"He doesn't look like he'll be waking up any time soon," I shrugged indifferently.
"It would be so much simpler to just kill him now, while he's defenceless," Erica grumbled, and though I knew she had a point, I wouldn't allow myself to consider it an option.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I slid it free again, reading the text I'd received from Stiles asking where we were. I replied in a clipped sentence, and only moments later he was bursting through the door to the right, making Erica jump to attack.
"Whoa, it's just me! It's just me!" Stiles shouted, arms held out to defend himself in necessary. He sighed as the bitch stepped back, straightening his flannel and moving to stand beside me, almost as an afterthought. He assessed Jackson carefully, watching for any hint of consciousness. Suddenly his heart rate spiked, and he spun around to glare at me accusingly. "Did you kiss him?"
I shouldn't have felt as embarrassed as I did, but I scowled to cover it up, crossing my arms over my chest and facing him. "What?" I asked dumbly, deciding to play it safe.
"Your lipstick," he grunted like it pained him. "It's smudged on his lips."
Stiles: ever the detective. "I needed to distract him," I shrugged.
"So you kissed him?!" he countered incredulously.
"Now isn't the time for your lovers spat," Erica growled, and Stiles scrubbed a hand over his face tiredly, but ultimately agreeing.
"Is he okay?" he asked reluctantly, eyes narrowed at a comatose Jackson.
"Well, let's find out," Isaac said, stepping closer to the kanima. He flicked his wrist and his razor sharp claws appeared as he swiped down, aiming for the face, probably just to wake him up and see if he was really out of it. Before any of us knew what had happened Jackson's hand shot out, grasping Isaac's with disturbing accuracy, considering his eyes were still tightly shut. The beta groaned in pain, bending at the knees as he twisted his appendage.
"Okay, no one does anything like that again," Stiles instructed sternly once the kanima had finally let go of Isaac's arm, the boy scrambling out of reach the second he was free.
"I thought it was supposed to put him out!" Isaac hissed, grabbing his bruised wrist in pain.
"Yeah, well apparently this is all we're going to get. So let's just hope that whoever's controlling him just decided to show up tonight."
"I'm here," Jackson said, though I knew instantly it wasn't the star lacrosse player talking. "I'm right here with you.
Stiles froze, staring at the kanima with horror. "Jackson, is that you?" he asked tentatively, stepping closer to the unconscious boy. I reached out, fingers curling around a handful of his hoodie, desperate to keep him close.
"Us," he droned. "We're all here."
Stiles glanced over his shoulder, meeting my eyes. I nodded reassuringly, seeing the indecision in his eyes. "Are you the one killing people?" he asked, turning back to the snake.
"We're the ones killing murderers."
"So then all the people you've killed so far..."
"Deserved it."
"See, we've got a little rule book that says you only go after murderers," Stiles said, appearing calm though his heart was racing wildly.
"Anything can break if enough pressure's applied."
"Alright, so the people you're killing are all murderers then?"
"All. Each and every one."
"Well who did they murder?"
"Me."
Stiles paused, and we all waited silently, only gaining more questions than answers. "Wait, what do you mean?"
"They murdered me." His eyes morphed into reptilian slits, changing to a shining orange. I tugged Stiles behind me the instant I noticed the change, unwilling to let him be in danger for even a moment. He didn't protest, letting me shift in front of him protectively. A glance down to Jackson's hands confirmed my worries; his fingers had turned scaly, dagger like claws protruding in place of nails.
"We need more!" Stiles insisted, referring to the drug we'd used to subdue Jackson.
"We don't have any more," Isaac mumbled.
"You used the whole bottle?"
Before either of them could say anything else, the kanima was on two feet, face half covered in green scales. It opened it's mouth and let out a snarl, revealing menacing rows of pointy, grey teeth. "Out. Now," Stiles shouted, all but shoving us out the door. I let myself be tugged along, preferring to stay close to Stiles' side. "In front of the door!" he commanded, and immediately I pressed my hands against the wood. Nothing would get through.
Then it burst through the metal wall beside us like it was made of paper, charging full speed into the depths of the warehouse.
"We need to find it," I growled, pushing away from the door and facing my three companions. "Do a sweep of the area, don't attack if you find him, just keep tabs until we can all come together. No one will be able to take him down alone, so don't be stupid enough to try."
Though they didn't look happy to be taking orders from me, the two betas nodded and scurried off down the hallway, back into the thick of the party. "What should I do?" Stiles asked nervously, hands twisting together in front of him.
"Go outside, get across the mountain ash line."
"We don't even know if it worked-"
"It's the best chance we have at keeping you safe," I growled.
"I can help you-"
"By staying safe," I cut him off with a serious expression. I glanced to the right where I heard footsteps moving towards our location. "I'll meet you outside in one minute." Then I disappeared from his sight, scanning the club at top speeds, going so fast the kanima couldn't even catch me. My senses were somewhat dulled by the loud music, flashing lights and overpowering stench of sweat and arousal, so it was incredibly difficult to find anything, let alone a camouflaging lizard.
With a frustrated sigh I left the party, materialising at the main entrance, breathing in the blissfully clean night air. I spotted Stiles standing a few paces away beside Derek, and as usual my first instinct was to move to his side. I barely got three steps before I was stopped by an invisible barrier. It wasn't so much like a wall as it was like the identical sides of two magnets trying to touch. No matter how I forced my hand past, I just couldn't get through.
"Oh my God, it's working!" Stiles exclaimed, and though I loathed being trapped, I was immensely proud of the brown-eyed boy for being able to complete his allocated task so well. "Yes, I did something!"
My lips twitched up into a smile, but before I could say anything a pained, heart-wrenching howl echoed through the surrounding area, easily heard over the thrashing music.
"Scott," Derek muttered, meeting my eyes for a beat. "Break it," he instructed Stiles gruffly.
"What?" he asked incredulously. "No way!"
"Scott's dying!"
"Okay, what? How do you know that?"
"Stiles! I just know! Break it!" he shouted furiously.
Stiles still hesitated, glancing up at me unsurely. "He's telling the truth!" I told him sincerely, and though he looked upset at doing so, he leant forwards and fanned his hands over the line of mountain ash, breaking it easily.
"Come on!" the alpha urged me, dashing passed, desperate to get to Scott.
"Wait!" I countered, whole body freezing.
"We don't have time-"
"Blood," I said, eyes widening. The place may have stunk of pheromones, but vampires were like sharks, we could smell blood from miles away, no matter the circumstances. "It's human," I added at Stiles' alarmed expression.
"Go!" he shouted at us both, and with a nod each of us disappeared, heading for opposite ends of the warehouse, each on a deathly important mission.
It was easy enough to find the body. The second it was in sight I knew that the girl was gone from this world. Her eyes stared unseeingly at the ceiling, blood pooled around her head from the slices in her neck. I hated myself for how hungry the sight left me, and I knelt beside her, softly closing her lids so she looked like she was sleeping. I didn't particularly care, but it seemed like the right thing to do.
With a sigh I pulled my phone from my pocket, dialling 911 and leaving an anonymous tip that there was a dead body at the stupid party.
I felt useless, I came to protect the humans and I couldn't even do that.
I huffed, pushing myself back to my feet. With a final glance at the corpse, and turned and headed home, desperate for a bath and a glass of A-positive.
