When I wake up,
The dream isn't done.
I wanna see your face,
And know I made it home.
If nothing is true,
What more can I do?
I am still painting flowers for you
Painting Flowers – All Time Low
"What are you wearing?"
I looked down at myself, wondering what was wrong with my costume. "It's a replica of the dress from the original Alice in Wonderland," I responded, almost certain we'd watched it together not two months ago.
"I mean why are you wearing it now?" he rephrased his question, adjusting the bag on his shoulder and eyeing me through the dull yellow of my porch light.
"It's Halloween," I said obviously, eyeing him like he was mentally challenged.
"Oh, is it really?" he asked sarcastically, stepping aside to gesture at my unmaintained lawn and the decorations littering it. "Is that why your house looks like Hot Topic threw up all over it?"
I glanced past him, eyeing the skeletons, witches and pumpkins and the awesome smoking cauldron I'd compelled off a guy in Mexico.
"First of all, I don't know what a 'Hot Topic' is," I began with a frown. "Secondly, it's Halloween, only the greatest holiday of all time, the one day a year on which people like when I flash my fangs at them. And thirdly, I really think the more pressing question is: why the hell are you outside my door at 11:30 on a school night?"
"Ah!" he exclaimed like he'd just remembered why he was on my porch with a duffel bag and not in bed trying and failing to get some sleep. "It's mischief night!" he told me with an impish grin before glancing down at his watch. "Or, it will be, in half an hour."
"Ooh," I murmured, incredibly intrigued. "What is mischief night and why does it sound like something I would be the mascot for?"
"It's a night where all the students play pranks on the school – well, mostly Coach. And, get this! It just so happens to fall on his birthday!" he was practically giddy with excitement.
I felt the same. It was my favourite holiday, the first of many I hoped to spend with Stiles, and on top of it all, I was thrilled to see Stiles so happy and bouncy. He'd lost so much of that after everything that had happened, I loved nothing more in this world than seeing him smile like his old self.
"So, what's the plan?" I asked eagerly, cracking my fingers, eagerly anticipating fucking up Coach's day in the funniest way possible.
"We're meeting Scott at the school, where I will explain my whole plan, to both of you, in it's entirety," he told me, and I rolled my eyes fondly before slipping back inside my house, picking up my bag and shoving my feet into the matching little black pumps that came with the costume. "I have another question," he began as I quickly locked the door behind me and followed him back down the driveway to the Jeep. "It's 11:30 on a school night," he repeated my words from before. "Why are you wearing a costume now?"
"I spend the full week of Halloween in costume," I admitted with a small, slightly embarrassed smile before I reminded myself that I had nothing to feel embarrassed about, I was a grown woman, and I could do what I wanted without anyone's permission – especially walk around in costumes for the week of Halloween.
I glanced over at Stiles where he sat propped in the driver's side, hands frozen on the wheel as he stared at me with glazed eyes.
"What?" I asked self-consciously, lifting a hand to my lips and running my finger around them, making sure I didn't have any blood smudged from my last meal – which was bagged and frozen and most certainly not fresh, no matter how much I wished it were.
"You're always surprising me," he said with a slight laugh, his voice breathy as his honey eyes stared through the shadows at me. "And I just really love you."
I melted internally, but refused to show it, so instead I merely pressed my fingertips to my own lips then reached across and stoically pressed the same fingers to his lips. He shot me a perplexed look, clearly not understanding. "I didn't want to ruin my lipstick," I revealed with a shrug, and he rolled his eyes as he started the car, pulling out onto the main road.
He reached over to the radio and pressed a sequence of buttons, making eery sounding piano music fill the car.
"Halloween themed classical?" I asked, glancing across the space at my human, who was slightly red in the face. I stared at him, eyes roaming over the moles dotted across his sharp cheekbones and the red blotches splashed between them.
"What?" it was his turn to ask awkwardly, eyes carefully focused on the road.
I grinned widely. If he'd look over he'd see the embarrassingly dopey adoration painted across my face as clear as day. "I just really love you," I repeated his words, though I'd never said anything more true.
His heart stuttered, and I loved that even after this long together, I was still able to fluster him as I did.
The memory of my recent slip-up seemed to tear through me in any moment I found myself inexplicably happy. I winced at the force of it this time, remembering the incident so clearly that I could almost still see the blood on my hands, still here the man's pleas in my ear, still taste his life on my tongue.
"Jules?"
I looked up at Stiles abruptly, blinking at him in surprise, his gentle and concerned tone a great contrast to what I deserved.
I forced a smirk onto my lips that physically hurt, pushing all negative thoughts from my mind and focusing on spending time with my human. "Sorry," I apologised halfheartedly. "Just lost in thought."
He nodded and began to ramble again, talking about what they'd done last year for the same occasion. I stared at him closely, noticing the deep, heavy bags under his eyes that were becoming more and more prominent with every passing day. I was worried about him, but realistically, what could I do? I couldn't force him to sleep, at least not with that vervain around his wrist.
I winced at my own thoughts; was I really wishing I could use compulsion on my boyfriend? I justified that it was for a good reason, but it still made me feel like shit.
Stiles pulled into the parking lot, fishing the duffel bag from the backseat and all but leaping from his chair and onto the cement, very nearly tripping as he did so.
I slipped out with much more grace, my door clicking shut quietly behind me. "So, where to, chief?" I asked him lightly, stepping forwards to wind my arm through his and beginning to drag him towards the school.
"The locker rooms," he told me with a mischievous grin on his lips, coming to a stop at the bolted back doors to the building. "Wanna lend a hand?" he requested with an impish smirk, glancing pointedly at the heavy chains keeping the door locked.
I rolled my eyes and moved my arm out of his, grasping the metal chain and yanking. With a loud crack and a light jingle, the lock fell to the ground, the chains following close behind.
"You're like a Swiss Army Knife," he told me brightly as he pushed his way into the school. "So many uses."
"If you like what I can do with my hands, you'll love what I can do with my mouth," I murmured back teasingly, pleased when the red splotches returned to his face. "In fact, if I remember correctly, you did love what I did with my mouth only the other night..."
"Now isn't the time," he responded after clearing his throat, strictly keeping his eyes on the ground in front of his feet.
"Are you sure?" I asked tantalisingly. "We could slip into a broom closet," I gestured to a small door to the right with a large cheshire cat grin. "Wouldn't be the first time."
Stiles paused, eyes flickering to the door contemplatively before he shook his head and continued marching forwards. "Scott'll be waiting for us," he mumbled, sounding disappointed.
I tilted my head to the side, listening for any signs of life in the school. "Hate to break it to you, love, but there's no one here," I told him when I couldn't find a single heartbeat.
"What?" he asked incredulously, whirling around to stare at me dubiously.
I pushed open the door to the boy's locker room, stepping inside and doing another sweep just to be sure. "Empty," I confirmed with a nod. "Maybe you should ring him?"
He grumbled under his breath unintelligently, swinging his bag onto his other arm and pulling his phone form his pocket, dialling his werewolf best friend's number.
"Hello?" Scott answered the phone casually.
"Get your ass down here, now," Stiles quickly said, tone biting. "We have a job to do."
"But I'm already in bed," he replied tiredly. "And aren't we getting a little old for this?"
"We do this for Coach."
"I thought we did this to Coach."
"Whatever, okay? You know he needs this," Stiles argued. "He lives for this stuff, y'know? He loves it."
"But it's the middle of the night."
"12:15 actually, which means it's after midnight and officially Mischief night/day – and by perfectly awesome coincidence, it also happens to be Coach's birthday. So if you are not down here in five seconds, I will destroy you," he threatened the werewolf, wrenching open his locker and rummaging around inside of it for a long moment. I leaned against the one beside it, watching amusedly as Scott seemed to materialise in the room, hidden in the shadows, visible from his glowing red eyes. "In five, four, three, two-" Stiles just about suffered heart failure, all but jumping out of his skin when he finally turned around and noticed his best friend standing mere feet behind him.
"That defied the laws of nature," I murmured, referring to how fast he'd gotten here.
He turned to smile at me widely. "Like you don't do the same every chance you get," he countered with his usual puppy dog grin. I rolled my eyes, smiling back at him, much more restrained as I nodded in greeting. "What are you wearing?" he asked suddenly, seeming to take in my unusual outfit.
"My Halloween costume," I responded with an eye roll.
"But it's October 30th."
"Don't bother," Stiles interjected before I could reply, which I figured was for the best.
"So, can we finally hear the master plan?" I asked eagerly, turning to the human and folding my arms over my costume.
Stiles grinned, the expression blissfully happy as he opened his mouth to tell us his brilliant scheme.
"That's my face!"
I looked up in surprise where I was waiting by Stiles' locker, watching carefully as my boyfriend ripped the roll of toilet paper off his face, glaring at the culprit.
"Dude, good decision," he continued to Scott once he'd recovered, like they hadn't just been interrupted by a flying projectile. "Good alpha decision."
"What happened?" I asked curiously as both boys came to a stop beside me, Stiles greeting me with a swift kiss to the cheek that made me smile.
"The twins asked to be in the pack," Stiles explained, unlocking the door and rummaging through his belongings.
"You're kidding," I chortled in amusement. "You said no, right?" I asked Scott, who nodded but was staring into the distance, attention clearly not on me. "Scott, please tell me you said no."
"He said no," Stiles confirmed with an eye roll, shoving his books into his bag and glancing over his shoulder at what Scott was staring at. I followed their line of sight, brow furrowing as I noticed it was the girl from the other day, the one who told us about Bardo. "What are you looking at?" Stiles questioned slyly.
"Me?" Scott asked innocently.
"Yes, you," I snorted in amusement, tipping my head back against the lockers and letting my eyes drift over the new girl again. "Who is she?"
"Kira," Scott answered instantly, something like a dopey smile on his puppy-dog face. "You met her the other day." He paused, seeming to consider something. "And I wasn't staring," he suddenly amended, turning to frown at me.
"Yeah, you were," I snickered, and Stiles joined me.
"You like her?" he asked his best friend with a smirk.
"No," Scott spoke too quickly to be telling the truth. He noticed my narrowed eyes and stumbled along. "I mean...yeah, yeah – she's okay. She's new."
"So, ask her out," Stiles told him encouragingly.
"Now?"
"Yes, now."
"Right now?"
"Right now," Stiles sighed, clapping the wolf on his back. "Scott, I don't think you get it yet. You are the alpha, okay? You are the apex predator. Everyone wants you, you know? You're like the hot girl that every guy wants."
Isaac sauntered up to us quietly, looking bewildered by the conversation topic. "I'm the hot girl?" Scott asked with narrowed eyes, seeming to consider – and enjoy – the comparison.
"You are the hottest girl," Stiles confirmed, hand finding mine like magnets as he shot Scott one final smirk before pulling me away.
"Good analogy," I praised the human, intertwining our fingers and staring up at him with adoring eyes. "The hot girl – gets them every time."
"You'd know," he murmured, and I glanced back up at him confusedly. "Y'know?" he prompted, suddenly looking awkward. "'Cause you're the hot girl."
I snickered again, rolling my eyes fondly and leaning into him gently. "Smooth, Stilinski," I told him softly, brushing my nose along his collarbone before pulling back and all but yanking him into the economics room. "So, how will we know when the thing happens?" I asked eagerly, sliding into the seat on Stiles' right, crossing one leg over the other. "Maybe we should have installed cameras or something."
"You're acting like you've never pulled a prank in your life," he told me with a smile.
I shifted uneasily. "It wasn't a very common method of amusement when I was growing up," I revealed, lips pulled down in a frown.
"Trust me," he assured me gently. "We'll know."
A minute passed and the rest of the students began to flood into the room. Scott showed up soon after, snatching the seat on Stiles' other side. "So?" I asked eagerly, leaning over Stiles' desk to talk to him face to face. "Did you do it?"
"Do what?" he asked bewilderedly.
"Ask that girl out," I replied impatiently.
"For at least the fourth time, her name is Kira," he corrected me, but I waved him off ardently. "And, I need to...work up to it."
"You're apussy," I sang teasingly, and he rolled his eyes at me before returning his attention to the book in front of him.
A loud bang unexpectedly echoed through the classroom, followed by a furious, "Son of a bitch!" I grinned slightly manically, finding glee in affectionately terrorising the teacher. It was good to get my fill of chaos in ways other than murder for once, I resolved to do it more often.
Coach burst from his office, irritated scowl on his face.
"Mischief night, Devil's night; I don't care what you call it," he began tightly, taking the time to glare at each and every one of us. "You little punks are evil. You think it's funny? Every Halloween, my house gets egged? A man's house is supposed to be his castle." The teacher continued to mutter angrily to himself, but I paid little attention after that, leaning back in my chair and absent-mindedly doodling on my textbook.
Class passed quickly, Coach leaving us to read from the book while he continued to whisper threats against us under his breath. I slid from the room as soon as the bell rang, hesitating by the door while I waited for Stiles to gather his things and meet me.
A scent reached my nose, one that had my gut churning and my gums aching.
Someone was bleeding.
Saliva pooled in my mouth and I gripped my textbook so tightly it began to scrunch up in my hand. The urge to feed was more pressing than ever, every nerve in me screamed to get to it. The blood wasn't normal, however. There was something rotten about the intoxicating smell, and it was both disgusting and irresistible at the same time. I felt my eyes begin to flood with blood, and just before my last remaining thread of resolve broke, Stiles appeared in my line of sight.
"Whoa," he exclaimed, wrapping an arm around my neck and making me duck my head. "Love, your eyes." I didn't have time to process the term of endearment that usually I was the one to use, instead hissing and wrenching myself away from him before my jaws could get too close to his delicate throat. "Crap, and your fangs," he added, glancing down at the protruding teeth. "Is this like what happened with Scott last week?" he asked desperately, gently shoving me into an alcove where we wouldn't be disturbed. "What's wrong?"
"Blood," I answered him, my breathing laboured.
"You need some?"
"I smell some."
"You mean, someone's hurt?" he asked, looking alarmed. "Are they okay?"
"They will be unless I manage to get to them," I all but snarled, feeling physically ill as I held my instincts back. Not for the first time, and probably not for the last time, I cursed Kol in my head, feeling pure loathing for him for what he'd done to me, to what he'd made me become.
"Drink from me."
I glanced at Stiles in shock. "We're in the middle of a crowded hallway," I hissed at him like he hadn't realised where we were.
"People will think we're kissing," he shrugged, leaning closer to me and offering me his neck.
"Stiles, I love you for offering, but I'm not sure it's a good idea," I grunted with difficulty. Were it any other day, I'd tell him yes, that would be brilliant. But I couldn't today, because I wasn't sure I could hold myself back from taking things that step too far, and I'd kill myself before taking that risk with him.
The urge to turn off my emotions became more pressing than ever, like a pressure in my head that I knew would only release should I hit the switch. As a general rule, vampires with their humanity turned on had a harder time resisting the call of blood, and vampires with their humanity off could handle it much better.
I bit my own tongue in a move of desperation, and my own blood filled my mouth. It was bitter and not at all satisfying, but it did the trick, and a moment later I felt my eyes and teeth return to normal.
The pull for the blood was still there, and I knew I didn't have long until I gave in completely. With a heavy heart, I nudged the switch. It wasn't enough to send me over the edge, it was more of a distancing of myself. I knew it was the only way to keep everyone in this school safe. Ironically, they were safer if I was bad than if I was good – at least if I was in 'bad mode' I'd have more control.
"You alright?" Stiles asked warily, hands braced on my shoulders.
I nodded, keeping my face carefully schooled so he couldn't know how close we came to pure pandemonium in the form of a nineteen/two-hundred year old vampire with no remorse and a set of deadly fangs. "I'm fine," it wasn't exactly a lie; I wasn't sure how I felt. I felt kind of numb, almost blissfully so. I'd missed that feeling, but I couldn't let it get to my head.
I focused on my love for Stiles, and I felt a warm buzz in my chest that had everything to do with his close presence.
I wasn't sure what I was going to say, but before I knew what was happening I opened my mouth, only to catch sight of something over my worried boyfriend's shoulder. "Your dad's here."
"What?" he asked bewilderedly.
"Your dad," I repeated, nodding to the man talking with the principle behind him. "He's here."
Stiles immediately looked torn between whether to go speak to his dad or remain with me. "You're sure you're okay?" he asked hesitantly.
"I'm sure," I lied again, and he didn't look convinced, but he still nodded and turned away. I was expecting him to leave me there, but apparently he didn't want me out of his sight, because he grasped my hand, spinning around and dragging me down the hall after his father.
"Dad!" he exclaimed, making people turn to look at him in alarm. "Dad!"
"Not now, Stiles," the sheriff said sternly.
"Dad, what's going on?" Stiles persisted stubbornly, chasing after the man as he turned down the hallway and continued through the school, several deputies flanking him. Stiles held my hand determinately, dragging me after him, fixated on getting answers.
John looked over his shoulder at us with a frown, but decided to relent after all. "William Barrow was rushed to the hospital for emergency surgery," he told us. "An hour ago he escaped police custody and he was spotted a few blocks away."
The information was enough to make Stiles freeze for a moment before jumping back into action, darting after his father. "The William Barrow?" he demanded in a panic. The name wasn't familiar to me, but I didn't even read the newspaper, let alone watch the news. "The shrapnel bomber? Spotted nearby?"
John sighed, pausing and turning around to face us, lowering his voice so he wouldn't be overheard. "A little closer than nearby," he admitted.
"Is he injured?" I asked quickly, shifting forwards and staring back intently.
"Yeah, he was in the middle of surgery. No one knows how he woke up from the sedative they gave him," he answered confusedly.
"What kind of surgery?"
"I don't know, all I do know is that they found a tumour full of live flies inside his stomach." He paused, eyeing me suspiciously. "Why?"
I didn't reply, turning back to Stiles with a worried frown. "The blood I smelt," I told him, and he nodded with wide eyes. Before he could answer, bag-of-dicks-McCall passed us, talking with the principle as they walked, words sounding urgent.
"Dad, what's really going on here?" Stiles asked his father carefully.
John hesitated, but again, rightly decided that keeping us in the loop was the best move. "When asked why he blew up that school bus," he began softly, glancing over his shoulder suspiciously. "All he would say was that he did it because...because some of the kids had glowing eyes."
Stiles and I were stunned into silence, realising this was much bigger than we had first assumed. One of his deputies leaned over and murmured in his ear, but I didn't care to listen in. The sheriff turned back to us and shot us a grimace. "I've gotta go," he said, than glanced at me. "Keep him safe," he ordered me shortly before turning around and slipping down the hall after the other officers.
"Well, that's emasculating," Stiles murmured as he stared after his father.
"Not the time," I reminded him impatiently, and he shook his head like he was shaking off the moment before turning and beginning to walk towards the cafeteria.
"We have to find the others," he told me, grasping my hand and dodging the students filling up the hallway. "Can you sniff them out?"
It was easy enough to find the others, well, Isaac, Allison and Lydia to be exact. Stiles relayed to them what had happened and what the situation was with the escaped convict.
"Barrow went after kids with glowing eyes?" Isaac confirmed with a concerned frown as we turned a corner, heading down an empty hallway. "He said those exact words?"
"Yeah, and no one knows how he woke up from anaesthesia," Stiles informed them. "And when they opened him up they found a tumour full of live flies. Which in any other circumstance would be all kinds of awesome."
"Did you say flies?"
We all turned around to see Lydia had stopped walking midway down the hallway, frozen as she stared at us with glossy eyes. "Lydia?" Allison asked cautiously.
"All day I have been hearing this sound – it's like...this...buzzing."
The words clicked something into place for me. "You mean like flies?" I asked with raised eyebrows.
"Exactly like the sound of flies."
"What could that possibly mean?" Isaac asked dubiously. "Why would she be able to hear the flies?" I glanced over to see him staring at me expectantly, as though I had all the answers.
"It's not an exact science," I frowned at the dirty-blond boy. "I don't know much more than you. You want answers? Go to a witch-doctor."
"You're the least helpful vampire I've ever met."
"Keep it up and I'll be the last vampire you'll ever meet, you little f-"
"I think what's important here," Allison interjected loudly, apparently not appreciating our bickering, "is that we search the school ourselves. And we have to find Scott."
"I'll sniff him out," Isaac offered.
"No," Stiles shook his head. "You stay on the police, alert us if they find Barrow. Jules and I will find Scott." He pulled out his phone, holding it up for us all to see. "Keep in contact."
"And whatever you do, don't let your eyes glow," I warned Isaac, who for once didn't have a comment in reply, merely nodding his head and leaving with Allison and Lydia to tail the police. "What class does Scott have next?" I asked Stiles, who paused for a beat as he thought.
"Math, I think," he responded.
"Come on," I prompted. "The quicker we find him, the better."
It took longer than usual to find Scott with all the unfamiliar scents the agents and officers were tracking into the school, but eventually we ran into him outside the history classroom. "Dude!" Stiles hissed as he noticed him, shoes squeaking on the floor as he stumbled over to the alpha. "Where the hell have you been?"
Heels clicked on the linoleum and we looked over to see Lydia approaching us as quickly as she could in those shoes. "The police are leaving," she told us with a worried scowl marring her stunning features. "Why are they leaving?"
"The police?" Scott asked incredulously.
"They must have cleared the building and grounds, which means he's not here," Stiles sighed exhaustedly, and again I wished I could force him to sleep – he desperately needed it.
"Who?" Scott demanded, more confused with every passing word.
"And I haven't smelt any blood since before, and if he was here I'd be able to pick it up," I added with a frown.
"Blood?"
"He has to be here!" Lydia argued, voice shrill with panic. "That sound, the buzzing I've been hearing? It's getting louder."
We paused, exchanging uneasy glances. "How loud?" Stiles asked, looking like he wasn't sure he even wanted to know the answer.
Lydia didn't speak for a long time, clearly focused on something none of us could hear. "Deafening," she finally answered.
"I've gotta go talk to my dad," Stiles murmured hurriedly. "Jules, fill Scott in! Lydia, you're with me!" With that he took off down the hall, heading for the rear exit.
Scott turned to look at me with wide, expectant eyes. "Okay," I began uncomfortably. "So it's kind of a long story. You ever hear of William Barrow?"
Thankfully Scott was sharp, and he seemed to understand what was happening and the severe danger the situation presented. Once he had all the facts and I was done, he switched into alpha-mode, standing an inch taller and getting into his leader mindset.
"Go get Isaac and the twins," he commanded gently, distracted as he pulled his phone from his pocket. "I'm going to get my mom to bring me something we can get a scent off."
I was shaking my head before he'd even finished. "I smelt his blood earlier, if he was still in the school I'd be able to tell."
"Not if he cleaned up and covered the wound," he said, and I had to admit he was right.
"Okay," I nodded reluctantly, the twins being the last people I wanted to go to for help. "I'll find them and we'll meet you outside the chemistry lab?"
He nodded back, hitting a button on his phone and turning down the corridor. I didn't bother keeping my speed at a human level, instead racing through the halls quickly, my keens eyes sweeping each room for any sign of the local wolves.
I found Isaac first, he was sitting near the entrance, keeping an eye on the remaining cops like he'd been told. "Hey, dog-breath!" I called to get his attention, and he looked up, irritation clear across his face. "You're being reassigned," I told him, one hand bunching in his teeshirt and yanking him back down the hallway.
"What are you talking about?" he asked, ripping himself from my grip and narrowing his eyes at me.
"Scott's got a plan," I told him, and apparently that was enough to get him to change his tune. He stopped resisting, nodding along and moving with me. "Where're the twins?"
Isaac snorted. "Why?" he asked quizzically, grimacing at the mere thought of interacting with them.
"I feel the same way, trust me," I assured him. "But I'm on Scott's orders."
"I think I saw them by the library," he told me reluctantly, and we took a left, heading closer to the east end of the school, where the library was located. "There they are!" he exclaimed suddenly when we were two corridors away from the study centre. I spotted them standing by a locker, murmuring between themselves.
They looked up in surprise when we approached, expressions guarded like they weren't totally sure we wouldn't attack them on sight.
"Scott needs your help," I told them in my most detached voice, torn between wanting them to say no and yes. "Are you in?"
They paused, glancing at each other, clearly communicating in the way only twins could. "What do we have to do?"
"Lydia thinks he's still here, even though the cops searched the whole school, but they didn't have one thing-" Scott began, tearing open the bag and pulling out a foul smelling hospital gown, "-our sense of smell."
"You want us to track him through the school?" one of the twins asked with narrowed eyes.
"We need to start in the basement and work our way up," he nodded, and though none of us were thrilled with the plan, we did as we were told. "You two take the east half," he instructed the twins. "We'll take the west."
We split up as soon as we could, and I was more than happy to get out of their presence. I found them irritating, and they'd killed one of our own, so I trusted them about as much as I trusted...Peter, or better yet...Klaus.
"This is how it's gonna be now? We trust them?" Isaac asked with a scowl as we slowly made our way through the red-bathed corridors.
"Just because I'm letting them help doesn't mean I trust them," Scott corrected.
"I don't trust them either," he murmured in response, taking a beat to sniff the air. "Or like them. In fact I hate them and I actually want them to die."
"I'm with you there, buddy," I muttered, leaning through a doorway and scanning the supply room with my enhanced sight, slightly surprised we actually agreed on something.
"Well, if Barrow's actually here and he'd got a plan, you might both get what you want," Scott replied, sounding disapproving with our murderous thoughts. It rolled off me like water. I glanced up at Isaac with an impish leer, who smirked back widely, both pleased with the pretty picture he painted.
Before any one of us could say anything more, a loud and piercing bell cut through the still quiet of the basement, the sudden sound making us flinch.
"Come on," Scott prompted us, gently pushing on my back to get me going. We jogged up the stairs and down the halls, pushing our way out of the building. The sudden onslaught of the painfully bright sun made my eyes ache, and I winced, struggling to adjust to the light as I worriedly searched the crowd for Stiles.
After a minute he appeared to my right, and I held my hand out, relief filling me when his skin slid against mine, blissfully warm and soft in comparison to my own.
"We didn't find anything," the twin in the blue shirt said once Lydia reached us, the group completed.
"Not even a scent," Scott added.
"It's three o'clock, so school's over," Stiles spoke up with a frown. "If there was a bomb wouldn't he have set it off by now?"
"Does that mean everybody's safe?" green shirt twin asked, looking intently at Lydia.
The redhead paused, delicate brow furrowed as she stressed. "I don't know," she finally admitted, looking like she was mentally beating herself up over her answer. "I just...I don't know."
An idea hit me, and I turned to Stiles, lowering my voice. "Maybe the board at home will trigger something for her?" I suggested, and he understood what I meant immediately.
"I think I have something at my house that'll help you," he told her, stepping aside as that new history teacher slipped up to us, gently taking Scott away, murmuring something about dinner. "You should come back with us, then we'll take you home later."
Lydia looked like she was thinking it over, and after a long moment she shrugged. "Why not?" she replied lightly.
Scott reappeared beside us, and I noticed the twins had backed off, standing off to the side and muttering between themselves. "I have plans tonight, the new history teacher just invited me to dinner for saving his daughter, Kira's, life," the alpha told us, something like a bemused expression on his face. "Are you guys going to be okay?"
"We have plans too," Stiles responded, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "We'll be fine."
"Keep your phone on incase something comes up," I added, and the wolf nodded before turning and disappearing back into the crowd.
The drive to Stiles' house was done in near silence, the only sounds filling the car being the smooth jazz playing softly from the stereo and the teens' low breathing.
To say Lydia was surprised by the new decorations in Stiles' room was an understatement. She put her bag down on the floor by the door, standing in the doorway awkwardly as Stiles and I wandered further into the room.
I kicked my shoes off and shed my jacket, smoothing my hands down my blue dress before taking a seat at the desk and kicking my bare feet up onto the slab of wood.
"You can come in, you know," I said over my shoulder, Stiles already caught up in fiddling with his board and barely glancing over his shoulder to nod. He'd been working on it for days now, said it helped him figure things out, made him feel like he was doing something to contribute, and not just sitting around on his ass all day, waiting for the supernatural members of the pack to do all the work.
Lydia slipped into the room, taking a seat on the bed, eyes roaming over the hundreds of pictures tacked to the walls. "Have you been working on this long?" she asked gently, shuffling back on the bed to get more comfortable.
"A few days," he replied with a shrug, securing a red string to a tack.
"What do the different colour strings mean?" she questioned, glancing down beside her at the pile of colourful strings.
"They're just different stages of the investigation," he answered, glancing away from his work. "Green is solved, yellow is to be determined, blue's just pretty." My lips twitched up and I turned away before either of them could notice the amusement.
"What does red mean?"
"Uh, unsolved," he told her hesitantly.
"You only have red on the board."
"Yes, I'm aware. Thank you," he responded, voice overflowing with attitude.
"Did you get detention for pulling the alarm?" she asked quietly.
"Yep, every day this week. It's okay though, we're onto something."
"Even though we couldn't find any proof of Barrow being there?"
I glanced over at the banshee, who had her eyes lowered to the floor in something like resignation or shame. Stiles' brow furrowed, and he leaned back against the wall, speaking calmly and reassuringly. "Lydia, you have been right every time something like this has happened. So don't start doubting yourself now."
Lydia frowned again, pressing her fingers to her chin. "No scent, no bomb," she listed tiredly, clearly feeling guilty. "And I got you in trouble."
"Barrow was there, Lydia," I spoke up, using my feet to roll the chair forward, coming to a stop beside the sad redhead, hoping I was at least, in some small way, helping. "I smelt him once, he was definitely there. Your instincts are the most important thing to focus on, and your's are more accurate than most."
She smiled ruefully. "You're the last person I thought would try and make me feel better," she admitted softly.
I sat back, realising I'd let my guard down and appeared kinder than I'd wanted to. "Well, I don't like to do what people expect," I answered tightly, crossing my arms like they were a barrier. "It keeps things interesting."
I turned back to Stiles, who was watching us with a smile. I pressed my lips together to smother one of my own and his smile widened for a moment before suddenly dropping, making him look like he'd been shocked by something. "Get up," he said suddenly. "Both of you, up, now!"
I slid to my feet, eyeing him with worry. "Why?"
"We're going back to the school," he told us sharply, and I could practically hear the cogs turning in that brilliant mind of his.
The school was deathly still and quiet when we arrived, and they'd replaced the chains to the door that I'd broken last time. Stiles looked at me expectantly, and I rolled my eyes as I grasped the metal links, ripping it off the door with all the ease of a human tearing paper. "You wanna tell us what we're doing back here?" I asked as we slipped into the school, the hallways dark as he led the way down towards the chemistry rooms.
"I have a hunch," he responded quietly, as though talking too loudly would disrupt something or someone in the school.
"In the chemistry lab?" Lydia asked, and Stiles nodded, though I doubted she could see through the shadows. "So, what're we looking for?" she continued once we'd pushed our way into the lab, Stiles moving straight to the chemical cupboard. "That was supposed to be locked," she added when Stiles barged his way into the room, eyeing the door suspiciously.
I grimaced as the intense smell of chemicals hit my sensitive nose, the scent strong and making my throat itch.
"Yeah, I know," Stiles nodded, eyes fixed to the mostly empty vials of chemicals. "Notice anything else?"
"It reeks of chemicals," I spoke up, grimacing again as I breathed in, noticing the subtle but unmistakable smell of blood in the room.
Lydia put it together before me, but I couldn't fault her for it. "They wouldn't have been able to catch a scent," she said in realisation.
My keen eyes swept the room, and I caught sight of an achingly familiar substance smeared on the floor, the substance responsible for the smell. "Stiles," I murmured, and when he looked up I pointed to the blood on the linoleum.
"He was here," my human said, shining the light from his phone onto the red liquid. "Performing very minor surgery on himself; you were right."
"Why don't I feel good about this?" she asked darkly.
"Probably because he was here to kill somebody."
"But who?"
"That's the question, isn't it?" I muttered, looking back into the classroom, eyes searching for any hint of a clue. "Hey, do these atomic numbers mean anything, you think?" I asked, catching sight of the sequence of numbers on the board on the opposite side of the room.
"You know atomic numbers?" Lydia asked in surprise as Stiles slipped past us, heading for the board.
"Don't look so surprised," I murmured back icily. "I may not be a genius, but I have been to college." The redhead had the decency to look chastised.
"What is it?" Stiles asked as we approached. "Is it a formula?"
Lydia again proved just how smart she was, listing the names for each of the numbers, writing it's corresponding letter beside them, until finally it spelt out:
K
I
Ra
"Kira," Stiles murmured in shock. It took me a moment to place the name, and once I did, I bit my lip in confusion. What would they want with the new girl that Scott was enamoured with? For a bone-chilling second I thought that maybe the point was that Scott was enamoured with her, but I dismissed the thought as quickly as it came – I'd never come across a creature so petty, and it couldn't be the case.
I knew one thing for sure; there was more to the new girl than what met the eye.
A/N: I hope you liked this chapter, sort of slow, laying the basis for future events. Hi to new readers, I've noticed a few more in the last few weeks and I love each and every one of you.
What I really want to know is how you guys wanna see Void!Stiles and Juliet play out, I'm desperate for input, so please leave me a review and tell me what you want to see happen, because right now I have two versions of the same chapter written (chapter 56), and it could literally go either way. So let me know and I'll respond to each person and we can talk about your theories.
I love you all, until later~
