Lamb
He pulled at the sleeves of his jacket. Tugging the collar up, Gavin teetered beneath the shade of a tree. The early sun scolded his sight. He flexed his fingers skittishly, panting. Dirt marred his dress shirt from helping John earlier that morning. John had insisted on having the body buried before sunrise. Unlike Gavin, John could reap sleep during the daytime. Two more had passed that night, including Evelyn's Jessica. The girl's bright eyes had dulled, unseeing and unintelligent. Gavin scoffed, rubbing at his sweltering neck as he stared at the building before him. He had personally seen little in Jessica to begin with and would not have known her to be dead were it not for the insistence of the smell. Snarling, Gavin lingered a few more moments. He stared across the grass at the entrance.
"Maybe I'll be able to lug another meal home whilst I'm here," he quietly murmured, throat dry, "Were going to need more." The phrase 'can never have enough' zoomed through his mind.
Heaving a hefty sigh, Gavin closed his aching eyes. His left foot stepped out from the shadow of the boughs. Hastily, he trotted toward the building. Gavin grinned as he crossed the threshold of the double doors, feeling smug. He announced with a croaky voice, "I love public places."
Gavin roughly shoved his blistering hands into his dark trouser pockets and marched confidently down the crowded corridor.
Kids…
Gavin scoffed as his ears heard a young girl squeal. The children ran, spoke quickly and loudly. Their voices gnawed on his ears, as they rebounded against the corridor walls. He was tempted to leave, but despite the pain the public rush caused his being, bathing in such harried life made him feel afloat. Their hearts carried him. The blood he had previously indulged in sustained his thirst, healed his sunburned hands and restrained him from drinking the students that dashed by him.
Gavin slid round a pair of lads adorned by large sporty jackets. The insignia was clearly that of the school. He glanced back, slowing his pace to better inspect them. Though tall and bulky, the two were distracted. The boys watched a somewhat attractive young girl, a year or so younger than themselves, decorated with a bright blond icing. Gavin's tongue slipped from between his lips, licking the plump pink rims. She giggled, as the pair ogled.
Swiftly, Gavin slipped his freshly fixed right hand into the open locker the two boys stood beside. Again licking his lips, he winked at the small blond who loudly laughed. She coyly turned away, retrieving her own textbooks from her locker. Broadly grinning, Gavin continued along the hallway.
As he reached the other end, stopping to ponder whether to turn left or right, Gavin heard one of the lads boisterously exclaim, "What the hell?"
His teammate guffawed, "Don't tell me you left them at home Matt!"
Gavin chuckled lowly. Holding the textbooks to his chest, he grunted humorously, "No mate, I got you."
The books clattered to the tiled flooring.
Gavin glared down at them, shuffling his left foot from beneath the hardbacks.
"I am so sorry," a tinkling voice announced. Visage lightening, Gavin gazed up from his new books to the young lass. Her figure glowed under the hallway lighting and he envied the obvious glaze of sunshine sheen on her skin. It omitted well. Elizabeth picked up his books, shuffling her own as she also attempted to close her locker on her way back up from the ground. "At least I don't seem to have damaged them. Are you hurt?" Her eyes, inspecting him, made him shuffle his shoulders uncomfortably. Gavin brushed at the dirt smudged into his leather jacket, though her own eyes failed to distinguish the filthy marks he found.
"I'm fine," Gavin indignantly muttered, scowling at the sound of his voice. Clearing he throat, Gavin yanked the books from her. Elizabeth stumbled back, balancing her books.
Studying the coverings, he avoided her affronted expression. Gavin refrained from sighing, sullenly saying, "First day and I've lost my pen."
Elizabeth's eyes widened. She shouted, "Here!"
Restructuring the literature in her arms, she brought out a few pens from her daisy printed satchel. "I always carry plenty." She smiled and Gavin slightly returned the gesture.
"I'm new," he told her lightly, "I'm Gavin."
"Well it is wonderful to meet you, even if the circumstances were not so wonderful. I am sorry," Elizabeth hastily expressed, "Perhaps I can make that bash up to you. Do you know where your classes are?"
Gavin physically stumbled on the tips of his toes. He had no timetable at hand. He was not a registered student…
Gazing at the books she held. An art folder stood out. Art was easy. He could spend an hour or two perfecting circles or trees - whatever they did these days in that class. However, before he could speak, Elizabeth shuffled closer and noticed a math textbook in his clutches. She verbally gushed about having the same class.
Leaves crunched, the rustle ratting through his ears. His ear drums quivered at the sounds of the waking wood. Derek shook his head to rid himself of the dizzy spell. He glared at the upper canopy, hearing the squirrels bark 'good morning' to one another. Were it not for the bloodied splatters along the floor and snapped boughs of the tightly packed trees, Derek could have mistaken the site. He trailed slowly along the ground, hands poised to snatch any foreign trinkets.
Nothing…
There was no immediate scent he could use to follow the girl. There were various kinds of blood, but the dried dribbles smelt foul - rotten. His nose crinkled, brows furrowed. Derek sighed, eyes scouting the forest floor. She had not dropped anything, nor were there any torn frays from her clothing. The alpha had not left any hairs.
A loud crack echoed.
Derek drew his fist away from the spine of an archaic tree. The bark groaned, dragging at his skin. Hissing, he tentatively licked at the wounds along his knuckles. Sniffing, he knelt down on one knee.
The blood was tangled like knotted hair. Unlike most murders the substances clung together. Like paints, the maroon liquid meshed. Derek's bright eyes widened, pupils shrinking hastily as the early morning sunlight flowed into the deep depths. His heart stuttered. Gulping back the fear, he clenched his fists tightly to reassure his strength. Derek cautiously reached out, fingers softly brushing at the bloodied leaves. A breath escaped him. The blood was not of victims of the alpha. As cold as ice from a freezer, melting in the dawn above, the blood stabbed at his skin.
Hastily rising to his feet, Derek swiftly vacated the area and marched back toward the ruins of his childhood home. The girl he met the night before, that he had saved, was not human. Growling, his pace quickened. Derek did not yet have enough information to determine what the young lady actually was, but he knew someone that might.
Withdrawing his car keys from within his black jacket, Derek broke through the tree line and stepped out onto the road. His car gleamed under the startling sunlight. The dry air cemented the dust upon the wheels. Derek breathed deeply, admiring the metal machine as he approached. His free hand brushed gently over the bonnet.
Hand grabbing the door handle, he was aroused from his daze by the call of a bird. Derek snarled, the image of a hastily drawn picture replaying behind his eyelids. He blinked back the sunlight, grunting, "Stiles."
Soles sliding atop the moist flooring, Stiles dashed after Scott. The pair pushed and shoved at fellow students. Some returned the favour, tipping the boys off balance, whilst others scurried into the safe shade of their lockers. A young youth in particular shrank down, as Stiles' arms furiously wavered.
"This is so my luck," Stiles exclaimed, "The one time – the one time!"
"Stiles – less talk, more walk!" Scott called back, feet thumping heavily on the gleaming ground.
Hollering indignantly, Stiles reached out to grab Scott's jacket. His fingernails scraped at the cotton, but Scott was quickening further. Stiles glanced behind, eyes catching a flash of shimmering molten hair. "Lydia," he breathlessly gasped.
"Get back here!" the girl in question screeched.
Scott wailed aloud, hands clasping at his ears as he ran. Coughing on phlegm, Stiles struggled to push his thighs further through the meandering corridors of the school. The bell had yet to chime. Lydia was catching up to him, as Scott easily escaped into the early morning mass. The sea consumed him, waves of brown, gold, black and red washed over Scott. He breathed deeply, lungs invaded by the scent of the hair of his fellow students.
Stiles held his breath, heart hurting. The sea parted. He dashed through, hoping Scott would drag him beneath the waves. Scott did not reappear and Lydia stormed toward his slowing figure.
"The one time she'll talk to me, really talk, and I'm going to be ripped to pieces." He whimpered, hands clasping at his cheeks with panic.
Eyes wide, the whites gleaming like the floor under the hallway lighting, Stiles stopped. He turned. Lydia glowered, arms crossing as she marched. Her gemmed heels sparkled with a brightness her expression did not reflect. Stile stepped backward, shoulders shivering. Toes itching, he sucked in an unsatisfying breath and turned on the balls of his feet. His soles squeaked. He ran away, calling back, "I am sorry Lydia, really! Normally I'd be all over yo- this, but I just don't have the, err… time! Class an all!"
Huffing, Lydia stomped her foot.
The heel snapped.
A pained squeal rushed down the meandering corridor as water would a fast flowing river. Stiles shook his head, pushing himself forward and further away.
Lips curled, Elizabeth loudly snarled. James tugged her back into his arms, as she moved forward to grab at Lydia. "Best to leave the she-bitch to herself darling," James hastily hushed in her ear. Locks tickling her cheek, Elizabeth scratched at her skin. Sighing, she snuggled into James' chest, clinging tightly to her textbooks. Gavin stood beside them, leaning against a closed locker. Between the three, Danny, a player of the Lacrosse team, shuffled through his own locker. Though his mumbling insisted he was preoccupied with his schoolwork Danny's eyes, like those of most other students, ventured over to Gavin.
Girls giggled when they caught sight of him, as they wandered toward their classrooms. Alongside the majority of them were tall, imposing, athlete boyfriends. Gavin ignored the glares, as well as the smothering stares of the lustrous girls. Arms folded taught, back hunched as he leaned against the cool metal of the locker stack, Gavin's eyes were focused solely upon the path Stiles had taken.
Lydia growled, bending with difficulty in her dress to retrieve the heels from her feet. Plodding to Elizabeth, Lydia towered her shoes atop the textbooks in her friend's arms. Elizabeth cried out, struggling to retain her steadiness. She broke from James' grasp and collapsed into Danny's shoulder. Books dropping to the floor, the pair fell. Lydia hastily retrieved a fresh pair of sensible, and disappointingly black, flat shoes. She spared neither a glance, merely assuring, "You alright?"
"Yeah," Elizabeth replied without comprehension. James took up the scattered books, gently pulling Elizabeth up onto her feet by her forearm. Gavin scowled down into Danny's big brown eyes. They reminded him of a dog he used to have when he was alive, when he was a child. Gavin quickly backed away, pushing Danny upright. Hand against the young man's chest, Gavin's lungs retracted. Danny was warm.
James tugged at Danny's jacket, impatiently inquiring, "You okay?"
Danny nodded, incapable of speech. He knew from the knot in his throat that any words would be incoherent. Gavin's eyes shifted to Lydia who laughed away the tension.
"That boy," he said, voice low and sultry, "The one you were chasing-"
"Which boy, there were two after all?" Lydia challenged, boldly slamming her locker shut and facing the limber teen. Gavin nipped at his bottom lip, fists slowly clenching.
With gritted teeth, he insisted, "The one that stopped and then dashed off so suddenly."
One of her finely kept eyebrows arching, Lydia's bright eyes carefully inspected him. She firmly certified, "I don't know you." Afterwards, Lydia swiveled round in her strappy dolly shoes and stalked to class.
The bell rang.
Students followed Lydia's example, though somewhat more sullenly. Danny gasped. He was drawn back against his locker by elongated fingers. Gavin's nails traced the veins along Danny's neck. Gulping, Danny's wide eyes gazed into Gavin's. The light in them dimmed, as a deep maroon bled out from Gavin's black pupils. Danny licked his lips. His teeth gnawed at the pink skin. Gavin's eyes did not stray to glance at the motion, eyes fixed and pupils dilated. His breath, cold and clammy, drowned Danny whose ankles trembled.
"The boy…" Gavin gruffly ventured.
Clearing his throat, Danny stumbled, "Stiles – his name is Stiles. It is just as Lydia called out earlier."
Humming, Gavin released Danny. His furled eyebrows conveyed the lack of satisfaction. More information was required.
"We have class." Gavin solidified, looking to and fro in the corridor. No one else remained.
Shoving one hand into his pockets and the other clambering with textbooks, Gavin wandered away.
Danny heaved a heavy breath, desperate for oxygen. His sweating skin settled. Picking up his own books that had scattered along the ground in their unexpected tussle, Danny dashed to class.
Oozing from the cracks, small pellets dribbled either side of her face. Evelyn's darkening eyes stared at the ceiling. Damp stained the corner above her small bed. She was tangled in the thin sheets, a hand clasping at the pillow beneath her head. Hair splayed, she remained. Her tongue darted out, eyes unlinking. The taste buds lapped at the crevasses on her dry lips. As her mouth moved, more blood broke from her pale arid lips. A shuddering breath lingered in her throat. Stepping up and out, the air around her grew colder. Evelyn would have shivered, but she did not have the energy.
Numb hands reached out, tearing at the sheets. The blood browned along her jaw line. Evelyn rose from her bed, limbs shaking. Her head hurt. Sucking in a deep breath, Evelyn choked on the air. She attempted to quieten herself, gulping the coughs down into her stomach, but they persisted.
"Water," Evelyn stammered, "Dinner…I need more."
Evelyn tumbled, grasping at the rickety railing of the creaking staircase. She clambered to the kitchen, seeking sustenance. Few of their meals remained. They were not fresh, well cared for or in general good health themselves. One of the boys had caught a cold, or perhaps flu, and Evelyn grimaced as he sneezed into his dirty palms. A younger, more fair skinned, lad sat across the room. He had wrapped an arm round the leg of the dining table. As he slept, he clung to the wood. She stepped towards him quietly, but the sick boy relinquished a startled scream. The young lad was awoken. Though the windows had been blacked out for the duration of the daylight, the young lad's wide eyes glistened. Salty tears escaped him, as a yell could not. Taking deep, harsh breaths, he shuffled back on his bottom until he was blocked by the sandstone walls of the building.
Leaning down, Evelyn's freezing palms poured over the dusty ground. Her sharp nails scratched the stone. Kneecaps complaining, Evelyn crawled toward the young lad. He shook his head violently, fists hitting the walls of his corner. A sneer grew on Evelyn's ill visage, as she crept beneath the dining table. Backside waggling in the air she bent lower, skulking closer. The young lad whimpered, mustering, "No, no, no, no – please no!" Fangs breaking between her lips as she smiled broadly, Evelyn snapped at her lips. Coughing, the ill boy across from the pair gaped. He was unable to bring himself to close his eyes or turn his gaze elsewhere, as Evelyn gently grasped the young lad's jaw.
Evelyn leaned into him, her other hand resting over his beating heart. "Blood," she hoarsely whispered, "Just a little should do for now."
"You need to be less careless."
Evelyn jumped. She banged her head against the young lad's and the two of them groaned in unison. She released his jaw and rose to her feet, clasping at her forehead. "Why?" she mumbled, drawing the word out with a whine. The young lad blearily stared up at her, eyes following Evelyn's fatigued figure back to the dining table. Peter sat atop the furniture.
"You're footsteps are so heavy when you're carelessly hunting." Peter complained, though there was no real concern in his tone.
Bloodshot eyes lingering on her, he stroked the smooth hardwood of the table he sat atop. Evelyn avoided Peter's gaze. This used to happen a lot when she was younger. He and Ivor would discipline her as a parent would a child, but Evelyn was not a child. Defiantly, she looked to Peter. Evelyn met his firm stare and glowered.
Regardless, as always in the past, she apologised. There was no fighting against their lectures.
"Those boys need to be thrown out really," Peter drawled, watching Evelyn's chest heave with hunger. He told her, "Drinking from the girl you brought not long ago is the best option…" A child that clung to his side, hiding from her, stared. Peter pushed the little girl toward Evelyn, commanding, "Drink."
Evelyn latched on to a child's arms. The little girl screeched, no doubt waking Ivor, and Evelyn bit into the young girl's throat. Her voice stumbled, throat closing. Blood rushed up and out of her. Evelyn lapped at the gushing gold. The child was succulent. The two boys tied to the ground by the mere presence of the vampires gawked openly, mouths dropping open. Abruptly, the girl fell to the floor. A resounding thud erupted.
Peter silently stared with a dispassionate facet.
Evelyn wiped the blood from round her mouth and turned to look at him. She grunted roughly, "I'm not overly fond of her taste."
"Like a sickly mango," Peter muttered. As Evelyn's disgusted expression became somewhat incredulous, he tersely added with a hiss, "I'd imagine."
Evelyn nodded slightly, gazing down at the girl. She choked on her blood, spurts expelled like water from a fountain. Her mangled throat bled heavily and child's eyes gradually dulled. Evelyn recognised that look. They always gained that expression. Her head tilted, curious and thoughtful.
Evelyn could feel pain, so long as borrowed blood kept her body in motion. However, death was beyond her comprehension. Not long ago she was human just as the little girl was. Evelyn peered down into the girl's glazing gaze, watching death take hold. When she had changed there was a deep rooted pain in her heart and a heaviness in her breath, as her lungs collapsed under the weight of her killer – killer… parent perhaps? Shaking her head, Evelyn frowned at the child's form. The very young student stared at the ceiling, a numbness creeping into her bones. Evelyn had not screamed. She had relished in the adrenalin as she 'died'. Certainly death was what she had anticipated when she was bitten. However, as she fell into a soft slumber, mind feeling light and body as though it had endured the fastest, highest roller-coaster ride, Evelyn found herself waking the next morning. She had felt no different at first, if only a little more awake. That did not last. The girl's eyelids fluttered a little, her focus on the peeling white paint on the ceiling waning. Evelyn had been turned. Over the short period of her new life Evelyn had forgotten the human world. They dwelled within it, she and the others, but they no longer knew how it truly functioned.
The more time that passes, the more she forgets humanity is a thing.
Despite all of that… Evelyn clawed and clung to what she could remember and to what she learned from watching humans live. She wanted to retain what humanity she had… Evelyn desired more. A vampiric life was what she chose to a degree, but the reality was not what she had imagined. She looked up from the corpse strewn across the floor to stare into Peter's dark rimmed eyes. He was hungry too. Evelyn was not satisfied and she was constantly worried that she never would be… literally forever.
Blood could not give her what she wanted.
"You're always so picky," Peter acknowledged, "You chose that one yourself and still…" His voice broke away as a small smile brewed upon Evelyn's impassive visage. Peter tentatively ventured, "Why are you staring at me like that?"
"I'm recalling the night you chose me." She easily confesses. There is warmth in her tone and Peter lightly laughs, shaking his head.
"You were always so studious," he barked, "Always in your dorm room, lightly snoozing by about three in the morning." Peter reached a hand out to her lazily. Evelyn tiptoed close, as he tenderly continued, "You were so anxious about that dissertation of yours."
"Woke me up," Evelyn said with the flicker of a whine in the pitch of her voice, "I saw you by the window. You were ready to jump out." She sighed, staring into his brightening eyes, "You scared me Peter."
"Indeed," Peter quietly accredited, "We both somewhat froze, as though stricken by electricity."
Evelyn bit her bottom lip, teasing the skin between her stained fangs. She dazedly stressed, "I realised your eyes," Evelyn reached up and cupped Peter's cheeks with her hands, peering closer still, "Inhuman… hypnotising me like some sort of deity." Peter gently peeled her from himself, pushing her hands away. Evelyn stepped back, shuddering, "Then I noticed you had no shadow!"
Bang!
Evelyn's head turned swiftly. She groaned, as the muscles in her neck snapped. Reaching up to stroked the tense tendons; she stared at her room door. Her flat mates appeared from behind the wood. Evelyn swivelled round in her chair to stare back at the boy by her window, but he was gone.
"There was a boy…" Evelyn admitted, pointing at the window, "Well he was sort of a boy and yet, sort of not."
"I told you she'd be going mad!" One of the men insisted with a guffaw. He deafeningly expressed, "Our little British transfer has snuffed too much tea and textbook dust I think!" The beer in his hand sloshed from its bottled neck and slashed along his lower arm.
The young lass by his side, an arm wrapped round his waist agreed with a toothy grin, "You should come with us Evie."
Evelyn sighed, turning back to the small group. The other two girls were nodding and the other lad waltzed into her room and held out a fruity cocktail. "My deadline is tomorrow morning."
"It isn't like it is an exam then," One of the girls chirped, "And you've sat one of those still tipsy before and passed!"
Looking forlornly at her laptop, Evelyn nodded, "I guess I do need a break, relax a little - If only for an hour or so."
"That's what you said last time, ha!" Her flat mates laughed.
"Hey," Evelyn argued, "I passed that exam, didn't I?" She rose from her desk and sauntered to her wardrobe to search for a dress.
"True!"
"Now get out," Evelyn giggled, taking the cocktail from her gentlemanly friend, "I need to get dressed."
As they vacated her room, the door sticking as it slammed shut, Evelyn stared hard at the mirror on the inside door of her wardrobe. The boy did not reappear at the window she could clearly see in the glass. Shaking herself, Evelyn clutched at a sleek black dress, muttering, "Pan, my arse. I really do need a drink and a dance."
Peter lured the young lad from his corner, eyes ablaze with lust. Evelyn stalked the lad as he crept toward them. His body was cool to the touch and Peter clung to what warmth was left in the boy's body. Stealing it away, he drew his forefinger claw from the boy's inner elbow to the inside of his wrist. Evelyn stared as the young lad remained standing without expression. Peter's eyes held the boy taught in a mental pen.
Speaking quietly, Peter asked, "Won't you get me a glass Evelyn?" As she sniffed irately, he added, "We can share."
The boy's blood ran thickly down into his palm and between his fingers. Peter held the wineglass below, another hand holding the lad's arm higher. Evelyn licked her lips.
"As I recall," Peter said, pulling the glass away from the boy whom began to lean against the rim of the table, "Though I sent John to take you that Gavin snuck along also."
A burst of laughter erupted from within her and Evelyn hastily held a hand to her chest to stammer the sound. Peter's lips curled upward slightly. "Aye," Evelyn said.
Peter took a sip, tongue sliding along the rim of the glass to wipe away the bloody trail that followed. "I detested having to entrust you with them." His blue-tinged fingertips tickled her cheek, as he clasped her face close. Eyes entangled, Peter rose the glass to Evelyn's lips, murmuring, "Quick, whilst it is still hot." She drew away, struggling to gulp the thick and fatty liquid of the lad. The boy's eyes closed and opened weakly, as he took a place on the floor.
Grinning cheekily, Evelyn smugly slurred with irony breath, "Am I your favourite like?"
Peter chuckled, resting his forehead against hers. Whispering, he affectionately confessed, "You are golden."
Evelyn giggled, running away. The stairs sang beneath her stamping feet, as she headed back to her bed.
Slurping the rest of the drink, Peter stared at the blacked out windows. He sighed, listening to the patter of soft toes.
"You used to say I was golden." Ivor's voice invaded.
Good mood diminishing, Peter said, "You were... once."
Ivor avoided his murderous glower, attempting to carefully inquire, "Now…"
Peter glanced at the remaining contents of his glass. Still somewhat full, the blood was tepid. The cooler it grew, the more the blood darkened, hardened and a thin skin was developing. He could see the wrinkles of the skin in the dim glare of the electrical lights. Placing the glass down, abandoning it, Peter walked by Ivor and tugged her by her hand. He led her to their bedroom, pulling her under the quilt, gruffly saying, "Now time has had at you and the glistening gold has dimmed."
He ran a hand through her hair, gently lulling her to sleep. Ivor heavily sighed, tiredly mumbling with jealousy "Time will have at her as well."
Stiles edged as far from the lad as possible. He sat through the first twenty minutes of class perched half upon his stool and half with a foot on the floor. The science teacher had yet to notice.
"What are your hobbies then?" the new student asked him, leaning close to his ear.
Stiles hastily whacked his hand through the air, almost catching the boy.
Gavin glared, huffing, "I'm just trying to get to know you man, I'm new after all."
Brows furrowing and lips smacking, Stiles sighed with pity. A groan worked its way up his throat and he looked to his other classmates. They were all paired up. He was stuck.
"Look, I don't know you," Stiles began, timidly looking Gavin in the eye, "Your questions so far have been quite persona-"
"I see nothing wrong with asking what you like to do." Gavin stated firmly.
Stiles snorted, "Yeah, but asking about my family, my address and my current health and dental records is a bit weird man."
"I'm making you uncomfortable." Gavin realised, shifting away from Stiles slightly to sit further on his own side of the large desk.
Nodding a little, Stiles struggled to compose his dignity, "Well I wouldn't say tha – put it like tha – I wouldn't… yeah, sort of." As he turned to read the new notes scrawled over the white board, Stiles eyes caught Danny's gaze. Eyes widening, mouth gaping, Stiles swiftly grabbed at Gavin's arm.
"Do you find me attractive?" Stiles asked.
Gavin, startled, did not reply. He blinked, staring and continuing to stare until finally Stiles' expression dulled. "I guess I'm not attractive to gay guys." He sullenly murmured.
Glowering, Gavin loudly announced, "I'm not gay!"
"Well congrats for the ladies then," A stern voice interrupted. The lecturer stood above the pair, frowning. He said, "Would you like to get on with your experiment now lads or is a visit to the principal in order for you?" His eagle eyed gaze focused on Stiles who shifted awkwardly on his stool.
"Nah," Stiles weakly insisted, "We're good."
Gavin switched on the gas, as Stiles lit a spit. Together they gave birth to a blue flamed Bunsen Burner and set to work on boiling a beaker of water. Each pairing had one and the room was soon as hot as a greenhouse in late summer. Greens did not grow though. Instead, sweat marred the clothes and foreheads of the students. Unlike all others, Gavin did not. His body felt hot, but no proof provided itself other than the blood vessels swelling in his cheeks.
Stiles leaned toward the Bunsen Burner, sniffing noisily. The beaker was boiling, not burning and the flame was fine. He checked the gas, certified the spit was no longer alight or threatening to relight itself and then visually scouted the classroom.
Something was burning.
Stiles could not recall having smelt such a scent before. It was not paper, wood or some foreign chemical (he hoped). Eyes darting to Gavin, whom he hoped shared his confusion, and Stiles found himself leaning away.
The blinds did little to shade them from the sunlight outside. Gavin would have raised the hood of his jacket were the room not so hot. He would look odd. Retaining his human image was not going well though, as Stiles grimaced at the sight of Gavin's skin.
Gavin bit back the pain, spluttering out, "I might be allergic to one of our chemicals."
Stiles frowned, eyes squinting suspiciously. He told the lad, "We're only using water and CO2 for this."
Gavin attempted to smile, struggling to sit still, "Yeah, yeah – CO2." He dragged his jacket sleeves down his arms, "I must be having a reaction to that."
Stiles would have laughed, but Gavin's skin was freckling.
Gavin's fangs dug deeply into the inside of his cheeks. His nails elongated, skin hardening. White speckles stretched over his cheeks and chin, as his nose reddened.
Eyebrows raising incredibly high, Stiles scraped his stool away from Gavin.
"Sir," Gavin asked, "Could I use the bathroom. It's an emergency."
Without turning from the white board, the lecturer barked, "No! No one leaves until the bell tolls."
Cursing under his breath, Gavin scratched at his arms under the jacket. Stiles stared wide eyed, voice box struggling to vocalise his panic.
His mouth grew dry, the blood his cheeks bled ebbed between his lips slightly and Gavin had to hastily run his tongue over the pink skin. The more he scratched at his clothed arms, exposed nose, neck and cheeks, the more skin he pulled away. Small cuts from his evolving claws stained his face and the palms of his hands smeared the residue blood.
Stiles yelled, hollering so loud that the class turned from their experiments. Rising hastily from his stool, Stiles knocked over the Bunsen Burner on their desk. As the beaker smashed, glass tumbling onto the floor and the boiling water followed, Stiles hurried backwards. He tripped over a large bag, falling into Lydia who screeched as her and Allison's Bunsen Burner tumbled as well. The water ruined Allison's text and work books.
Fangs protruding further, Gavin's eyes began to alter. He bit back a gasp, hoarsely whispering, "Not enough fresh blood… getting sick like Evel-" Gavin grasped desperately at the desk, nails biting into the wood as harshly as his teeth did his lips.
The teacher ordered Stiles to sit down and behave himself 'for once'. However, Stiles was incapable of listening, of moving. He stared, petrified, as the skin of Gavin's ears peeled away. The lad was hunched over, groaning quietly. "You can't sustain yourself in sunlight," Stiles supposed aloud, "Not enough blood…"
Gavin ignored him.
Reddening gaze lifting from the desk, Gavin's eyes locked with a young man a few desks ahead that watched him carefully. He took in another deep breath, smelling the damp woodland clinging to the underside of the boy's gritty nails. The scent of furry hair rushed through his nostrils and Gavin incoherently thundered, "Werewolf!"
Gavin rose from his stool.
Ignoring the teacher's calls, he fled from the room.
Scott's eyes followed the new kid, wondering.
He quenched an unsatisfied roar, as he found that the school bell had yet to ring. Derek stalked between the block buildings, searching. Finding the scent of the Argent girl, nose wrinkling with distaste for her flowery perfume, he trailed passed the art block and into a small grassy court yard. The sun pierced the canopy of young trees above and zoomed through the windows. Derek spied the class within, eyes catching Scott and then hurriedly moving. As they roved over the students, he found himself sneering at Stiles' figure. He flounced and yelled out within the classroom. The teacher scarcely attempted to control the students, though poured his frustration out onto the panicked Stiles.
Derek's eyes twitched, fists flexing. He had been startled. Retreating from the sun, Derek sheltered himself from clear view behind a low wall. A student, whose skin was sizzling and voice raw with pain, ran through the courtyard. The grass beneath the kid's feet squealed. Derek scowled, eyes diverting from Stiles to the path the lad just took. He could smell the rotting flesh, the bubbling blood and burning lungs.
Derek tracked the lad to the nearest vacated building.
The sports hall, usually home to basket and netball practice during rough weather, stood in the shadow of the forest. East sat the grassland and stands for outside games like Lacrosse. Derek cautiously headed towards the side doors of the building. He heard the cracking of glass. Benches were tossed within. Derek found the doors locked. His glare deepening, lines striking across his expression like lightning across a stormy sky. Derek jiggled the handles a little then nudged the doors with his kneecap. They did not budge and Derek released a harsh howl. Rolling his eyes with the shake of his head, Derek raised a fist and whacked the door. It swung open, complaining thunderously.
"What are you doing here?" A grouchy voice pervaded. Derek halted, looking towards the man. Surly, the balding caretaker asserted, "Get out of here! No activities are to be held here until the paint dries."
Scoffing, Derek lowly replied, "You should leave."
The lanky man, taller than Derek yet much thinner, stammered. Derek's eyes glimmered. Gasping, the man rushed away and tucked himself in his cupboard sized office. A small television set was turned up, blocking Derek's voice from the man's ears.
Derek wandered through the short corridor. As he came to an opening in the wall, his brightening eyes hunted the hall. A wolfish grin smeared over his once irritated visage. The lad that had run sat hunched in the corner of the hall. The lights were all turned off, but Derek's glowing blue eyes could see the form of the young boy. His nose told him that the boy was not altogether human. His eyes said the same, as he watched the lad's claw-like hands gently peel away an outer layer of skin. He looked like some sort of shedding snake.
Gavin grunted, uncomfortably tearing the dead and burned flesh from his face. His ears were bleeding heavily. Paint stained his jacket, as he leaned against the wet walls of the sports hall. Gavin grabbed at his throat, thirst stinging as badly as his sunburn. Footsteps interrupted his work.
"Hey, you," A gruff voice called from across the hall. A flashlight blinded his dark maroon eyes and Gavin groaned. A stout man marched over to his crouched figure, ordering, "Get outta here kid! You're ruining the paint-job."
Laughing uncontrollably, Gavin's voice struck the steel beams above. The metal quivered. Stumbling slightly, the man shook himself and moved closer. He attempted to stand taller, intimidate the young boy. "I said," he rumbled, "Get ou-ah!"
Derek retained a snarl of disgust.
Gavin's hands snatched out. He gripped the plump man's swollen neck of fat and pulled the struggling man down to kneel. Daggers extended, Gavin's mouth sank into the man's neck. His teeth clumsily dug into the skin, sliding down to the caretaker's shoulder as he desperately struggled. Derek backed away, watching the blood burst from the caretaker's body. His eyes darted to the door of the cupboard, worry overcoming him for the unhearing colleague whom laughed at the television.
Gavin's skin began to shed itself. The white scraps dropped away like blown dust. The blistering flesh calmed; the liquid beneath smoothing. The groves along the damaged tendons in his limbs billowed downwards like melting ice. Gavin blinked, facet splashed with red. The iron scent drove his mind high, but the tense body riving beneath his own, gushing with adrenalin, repulsed him. Gavin wanted to pull back, release the foul taste, but his soreness refused.
Derek, grimacing, reached out to the wall behind him. He smashed through the glass pocket easily. A bellowing alarm proceeded.
Ears unexpectedly invaded, Gavin relinquished the employee.
Voice raised above the alarm, as students evacuated to the playing field beside the sports hall.
Clumsily, eyesight fuzzing as the ringing continued to mine into his skull, Gavin raised from the ground. He tipsily grabbed at the ledge of the window he had broken through upon entry, leaving.
Derek dashed out into the crowd, shutting the doors as he vacated the sports hall. They refused to shut properly, the handles broken. As he meandered through the bulk of the student body, Derek caught sight of Gavin over the shorter students. The lad, very much inhuman, was inelegantly sprinting for the treeline.
Though tempted to chase after the beast, Derek heard Stiles' voice amongst the mob. He tore through the horde, listening to locate the somewhat socially inept boy.
John shuffled his and Mark's takeaway lunches, attempting to get at his large baguette sandwich as he entered the station. He had trailed to the shop alone, leaving Mark with the hefty paperwork they had to complete by the end of the week. The receptionist greeted him tiredly. As he sat the bags of food down on her desk, she firmly advised, "Don't get comfortable John,"
Her eyes never shifted from the papers she organised and stapled as she continued, "Your partner took a call. You'll be off with him no doubt."
Frowning, John scowled at his sandwich, longing for a taste. "Where to?" he dourly queried, beginning to wrap the succulent sandwich away again.
"The high-school," Mark certified, face taught with stress as he came from further in the office, "A caretaker has found the body of his colleague after someone pulled the fire alarm. The kids have been lined up outside, so we need to get them dispersed first and then have the body inspected and removed."
"We'll have to question the caretaker." John professionally solidified.
Mark eyed John's re-wrapped sandwich, lips curling with a shared ache, "The caretaker said he came across someone just before it happened – tall, dark and handsome by the sound of it ha."
Wryly smiling, John retorted, "Not one of ours then."
"Hey," Mark shouted, as they left the station, "I could be a mysterious murderer if I wanted to be!"
"Aye," John replied with a chortle, "I hear they're everything a woman wants these days."
"You might be on to something." Stiles shouted with surprised, falling back into Scott.
"What?" He called out, turning to find Derek glaring down at him. "Like what?" Scott asked, straightening Stiles out to stand independently.
Stiles boomed with disbelief, "Where did you even come fro- oh, oh no, you didn't! You did, didn't you? God dammit Derek! What the hell?"
"Shut up! I didn't do anything," Derek defended, fists clenching and teeth gnashing, "I was coming to find you and found that creature instead." More quietly, leaning towards the boys as the students beside them turned toward the vocal fight, Derek certified, "He killed one of the employees of the school – caretaker." Pulling back, as Stiles awkwardly leaned away, Derek admitted, "I pulled the fire alarm."
"We'll – or I," Stiles corrected, as Scott snarled at him, "Will meet you later to discuss this when I've gotten more information."
Derek's scowl deepened, as he watched Scott escape his sight and head toward Argent. His eyes focused back upon Stiles who anxiously shifted his weight from foot to foot, "I can't tell what they are."
"I have my suspicions, but I need confirmation." Stiles asserted. Eyes scouting the teachers, he suggested, "You should get outta here."
"I am."
As Derek began to sift through the sea again, Stiles called out to him, "If I'm right… we're in serious trouble."
"What is it that you think they are exactly?" Derek uneasily asked.
"Vampires…"