Sorry it's so short, hopefully the next chapter will be longer. Hope you enjoy, please review :)
They were still trying to get out of Devenford Prep when a teacher decided to walk by.
They were lucky that they happen to be passing the boy's locker room, and Brett had just enough time to give them a big shove before they all got caught. He leaned casually against the wall just outside the door as all three of them tumbled and fell over each other from Brett's shove.
"Good morning, Mr Johnson," Brett began, trying to distract the gaze of his history teacher from the locker room. Luckily, it worked, as Mr Johnson began warning Brett about the upcoming History Mock that they were sitting next lesson.
"Jeez," Stiles wined. "I think I broke my shoulder."
"That was close," Liam stated the obvious.
But Scott didn't listen to either of them. His gaze was focused more on the girl that stood in the middle of the sweaty smelling boys locker room.
"Uhmm," Scott cleared his throat awkwardly. "Guys?"
"Wha-"
She stood there like she expected this to happen, like she knew the teacher was going to come walking down the hallway the same time they were. Stood with her arms crossed over her chest, the same bag on her shoulder and her hip cocked. Hair on either side of her face, her left eyebrow faintly arched and her head slightly tilted to the side.
"Um, this isn't the girls locker room," Stiles gestured toward where they were standing, trying to act like they were students at Devenford Prep.
"And this isn't Beacon Hills High School," she said, with an accent. It sounded British, but there was something different about it.
They were all lost for words, they didn't know what to say.
"What do you want from me?" She asked. There was no emotion on her face. If she was confused, she didn't show it. If she was scared, she didn't show it, although they all knew she wasn't.
"You're Theraculisia Ludlow, right?" Scott asked.
"I am."
"We've, um. We've come to warn you. There's a, uh, betting pool and your name's on it. Someone's bet $105 million on you, so there are going to be people trying to get to you.. Try to kill you," Scott explains slowly, wandering if he's given too much away.
"I know."
"You have got to be kidding me," Stiles started, his voice flat. "You mean I wore this freaking thing for nothing?" He motions angrily at the blazer. "Well, this was all for nothing! Why don't we all just go and le-"
Stiles was interrupted from his endless babbling, when Brett tore through the locker room door.
"Okay, I finally - Oh, Jesus -"
Brett stopped in his tracks when he saw Theraculisia standing in the middle of the boys locker room, looking as pissed as ever. No one decided to speak, not even Stiles. The sweaty room became very awkward, very quickly. All four of the them did nothing but look around the room, not exactly staring directly at her. She was quiet intimidating.
"Look," she said with a sigh, dropping her hands and letting them rest by her sides. "I know about the Deadpool, and I know that I'm on it."
"How did you find out about the Deadpool?"
She seemed to weigh the answer first, it looked like she didn't know how to answer. "I've been noticing how seemingly normal people have just started to disappear, kids, even," she looks down, frowning. "It just took some time to put the pieces together."
"But you're not just on the Deadpool, someone bet $105 million dollars on your death," Stiles takes a step forward. "A lot of people are going to start coming after you," he takes another step.
"They already have," she sighs with a frown.
Scott finally understood that it wasn't a dream, Theraculisia's eyes did turn black. Just as they did now.
She gasped loudly, just as if she had seen something frightening, just like Lydia does when she's about to scream or see's the death of someone. Her eyes were no longer a freckled green, but a shining black. The white still remained, but the iris' were replaced by emptiness. Her eyes were wide, her face calm and pale, her lips slightly parted. The bag on her shoulder dropped with a loud thud, as she remained perfectly still. Stiles hesitantly took a step forward, coming to stand in front of her. Theracalisia's eye didn't drift to his face, but stayed exactly where they were. She stared straight through him, she wasn't looking at anything in this world. It was as if she was looking at something happening right in front of her, but there was nothing but Stiles.
"What's happening to her?" Liam asked very quietly, while stepping forward.
They all took a step closer, trying to understand what was happening.
As if the sound of them disturbed her, Theraculisia's hand flew out and caught Stiles' wrist. He was startled and tried to wretch his arm away, but she wouldn't let him budge. Her head turned to face him, suddenly and she met his eyes. They were actually looking at him, but there was something deeply wrong about her stare. It was as if they stared through him and not at him, as if her eyes had seen endless war and suffering.
"Something's coming," she whispered to him. "Something's coming for us all," she said slowly, even more quietly then before.
"You have to protect the True Alpha, you have to protect each other from them," her voice rises slightly.
"Who's them?" Stiles asks.
"They're coming." Her grip on his arm tightens slightly, and her fairly long nails begin to break the skin.
"Who are they?" He asks again.
"Stiles," Scott warns him to get away from her. They all inch closer, silently worried she might change into something, or attack or try to bite their best friend.
"You need her help along the way, she'll protect you," Theraculisia insists, her eyes still black canvases. "You have to trust her, your lives and hers depend on it."
"Who is she?" Stiles stops struggling against her grasp.
"Athena's twin."
As the first drop of blood landed on the locker room floor, Theraculisia's eye turned back to their bright green.
"Athena? As in Greek Mythology?"
It was no use, she quickly let go of his arm and took a step back, looking round the place as if she had never seen it before. She began to take deep breaths to calm herself, taking further steps back until she nearly fell over her own bag.
"What just happened to you?" Brett asked what they were all wanting to know.
She shook her head slightly, taking control of herself. She looked at her hand, Stiles' blood slowly dripping off her nails.
"Sorry," she looked apologetically toward him, although he didn't seem to notice his wrist.
He narrowed his eyes and had that questioning look on his face, the face he had when he couldn't fit pieces of a story together. He was confused.
"Did you mean Athena as in the Greek Goddess?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "I never remember anything."
"What the hell was that?" Liam started, slightly freaked out.
"Are you a banshee?" Scott asked.
"No, not really."
"What do you mean by not really?" Brett questioned her, looking sceptical.
"There's a reason why they bet so much on my life," she started, her accent becoming very apparent.
"The Benefactor knows what I am."
Before anyone can ask her another question, she picks up her bag, and leaves the room just as a class of freshmen come storming into the locker room.
The newbies stop when they see the four standing there, looking confused and slightly frustrated - mostly Stiles.
The Freshmen were quite frankly intimidated by the four. They were a couple years older, everyone knew the Juniors and Seniors run Devenford Prep, apparently even if they didn't go to school, but they looked the part.
"Let's go," Brett announced, and all four of them pushed through the stifling boys.