I walked towards the school with Stiles, keeping a close eye on him. I continued to watch him as we headed to to the front door.
"I'm fine, okay? It was just a nightmare." Stiles tried to reassure me.
"You were screaming like a fucking psychopath, Stiles." I countered. "Your nightmares are related to the sacrifices."
"Why would you think that?" Stiles asked.
"I can feel it." I replied. "Remember, I can feel your darkness. I can feel Scott's darkness and Allison's too. It's not a fun time." I looked up to see Scott running with a panicked expression on his face.
"Woah woah, hey Scott. Are you alright?" Stiles calmed Scott down, grabbing him by the shoulders.
"Yeah, I'm fine." Scott nodded, sighing.
"No, you're not. It's happening to you, too. Isn't it?" Stiles asked.
"What?" Scott raised his eyebrow.
"You're seeing shit." I replied.
"How'd you know?" Scott asked.
"Because it's happening to all three of you." A voice answered behind us. I turned around to see one of our packmates, Lydia, standing with Allison. Lydia's supernatural abilities still seemed strange to me. Not too long ago, Lydia was almost murdered by an evil woman known as the Darach. The Darach had referred to Lydia as a Banshee. So basically, Lydia screams all the time.
"Well, well. Look who's no longer the crazy one." Lydia mused as we entered the school.
"We're not crazy." Allison disagree.
"Hallucinating? Sleep paralysis? Yeah, you guys are fine." Lydia rolled her eyes. I chuckled at her statement, earning a scowl from Stiles.
"We did die and come back to life. That's bound to have some side effects, right?" Scott defended the group of darkened teens. We had all worked hard to ensure that most of us were in similar classes throughout the year. After all we'd been through, it was nice to have someone nearby to speak about the supernatural to. Scott, Stiles and I took our seats in history while Allison and Lydia headed to the art room.
"Good morning, everyone." An unfamiliar man greeted us.
"Must be the new teacher." I guessed. Our last teacher, , was sacrificed by the Darach to feed her powers. Hopefully, this teacher will have better luck.
"My name is ." The teacher introduced himself. "I'll be taking over for your previous history teacher."
" -what-a?" I asked him, earning laughter from the class. I knew the laughter wasn't at my expense, but at -whatever-the-fuck-his-name-is.
" -more-ah." He repeated. I nodded at him, signalling to him that I heard what he said this time. "So, like I said, I'm your new history teacher. My family and I just moved here three weeks ago. I'm sure, by now, you all know my daughter, Kira. Or, you might not since she's never actually mentioned anyone from school, or brought home a friend for that matter." Everyone in the class, including me, turned to stare at the quiet girl at the back of the room. Her eyes widened at the stares before she covered her face and rested her head on the desk.
"Awkward." I winced at the awkwardness radiating from the father-daughter exchange my new teacher just had.
"Well, there she is. Anyways, let's begin with American history at the turn of the twentieth century." -more-ah turned to the chalkboard. I stared at the board with extreme amounts of displeasure as he began writing notes about information I didn't give a shit about.
After history, the three of us stopped by Stiles' locker. While Stiles struggled with his lock, Scott was staring off into space and I was left wondering why I was even friends with these two, let alone dating one of them. I reminded Stiles what his lock combination was.
"I know what it is, I just can't figure it out. The numbers are gone." Stiles frowned, staring at the lock. I stayed quiet, knowing his darkness was screwing up his brain. I looked over at Scott who's eyes were a deep crimson.
"Scott, what the fuck are you doing? Put your fucking laser eyes away." I hissed, staring at his pre-werewolf mode eyes.
"What? I'm not doing anything." Scott shrugged.
"Dude, your eyes are glowing." Stiles gasped.
"But I'm not even doing anything!" Scott panicked. As Scott began to panic, I began to feel annoyed.
"Get him the fuck out of here!" I growled. I swore all the time, especially when I was angry. We grabbed Scott and threw him into an empty classroom. Scott ripped off his hoodie and pushed desks in front of him, blocking us from him. His claws extended and he began to growl.
"Stay away from me! I don't know if I can control it!" Scott screeched at us. I stared Scott down, filled with rage. I couldn't help it. I was always a bitch; I have been since birth. It was a whole different story since the three of them 'sacrificed' themselves. When their darkness acted up, I felt very upset around them. I typically felt angry, rather than sad.
"Kayla, I'm sorry." Scott spoke as his wolf features retracted and blood dripped from his fingers. "I can't control it. I wasn't trying to make you angry." As Scott calmed down, so did I.
"I'm not angry." I told him.
"I could smell it on you. You were practically exploding with anger." Scott pointed out.
"I'm sorry. It's the darkness." I replied.
"Okay, I didn't realize how much our darkness affected you." Scott responded.
"I don't know why I feel your darkness. For some reason, whenever you guys hallucinate or act out around me, I suddenly feel furious or upset." I confessed.
"We all need to keep an eye on each other." Scott said, looking around at both of us. Stiles and I nodded.
"This isn't just in our heads." Stiles frowned. "This is real and it's starting to get bad for me, too. I'm not just having nightmares, I keep having dreams where I literally have to scream myself awake. Sometimes, I'm not even sure if I'm ever actually waking up." I shuddered, remembering his screaming this morning.
"What do you mean?" Scott asked.
"Do you know how to tell if you're dreaming? You can't read in dreams. More and more in these past few days, I've been having trouble reading. It's like I can't see the words or put letters in order." Stiles explained.
"Stiles, can you read that?" I asked, pointing to the chalkboard.
"No. I can't read a thing." Stiles answered grimly. Sighing, I took his hand as we walked to our next class.
Relieved that school was over for the day, I headed home and went straight up to my bedroom. I hooked my cellphone up to my speakers and put my playlist on full volume. Seeing me for the first time, one would assume I loved heavy metal. I wore a lot of black clothing including my signature leather jacket. That wasn't the case. I loved rap music. There was no way I would tell anyone though. I had a reputation to maintain and I didn't need people prying into my personal life with information like my taste in music. As far as anyone was concerned, I didn't like anyone or anything. That wasn't true, of course. I liked Stiles, sometimes, and I liked rap music. I liked Allison and Lydia as well, but only when they weren't inviting me shopping. I liked shopping, but not in girly clothing stores like Macy's. I liked Scott, which was evident considering I left Derek's pack to join Scott's. Obviously Derek is a shitty alpha considering two of his betas died and the rest of the pack switched to Scott's. Isaac Lahey, a fellow student, went to live with Scott after he left Derek's pack. If I only I could go live with the McCall's too. Melissa McCall, Scott's mother, was much better company than my mom. She annoyed me. She continuously talks about having more children. My dad, who I actually like despite his agreement for more kids, doesn't talk about kids twenty-four seven. My mom has been wanting another child since I was born, but she has been unable to procreate. Thank goodness for that, I thought.
Pushing my mom's annoying wish for more children aside, I listened to the rap song that was currently booming from my speakers. I followed the vocalist easily, turning this song into a duet.
The next day, I got a call from Stiles. I picked up the phone immediately.
"Yeah?" I answered.
"We're going out after school." Stiles told me.
"I'm pretty sure that's not how you ask someone on a date, Stiles." I sighed.
"No no. With Scott." Stiles responded.
"So he can third wheel?" I teased, now knowing Stiles wasn't talking about hanging out or a date.
"What? No, we're going to the Tate's house." Stiles sighed in frustration. I muted my phone briefly so I could chuckle at his frustration.
"Wow, it's a damn party." I commented after unmuting my phone.
"Oh my god." Stiles groaned.
"I'm just messing with you, Stiles. What do you want?" I laughed.
"My dad wants to do this investigation at the Tate house. He needs us to sneak in and search one of the rooms." Stiles told me.
"Why all of us? We're more likely to get caught if there are more of us." I frowned.
"Well….because you're my girlfriend and I don't want you to feel left out." Stiles replied. I rolled my eyes.
"Okay, then. I have to head to school. See you there." I hung up, still chuckling.
I sat in my desk on Stiles' right in Economics. I hated this class, mostly because I wasn't doing very well. Everyone was failing this class because the savage and brutal teacher, Coach Finstock taught the class. He coached Lacrosse as well. Finstock was known for his sarcastic remarks and insults directed at students, a student named Greenberg more than anyone else.
About fifteen minutes into class, Finstock was already rambling about really boring stuff. I looked over at Stiles who was intensely writing notes. I raised my eyebrow at him, but said nothing. I didn't want to break his concentration which was so rare. Scott was staring intensely at Stiles, concern written all over his face.
"Stilinski, are you paying attention?" Finstock asked Stiles, staring angrily at him. Stiles continued writing.
"Stiles!" I hissed, trying to get his introduction.
"Stilinski!" Coach roared. Stiles didn't move, he just stared at his paper with fearful eyes as he continued writing. I looked at what Stiles was writing and my eyes widened. He had continuously written 'wake up'. It was written in capital letters, small letters, diagonal, horizontal, vertical. He had written it in different ways, but it always said 'wake up'.
WAKE UP wake up WaKe Up Wake Up WAKE UP wake up WaKe Up Wake Up
WAKE UP wake up WaKe Up Wake Up
WAKE UP wake up WaKe Up Wake Up
I took the sheet of paper from him and he continued writing on the desk, ignoring the absence of paper. Coach's face twisted in fury. He brought his whistle to his lips and blew it straight in Stiles' face.
"STILINSKI!" Coach screamed. Stiles' head shot up to look at him.
"Huh?" He blinked.
"I asked you a question." Finstock replied, frowning.
"Sorry, Coach. What was it?" Stiles asked.
"It was 'Stilinski, are you paying attention?'" He repeated.
"Well, I am now." Stiles nodded.
"Stilinski, stop reminding me why I drink...every night and stop writing on the desk for god's sake!" He screamed, turning to face the rest of the class. "Now, who else wants to try the question on the board?" Scott and I stared directly at Stiles, concern in both of our expressions.
"I'm okay." Stiles assured us. "I just fell asleep for a second.
"Look at your desk, Stiles." I frowned.
"You weren't asleep." Scott told him. Stiles looked down at his desk, frowning when he saw the words scratched into the desk. I passed him the sheet of paper which he had filled with 'wake up'. Stiles' lips pressed tightly together when he saw the sheet.
At lunch, our pack was discussing the surrogate sacrifices' symptoms and hallucinations. ...whatever's daughter Kira had been eavesdropping and came over to talk to us about something called bardo. Apparently, bardo is the state between life and death. After that weirdness and after classes were over, Scott, Stiles and I went to the vet clinic. The vet, who also specializes in werewolves and happens to be a druid, may be able to help us with the darkness issue.
"Everyone was using sign language. It was the same movements over and over." Stiles told , describing the hallucination he had had while he was busy writing 'wake up' all over his paper.
"It sounds to me like you're subconscious is trying to communicate with you." Deaton commented.
"Well, how do I ask my subconscious to use a language I know?" Stiles asked sarcastically.
"Did you try using please?" I responded with equal sass.
"Do you remember what the signs looked like?" Deaton asked. "The movement and placement of the hands?"
"You know sign language?" Scott asked incredulously.
"I know a little. I'll try my best." The vet replied. I watched as Stiles held his right pointer finger up and used his left to circle around the right finger.
"That was first movement." Stiles explained.
"That's 'when'." Deaton nodded, waiting for Stiles to continue.
"Then it was this." Stiles held his palms outwards as if he was attempting to push someone, but with his fingers pressed against each other. He then pulled his left hand back slightly before returning it beside the right hand.
"Door." Deaton told him. Stiles brought his left thumb to his chin and brought the thumb downwards, away from his face then repeated the palm action.
"That's it." Stiles finished.
"When is a door not a door?" Deaton stated.
"When is a door not a door?" Stiles repeated Deaton's words with confusion.
"A riddle." I acknowledged. "Dammit I know I heard this one somewhere. It's on the tip of my tongue. Don't tell m-"
"When it's ajar." Scott answered for me.
"Fuck!" I growled. "What the hell, wolfboy?"
"Sorry." Scott smiled sheepishly.
"My subconscious is trying to tell me a riddle?" Stiles asked in disbelief.
"Not necessarily." Deaton disagreed. "When you went under the water, you crossed from unconsciousness to a kind of superconsciousness. You essentially opened a door to your mind."
"What the hell does that mean?" I asked, unsure of what he was talking about.
"I think it means the door is still open." Scott guessed.
"Ajar." Deaton corrected.
"A door into our minds?" Stiles asked.
"I am so glad I didn't sacrifice myself. It's enough feeling your darkness." I remarked.
"Kayla, are you saying you can actually feel their darkness?" Deaton furrowed his eyebrows.
"Every time one of them has a hallucination or something, I feel angry or upset. I get this feeling that I can't describe." I explained. "Why? Do you know what it means?"
"No. I've never come across something like this before." Deaton shook his head. "I have a theory, but I don't know for certain if this is the case. Scott, Stiles and Allison all required someone to not only push them under the water, but guide them back out, someone to act as a tether or anchor. You were Stiles' anchor. The bond may have been so strong, you have connections to his darkness, too."
"I don't know about that. Half of the time, I want to punch Stiles in the face." I remarked.
"Wait, what?" Stiles whipped around to face me. I shrugged.
"What I do know is that you all need to close those doors in your mind and you need to shut them quickly." The vet warned us.
"It's only going to get worse, isn't it?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"I'm afraid so." Deaton replied. "It will probably get worse for you, too."
"Well, fuck."