Werewolves - The Witch Series Vol 1

by CarmillaPL

Charlotte Benoit, a professional Witch, arrived in Beacon Hills at Laura Hale's request, but no amount of magic could have prepared her for what she found on the spot. It becomes apparent very quickly that what started out as a quick, easy mission to help her friend turns out to be a swamp from which it's not so easy to get out. The witch will be forced to make difficult choices,

2. Chapter 1: Wolf Moon

09. January 2011 - Sunday

Every day since she arrived in town, she had walked with Isle to the old burnt-out Hale house to meet Laura, but she had never found her there. The girl hasn't left a message or called. This troubled Charlotte greatly. To kill time, she also tried to find the local druid tree, which, with such strong telluric currents, should be huge and hard to miss in this place, but unfortunately she did not come across it.

On Sunday, just before the start of term, she paced restlessly around the house for half a day. Finally, she couldn't stand it and went with Isle into the woods to go for a run. On the way she was accosted by another runner who decided to join her. In the course of conversation, he turned out to be a chemistry teacher from her school, Adrian Harris. When he found out she was his new colleague, he started telling her about the kids here, pointing out with great bitterness that they were all tragic slackers and unschoolers, barring a few glorious exceptions.

At one point, even the dog couldn't listen to him anymore, or at least that's what it seemed to the witch, because it lurched forward, barking as if chasing game. There would have been nothing strange about this, had it not been for the fact that Isle was completely devoid of hunting instinct, in favour of herding, rather for her herd so that they were always together. Charlie didn't give it much thought and immediately veered off the path and chased after her four-legged friend, followed by Harris. She found the dog, standing over one of the woodland dell, barking acrimoniously but not moving from its spot. She walked closer, and to her eyes was a horrifying sight. A corpse, or rather the lower half of it, clad in denim trousers fitted to its slender, feminine legs. She sank to her knees, horrified. She didn't need magical powers to know she was late, having arrived too late to help Laura with her problem. She didn't need to have ever seen the girl to know it was her, anyway, knowing her face would be of absolutely no use, given the circumstances.

Harris kept a surprising amount of cool and called the emergency phone. As they waited for the police to arrive, the man tried to reassure her, unfortunately, his efforts were unsuccessful. The smell of death and blood, wafting through the air, which she now recognised effortlessly, took her too far out of balance and stirred her blood.

Not far from the forest stood a two-storey house belonging to the McCall family. Quite loud youthful music was coming from an upstairs room, and its occupant was methodically braiding a net on a lacrosse stick. He glanced at the instructions from time to time to make sure he hadn't made any mistakes, and when he felt he had completed the task, he checked the strength of the weave with his fist. He got up from his chair and stretched in front of the mirror, observing his figure. He had worked on himself a lot over the semester break, and while additional exercise certainly wouldn't hurt, he already looked quite satisfactory, and he was pleased with himself. His naturally tanned skin, which he owed to his mother's Hispanic roots, framed the muscles gently drawing under his skin. He reached for a stick and swung, accidentally hitting the night light, which fell off the table and crashed to the floor.

'Glue's in the cabinet!' came his mother's voice from the ground floor, so that a moment later he could see her silhouette in the doorway. She was of petite build, had a storm of black curls on her head, now pinned up in a neat braid, and was looking at him with concern in dark brown eyes, the same as his. 'I thought you quit lacrosse.'

'I didn't quit, I just kind of never played...' he sighed heavily, in the previous semester he had failed to get into the first squad and had never played in a game, but now it was going to be different.

'Have you thought about quitting?' Melissa's warm brown eyes measured her son with seriousness; it was clear she was worried about him. She was dressed in a bright green nurse's uniform, going to work.

'Mom...'

'Just want you to be happy. High school should be fun. You should be out chasing girls...' she thought for a while. 'But not catching them. Just chasing.'

'Well, I'm not having much luck with that either.'

'Okay... I should go before I completely destroy your self esteem. Don't worry, Sophomore year is always better, I promise.' She kissed her son on the forehead and left for the night shift at the hospital.

As Melissa moved away, the teenager picked up the remains of the lamp to throw it in the bin. He headed for the bathroom, but his attention was caught by some sound he couldn't name. He left his room, grabbing a baseball bat belonging to his mum on the way, and headed for the front door. He quietly swung it open and stepped out onto the porch. His fingers, clenched on the handle of the bat, turned white as the sound echoed, arousing his anxiety.

Suddenly, a human silhouette dangled from the roof above the porch, causing Scott to step back in fright, almost smashing the face that appeared before him with the bat. They both began to scream, terrified.

'Stiles, what the hell are you doing?' He asked when he finally calmed down a little.

'You weren't answering your phone,' came the reply, while the boy hung from the roof and tried to free himself from the vines overgrowing the porch. He was skinnier than Scott, and his hair was cropped short at the scalp, while his friend's black hair curled at ear level. 'Why do you need that stick?'

'I thought it was some kind of predator!'

'Pre...? I know it's late, but you gotta' hear this. I saw my dad leave twenty minutes ago. Dispatch called. They're bringing in every officer from the Baecon department and even State Police' his face was sprinkled with numerous freckles.

'For what?' asked Scott, already calm, looking in disbelief at his friend who was still hanging from the roof of his porch head down.

'Two joggers found a body in the woods,' he said, then disappeared for a moment, only to immediately jump off the roof and stand in front of the other teenager, shaking off the leaves.

'A dead body?'

'No, a living of water. Yes, dumbass, a dead body.'

' You mean like murdered?'

'Nobody knows yet. Just that it was a girl, probably in her twenties.'

'Hold on. If they found a body, what are they looking for now?'

'That's the best part. They only found half!' The friends faced each other with communicative eyes, then Stiles announced. 'Let's go!'

When they arrived, they parked the blue jeep, owned by Stiles, in front of the entrance to the reserve, which was the woods surrounding Beacon Hills. The sheriff's son walked ahead, torch lighting his way, followed by Scott, trying to keep up with him, stumbling every now and then over dry branches and uneven ground.

'Are we seriously doing this?' he mumbled to himself.

'You're the one always bitching that nothing ever happens in this town...'

'I was trying to get a good night's sleep for practice tomorrow.'

'Right, because sitting on the bench is such grueling effort.'

'No, because I'm playing this year. In fact, I'm going to make first line.'

'That;s the spirit. Everyone should have a dream. Even a pathetically unrealistic one...' shrugged his shoulders at Stiles.

'Just out of curiosity, which half of the body are we looking for?' Scott decided to change the subject, angry at his friend for not believing in his abilities

'Huh... Ididn't even think about that...

'And what if whoever killed the girl is still out here?'

'Also something I didn't think about,' Stiles admitted without a hint of embarrassment.

'Comforting to know you've planned this out with your usual attention to detail.' The fast pace made Scott breathless, his asthma starting to kick in. 'Maybe the severe asthmatic should be the one holding the flashlight?' he suggested to his colleague, dreaming of a break. He leaned against a tree, pulled an inhaler from his pocket and shook it, taking a moment to draw a dose of the medicine deep into his lungs.

As they climbed another hill, Stiles stopped, switching off his torch. Below them, lights flashed deep in the woods, indicating where the police officers leading the search were. The teenager shifted from foot to foot and, unable to stand, set off ahead at a run, heedless of leaving his friend behind. By the time he realised and turned to look for Scott it was too late. The police dogs sniffed him out and flashlights illuminated his figure. One of the dogs started barking and the frightened teenager fell over trying to get away from the animal.

'Stop where you are standing!' shouted the officer, trying to stop the dog from lashing out at the boy.

'Hold on, hold on, this little deliquent belongs to me.'

Several police cars immediately arrived on the scene, with the sheriff getting out of one of them and offering both of the runners warm blankets to cover themselves. The temperature was unusually cold for California, and the shock they had experienced may have further contributed to hypothermia. As they gave their testimony, they were treated to tea, by a petite female deputy with a triangular face and eyes obscured by large glasses. After a short time, they watched as more and more units arrived on the scene, including with tracking dogs. They had to at least try to find the other half of the body. It was getting dark and Charlotte and Adrian were probably already making a statement for the third time when a commotion caught their attention.

'Hold on, hold on, this little deliquent belongs to me.' Shouted the sheriff moving away towards the source of the commotion. The boy squirmed under his gaze. 'Do you listen in on all my phone calls?'

'No... Not the boring ones.'

Hearing the boy's answer, the officer in charge of them giggled into her sleeve, shaking her head with pity.

'And where is your usual partner in crime?' asked the sheriff, looking around the woods with a grim certainty that someone else was about to appear.

'Who? Scott? Scott's home. Said he wanted to get a good night's sleep for the first day back at school.'

His father apparently didn't believe him, because he scoured the nearby bushes with his torch calling out:

'Scott?! Are you there?!' When no one answered him, he turned to his son, with a still suspicious look on his face. 'All right, young man, I'm taking you back to your car and we're ging to discuss a little something called Invasion of Privcy.'

The sheriff grabbed the boy by the collar of his jacket and walked away with him towards the exit of the reserve.

'He's the sheriff's son, I have the unpleasantness of teaching him,' her companion enlightened her. 'He's always getting involved in some cabal, he's not stupid, but tragically maladaptive and hyperactive. He could definitely use more discipline.'

'Adrian, you are exaggerating,' the female deputy addressed him. She was at least ten years younger than the teacher, but Charlotte managed to see some faint resemblance between them. They could have been siblings. 'Stiles had always been like that and would be like that. He gets good grades, so don't exaggerate.'

The witch herself didn't know whether to admire the boy for his courage or pity him for his stupidity as she listened to him talk to his father, almost brazenly ticking him off, although no anger or other negative emotion could be sensed in his tone. He was just painfully frank and clearly unable to control his language.

The officer accompanying them, who introduced herself as Diana Harris, also confirming the witch's suspicions about her family ties to the chemistry teacher, was just offering her a lift home when a wolf howl carried through the woods. Charlie wasn't sure if anyone but her had heard it, but it only reinforced her belief that it wasn't a wolf, but the world's truest werewolf, announcing to the world that it had expanded its pack. Tonight someone had been bitten, and not far from where they were. She carefully glanced at the teenager who was still talking to his father and tried to recall the exact course of the discussion. It seemed to her that the sheriff had suggested that his son had also attracted his friend to the forest, but the boy had denied it. She sincerely hoped that he had not lied, and that he himself had not been injured.

For a split second, joy surged into her heart that it might have been Laura making her presence known, but innate logic told her that there were more werewolves in the area, and that this perfectly justified the state of the corpse, as it explained the presence of the Hunters, who treated their prey in just such a way. They considered it a kind of ritual, as it effectively stopped their victims from regenerating. She just had to investigate what the girl had put the Hunters at risk with, because they didn't kill without reason, they had their code. At least most of them did. On the other hand, she couldn't be sure that Laura hadn't crossed the thin line beyond which she could transform from hunter to game.

Beacon Hills gave her a truly unexpected welcome.

Scott sighed , exasperated, hiding behind the trees so his friend's father wouldn't spot him. He heard the sheriff calling him but remained hidden, deciding to return on foot, he didn't want to get a pep talk.

He tried to pierce the darkness of the woods with his eyes, but it wasn't easy without the torch Stiles was carrying. When he reached a fork in the path, he paused for a moment to consider which way to go. The night was getting colder, so he pulled the zipper of his sweatshirt up to his chin. He heard rustling between the trees and froze. His breath shortened more from fear than from illness, but he reached into his pocket to take out his inhaler when he heard a noise that was clearly approaching him.

Suddenly, from between the trees, half a dozen deer fell straight at him, running ahead in a clear panic, completely disregarding the presence of the man. Scott let the inhaler out of his hand, trying to protect his head. As the terrified animals disappeared from his sight, he began to move his hands through the forest undergrowth, searching for his medicine, trying to illuminate the ground with his phone screen. He froze as his eyes met the others. Glassy brown eyes staring straight at him, dead eyes, peering out from the face of a young, pretty, half-naked woman lying right in front of him. As the first wave of shock passed, he cried out in horror, realising that this was exactly what he and Stiles had been looking for, the upper half of the body that the police had been trying to find. Still terrified, he started panickingly to move away from his find, but tripped over a protruding root and fell over, rolling down a forested incline.

The boy had not yet had time to get back up when a low, throaty growl reached his ears, the sound of which stopped Scott's air in his lungs, paralysing him with terror. Something was coming towards him, slowly emerging from the shadows. Something huge. The teenager didn't have time to look closely as the shape shot towards him. For a moment he saw a flash of razor-sharp teeth, felt pain in his side and jumped back, screaming. When he managed to separate himself from the attacking animal, he threw himself forward, in a panicked attempt to escape. Branches snagged on his clothes and scratched at his skin, but he stubbornly pushed forward when suddenly, completely unexpectedly, the scrub ended and he jumped straight out onto the road.

He heard the sound of a horn, turned and spun away again, as a large red SUV sped straight at him. The driver managed to elude the teenager, but didn't even stop, driving away. Scott, slowly coming out of shock, felt the pain in his injured side again and lifted his sweatshirt, checking what had actually happened to him. Just above his hip, he discovered a bite mark. However, his attention was distracted by a sudden sound, spreading through the forest.

A wolf's howl pierced the night's silence.

10. January 2011 - Monday

Scott arrived at school on his bike, a lacrosse stick hanging from his backpack, with a neatly woven net ready for his first practice of the year. The teenager looked around for his friend, attaching his bike to the bike stand, but couldn't spot a familiar silhouette in the crowd of students.

Parked right next to him was a brand-new, silver Porsche, with a custom-made registration making it clear who the car belonged to. The car door opened, hitting a bent Scott in the back. A handsome square-jawed teenager with a stylised haircut got out of the car, but his face was disfigured by the unpleasant expression of superiority he felt towards everyone around him.

'Dude. Watch the paint job.' He turned to the cyclist, with a threat in his voice, not caring that it was he who had hit the boy and not the other way around. He took his belongings out of the car, which included the equipment for Scott's favourite game.

'Jackson!' They both heard a cry, at which the Porsche driver turned around, a fake smile lighting up his face. He walked off towards his friends, all dressed in expensive clothes, standing by even more expensive cars. A few well-built boys and pretty, heavily made-up girls could be spotted in the group.

Scott, left to his own devices, measured the group with a longing glance, realising that he didn't have the slightest chance of getting into this circle.

Just as he was about to enter the school, Stiles caught up to him. The hyperactive teenager didn't even say hello to him, immediately referring to their late-night phone conversation they'd had when Scott had finally managed to get home, after his adventure in the woods.

'All right, let's see this thing...'

The black-haired boy set his backpack aside and waited until a group of students had passed them, heading hurriedly to class, as the first school bell of the year had already sounded. He lifted his T-shirt carefully, revealing a sizable bandage, soaked in blood, worn just above his right hip. The other boy squirmed at the sight and almost reflexively reached out to touch the bandage, but Scott quickly lowered his T-shirt, preventing him from doing so.

'It was too dark to see much, but I'm pretty sure it was a wolf.'

'A wolf bit you?' Stiles raised his eyebrows as he and his friend joined the next wave of students heading towards the school entrance. 'No, not a chance,' he announced confidently, with a mocking smile on his lips.

'I heard a wolf howling'

'No, you didn't'

'What do you mean "No, I didn't"?' snorted Scott, absolutely sure of himself. He didn't understand why his friend didn't believe him.

'California doesn't have wolves/ Not for the last sixty years."

'Really?' Scott quipped. "Well, if you don't believe me about the wolf, then you're definitely not goint to believe me when I tell you I saw the body.'

'You what? Are you kidding me?' Stiles almost jumped up with excitement, his face lit up with a smile.

'I wish. I'm going to have nightmares about it for a month.'

' That's freakinh awesome. This is seriously the best thing that's happened to this town...' the teenager fell silent for a moment, staring at something behind the other boy's back ' ...since the birth of Lydia Martin who's walking toward us right now. Hey, Lydia, how are you? You look...' A pretty girl with reddish-blonde hair passed them, completely ignoring him. Her dress was from the latest collection of some famous designer and her high heels added a few inches of height to her low figure. Her movements were confident and she seemed to be a model who had just stepped off a catwalk somewhere in Milan. There was a clear look of frustration on Stiles' face, to which Scott smiled condescendingly '... like you're going to ignorine me. Ypu're the couse of this, you know?' the teenager turned to his friend. 'Dragging me down to your nerd depths. I'm a nerd by association. I've been Scarlet-nerded by you.'

The black-haired teenager laughed at this statement, knowing full well that his friend was joking. In their duo, it was Stiles who was the type to be overly interested in computer games and comic books and had better grades, despite his difficulty in focusing.

Her first day at school would probably have been less stressful for her had it not been for yesterday's adventure. She realised that, being only a teacher, she would probably attract much less attention than if she were a new student at the school. However, the welcome in the staff room pleasantly surprised her. Headmaster Thomas - a relatively young, blonde-haired man - made sure that one of her new colleagues baked a cake and someone else brought a special, beautifully scented coffee. Adrian Harris, on the other hand, seems to have made it a point of honour to tell everyone about their adventure together yesterday. So, too, she became the centre of attention for not just one reason, but two.

She took a great liking to one of the English teachers, the dark-skinned, slightly squat Sharon Ramsey, with a perpetually smiling face; it was clear that she was perceptive and approached life with detachment and was wholeheartedly involved in her work. She immediately pointed out to Charlie a few students to whom she should pay particular attention. The second person who sparked her affection was the economics teacher and coach of the school's athletics and lacrosse teams - Bobby Finstock, he seemed incredibly scatterbrained but, in his twist, extremely likable, and he loved what he did. Almost the entire morning before class started, he tried to explain the rules of lacrosse to her, and although he didn't succeed, it definitely improved his new friend's mood and made some of her stress disappear as if by magic. What caught her particular attention, however, was a young, dark-skinned woman who taught French and was the school psychologist, also only starting this term - Marin Morrell. It seemed to Charlie that the woman was not even thirty years old yet, and despite the gentle smile on her lips, she tried to avoid contact with other school staff. The witch seemed to feel her gaze on her back a few times, but every time she turned around, Marin was looking the other way or had her nose stuck in a book.

Unfortunately, the wave of nervousness returned to her when the bell rang, summoning the students to their first lesson of the day. The teenagers took their seats in the desks and stared at her expectantly. Among the young faces, she spotted the one dotted with freckles and moles, belonging to the sheriff's son she had seen the previous evening in the woods. He smiled at her, reassuringly, sensing her new teacher's nervousness, which lifted her spirits and pushed her into action.

'Welcome to your first history lesson of the year. My name is Charlotte Benoit and I am your new teacher. To begin with, I would like to ask you to arm yourselves with patience and understanding, as I am sure I won't remember all your names straight away,' she felt their curious gazes on her, respectful and appraising. She knew she didn't look like a typical teacher, above all she was too young, which she didn't try to hide under her stiff clothes. She had chosen her standard outfit for today, black jeans and a T-shirt, with a dreamcatcher print on the chest, the tattoos covering her arms peeking out from under the short sleeves. Only the black heeled boots she'd donned to add some height had a chance to earn the title of footwear befitting her profession. Her leather jacket hung on the back of the teacher's chair. Her hair was gathered in a tight braid, reaching down to her mid-back. Her eyes were heavily highlighted with black eyeliner, as she always seemed too pale without it. She suspected that in their eyes she looked like a typical heavy rock fan from their own generation. She had to dispel their doubts right away. 'This is not a joke, from today I will teach you. I won't fool you, I'm not as old as most of your teachers...' they laughed at these words ' ... however, this does not mean that I will demand less from you, nor that you can treat me as your equal. If you show me respect, I will show it to you. If not... you will find that I can easily become your least favourite teacher.'

'Fat chance, no one beats Harris...' muttered the sheriff's son under his breath, but Charlotte pretended not to hear it.

'When I read out someone's name, I ask that person to stand up, I want to know your faces and be able to assign names. The rest of you, please familiarise yourselves with the syllabuses for this semester, which I have placed on your desks.'

As the students set about their assigned task, she began checking the attendance list. She finally reached the teenager she had met the previous day, but could not pronounce his strangely written name of decidedly foreign origin.

'Stilinski,' she decided to stop at the surname; the boy perked up, with a broad smile, definitely aware of the difficulty his name caused. 'I don't believe either your or my colleagues call you by your first name. How should I address you?'

'Stiles, ma'am.'

'All right, Stiles, thank you, back to the syllabus.'

At the same moment, she noticed that Scott McCall, sitting next to the teenager she had just spoken to, was acting strangely. It was as if he was listening for something that no one else could hear. He seemed surprised and distracted, only to fix his eyes on the window overlooking the school driveway a moment later. Charlotte looked in that direction too, spotting the deputy headmaster followed by a pretty, dark-haired teenage girl.

After a moment, the door to her classroom opened, showing her supervisor bringing the girl with him. She was slim and tall, with a pretty heart-shaped face and large brown eyes that immediately reminded the witch of the cousin she had left at home, her eyes, however, still remained innocent and full of childlike trust, unlike those belonging to Luise, tired eyes that had seen too much evil and cruelty.

'Class, this is our new student, Allison Argent. Please do your best to make her feel welcome.' The vice-principal's words caught the attention of all the students, at which a delicate blush bloomed on the girl's cheeks and her lips curved in a shy smile. It was clear that the situation was not new to her, but she was nevertheless uncomfortable. When her guide left, she immediately headed for the nearest vacant bench, which was just behind Scott, who was staring at her.

She had not yet had time to sit down when the teenager grabbed one of his pens in hand and, with a look of determination on his face, turned to her, handing over the tool. The girl furrowed her brow in surprise, but after a second she smiled widely, accepted the pen and thanked him.

Charlotte froze when the new student's name came from the Vice Principal's lips. It was very familiar to her and didn't bode well, but at least it explained Allison's resemblance to Luise. As the teenager sat down, the teacher shook off her numbness and turned to the class.

'So let's begin...'

Scott was just taking books out of his locker for his next lesson when he spotted Allison on the opposite side of the corridor, who also looked at him. Their eyes met and she smiled, recognising the cute boy who had lent her a pen, but after a moment, the new girl's attention was distracted by the books that had fallen out of her locker when she opened it. She bent down to pick them up, and when she finished, she wanted to look at the black-haired teenager again, but her attention was distracted by a girl with reddish-blonde hair, obscuring her view.

'That jacket is absolutely killer! Where did you get it?' Lydia Martin asked, determined to take her new friend under her wing.

'My mom was a buyer for a boutique back in San Francisco.'

'You're my new best mate,' stated Lydia, smiling flirtatiously at her taller colleague, causing her to laugh. At the same moment, Jackson Whittemore joined them, wrapping his arm around the red-haired teenager and kissing her.

At the other end of the corridor, a dark-skinned girl - Harley, their classmate - approached Stiles and Scott, watching the scene.

'Can someone tell me how New Girl is here all of five minutes and she's already hanging with Lydia's crowd?' She asked, measuring Allison with a jealous eye.

'Because she's hot. Beautiful people herd together,' the sheriff's son replied thoughtlessly, not noticing Harley's gaze, full of disbelief, as he carefully observed Lydia, with whom he was hopelessly in love.

'Is that why Lydia isn't herding with you?' Asked the dark-skinned girl, tilting her head with an ironic smile.

'Lydia's a long-term project, okay? And trust me, I've got all the patience in the world for a high yield investment like her.'

'Well, I don't think New Girl's that pretty,' Harley wrinkled her nose at the object of her observation, then shifted her attention to her colleagues. 'Scott, you think she's pretty? Scott?'

The boy didn't respond, didn't even blink, as his entire attention was focused on Allison.

'I'd take that as a yes...' concluded Stiles, baring his teeth at his friend, who didn't even notice.

'There's a party this weekend,' meanwhile the redhead announced to her new friend.

'A party?'

'Friday night, you should come,' Jackson said, eyeing the new girl and smiling broadly, signalling to the world that she had gained his approval.

'I can't. It's Family Night this Friday,' stammered Allison, a little uncomfortable with the couple standing too close to her, unknowingly invading her personal space. - 'But thanks for asking.'

' You sure? Everyone's going after the scrimmage.'

'You mean like football?' Asked the dark-haired girl, clearly interested.

'Football ia a joke at Beacon' Jackson announced with a condescending smile, then explained, proudly puffing out his chest. 'The sport here is Lacrosse. We won the state championship the last three years...'

'Because of a certaint team captain.' Cut into his words Lydia, annoyed that the boy was paying so much attention to another girl, but masking it with a sweet smile.

'Every season strts with a scrimmage to decide the new first line. You ever watch Lacrosse?' Explained the teenager further, unconcerned with his girlfriend, who caressed his hair with her fingers.

'I'm actually not sure how it's played other than... well, violently.'

'Maybe you should just come see for yourself. We have practice in a few minutes. You don't have to be anywhere, do you?'

'Well, no, I was just going...'

'Perfect. You're coming.' Lydia interrupted her, impatient, and pulled on her arm, leading her towards the pitch. Allison cast a quick, slightly askance glance towards Scott, who was still watching her, but let herself be swept along by her bossy friend without objection.

The school team, as well as everyone who wanted to join them this term, had already started to assemble on the pitch, and the stands were slowly filling with teenagers ready to support their friends at their first training session.

'But if you play I'll have no one to talk to on the bench. You really gonna' do that to your best friend?' Asked Stiles in disbelief. Both friends were already dressed up in their playing clothes and heading towards the rest of the team.

'I can't sit out again! My whole life is sitting on the sidelines. This season, I make first line.' Scott was determined, he had been practising all break for just this one reason. At one point he spotted Lydia and Allison taking a seat in the stands, he exchanged a smile with the latter, losing all sense of reality.

'McCall! You're in the goal!' shouted Coach Finstock in his face, throwing a special stick into his hands, for catching goals, and measuring the teenager with slightly arched eyes. His face expressed a complete lack of interest in anything but the game.

'But I've never played goal...' the boy was confused.

'I know. Scoring some shots will give the boys a confidence boost. It's first day back thing. Get them energized, jazzed up.'

'What about me?'

'Try not to take any in the face' the trainer concluded, patting the boy on the cheek, then moved away, completely losing interest in him. 'Come on!Here we go!' he shouted to the rest of the team as Scott lined up in goal.

The teenager was was very keen to get on the team, but he hadn't anticipated this turn of events. He was starting to lose hope that he would make it, and the fact that the girl he liked was watching him closely only made it worse.

'Who is it?' Allison asked Lydia, pointing with her chin towards the gate.

'Him? I'm not sure, why' The redhead measured the boy with a look in which for a moment there was a spark of recognition, but it disappeared right away, replaced by a bored expression.

'He's in my English class' the taller girl shrugged her shoulders, trying to feign nonchalance.

A whistle sounded, announcing the start of training. The sound drilled deep into Scott's ears, its intensity causing excruciating pain. Never before had he realised that the tone could be so high and loud. He clutched his head, trying to stop the echo reverberating inside his skull, causing him to miss the fact that the first of his teammates had started an attack on goal, running towards him.

The coach handed the player the ball, which he caught in the net at the end of the stick he was holding, and then raced into Scott's position. He, however, was too late to realise the situation and, as he raised his eyes, the ball bounced off his helmet, without which it would have landed in the middle of his face, most likely breaking his helmet, however, did not stop it from falling straight into the goal the teenager was supposed to be players laughed mischievously and even a not-so-pleasant smile blossomed on the coach's teenager's cheeks were covered in a scarlet blush, his lips tightened in determination as he picked himself up and re-positioned himself in goal. When the whistle sounded again, he was coach passed the ball to the next attacker, who redirected it towards goal. Scott moved his net, almost immediately. The first thing he noticed was the disbelief and disappointment on his opponent's face. When he turned his gaze to the net of his stick his eyes widened in surprise. He had caught the ball, defended the goal. He hadn't expected it.

With the next attacker, the situation repeated itself. And again, each time the next person charged at him, he managed to defend the goal and catch the effortless, as if he had been doing it since birth.

'He seems like he's pretty good,' commented Allison on the actions of the boy who had lent her the pen.

'Very good indeed...' confirmed her new friend in disbelief. Intrigued, she followed every movement of Scott, whose figure now radiated confidence.

Meanwhile, on the pitch, Scott was enjoying himself more and more. All nervousness had slipped away somewhere and he was beginning to get real enjoyment out of the game until he saw that it was the turn of Jackson, the team captain, who looked seriously upset and, despite the distance that separated them, Scott was able to sense the anger radiating from his opponent's silhouette.

'Oh god...' the black-haired teenager had something to fear. Jackson was unquestionably the best player on their team, plus he was extremely aggressive.

The striker amplified his shot, swinging his racket all the way from the jump and, once it landed on the turf, he couldn't shake the shock as the defender seemed to put no effort into stopping his attack. However, the ball landed straight in the net for Scott, who smiled broadly at the sight, twirled his stick and sent the ball towards the coach. It fell straight into his grasp, although Finstock made no move to catch it. Meanwhile, at the substitutes' bench, Stiles did a wild victory dance, shouting to all the spectators:

'That's my mate!'

Even Lydia, always cool and composed, jumped to her feet and squealed exultantly, then threw a defiant glance at her boyfriend, who measured her with surprised, angry eyes.

After school, the boys decided to go into the woods to retrace their steps back to where Scott had found the body and lost his inhaler. The afternoon was cloudy, but the forest no longer seemed as creepy to them as it had the night before.

'I don't know what it was. I mean I felt like I had all the time in the world to catch the ball. And that's not the only weird thing. I mean I can hear stuff I shouldn't be able to hear. And I can smell things.' The black-haired man told in an excited voice.

'Smell things? Like what?' Stiles wanted to elaborate on his friend's story, trying to keep up with him.

'Like the mint mojito gum in your pocket...'

'I don't have any...' he slowed his stride, reaching his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket and fell silent, feeling something under his fingers, then clamped his hand over it and pulled it out. To his eyes appeared half a packet of mint mohito gum. He gave Scott a disbelieving look, then one corner of his mouth lifted up mockingly. 'All this started with the bite?'

'What if it's an infection?' Scott frowned. 'What if my body in flooding with adrenaline before I fall info shock? I knew I should have gone to the ER.'

'I've actually heard of this.' mused Stiles, scrunching up his nose with a very serious look on his face. - 'It's a specific kind of infection... All the symptoms add up. I think it's called... Lycanthropy.'

'Really? What's that? Is it bad? It sounds bad...' the black-haired was clearly concerned.

'It is, but only once a month, on the night when it's full' Scott looked at his friend with uncomprehending eyes, but when Stiles started pretending to howl at the moon, he punched his friend in the arm.

'You're an ass' he commented, moving further ahead.

'Hey, you're the one who heard that wolf howling,' laughed the husky, following his friend.

'There could be something seriously wrong with me!'

'I know, you're a werewolf!' he whined, amused, while the other boy threw him a questioning look. 'Okay, obviously, I'm kidding. But if you see me melting all the silver I can find, it's because Friday's a full moon.'

Scott paused, looking around the woodland undergrowth and furrowing his brow, not noticing anything. He was sure he had found the right place, although he didn't know where that conviction had come from. He wouldn't be able to distinguish these particular trees from others growing in the forest, but still, he knew he was where he needed to be.

'I swear this was it The body was here. The deer came running, I dropped my inhaler...' he bent down to comb through the mulch with his hand, in search of the medicine.

'Maybe the killer move the body,' Stiles stated, tucking himself under the sides and moving the leaves with his foot absentmindedly.

'If he did, I hope he left my inhaler. Those things are like eighty bucks' sighed a discouraged Scott, then turned his gaze to the ground again.

After a moment, he felt his friend's hand nervously patting his shoulder, clearly trying to get his attention. He lifted his gaze to Stiles, who had begun to adjust his sweatshirt with uncoordinated movements, and followed his gaze with his eyes fixed on a silhouette standing nearby. The man watching them was several years older than them, dressed all in black, wearing a leather jacket and with a light stubble covering his square jaw. He watched them in silence, and you could feel a strange tension in the air. Scott stood up abruptly, feeling a rush of adrenaline. His friend stuck his hands deep in his pockets and licked his lips nervously, avoiding the gaze of the stranger who began to approach them, with a quick, determined step. His face expressed absolutely nothing, but anger was evident from his movements.

'What are you doing here?' The boys were too surprised to answer the question immediately, asked in a low voice. Stiles nervously ran a hand over the bristles on his head, sticking his gaze into his shoes. 'This is private property.'

'Sorry, we didn't know,' replied the slimmer of the teenagers, swallowing his saliva nervously.

'We were just looking for something.' Scott hesitated, seeing the urging lift of the stranger's eyebrows as he focused all his attention on him, completely ignoring the other boy. 'Forget it. Sorry to bother you.'

The teenagers were already about to turn and walk away when the man pulled one hand out of his jacket pocket throwing an inhaler in Scott's direction. The boy caught the device without any difficulty, and when he lifted his surprised gaze from it, he noticed that the stranger had already started to walk away.

'Come on. I have to get to work' urged his colleague, who looked shocked, with his mouth wide open.

'Dude, that was Derek Hale. You remember, right? He's only a few years older than us' stopped his friend.

' Remember what'?

'His family. They all burned to death in a fire about ten years ago.'

'I wonder why he's doing back' pondered Scott, looking into the woods where the man had disappeared and clenching his fist on the inhaler.

She didn't manage to get home until late afternoon that day. Her head was filled with so many thoughts that she felt like they were going to start pouring out of her ears, so she decided to get some air to calm down a little. She went for a walk in the woods with Isle, which started just outside the back gate of her garden. She didn't intend to go far, but she had a quiet hope that she might be able to find the other half of the corpse before the police did, although on reflection she decided that would be incredibly suspicious to any outside observer. She should not return to the forest at all for the next few days. After all, finding a dead body must come as an incredible shock to any normal person.

However, her legs carried her further than she thought they would and before she knew it, between the trees she could see the remains of the burnt-out house she was supposed to meet Laura under so many days ago. Only after a while did she realise that her canine companion had disappeared somewhere again. She started to call out to the unspoilt female, hoping to find her quickly. Instead of her, however, a tall, well-built man in a leather jacket rose out of the ground, right in her path. Charlie swallowed her saliva at the sight of him; he was handsome, with a broad, very masculine jaw with a trace of day-old stubble, dark hair and beautiful grey-green eyes that stared at her from beneath pulled-down eyebrows. The top of her head might have ended roughly at the level of his mouth, and for a moment she felt like smacking his forehead on the nose and running away to hide in some rabbit hole. He was definitely causing her concern.

'This is private property... ' he announced in a low voice with a surprisingly warm tone, without finishing his sentence, as if he was leaving her room to defend herself.

'Sorry, I didn't know... My dog got lost somewhere, haven't you seen him perhaps? A marbled border collie with a red collar.'

'No, but I can help look for him. It's not safe to walk alone in the woods' he said, and she sensed some kind of a second bottom in this sentence, either he knew about yesterday's incident, or he could even be the killer himself. He held out his hand towards her. ' Derek Hale.'

'Charlotte Benoit', she shook his hand and a pleasant shiver ran down her spine. His skin was warm, almost hot on contact with her slick fingers. 'I wasn't alone, as I mentioned, I was accompanied by Isle, but as you see, she had more important things to do.'

His lips curved slightly in an imitation of a smile, though the rest of his face remained a stony mask. They moved ahead, towards her house, without talking. She tried to watch him out of the corner of her eye, wondering if she was right to suspect that her companion was Laura's brother. She couldn't recall his name, but neither had Laura ever mentioned that anyone other than the two of them had survived the house fire that had occurred a few years earlier. At least until their last conversation. She decided not to ask him about it, she had never been particularly trusting of people, and he could have simply introduced himself by a name not his own. She tried to sense his aura, but the strangely accelerated beating of her own heart made it very difficult for her.

They searched for the dog for about half an hour. The man hadn't spoken the whole time, giving the impression of a silent recluse, which only increased her surprise at the fact that he had offered his help.

'I don't think there's anything to it... ' she broke the silence. 'Maybe she just went home...'

'If she's not found by tomorrow, I'd suggest checking with some of the nearest vets. It's possible that someone found her and drove her there,' he replied and, turning on his heel, began to walk away towards the burnt house.

'Yes... Thank you for your help! ' she shouted after him, then returned to her hut.

Unfortunately, Isle didn't make it home, and lashing rain started pouring from the sky, so the woman decided that she would go and visit the nearest vet the following day before work.

11th January 2011 - Tuesday

This morning, when Scott opened his eyes, he was surprised to discover that he was not in his bed, but lying on the ground covered in fallen leaves. Terrified, he sprang to his feet, banging his head against something. Looking up, he discovered that a rock was hanging over him. He looked around and noticed that he was only wearing the boxers he had gone to bed in the previous evening.

He concluded that he must have walked in his sleep and thus found himself in the middle of the forest. He climbed the escarpment under which he was standing and was surrounded by a thick fog and the trees hidden in it. He looked around to assess exactly where he was and how he was to get home, and froze. He held his breath as he heard a strange rustling sound. He took a few steps back, but with his bare feet he could feel the edge of the uproar, so he stopped again. His gaze was caught by a commotion between the trees, only a few metres away from him.

He looked around once more, feeling uneasy, then set off ahead at a run, first steadily, then faster and faster. When he looked to the side, he saw a shadow, moving as fast as he was, in the same direction. Looking straight at him, with glowing, blood-red eyes. After a moment, the shadow disappeared, only to reappear on the other side of the running boy, who was accelerating all the time.

It seemed to Scott that he was running at a dizzying speed, impossible for a mere mortal, but the shadow kept pace with him unhindered. He could almost feel the panting breath on the back of his neck when suddenly, right in front of him, as if from under the ground, a fence sprang up. Without thinking about what he was doing, completely reflexively the teenager jumped, flying over the obstacle.

As he landed, on bent legs, and looked around, he felt more than saw that the terrifying presence had disappeared somewhere, leaving him alone. He was no longer in the woods, but in an overgrown, neglected garden at the back of a small house with a sloping roof. His attention was caught by movement on the porch, a short, slim female figure dressed in a baggy tracksuit was approaching him, her dark chestnut hair pinned up on top of her head in a picturesque dishevelled bun.

'Scott? What happened?' came the concerned questio. ' What were you doing in the woods at this hour? Are you all right? '

'Mrs Benoit...' he looked at her in shock, recognising the young teacher, seemingly unaware of what was happening around him. ' I... I'm fine, I think... I... I seem to have been walking in my sleep... ' he was clearly confused.

Charlotte invited him into the kitchen and served him some hot tea to help the teenager calm down a little. She found her ex's old sweatshirt at the bottom of one of the half-unpacked removal boxes, so she handed it to the student so he could get dressed. She kept a close eye on her visitor, as well as the two cats, who were doing their best to steer clear of him. When the boy had had his tea, she drove him home, but although she was keen to meet his mother, he persuaded her to put it off for another occasion. She was able to understand him, so she just nodded, told him to look out for himself and drove to the nearest veterinary clinic to look for the dog.

Dr Alan Deaton, the vet, turned out to be an over-sympathetic dark skinned man who eyed her, as if he found something familiar in her face. It turned out that Isle had actually ended up in his surgery, with a broken paw, which had been treated by his assistant - Scott McCall, a teenager whom Charlotte had just dropped off at home.

14th January 2011 - Friday - full moon

Stiles' fingers crawled across the keyboard keys at breakneck speed, eyes fixed on the monitor screen beginning to pinch, skipping between article after article, displayed in the web browser, concerning all sorts of buzzwords: toadstool, silver bullets, Lycaon, Aconite, the illustrations depicted ferocious man-like, yet wolf-like beasts. Image after image, page after page, the teenager delved further and further into the depths of the internet. Every so often, he would reach for books, some new, in thin paper bindings, others older, disintegrating, leatherbound ones.

If he had looked out of the window, he would have seen that the day was drawing to a close, the sun was hiding behind the horizon and the round disc of a full moon was appearing in the sky. However, his attention was focused on something else. The printer, set on the desk, came to life, spitting out more and more pages, the last one, which the boy managed to catch before it fell to the ground, depicted an engraving - a man with a crossbow, standing over his victim, a half-transformed werewolf. There was an expression of extreme terror on Stiles' face, which only deepened when a knocking sound rang across the room. He almost fell off the chair he was sitting on, but shook himself off and walked over to the door to open it.

'Get in,' he said when he recognised Scott in his visitor. 'You have to see this. I've been reading, websites, books, all this information...' He was churning out words at machine-gun speed.

'How much Adderral have you had? ' Asked his friend, walking in across the room.

'A lot. Doesn't matter. Just listen.'

' Is this about the body?' laughed the black-haired man.'Did they find who did it?'

' No, they're still questioning people. Even Derek Hale...'

'The guy from the woods?'

'Yeah, but that's not it,' Stiles began waving his arms, trying to focus his friend's attention on himself. ' Remember the joke the other day? Not a joke anymore.' He lowered his voice and his face suddenly took on an expression of concern. ' The wolf. The bite in the woods.' he fell silent, waiting for the other teenager's reaction, but after a moment he recoiled, seeing the lack of understanding. ' I started reading... Do you even know why wolves howl? ' He was obviously bursting with energy because, in his excitement, he rose from his seat and started pacing nervously around the room.

'Should I?'

'It's a signal. When a wolf is alone it howls to signal its location to the rest of the pack. So if you heard it howling that mean there's others. Maybe a whole pack of them' the sheets of paper he held in his clammy hands rustled.

'A pack of wolves' reassured a disbelieving Scott.

'No. Werewolves' the boys measured each other's eyes for a moment.

' You're seriously wasting my time with this?' the black-haired rose, contorting his face, exasperated. 'You know, I'm picking Allison up in an hour' he announced, reaching for his backpack, giving a clear signal that he was going to leave the room.

'I saw you on the fiels, Scott,' Stiles grabbed his friend's arm, stopping him. 'What you did wasn't just amazing. It was impossible.'

'So I made a good shot.' he shrugged his shoulders.

'No, you made an icredible shot. The way you moved... the speed, your reflexes' the hyperactive teenager snatched the bag from his friend's hands, still waving his arms in an uncoordinated manner, scattering the printed pages around him. ' People can't suddenly do

'I can't think about this now' Scott losts his patience. 'We'll talk tomorrow, okay?'

'Tomorrow?! Don't you get it? The full moon is tonight!' Stiles was horrified.

' What are you trying to do? I just made first line on the team. I have a date with a girl I can'r believe wants to go out with me. Everything in my life is somehow perfect. Why are you trying to ruin it?

'I'm trying to help,' the scrawny boy replied, digging out a note of some sort from a stack of papers on his desk. ' With the full moon it's going to be too hard to resist and there's no going back. You're cursed, Scott. And it's not only that the moon causes you to change, it's also when your bloodlust will be at its peak.' Stiles reassured himself, trying to talk some sense into his friend.

'Bloodlust?'

'Your urge to kill...'

'I'm already starting to have an urge to kill' Scott announced, in a serious voice, measuring his friend with a cold stare.

'You need to hear this,' Stiles grabbed one of the books and flipped through a few pages, looking for a paragraph that interested him. 'The change can be caused by anger or anything that raises your pulse,' he quoted, then looked at his interlocutor. 'And I've never seen anyone raise your pulse like Allison does. You have to call her and cancel the date' he announced, reaching for his friend's backpack and looking in it for his phone.

'What are you doing?' Asked Scott in a dangerously lowered voice, watching his every move.

'I'm just finding her number...,' replied Stiles, not even lifting his gaze from the device on which he was searching for the girl's number.

'Give it to me!' shouted the other teenager, grabbing his friend by the shirt halves and pressing him against the wall. The attacked man looked fearfully into his friend's eyes and for a flash saw that his dark brown eyes shone iridescent gold. Scott's voice sounded more like the growl of an enraged animal as he cursed his victim, preparing to strike him with his fist. At the last moment, however, he stopped, breathing heavily. He looked up into Stiles' face, let go of him, and hit his hand with his fist still clenched at the office chair standing nearby, sending him flying to the other end of the room. He shook himself all over, like a damp dog, and raised an apologetic gaze at his friend.

'I didn't mean to do that,' he said, confused by the sight of his still terrified friend huddled against the wall, he wanted to help him up, but the teenager pushed his hands away. 'I'm sorry. Really, I didn't mean it. I have to go. I have to get ready for the party. I'm sorry.'

When Stiles was left alone, he rose slowly from under the wall his friend had practically thrown him at, readjusted his clothes and grabbed a chair to put back at his desk. He froze and ran his hand over the backrest. Another piece of evidence appeared before his eyes, confirming his theory, although he was not at all happy about it. The back of the chair was ripped open, with three parallel claw marks running the entire length of it, cutting through the upholstery and the sponge underneath.

Through her walks through the school corridors, Charlotte learned that there would be a 'party for everyone' at the home of one of the school's top students, Lydia Martin, on Friday evening. This worried her, especially if her suspicions to a werewolf prowling the area were accurate. If Tuesday's hero turned out to be bitten, there could be a tragedy, made all the greater by the more people attending Lydia's party. Even before the lessons were over, she checked the school file to see where the girl lived and decided to walk that way in the evening, just to be safe.

Finding the schoolgirl's house was not difficult. It was located in one of the more affluent areas of the city, and the loud music was downright deafening. The concentration of teenagers per square metre was also a good clue, which was painful even for a teacher with heightened immunity. Kids were flitting around, in and out. She couldn't see anything that caught her attention. She decided to see what the house looked like from the other side, but as she turned the corner she collided with someone.

She didn't fall just because a strong hand supported her elbow. When she lifted her gaze her gaze was stuck in the grey-green irises of Derek Hale, which she already knew. The situation looked almost the same as the day they met.

'Are you following me?' They asked simultaneously, almost identically raising one eyebrow. Charlotte burst into laughter and his mouth twisted into a slight smile. She guess he really wanted to keep his grimly handsome style. At this thought the woman laughed to herself once more.

'I'm the over-zealous teacher and I'm checking that my pupils don't do something sillier than the law stipulates,' she excused herself, pointing with her head to the house near them. 'By the way, I'm taking an evening dose of fresh air, and what's your excuse?'

'I had an errand for a friend, but he seems to have just left... Leaving his girlfriend in the lurch...' he said, looking over her shoulder.

Turning around, he eyed Allison Argent who was standing on the pavement, looking past the receding car lights. The teacher was convinced she had come to the party with Scott, given the eye-catching mutual attraction between the two teenagers. If the boy had indeed been bitten, he had gotten himself into a big pile of muck by falling in love with this very girl. The Argents were well-known in supernatural circles as Hunters, people who had sworn their lives to the fight against the supernatural and magic, a modern-day inquisition, and those bearing that name were definitely focused on the werewolf race. Of course, the girl's surname could have just been a funny coincidence, but Charlotte didn't believe in such, especially as the family in question had already made history in Beacon Hills and with her, and not in a very positive light. Before the teacher had time to make any decision Derek grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the busted teenager.

'Allison, do you need a lift? I'm a friend of Scott's, my name is Derek,' he quipped to the dark-haired girl, pushing Charlotte forward slightly so the girl could see that someone else was accompanying him, which clearly reassured her and convinced her that this wasn't the worst idea. The witch hoped she wouldn't go alone with a complete stranger, no matter what the man told her. It was possible that her parents had taught her self-defence, or even already introduced her to the family craft, but such a decision would still be really foolish.

The schoolgirl agreed, not even suspecting that something might be wrong. All three of them got into a black Camaro parked nearby. All the way there, Allison explained to the man how to drive to her home, then thanked him and got out. As they drove away from under the schoolgirl's house an awkward silence fell between them. She nervously tapped her fingers on her knee, admiring the truly beautiful car she was driving. Derek driving confidently and not needing directions at all. After a few moments they were already standing outside her house. For a moment she felt silly that her garden was overgrown and wild and that the house had an unpainted façade, but when she saw that the man's gaze rested on her own car, her breast was filled with a feeling of undying pride. The 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle was her personal pride and she could talk about it for hours. It was only after a few minutes that she realised she was sitting motionless and a treacherous blush came to her cheeks, staining the tips of her ears as well.

'Hm... yes... thank you... For giving Allison and me a lift... ' she sputtered out.

'Have you found your dog?' He asked, directing his gaze at her. The redhead evoked decidedly mixed feelings in him, she hung around too much about things that interested him as well and looked far too harmless to actually be that. Derek had painfully learned throughout his life that no one should be trusted and he didn't. But this woman had piqued his interest and for reasons of his own safety he preferred to find out more about her. He inhaled deeply, she smelled of coffee, citrus and something else, very faintly of woods and blood, it worried him even more. He wasn't sure if it was definitely her he was smelling these things from, especially as the scent of the Hunters' daughter he'd dropped off moments earlier was still lingering in the car, but he wasn't going to trust that excuse.

'Ah, yes, Isle was at the vet, just as you predicted. Thank you for that too. Yes... I have to go now... Good night,' she said, nervously grabbing the door handle. She slipped out of the car and started down the path to the front door.

'See you later,' the man said, looking behind her, to which she waved him off and smiled, and he drove off.

All the rest of the evening she paced restlessly around the house, analysing the facts. The Argents were in town, there was a rabid Alpha prowling the woods killing or transforming people, Laura Hale had been murdered and Derek Hale remained an enigma, either he was an Alpha and had killed his sister or he was looking for her, just like Charlotte.

The witch spent over an hour at her desk, taking notes and thinking about the next steps she should take. It would probably be best if she quit her job as teacher so she could have more time to investigate and not be distracted by the problems of all the teenagers placed in her care, but she felt that with unlimited access to the school, she would be better able to keep her hand in. She knew the strategy of the new wolf packs, those transformed, not born. Not everyone survived the bite, but teenagers, at the peak of their physical prowess, had the best chance of doing so. If the alpha she was going to hunt had even a shred of common sense and any kind of plan in his head, he would focus his attention on the high school, where she would already be waiting for him. She just hoped she wouldn't attract the attention of the Argents, who might have known of her existence. If the head of the family didn't burn her portrait under their eyelids they might not expect the Witch to be in town. Though knowing Gerard's acrimony, she wouldn't be surprised if they had a folder of wanted posters in every gun case, with a high reward not only for the next pack leaders, but also for her own red head.

The full moon troubled her, though, fortunately, it didn't affect her as drastically as it did the werewolves. The blood in her veins was almost boiling and thoughts were circling her head like a flock of angry hornets. She knew she wouldn't be able to fall asleep in this state, but she wanted to at least try, so she lay down in bed, wrapping herself in a blanket and summoning all her pets.

Scott rushed into his room, bouncing off the door. His head was throbbing with pain and the blood in his veins was almost boiling. With difficulty, he leaned against the dresser, peering into the mirror hanging above it. Two glowing yellow eyes, much brighter than his own, dark brown, looked back at him.

He clenched his eyelids and fell to his knees, trying to control his raging breath. Another spasm of pain rippled through his whole body, he felt like something was tearing his muscles from the inside out. He opened his eyes for a moment, only to see that his fingernails had turned into claws, which he drove into the carpet, trying to control the spasms. He heard someone knocking insistently on the door of his room, but the sound was more like hammer blows.

'Go away! ' he roared.

'Scott, it's me,' Stiles' voice rang out, filled with fear.

Scott rose with difficulty and opened the door only a few centimetres, not letting his friend in.

'Let me in, Scott I can help...'

'No!' he felt his eyes still didn't belong, so he stood hidden behind the door, pushing against it so the other teenager couldn't get inside and see him. ' Listen, you have to find Allison...'

'She's fine, I saw her get a ride. She's totally fine,' reassured his friend with a chuckle.

'Stiles, I think I know who it is.'

'Just let me in and we can talk.'

'It's Derek. Derek Hale's the werewolf. He's the one who bit me. He's the one who killed the girl in the woods'. An uneasy silence answered him.

'Scott... Derek's the one who drove Allison from the party!'

The door slammed, pushing Stiles out into the corridor. The teenager pushed against it with all the weight of his lean body, calling out to his friend, but was answered by silence. When he finally managed to open the door and burst into the room with a burst of momentum, his eyes were met by an open window with a curtain blowing. Scott was nowhere to be found. Stiles reached the window sill and looked out only to see his fully transformed friend running on four limbs towards the woods where the burnt Hale house was located. Without thinking much, he rushed downstairs, caught up with his blue jeep and drove off.

An agile human silhouette with gleaming golden eyes flitted through the forest. Every so often he would stop, listening and sniffing like a hounting dog. Eventually, he came to a tree where a familiar black jacket belonging to Allison Argent was hung.

'Where is she?' the question was asked, it wasn't loud, but the teenager knew perfectly well that the one watching him all the time would have no problem hearing the words.

'She's safe, from you,' came the calm reply, followed by the sound of quiet footsteps, just behind his back.

Scott hadn't had time to turn around when Derek reached him, knocking him over onto the forest litter. They tumbled over a few times, falling into one of the forest's tree trimmings. The older werewolf pressed the younger one against the nearest tree and looked closely at his face. The beard covering the teenager's face was far too abundant for his age, arranged in impressive sideburns. His upper lip was slightly raised, revealing sharpened, wolfish fangs. His eyebrows converged over his nose at a slightly shorter distance than a normal human, creating a few wrinkles on his back, typical for werewolves. The slightly asymmetrical jaw was thus more conspicuous than when the teenager was simply human. The eyes glowed a golden colour.

-'What did you do... ?' the teenager inquired, clearly concerned about the girl's fate.

'Quiet,' the man hissed, lifting his gaze and listening to the sounds of the forest. He drew in a deep breath, exasperated. 'It's too late. They're already here. Run!' he issued a command to the boy and disappeared as quickly as he had appeared.

Scott looked around confused, then jumped to his feet, but he didn't manage to get far, because something hit the nearest tree, lighting up the forest plunged into darkness, like an explosion of fireworks. Blinded, the boy staggered, blinking rapidly in an attempt to regain his sight. Before he could, he felt a searing pain in his arm. Something had pinned his arm to the trunk of the tree behind him. Instead, the discomfort helped him focus his gaze and his eyes caught sight of an arrow embedded in his forearm.

Three men emerged from behind the trees, one of them holding a loaded crossbow and the other two holding machine guns. Horror entered the teenager's heart; he could feel the anger and hatred of the men in the air as they approached. As the one holding the crossbow stepped out of the shadows, Scott thought for a moment he recognised him, but the moment passed when he spoke up.

'Take him.'

Neither of them had time to take a step, however, when there was a rustling sound and something pulled the first of them into the darkness, only for the second to suffer the same fate a moment later. The leader immediately let go of his crossbow, removing his pistol from its holster and looking carefully around, searching for danger.

When his back was turned to Scott, Derek reached the teenager, snapped an arrow, freeing him, and pulled the boy behind him. They both took off running without looking back, leaving behind the men who had attacked them.

They only stopped many miles away when the teenager began to run out of breath. He leaned heavily against the nearest tree, panting.

'Who where they?' he asked, and his voice trembled.

'Hunters,' replied his saviour, looking at him, appraisingly. 'The kinf who've been hunting us for centuries' he combed the forest with his eyes to make sure that no one had followed them, that they were already safe.

'Us?' exclaimed Scott in disbelief, angry at the man. 'You mean you. You did this to me!' he accused, picking himself up off the ground.

'Is it that bad, Scott?' - asked the older werewolf in disbelief, approaching the younger man, disturbing him with his confident attitude. 'That you can see better, hear more clearly, move faster than any human could ever hope? You've been given something most people would kill for' he spoke each word clearly, with passion, drilling into the teenager with eyes full of anger. 'The bite is a gift.'

'I don't want it!' the teenager's voice took on a weepy tone.

'You will. And you're goint to need me if you want to learn to control it' the man announced, somewhat more calmly. 'You and me, Scott' he put a hand on the boy's shoulder. ' We're brothers now.'

He straightened up, leaving the boy leaning against a tree and disappeared into the darkness of the night.

15. January 2011 - Saturday

It was nearing dawn when she felt the dog jump off the bed and leave the room. It was nothing out of the ordinary, but Charlotte, deprived of the reassuring presence of Isle and the cats who must have gone out for a night hunt earlier, sat up, switching on the lamp, then froze... Right in front of her, by the window, stood Derek Hale with a clouded face and anger in his eyes. He was dressed as he had been earlier that evening, in jeans and a plain T-shirt, over which he had a leather jacket thrown on. She wanted to get up, but before she could move, the man, in one movement, grabbed her by the arm, lifted her off the bed and pinned her against the wall.

'Are you one of them!' he growled, accusingly. He was convinced that the Hunters had been waiting for him in the forest that night because of her.

'W...Who?' she tried to remain calm, but her heart was pounding with alarming speed, almost coming up to her throat. Goosebumps appeared on her skin, a little from fear and a little from the contact of her sleep-warmed body with the cold night air.

'A hunter! You are one of them! Do you work with the Argents? You showed up in town just as they did!' he growled at her, his warm breath wrapped around her face, his eyes shining an eerie blue, the blue of a killer. It sparked anger in her. How dare he accuse her of collaborating with a group of murderers when he himself did not have a clear conscience, otherwise his eyes would have been a beautiful hue of gold, not the electrifying, incredible colour with which he looked at her. Fear turned to fury. She felt a rush of adrenaline and that Something she could never define, but it lingered somewhere deep inside her. The air was filled with the smell of forest, dampness and musk.

Her hands tightened on his forearm holding her against the wall, her nails dug into his skin and a growl came from her mouth. This startled her attacker enough that he took a step back and scrutinised her with his eyes, from head to toe. The glow was gone from his eyes, but something else appeared in them that she could not analyse while in such a state.

'I have never been and never will be a Hunter, even if they ask,' she growled, advancing a step forward, assaulting his space. 'And you, boy, you should think three times before you attack me!'

Her petite figure was not naturally made to inspire fear, but rather evoked a protective instinct. Now, however, in Derek's eyes she seemed like an angry goddess, her fiery hair blowing in an almost imperceptible breeze, forming an eerie halo around her head. Her eyes flashed dangerously and, despite the faint light of the night-light, their colour of fresh grass was clearly visible, contrasting vividly with her pale face. A dark blue strapless T-shirt revealed her arms, shoving a whole gallery of various fantastic images tattooed on her skin. A raven, a Celtic tree, Egyptian symbols, as well as a witch's hat perched on a fabulous flying broomstick and a long scar that wrapped around her forearm like a snake.

She could almost taste his anger on her tongue, which began to mix with the excitement caused by her appearance and the proximity of their bodies.

He pushed her again, pressing her against the wall. The full moon and the proximity of this woman stirred his blood, her scent filling his nostrils and suppressing the remnants of his sanity. Her angry gaze drilled into his soul, making him feel some strange connection between them, a need for closeness and an almost animal lust.

'I can easily prove that I stopped being a boy a long time ago...' he whispered in her ear, sending shivers down her neck.

'Is that so? ' she defiantly looked into his eyes, smiling ironically. She knew she was only one step away from losing control and she was just making it, but it didn't matter anymore.

Derek put his hands on her waist and lifted her with ease. Suddenly she found herself squeezed between him and the wall, his grey-green eyes just centimetres away from her face and she would have been able to swear they shone blue for a second. What he did was momentarily loosen the iron grip in which he held his control, fueled by the proximity of her body and presumably the attraction of the dark magic within her.

Almost against her will, she placed her hands on the man's shoulders and looked into his eyes, slowly lifting her legs and wrapping them around his narrow hips, drawing him closer. His hands rested against the wall on either side of her head. A low growl came from her throat and her eyes glowed a phosphorescent green for a split second.

He moved his hands to her thighs, his fingers tightening on her thighs, his lips invading hers, his body pressing her harder into the wall so that she could feel every muscle of his chest pressed against her own.

He kissed her greedily, taking, giving nothing in return, but she didn't mind because she was doing the same. She sank her nails into his arms, feeling them pierce the skin. His fingers clamped down on her legs even tighter.

She arched her back, pushing them both away from the wall with almost inhuman strength. She clenched her legs tighter around him to keep herself in the air as he pulled off his leather jacket, and then his hands began to rip open the silk shirt she was wearing. He hesitated for a moment, trying to regain control. Most probably it was the lamp that fell from the nightstand and went out that brought him back to his senses, but Charlotte wasn't going to let that happen. She broke the kiss, grabbed the front of his T-shirt and the sound of the material cracking spread across the room. It had been a long time since she had felt a surge of such power. He received the gesture as she had hoped, and after a moment her shirt was on the floor and they were both pressed back against the wall.

One of his hands wandered to her face, brushing aside her hair, which now seemed blood red, and he dipped his nose into her skin at the junction of her shoulder and neck. He inhaled deeply the scent of coffee, citrus, woods and musk, the last two much stronger than earlier that day. He kissed her, sucking on her skin hard enough to leave a mark. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the cold wall, contrasting with the heat radiating from Derek, who was now leaving a trail of kisses along her collarbone. His stubble gently teased her skin.

She moved her nails down his back, then reached for the belt in his trousers. His lips found hers again, kissing feverishly. His hands moved over her breasts, causing a moan to rip from her lips. After a moment, the sound of pleasure turned into a growl of protest as his hands moved to her waist again to put her back on the ground. However, it wasn't seconds before he was rid of the rest of his clothes and pressing her against the wall again. She was able to wrap her thighs around him again, feeling with satisfaction how hot his skin felt against her own.

For a moment she had the feeling that he was going to take her right there and now, against the wall, which she was not opposed to in any way, but he started to pull back. His breath swept over her breasts and his lips pressed a kiss between them. She moaned quietly, squeezing her legs tighter, trying to somehow deal with the frustration that was growing more and more inside her.

He sat down on the bed and she repositioned herself so that she was now sitting on his thighs, resting her knees on the mattress. She pushed him so that his back hit the sheets and she leaned over him, supporting herself with her hands on either side of his head. Their eyes glowed with unnatural colours as he gripped her hips in his hands.

He groaned throatily, sinking into her heat, and she sank her teeth into his shoulder. His fingers tightened almost painfully on her arse. His lips found her neck and his teeth clamped down on her skin. The wave of pleasure was like a tsunami.

She didn't notice when his grip on her body changed until she realised that her back had sunk into the soft mattress and it was now him leaning over her. She froze for a moment, startled. He quickened his rhythm and covered her mouth with his, taming the moans coming out of it.

She entwined her legs behind him, which caused a growl in his throat, from which his chest also vibrated. Her fingers wandered into his hair, but he stopped her by grabbing his wrists and lifting them above her head.

Tension and some primal instinct grew in them both as the pace of their feverish movements increased, until they both found fulfilment.

In the darkness that surrounded them, all they could hear was the rush of their blood and the rumble of their slowly calming hearts.