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hey-i-wrote-a-story · 7 years

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PROLOGUE

“Okay, so are we going to do this or what?” The boyish-faced teen seated on the ground with the rest of his friends was without question the resident smartass. He could always be counted on for a snappy comeback, an obscure cultural reference, or inappropriately-timed humor in the face of chaos. He’d also become known for his natural state of nervousness, which at times made it seem that he was perpetually ready to hide under the nearest rock. Despite that, he still cared about everyone else before himself and had a delightfully quirky expression for every adorable fleck on his otherwise blemish-free face.

“This from the guy who always jumps up and down trying to stop us from getting involved in this kind of undertaking.” The dark-haired lad was the smartass’s best friend. He sat nearby, eyebrow raised, and a you’re-not-fooling-anyone stare shot directly at the jokester. He wasn’t good at sarcasm or guile. He was just too darn sincere. He had a natural air of honesty about him, and a face that let you know instantly that he could be trusted; even with your life. He carried himself like a champion, but was completely oblivious of the fact. If you called him a hero, he’d laugh it off, saying that anything he ever did to help someone else was nothing more than the right thing to do, and that you would have done the same. This extraordinary young man who only four years ago had been a weak outcast would now run without pause into a burning building to save the life of his worst enemy. And no, not everyone would do that.

“May I remind you two that we’re not here to do the debate thing again? It’s been covered, ad nauseum. We’re here to get this done. So shall we?” The beautiful girl with auburn hair and the sultry voice who sat one place over from the speckle-faced smartass was always articulate, even in her jibes. She was by far the smartest of the group, often underestimated by adults and especially by boys, who assumed that she was just another preening pretty girl. That assumption was shot down as soon as she spoke. Her striking eyes bore more insight than eyeliner, and her lovely lips were used more for wisdom than lip gloss. It was a capital mistake to assume that because this girl was beautiful that she was also shallow. Few people understood just how deep her still waters ran. Her usual tone was gentle and telling, but this was not a girl whom you wanted to hear raise her voice.

“We start now.” The voice was soft but authoritative. At its sound, everyone else fell silent. The other three turned to face the raven-haired girl who sat at the head of the circle. She had an exotic quality about her that demanded attention. At first glance, she seemed quiet, almost demure, but it was readily apparent that she had a strong presence about her. She was not only bright but clever. This was a fine quality when you were her friend, but if you opposed her, she could turn the tables on you not only before you could react, but before you knew what was happening. Her familial heritage was markedly different from the others in the group, as shown not only in her stunning features but by the grace with which she carried them. Her ancestry was rooted in the supernatural, as she had only recently learned. Her ability to adapt to and apply her powers far overshadowed her inexperience. “As much as I relish these conversations of ours, I assume we’re ready to begin.” Her eyes looked toward the dark-haired boy, who smiled broadly. The chemistry between them was palpable.

“More than ready”, he beamed. He had no idea he was gazing at his dream girl with a dopey grin on his face. It now came automatically whenever he was in close proximity to her. Everyone had warned them that they were two distinct types who should never get together, as these types were always proven wholly incompatible. And yet, here they were.

“Oh, and here we go with the flirting”, the other girl noted, rolling her eyes. She looked to their group’s comedian. “Was flirting one of the ingredients we needed, do you remember?”

“Not that I can recall”, he answered, making a sincere pouty face, as if he were seriously considering it. “I mean, you and I can try it a bit, if you want. Just to see if that helps anything along. Might be fun.”

“All right, point taken”, the raven-haired girl said quickly. “Enough stalling. We all know why we’re here and we’ve all gone over this many times. This is our last chance to back out. If anyone has even the slightest doubts about this, now’s the time.” Each of the four participants looked at one another. Their expressions held nothing but determination and resolve. Ready or not, they were willing. “Okay, then. Make sure you’re seated in the correct position.”

“Alright!”, the dark-haired lad said eagerly, rubbing his palms on his knees. “Let’s get this show on the road!”

“Maybe a little less enthusiasm, hon”, their leader said.

“Oh. Sorry. My bad.”

“You’re always overexcited”, his best buddy chided.

“You’re one to talk, Captain Anxious.”

“Psst!”, the auburn-haired girl hissed. “Let’s try to be gown-ups now. Or at least pretend. Checklist?”

The exotic young lady running the show began. “Everything’s placed where it should be?” She looked to the smart alec, whose face was now serious.

“Yes. Checked and triple-checked. Nothing is off by as much as a millimeter. I promise.”

She looked to her boyfriend. “And you dug out the pattern circle to all my specifications? Without using any kinds of sticks, or hoes, or rakes?”

The boy, still smiling, held up both his hands, showing filthy fingers, his nails saturated with soil and dirt. “Trust me. I used exactly what I was supposed to use.”

She nodded her approval, doing her best to hide her own smile, succeeding only a little. Then to their last member of the circle. “And you know what we need from you. I don’t need to remind you that yours may be the most important part of this entire undertaking.”

Her friend offered a smirk back. “And yet here you are doing it anyway”, she snarked. But in a heartbeat, she was all business. “If I get any sign of death, so much as a hint--no matter how faint, I sound the alarm and we pull the plug. Immediately.”

Their leader posed a question that sound more like a statement. “Agreed?”

Everyone responded in turn.

“Agreed.”

There was no more preamble, no more preparation, no more pep talk. This was it and they were going to get it done. She lay the oversized book down on the ground, and opened it to the required page. The old binding creaked as she did so, tiny flakes from its spine peeling away silently and floating to the ground to be lost among the hard soil and scattered bits of gravel. She adjusted the clamps that were attached to the book’s binding, bending them over the margins of the opened pages and locking them into place with a harsh click. Whoever had put this volume together knew that when it was put to use, things could get bumpy, and the last thing you wanted to happen in those instances was to lose your page. Each clamp was easily released with the touch of a small button at its base, but until they were triggered, the pages were held firmly in place.

She traced her fingers along the length of the pages, from top to bottom, and the

archaic words inscribed there glowed briefly, a brilliant gold, as she reviewed what she was meant to say. The recitation was tricky, and there would be no chance to go back and rephrase or revise should there be a slip-up. She let out a low, deep breath and centered herself internally. It was now or never.

She brushed her long hair aside and draped it over her ear. She wanted nothing to block her view of the text. Slowly, she began to read. The text was in English. That was the odd thing. There was no ancient dialect or forgotten words that hadn’t been spoken in a millennia. The translation from its original language—whatever that may have been—had been exact. It was of vital importance that whomever recited these words knew exactly what they were saying. And she did. They all did. Her recitation was flawless, as a matter of fact. The other three friends listened in rapt attention as she read aloud, taking in all that was being said, partly disbelieving that they were actually doing this, partly exhilarated that it was finally happening. The full incantation was not long. It took less than two minutes to read through it all. The only thing left was the name. She had been practicing the name. That was the most important part of the ritual. She paused only a moment after the full reading to take a breath, and then she said the name. She pronounced it clearly, and projected it strongly enough that everyone could hear it. It was emphasized not as a pronouncement or declaration; it was an invitation. Once it had been said, at long last finally said and done, she sat back and sighed.

Then nothing.

Nothing happened at all.

Seconds passed and became minutes. The long moments dragged on until the resident smartass could no longer contain himself.

“Maybe we were supposed to hold hands”, he said.

The other three looked at him from their positions across the twenty-foot wide circle with matched expressions of disdain. The beautiful girl with the auburn hair opened her mouth to reply with an equally smart remark. She never got the chance. The large circle began to emit a soft glow. It was warm, and getting warmer, becoming hot. The ground took on the orange incandescence of a burning ember. Everyone held their breath. Until the dark-haired boy noticed something about the intense glow.

“Isn’t it supposed to be blue?”

The sudden light was blinding. Brilliant, harsh light exploded from the circle and burst all around. It was accompanied by a raging wind and a force that was both physical and psychic. They felt the force in their minds as much as on their bodies, and the pressure against their bodies was considerable. This was not how it was supposed to go. The ground shook and the towering gray trees in the surrounding glen shook violently. The hard ground fractured beneath one of the teenagers with a resonant crack. The splintered crevice was not wide enough for him to fall in; it was no more than an inch or two across, if that. But it frightened him and caused him to fall backwards and scramble to get away from it.

“Keep your positions!”, the girl with the book shouted in warning. “Don’t break the circle!” Her long black hair whipped about her head as the wind began to pick up small rocks and bits of gravel along with the dust it was already raising.

Another crack shot out from the edge of the circle, this time forming beside the dark-haired boy, who lurched out of the way as the crack branched out underneath him. “We may not have a choice!”, he shouted back.

The wind swirled like a miniature tornado, now carrying dead leaves, yellowed grass, and twigs and branches in its wake. It was growing stronger by the second. Why the four kids had not been hurled far and wide was beyond them. But they understood all too well that something had gone horribly wrong.

“This is not what was supposed to happen!”, the auburn-haired girl said, raising her voice to be heard over the howling wind. Her jacket was now flapping around her like a flag in a gale.

“Ya think?!!”, the smartass hollered back.

A second burst of force radiated from the circle, this time knocking all four teens outward with violent report. The smart-mouthed boy was sent hurtling backward a good fifteen feet off the ground, his curly red hair temporarily lost amid a swirl of dead leaves that whipped around his head. He hit the ground with a horrifying impact and his body went limp.

“Freddie!”, his best friend called to him. He began to rush towards his fallen friend from the far point where he himself had been thrown, and landed less violently amid a patch of tall, dead grass. He was pushing against a driving wind that did not want him to move. Another flash of light shot up from the circle, this time accompanied by small lances of lightning. One bolt shot directly in front of the dark-haired boy, temporarily blinding him, and washing out his beautiful olive skin to stark white. A second bolt hit its mark and sent the Indian boy flying backwards, his shirt smoking. His girlfriend cried out to him.

“Aadesh! Oh my God, Aadesh!!” Her long hair now whipping about her like angry lashes, she tried desperately to climb back up the small incline that she’d been thrown down, working to reach the love of her life. But there was somewhere else she needed to be. And her friend knew it.

The remaining member of the quartet, the girl with the auburn hair, was pulling herself from a small pile of dead branches and thorny shrubbery when she saw where her friend was trying to go. “No! Kaitlyn! The book—get to the book!!”

“But Aadesh!”, she called back, her voice less than a whisper under the howling wind. “Erin, he could be hurt, or worse!”

Erin looked back, her expression hard as she shouted back, “We’re all going to be a lot worse if we don’t stop this! Reverse the spell! Kaitlyn, do it NOW!”

Seeing that her friend was right, Kaitlyn changed course and moved with all her strength toward the book. The book still lay on the ground exactly where it had been since the beginning of the ceremony. It had not moved. How had it not moved?! With great effort, the Native American girl clawed her way back to the book until she gripped its cover. She silently thanked God for those clamps. Her page was still held, and the reversal for the summoning spell was directly beneath the initial verses they had invoked. No sooner had she spoken the first word of the counter-spell than the clamps were ripped from their moorings and shot like bullets across the clearing to be caught up in the swirling wind and rocketed to who knows where.

The pages of the book flapped crazily back and forth. It was impossible to tell where the counter-spell was now. It was not something Kaitlyn needed to worry about for long. The pages began to rip and tear as they whipped about, and tore from the binding to fly madly around the air above, like a swarm of angry bees. As the pages, or the shredded yellowed paper that remained of them, shot this way and that, each page burst into flames and evaporated like flash paper, leaving only bits of ash to be swept up in the maelstrom.

“That can’t be good!” came the familiar cry of the group’s freckle-faced upstart. Kaitlyn looked across the span of the circle to see Freddie, his red curls waving around his head like a fright wig. He was unsteady on his feet with a gash in his forehead that was bleeding slightly. His shirt was missing a sleeve, but beyond that he seemed relatively unharmed.

“Break the pattern!”, she called to him. “We’ve got to stop this!”

Freddie was sufficiently frightened that he made no comical remark. Instead he threw himself down upon the pattern that had been so carefully dug in the soil and thrust his hands into it, waving his arms to smother its curves and grooves. He shouted in pain. It was like smashing his hands against concrete. The soft soil was soft no longer. Freddie grabbed hold of one of the ridges of the pattern with aching fingers and pulled for all he was worth. Nothing doing.

“Move the objects!”, Kaitlyn cried. By this time, Aadesh had recovered enough to have made his way back to the circle, though his clothes were still smoldering. He lunged forward and clutched at one of the rocks that had been set so precisely upon the ground. It wouldn’t budge.

“It’s no use!”, he shouted. “I think it’s fused to the ground!”

“They all are!”, hollered back Freddie, who was pulling with all his might against a bent twig no thicker than a quarter inch across. If not for the fear that now permeated the group, it would have looked funny.

The tall dead trees that loomed overhead creaked and groaned as they moved slowly inward toward the circle. Their old gray trunks moaning in complaint as they arced downward, their awning of leafless branches reaching out menacingly like bony fingers. One of the smaller trees ripped up from the ground, roots and all, and hung in the air for an achingly long second. As if decided where it would go, it then hurtled down towards Freddie, who could only throw an ineffectual arm over his face in an effort to protect himself. Well before it reached him, the tree split in two like a pencil, sending a rain of splinters and shards of bark down onto the young redhead. The two pieces of the trunk then flew in opposite directions; one flying beyond the clearing out into the sea of dead grass that had once been a field, the other out towards an old dirt road by a disused farm they’d all done their best to avoid. The wind was loud enough now that no one could hear the impact as the broken tree struck the ground in two places.

The foursome of fast friends looked at one another across the circle, which was now glowing white hot. They could feel their skin burn as under a desert sun and their hearts sank. This was it. This was where they were going to die. And the worst part of it was that they had no clue what had gone wrong.

Just like that, it was quiet again.

The wind stopped as if someone had flicked a switch. All the airborne debris fell to the ground like so much confetti to litter the area around them. Leaves, sticks, dust, and gravel, began to settle. The silence was deafening. As the last of the scattered detritus came to rest on the ground, the teens saw that absolutely nothing had landed upon the circle itself. The pattern remained undisturbed. For several seconds, no one spoke. While moments ago they were unable to hear anything for the howl of the unholy wind, they now could make out each other’s terrified breathing.

“Is it…is it over?”. Aadesh asked.

Kaitlyn and Erin looked around, neither prepared to say one way or the other.

Freddie felt his heart beating practically out of his chest. He had to release some of the adrenaline, and he usually did that by way of his mouth. “What the hell was that?!!”, he gasped.

Kaitlyn let out a breath of relief mixed with exasperation as she responded, “Well, I think tha—“

The second burst of light was nearly as bright as the first. Everyone jumped back and instinctively hunched low, arms flung over their faces. Nothing came flying outward. But something came flying up. Something big.

The glowing orange object burst up from the circular pattern carved into the earth like a rocket from its silo, burning and crackling like a giant firework. And like a firework, it sped high into the sky, to perhaps a few hundred feet, where it stopped suddenly and exploded outward in glaring color.

Fire, lightning, smoke, and sparks flew out from the flying thing, but the object itself did not disperse. It simply unfolded its wings. The four teenagers looked up in horror as the thing…this creature, this monster, this…whatever it was, stretched wide its huge, batlike wings to a span of more than 25 feet. With a few harsh flaps that disturbed the debris on the ground and kicked up dust, obscuring the teens’ vision, it hovered there, taking in its surroundings. Then it looked down.

Its eyes, like two glowing orange coals, stared at the quartet of terrified children and sparked electricity that lanced from one socket to the other. Slowly, it allowed its sizable mouth to fall open. It exhaled hot breath that washed over the foursome like heat emanating from an open furnace. Its arms extended, taut, leathery, and muscular, its talons digging at the empty air as it flexed its claws. That strange orange light danced about inside its semi-translucent skin, pulsing brightly here, fading dimly there. Each time that energy moved, sparks of electricity shot across its body, racing down limbs and across its torso, tracing the length of the wings to then shoot off to strike the earth with a sharp crackle or dissipate in the open air. It let out another hot breath as it closed its mouth, raising the temperature of the chill night into that of a sauna.

The creature turned sharply, looking down at the carved circle that had served as its portal into our world. Without warning, it struck violently at the circle with its tail (good God Almighty, it had a tail, too). The reptilian tail, pointed sharp like a kanima’s but broad and thick, resembling a dinosaur’s, jabbed at the ground once, twice, three times. The ground shook, and the four teens were knocked off their feet. Sticks, gravel, and chunks of earth flew into the air and a cloud of dust billowed up and outward to cover the clearing in a brownish-gray mist. When the dust settled, the creature looked down at the circle to find that its pattern was undisturbed. The thrashing monstrous tail had no more effect on the arcane pattern than did Freddie’s desperate fingers.

The monster reared its head back and let out a deafening shriek which split the night and hurt the teenager’s ears. As they clamped their hands to either side of their heads, the creature took to the sky faster than before, both it and its wailing cry faded out of sight in less than two heartbeats’ time.

This was by no means what they had wanted.

After a long while, the teens found the nerve to clamber out from the various spots where they had taken cover; behind fallen trees, behind a large rock, or down a weed-strewn slope. As might be expected, Freddie spoke first.

“What the actual crap was that thing?!!”

Aadesh ran his hand through his hair, shaking loose small twigs, leaves, and dirt. “That’s not the one we were looking for, that’s for sure.”

Erin looked to her friend who had done the incantation. “Kaitlyn, what happened? How could this have--? I did everything right! I know I did!” Erin saw the two boys look at her sternly. Don’t go there. Erin was quick to amend, “We all did! What. Happened.”

Kaitlyn was still gasping for breath. She was working very hard to collect herself and only partially succeeding. “I…I have no idea. This couldn’t have…shouldn’t have happened. It shouldn’t!”

“I think we’re all in agreement on that”, Freddie commented. Aadesh shot him a look and made a quick gesture with his hand to indicate Freddie needed to stop talking. Now was not the time for jokes.

Erin approached Kaitlyn, her long coat covered in dust and dirt that left a trail behind her. She took her friend by the shoulders, gently. “Think for second. Did you do anything wron—is there anything that we did wrong, or forgot to include in the ritual? Anything at all?”

Kaitlyn shook her head. “I don’t think so, no. Not after all the research, the planning…we practiced for weeks, for God’s sake! We had this down! There is no way this should have happened!!”

Aadesh spoke up. “It sounded perfect to me too, Erin. The recitation, the emphasis in all the right places, the intimation. It was flawless.” Freddie nodded his agreement. He was keeping his mouth shut, but he wanted it known that he’d also heard no mistakes in the summoning ritual.

Erin let go of her friend and said quietly, “Me neither. It was all done correctly. It should have worked. We did it all exactly right.” She paused to let out a low breath. “That’s what scares me.”

“What do we do now?”, Kaitlyn asked. Her voice was strained. She was used to being the young woman in charge. She did not like feeling that things were out of her control.

Erin turned to face the group. ��We resort to Plan B.”

Aadesh was taken aback. “Do we have a Plan B?”

Erin’s expression grew hard. “We’d damn well better get one. Like right now.”

END PROLOGUE

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hey-i-wrote-a-story · 7 years

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hey-i-wrote-a-story · 7 years

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Chapter 1 The Girl On the Road

The brilliant and beautiful young man who refused to believe that he was either brilliant or beautiful drove tensely down the highway. He was one of the more endearing teenage residents of the occasionally sleepy and oftimes chaotic town he called home. He was an ardent fan of sports yet bore no resemblance to a jock, was an inexhaustible source of sarcastic quips and ill-timed humor, and was prone to bursts of enthusiasm and bouts of anxiety. What was perhaps the most evident flaw in his otherwise entertaining character was that he sometimes forgot just how many people loved him. The reason for his lapses in memory were due to the fact that he spent so much of his time worrying about all the people whom he loved. The ever-growing list included his best friend, his dad, his girlfriend, his best friend’s girlfriend, the girl he used to have a crush on and was now friends with, his best friend’s mom, and even, as reluctant as he was to admit it, the snarky kid his best friend was mentoring. It was a challenge for even the most efficient multitasker to ‘love the love that was being loved all over him’ when his mind was so intensely focused on worry.

He and his friends whom he was so worried about had just come back from the single least relaxing trip south of the border in history. It had all turned out okay in the end; it often did. His friends handled themselves remarkably well (which at this point was no longer much of a surprise). The creepy jerk he had been warning everybody about had shown his true colors (also not a surprise). His best friend had been a nothing less than a damn superhero, and their little runt tagalong had actually been pretty darn impressive.

He had reached that inevitable part of the whole thing where he had to tell himself that it was okay to relax. The danger had passed, all that needed to be dealt with had been, and nothing terrible loomed on the horizon. He’d been working on deep breathing exercises and quiet recitations like “It’s okay now” and “The worst is over, you’re safe”. Sometimes they worked, sometimes they didn’t. He knew full well that there were times when he didn’t have to keep worrying, but darn it, he was so good at it. Just a few years ago, it was a struggle for him to take much of anything seriously. Nowadays it was the reverse.

He had considered this state of mind he had developed, being in a constant state of preparedness for something terrible to happen—then realizing that when it didn’t, that that was okay too. He had considered the possibility that with all he’d had to deal with over the past few years, all he had seen and had to do, that he could well have PTSD. It made sense, so much so that he thought about looking it up to investigate it further, but decided against it as that would just give him one more thing to worry about.

He turned on the radio and gently tapped the steering wheel as he drove, pretending to enjoy the music. In truth, he was oblivious to what was playing because he was so focused on reviewing the current state of things. Everything was alright. Deep breath in. Everyone was okay. Deep breath out. His best friend was fine. He was more than fine; he was awesome. His best friend’s girlfriend was good, and his own girlfriend was amazing. His dad was safe, the bad guy was locked away, and the little runt had performed beyond all expectations. “It’s okay now”, he muttered quietly to himself. “Everything is okay. We’re all okay. Unclench. Breathe easy. Relax.”

He could feel it beginning to work. He allowed the satisfaction of a job well done and trouble overcome to seep into his thoughts. We did pretty good, didn’t we? Damn right we did. Other than the slight redness on his wrist from when his pop handcuffed him to his desk, they’d come out really well. He lowered the volume on the radio and rolled down the window. It was a beautiful morning. He should enjoy it. The breeze was steady and warm. The trees were thick with green leaves. Sunlight had begun to burn through the gray clouds that so often hung overhead. The crazy girl waving her arms in the middle of the road was—wait, what?

He yelled as he slammed on the breaks. “AAUUGGHH! Oh my GODDDDD--!”

The jeep fishtailed, the tires let out a terrible squeal, and he stopped within ten feet of the girl. She raced to the jeep, looking winded, her face flushed, as if she’d been running for some time. She was pretty. Short auburn hair, wearing a heavy black long coat with an abundance of pockets and zippers. He had never seen her before.

“You’ve gotta help me”, she gasped.

“What’s wrong? What happened to you?” He pushed open the door.

“It’s after me”, she said, breathing hard, grabbing hold of the cab.

“What is? What’s after you?”

She shook her head. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“You’d be surprised what I believe”, he said, reaching over and flipping the passenger seat forward. “Get in.”

She dove into the back seat, thanking him repeatedly.

“Stay low”, he said. His voice was crisp, authoritative; spoken like a man in his element. He stepped on the gas and flipped off the music while quickly switching on the police radio. If there was anything unusual going on tonight, there’d most likely be chatter about it. Keeping his eyes on the road, now focused and sharp, scanning for anything that might jump out at them, he asked, “Is there somebody you can call?”

The girl hunched down in the back seat answered, “Already working on it. I haven’t had the chance to slow down long enough to call anybody. Not there’s much of a signal out here.”

“That can happen in this part of town”, he said, noting the thick forest of towering trees all around them. “Keep trying.”

“I didn’t know where to go, how I was going to get away”, she panted. “If you hadn’t come along—“

“Try to steady your breathing. You’re okay for now. I know someplace I can take you.”

“Thank-you. I can’t even tell you—“

“Just keep trying to make your call. And keep your head down. Whatever’s out there, we don’t want it to see you.”

“You didn’t even ask me what I saw, what it was that—“

“We can go through the full descriptions later. For now, see if you can’t pull yourself together a little.”

“Thank-you.”

“Yeah, I got that the first couple dozen times. You’re welcome.”

She stabbed her thumbs on her phone with practiced skill and sent out her text. She had full service, as she’d had all night. Her message wasn’t long. It didn’t have to be.

Contact made. I’m in.

The reply came back almost immediately.

Which one?

She glanced up over the seat. Slightly spiky hair, his slender hands gripping the wheel, the slight movement of his head indicating that his eyes darted from road to woods with the attentiveness of a trained observer.

THE DETECTIVE.

She put her phone away and spoke. “I’m Erin, by the way.”

He didn’t look back as he answered. “Stiles.”

Quietly, she whispered to herself. “Trust me, I know.”

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hey-i-wrote-a-story · 7 years

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Chapter 2 Working Out

Liam pushed as hard as he could against the barbell, which was a considerable amount of pressure to apply. The smallest, as well as the newest, of Scott McCall’s pack, the temperamental lad with the spiky short hair had determined to improve upon himself, and most importantly, to do so with his friend and mentor watching. He had never had someone to look up to the way he looked up to Scott, the True Alpha werewolf whose bite had transformed Liam’s physical body as well as his life. What at first Liam thought was the worst thing that had ever happened to him—and that was a hell of a list to top—turned out to be of greater benefit than he ever could have imagined.

By becoming a werewolf himself, Liam’s strength, speed, senses, and reflexes which were already considerable for the young athlete were enhanced to supernatural proportions. His powers also seemed to growing exponentially by the day. At least it seemed so to Liam. Each day brought new discoveries about his abilities, some new aspect of his powers that he had neither encountered nor considered before. He liked it. He liked it a lot. Liam liked feeling better about himself, knowing that he was finding the strength to control his emotions even as he learned to control his powers. He liked being able to look his parents in the eye and see pride looking back for once. He liked being a better person, even if he technically wasn’t a “person” in the normal sense anymore. He wasn’t entirely sure about that part. But one thing Liam was sure of, he was going to lift this damn stinking barbell.

Liam let out a growl as he lifted the weight from its moorings. “Easy, there!”, he was told. “This is just a workout. You don’t have to kill yourself.”

Liam looked up at the ever-patient face of his mentor, Scott McCall, who was spotting his younger charge during his workout. “I’m not. I mean, I can lift this. I know I can. Here, let me try again.”

“Liam. Stop.”

“Okay, I can take a break for a minute and then try again. You wanna switch out, or--?”

“Stop trying to impress me.”

Liam blinked. He had been caught completely flat-footed. Trying to impress Scott was exactly what he’d been doing, but he hadn’t expected Scott to pick up on it. At least, not so quickly.

“I’m not trying to impress you.”

“You are, Liam. And you really don’t need to. I promise you.”

“I just want to show you that I can push myself. That I can be better.”

“Liam, you’ve done that. You’ve more than done that. I owe you my life. If it weren’t for you, I’d still be tromping around as a mindless killing machine with a bear skull over my head. You got through to me when no one else could. You helped me break free. I’d say that’s pretty impressive.”

Liam felt a flush of pride as well as surprise over the high esteem in which Scott obviously held him. “I just want to do right by you”, he said. “You’re the only one who’s ever really given me a chance, who’s believed in me. You, Stiles, and the others. I want to live up to that.”

Scott gave his beta a pat on the shoulder. “You do that every day already. So how about you worry a lot less about that and just enjoy the workout?” Scott removed some of the weight from the barbell and walked back around the bench to spotter’s position. “Want to go again?”

Liam smiled as he adjusted himself on the bench and reached up to take the bar. “Yes I do.”

For the new few moments, they continued their workout in silence; Liam lifting, Scott spotting. After a while, feeling their mentor and mentee moment had passed, Scott spoke again. “So how often do you and Mason work out together?”

“Around three, maybe four times a week”, Liam said. “We’ve been doing it for a while now. It’s kind of become our thing. Me and him spending time together. I forget how long we’ve been doing it. But it’s kind of nice. You know, having that one thing that you do with just you and your best friend.”

“I know the feeling”, Scott grinned. “Watch yourself—your left arm is a bit lower than your right. Keep the bar even.”

“Got it. Thanks.”

“There you go. That’s better.” Without missing a beat, Scott shifted from spotter back to friend, as he asked, “How long is Mason going to be out of town?”

“I think like the next four days or so. He’s doing a family thing with his parents.”

“You going to talk to him when he gets back?”

“Well, yeah. But he and his parents do this every so often. They visit some relatives, do some touristy stuff in some of the smaller towns with all the little shops, maybe spend some time at the shore. It varies a bit, but it’s still pretty much the same every time. It’s not like we need to go into depth discussing it.” Liam focused on his lifting. He watched his balance, which was improving. Scott’s tips were helping. Plus, even without trying to show off, the weight he was able to take on was increasing geometrically by the week. It was good to have a little gym time with his Alpha, Liam thought. He didn’t have to hold back on how much he could lift so he didn’t let on to his best friend that he had supernatural powers.

“I meant are you going to talk to him about you being a werewolf?”, Scott said.

Liam lost his grip on the barbell. His left arm gave way and the bar started to tumble down onto his chest rapidly. “Whulp!” Liam gripped the bar tightly, but he’d lost his balance completely, and he knew it. He braced himself for the impact on his chest. He knew he’d heal within moments, but he also knew it was going to hurt like hell.

The barbell never hit him. Scott’s arm had shot out, grabbing the barbell and halting its fall. With one hand, Scott lifted the considerable weight and locked it into a ratcheted mooring well above the bench. Scott tried to hide his sigh. It was not the first time he’d had to do this. “I take it from that response that that’s a no.”

Liam exhaled heavily, then sat up and turned to face Scott, looking sheepish. “I’m going to. Really, I am. It’s just…I’m waiting for the right time.”

“So is that going to be the next lacrosse meet? The next school formal? Or are you waiting until Christmas?”

Liam stared at the floor. “I know, I need to tell him. It’s just…” And he paused.

“You’re scared”, Scott said, voicing Liam’s thought for him.

Liam looked back, momentarily thrown by the fact that Scott could read him so easily. But then, Scott had already been through all this, so why wouldn’t he? Liam nodded. “Yeah. Mason’s my best friend. I’d do anything for him.”

“And I bet he’d say the same about you. He stuck with you during your rage period when you trashed your coach’s car, didn’t he?”

“True. But how will he react when he finds out I’m a mon—“ Liam caught himself. Scott raised an eyebrow. That you’re a what? “—a werewolf.”

“Well, I can’t speak for Mason”, Scott admitted. “But if he’s anything like my best friend, he’ll be more excited than scared. For him it could well be like it is Christmas.”

“You think so?”

Scott smiled. “There’s only one way to find out.”

Scott walked to another part of the workout room to set up the machine for leg lifts. Liam felt better. He usually did when he was with Scott. Liam turned around and looked at the weight he had set up to bench press. Maybe he could do it after all. Or maybe he could build up to it. Not to impress his mentor, but to test his strength, to better himself. Liam removed some of the weight and once again positioned himself under the bar. He reached up, took hold of the barbell, and breathed deeply.

Two hands curled themselves under the bar on either side of Liam’s and held loosely. “I think you’re going to want a spot for this one.”

Liam laughed a little. “No, yeah, I know. Seriously, I was just about to call you over here. I just want to try again.”

“Go for it. No one’s stopping you.”

Liam realized the voice coming from the person behind him was not Scott’s. He sat up quickly and slid to the end of the bench, feet flat on the floor, arms bent, with fingers poised and ready if he needed to pop his claws. “Who’re you?”

Before him stood a handsome young Indian boy of about Scott’s height. Dark hair, olive skin, kind eyes. And from the look of how he gripped the barbell, strong hands. He smiled easily at Liam. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. It just looked like you could use a spot. The gym I usually go to is pretty small, everyone knows everybody else. It’s just a matter of course to offer a spot to whoever seems to need it. I should have asked first.”

Liam’s breathing slowed and he relaxed his hands. He’s just a kid. It’s cool.

“Hey. I didn’t see you come in”, Scott said, approaching the bench.

“Me either”, Liam agreed.

“Sorry”, the new boy said, still smiling. “You just looked like you needed a spotter. I didn’t realize you already had one.”

“No, it’s okay”, Scott assured him. “Never one to turn down a little help.”

They stared at one another in silence for another few moments when the newcomer realized they were waiting on an introduction. “Oh! I’m Aadesh.” He offered his hand to Scott, who shook it warmly.

“Scott.” He pointed to his charge, adding, “This is Liam.”

Aadesh reached over and shook Liam’s hand. “Pleasure.”

“You don’t go here, do you?”, Liam asked, as he tried to place Aadesh and found he couldn’t.

“I don’t, no. But my cousin does. She lent me the student pass card so I could come here to get in a workout. I hope that’s not a problem.”

“Who’s your cousin?”, Scott asked.

“She’s still a sophomore.”

Scott scanned his memory of the student body and arrived at the best possibility. “Would that be Navya?”

“Do you know her?”, Aadesh said, looking happily surprised.

“Not really. I’ve seen her around. Know her in passing.”

Aadesh nodded his approval. “So is it okay if I work out here?”

Scott shrugged and Liam nodded. “I don’t see why not”, Scott said.

Liam said, “I’ll take that spot if you’re still offering.”

“Yes, absolutely. Just let me get rid of my jacket.”

Liam slid back up the bench into position to continue his presses as Aadesh walked to the corner of the room to hang up his jacket on a wall hook. As he slipped it off, he pulled his phone from his pocket. With one thumb, he texted fast.

I’ve made contact.

The reply took only a moment.

Who’d you get?

Aadesh’s thumb stabbed rapidly on his touch screen. This time there was a second’s pause before the reply. Presumably, the recipient was caught off guard by the message and had to read it again for it to register.

Really?!!

In his excitement, Aadesh had already typed in his response and only needed to press send.

Yes. 2 at once!

“Everything okay over there?”, Liam asked.

Aadesh turned, holding up his phone. “Just got a text. Want to turn this off before I begin my workout. Don’t want to be distracted.”

“That’s cool. So you ready?”

Aadesh smiled wide with enthusiasm. “More than ready. Let’s do this.”

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hey-i-wrote-a-story · 7 years

Text

Chapter 3 Out Shopping

“What are we looking for, exactly?”, Kira asked.

“We’ll know when we see it”, Lydia assured her.

Lydia Martin was well known as a young woman of considerable intelligence, stunning looks, and impeccable taste in fashion. In much more exclusive circles, she was also known for possessing the precognitive ability to sense oncoming death or track down the recently deceased. Hers was the legendary power of the Wailing Woman, the one whose scream sounded with terrifying portent. Lydia Martin was a banshee. But today, Lydia was not screaming or sensing death. Today Lydia was seeking out a stunning new ensemble for her good friend Kira. She had taken it upon herself to share with Kira her considerable skills as a shopping guru.

Kira Yukimura was not without her own style. Already a beautiful girl, she was rarely seen in clothes that didn’t become her. But Lydia suggested it was time for her friend to “kick it up a notch” and so off to the mall they went.

Kira had more to recommend her than a pretty face ad ability to wear pretty clothes. The daughter of a brilliant father and an immortal mother, Kira was the heir to the tremendous power of a kitsune, the trickster fox spirit that granted Kira superhuman powers. Enhanced strength and speed, breathtaking swordsmanship, and the ability to both produce and command electrical energy were just some of Kira’s attributes. Impressive though these were, none of them aided Kira in keeping up with Lydia barreling forward at full bore through clothing stores and fashion outlets. Eschewing the help of clerks, Lydia operated on pure instinct, eliminating the lesser garments one by one until they came upon the sought-after score.

“What about this one?”, Kira asked, taking a lovely blouse off a display rack.

Without pausing, Lydia gently took it from Kira’s hand and returned it to where it came from. “No, I don’t think so. Doesn’t work well with your hair color and it does absolutely nothing for your skin. Moving on.”

That was pretty much how it went for the next several selections. Kira would see something she liked, Lydia would pleasantly explain why she shouldn’t like it and continue the search.

“Now this is nice”, Kira observed.

“Huhn-uh”, Lydia responded. Clashes with your eyes.

Kira raised her eyebrows. “Which eyes? The regular color or the ones that glow?”

“Either. Moving on.”

“This?”

“Too bright.”

“How about this?”

“That style is archaic. And not at all flattering.”

Kira glanced at the tag. “It says it’s new as of six months ago.”

“As I said. Archaic. Onward.”

What was at first amusing, the charm of Lydia’s demanding tastes was beginning to wear thin. “So what is this great mystery article going to be?”, Kira asked with obvious exasperation.

“Something that pops. Something that jumps out at us and says “I’m here for Kira”, something like…that.”

Kira looked where Lydia was pointing and saw a rather striking jacket, partially obscured by another display rack topped with a sales sign. It most definitely popped. Kira was struck with the desire to try it on, to see how she looked in a mirror, and suddenly, unexpectedly…to accessorize. She caught herself. Oh my Lord, it’s catching.

Lydia curled a finger in a ‘follow me’ gesture and said, “Let us investigate.”

The two ladies hastened to snatch it up, once again caught up in the delight of being able to turn their brilliant minds to something as light as fashion, making a welcome break from working to outsmart inhuman threats. But as Lydia reached for the sleeve of the jacket, it moved. Lydia was caught completely off-guard and stepped back. It was then she and Kira saw the reason the jacket had moved. It was already occupied. Another girl of their age turned to see who was groping for her arm. Her head and shoulders had been hidden behind the rack’s sales sign, her legs blocked from view by the hanging clothes. When she saw the two fashion hunters, she smiled.

“Hello. Am I in your way?”, she asked.

“Oh”, Lydia stumbled. “No, you’re fine. This may seem odd, but we were actually reaching for that jacket”, she smiled sheepishly.

“We didn’t realize you were in it”, Kira admitted. Then, realizing how bizarre that sounded, added, “Sorry.”

The girl smiled wider. “No worries. I’m skinny. You wouldn’t be the first to mistake me for a mannequin.” The two friends poo-poohed that comment away, assuring the young lady she looked lovely. They weren’t lying. Moving over to stand before one of the stores full-length mirrors, considered how she looked in the jacket. She did not look bad at all. She was tall, more slender than skinny, with slightly aquiline features and the attractive dark skin of a Native American. Her hair was raven black, straight and long, cascading gracefully over her shoulders and down her back, shining here and there in the light. She looked good in the jacket. She would have looked good in a burlap bag.

“I’m not too sure about this on me”, she pondered aloud. “What do you think?”

“You look amazing”, Kira said. It was unclear whether she was complimenting the jacket or its wearer.

“I dunno”, the girl said. “Hey. Why don’t you try it on?”

“Me?”, Kira asked. “But if you were already going to buy it—“

“Forget that”, the girl said cheerily. “It would be a crime for this to go home with me when it might look better on someone else. Come on.”

Before she could protest, Kira was nudged forward by Lydia, and the girl slipped gracefully out of the jacket and held it before Kira. “Oh yes. You have to try it on.”

In a heartbeat, Kira was in the jacket and considering her reflection in the mirror. She looked fantastic. Lydia and the new girl admired her. They then offered the same commentary in unison.

“Perfect.”

They looked at each and smiled brightly. It would seem they thought alike.

“It does look really nice”, Kira agreed. She then turned to the girl. “But if you want it—“

She waved the suggestion away. “It looks better on you.”

Kira looked at the rack and saw several empty hangers. “It looks like it’s the last one. I don’t want to take it away from yo—“

“Nonsense”, the girl cut her off. “I will take it as a sign that this was not the right purchase for me.” She stepped in front of Kira and nodded. “Yes. This was definitely meant for you.”

Kira beamed. “Well, then. Missions accomplished. Our shopping trip was a success.”

Lydia was beside the new girl in an instant. “Oh, no”, Lydia said. “We’re not done yet. This heralds the beginning of our search in earnest.”

Kira’s face was a mask of confusion. “But we have the jacket. This is what we were looking for, apparently. What more do we need at this point?”

“Something to go with it”, two voices replied.

Again Lydia and the new girl looked at each other, appreciating their corresponding shopping instincts. The girl smiled and introduced herself, making a slight bow for dramatic effect

“Kaitlyn.”

“Lydia”, came the reply.

The girl’s face changed. She was still smiling, but something had just occurred to her. “Lydia…Martin, by any chance?”

Lydia was taken aback. “Yes.”

“Party Lydia?”, Kaitlyn inquired. “The one famous for the best parties in Light, in Beacon Hills?”

Missing the girl’s gaff entirely, Lyida asked, “Have we met, or--?”

“No”, Kaitlyn smiled, adding, “but after all I’ve heard, you might say I’m something of a fan.”

Kira snickered, shaking her head. Her friend’s reputation did indeed proceed her. Lydia asked, “What have you heard?”, her eyes focusing with suspicion.

“Only good things”, Kaitlyn said quickly.

“Then you haven’t heard it all”, Lydia grinned. Taking the jacket from Kira’s shoulders and sliding it back onto its hanger, she gestured toward the register. “Let us away.” As they approached the cashier, Lydia made an observation as they set the jacket before the register. “You know, this style is reminiscent of one I’ve seen before. Vintage look, but timeless.”

Kaitlyn interjected, “Let me guess. Your mother had one? No, favorite Aunt?”

Lydia smiled. “Close. Grandmother. It looked stunning on her.”

As Lydia handed over her credit card, Kira asked, “Wait, why is it that you thought a design from half a year ago was archaic, but one that looks like it was in style decades ago is stunning?”

“Lydia took the bag handed to her by the smiling cashier and, handing it to Kira, said, “There is a big difference between out of style and classic. And you will look amazing in classic.”

“Could not have said it better myself”, Kaitlyn grinned. The slender girl moved to exit the store ahead of her two new acquaintances, her attention now on her phone. Lydia stopped her.

“Say, what are you doing right now?”

Kaitlyn turned back, feigning surprise. She quickly stashed her cell. “Who, me? No plans. Just wandering today, mostly. Why?”

“You have a keen eye”, Lydia said. “Would you care to join us on our expedition?”

Kaitlyn looked as if the idea was excellent but would never have occurred to her. “Would you mind? I’d love to. I don’t often get to shop with girlfriends. I’m usually solo.”

“The more the merrier”, Lydia said.

“You were the one who found the first item in our search”, Kira added. “I’m all for having you along.”

Kaitlyn smiled. “Then let’s be off.”

“So what’s next?”, Kira inquired.

Kaitlyn answered, “Let’s talk jewelry.”

The three young women continued on their shopping spree, already chattering together like old friends. Back in the shop, as yet unnoticed by patron or staff member, a small pile of jackets of varying sizes identical in style to the one Kira carried with her was tucked away beneath a display kiosk. The clerk who would discover them would pass it off to customer rudeness and a lack of consideration. The clerk would be wrong.

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hey-i-wrote-a-story · 7 years

Text

Chapter 4 Meeting Malia

Malia had come to enjoy her walks. Every so often she would slip away to enjoy a slow stroll along one of the series or trails that wove their way in and around one of the many wooded areas of Beacon Hills. It was an interesting experience for her, and each time she ventured out, she noticed something new. Having spent years running wild through the woods in the form of a coyote, to be now observing nature as a young woman was, as one might imagine, entirely different. The change in perspective alone was impressive. Having one’s point of view more than five feet above the ground as opposed to being close down to it in itself made everything seem new. Her pace was more relaxed, to be sure. She no longer had to be constantly wary of animal predators, for one thing. And instead of hunting feverishly for food, she could literally take time to stop and smell the flowers. Well, if she wanted to do that sort of thing. Her enhanced sense allowed her to take in the mixed scent of wildflowers and plant life without having to stop and lean in close. Rather than actively avoiding all human contact, Malia could smile at passersby and greet them with a pleasant hello, as…okay, some things still needed work. Malia was not exactly the “Howdy, neighbor!” kind of girl. Her social skills, while steadily improving, still could use a bit of polish. That was something else she enjoyed about nature; it didn’t require any social niceties to be appreciated. Unfortunately for the lovely Malia, she was going to have to engage in those niceties, or some facsimile thereof, very soon. Like right about now.

“Hey, How’s it goin’?”

A boy of approximately Malia’s age stepped out of the woods onto the trail to greet her. His movements were non-threatening, but they did seem a bit anxious. His smile was a bit too wide and eager, and he didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. His face was sprinkled liberally with freckles and atop his head was a mass of fiery red hair. Had Malia been any other girl, she might have sensed a clumsy attempt at a pick-up line, and responded with a casual “Out enjoying a walk alone, thanks”, to drop the hint that she wasn’t interested. Or she could have simply responded with a smile and a terse “Not bad. You?” and sped up her pace. But of course, Malia was not any other girl.

“What happened to your hair?”

The already self-conscious boy froze. “My…wait, what?”

“It looks like a clown wig. Did it grow that way?”

The boy with the clown-colored follicles reached up and gingerly—no pun intended—touched his hair. “What? Yeah, this is my hair. I didn’t dye it or anything. It just comes out this way.”

Malia considered that. “Huh.” Then she continued walking.

The redheaded lad hurriedly took up pace behind her, walking briskly to catch up. It was clear he didn’t spend a lot of time hiking.

“I’m Freddie”, he offered.

“Okay.”

“Nice day for a walk, huh?”, he tried again.

“I already knew that”, Malia answered. “That’s why I’m out walking.”

“Yeah, and it’s a nice day for it, isn’t it?”

“We’ve established that.”

“So you’re Malia then, right?”

Malia stopped and turned to face the already winded ginger who was following her. “Who are you, anyway? We’ve never met. How do you know my name?”

Freddie stopped too, his expression that of someone who just realized he’d made a terrible faux pas. “Uhh…sure we did. Just now, back there. I said my name and you said okay, and then we were walking—“

Malia cut him off. “Stop following me.” With that, she turned away and briskly resumed her stroll.

Freddie rapped on both sides of his head with his knuckled and muttered to himself. “Gah! I suck at this. I suck at this! Why did they have to give me her? I am so out of my depth here. I have no idea what I’m do—“ He forcibly stopped his self-berating and said loudly, “You’re Stiles’ girlfriend, aren’t you?”

Malia turned on her heel without breaking stride and walked right up to Freddie and looked down on him. The redheaded boy wasn’t much shorter than Malia, but by now he was hunkering down in fear of the much more confident young woman.

“What”, Malia said, stressing the word, “do you want?”

“…um…”

“Well?”

“Uh, to say ‘Hi’?”

“You’ve said it, yet you’re still here.”

Freddie swallowed hard. “But…you are Stiles’ girlfriend, right? H-he’s your boyfriend?”

“Why should that—“, Malia began, but stopped as she noticed a change in Freddie’s demeanor. He began to straighten up, his eyes coming into sharp focus and his jaw going slack. Malia followed his eye and caught two joggers as they passed them. They were both boys of high school age, fit and good-looking, one with fair skin and one slightly darker. It was easy to notice their skin as they were both running shirtless. They nodded slightly as they passed the duo in the midst of their confrontation.

“S’cuze us.”

“Comin’ through.”

Freddie’s eyes stayed focused on the boys as they went by and continued down the trail. His gaze never wavered, and he never blinked. He had heard that just as this area was known for unexplained and supernatural occurrences, it was also well-known for an abundance of attractive young men. Turns out he had heard right. Once the two joggers had rounded a bend in the trail, Freddie finally blinked and looked back at Malia.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Malia looked back with eyes less accusatory. She was getting the drift of what was going on, here. “Oh, I get it.”

“You do?”, Freddie said, surprised.

“I know why you’re here”, Malia assured him. “What this is all about.”

“Really? How did you figure it out? I mean, so fast?”

“You don’t have to be a detective”, she began.

“Like Stiles!”, Freddie blurted out, then quickly clamped a hand over his mouth. He silently cursed himself. Malia shook her head.

“So you don’t care about me”, she stated, “You’re interested in Stiles.”

“Is…is it that obvious?”

“You’re not very good at hiding it. You might want to pick up your tongue. It’s still on the ground from when those joggers went by.”

Freddie put a hand over his eyes, mortified. “Ohhhh, I am such an idiot.”

“Probably”, Malia shrugged. “But you’re also gay and into Stiles. I’m right, aren’t I?”

From behind his covered face, Freddie nodded. Then he lifted his hand and said, “I was supposed to talk to you, though. Be friendly—“

“Right, right. So by being buddy-buddy with me, you could eventually get to meet Stiles and so on and whatever.” She stared at him directly, not giving him the chance to back out or improvise.

After a pregnant pause, he replied, “…yyeeeesss?”

Malia scratched her temple. Some people. “You were right in that I am his girlfriend. And he’s into girls, trust me.” She paused, considering. “Not that it would make any difference to me if he was into boys, too.” Then back on track, she reaffirmed, “But he is most definitely into girls.”

Freddie had nowhere to go with this. He wasn’t even in the ballpark of where he was supposed to be with Malia at this point. He wasn’t even near the parking lot. “Um. Okay, I guess.” He started to shuffle away, disheartened. “Sorry to have bothered you. I didn’t mean to—I don’t want you to think I’m some kind of—anyway, sorry. Bye.” Freddie turned fully around and moved like a man on his way to the guillotine. They are going to kill me, he thought. That’s it, I’m dead. Why do I always have to ruin everything??

“Wait a second.”

Freddie turned around to see Malia still standing there, hands on her hips. “You want to meet him?”

Freddie’s eyes lit up. “Can I?”

Malia rolled her eyes and continued her original path. She waved a hand half-heartedly. “Come on.”

“Yes!”, Freddie said, pumping his fists. “This is gonna be AWEsome!”

He dashed up to Malia and took up pace beside her. “Thanks a lot. He’s is just about the coolest—“

“Well, it’s not like I’m taking you right to him now. I’m finishing my walk first”, Malia said flatly.

“Sure, sure!”, gushed Freddie. “After that, if you have to go anywhere, I have a pickup truck, and I can give you ride—“

“And we’re finishing the walk in silence”, Malia said firmly.

Freddie shrank back a little. Softly, he whispered, “Right, right, yes. Sorry. I won’t say anything else. Won’t make a sound. You won’t even know I’m here—“

“Starting now”, Malia snapped.

Freddie made some kind of flighty gesture he no doubt that was apologetic and he drifted back a couple paces to tag along behind Malia without disturbing her. That was when Malia realized for the first time that there was something else that appealed to her about her hikes. The trees never tried to talk to you.

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hey-i-wrote-a-story · 7 years

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Chapter 5 Juan and Patrick’s Run

The two jogging boys who had caught Freddie’s earlier eye rounded a sweeping curve in the trail well ahead of the conversing duo. They had been doing an impressive job of keeping pace with each other, but now one was clearly pulling ahead, or rather, one was falling behind.

“Alright, alright!”, he panted. “Time! Break! Peace! I give.” He leaned forward, bracing himself with his palms on his knees, gasping for breath. His deeply tanned skin gleamed with perspiration as the sunlight hit it. That perspiration stuck his thin, sleeveless tank top to his body like glue. His name was Juan, and he was not accustomed to running, or exercise in general. “How the hell do you do this every day??”

His companion circled around from his position further up the trail and jogged back to the panting lad. He kept running in place as he came up alongside him. “How can you not?”, his friend asked. His friend seemed genuinely happy to be out on a run, mostly because he was. He was doubly so to be sharing one of his favorite activities with Juan. He raised his thick eyebrows as he smirked, an annoying trait at best, and then ran slender fingers through his thick auburn hair. He was Patrick Francis O’Donnell, his name as Irish as his features implied. But he was Patty to everyone who knew him, particularly to Juan.

Juan gasped. “Oh, I promise you, it is really easy to not do this every day. You should try it.” He tried to stand up, gasped, found he had no voice, and raised one finger. Gimme a second. Juan’s hands went back to his knees and he panted some more. The perspiration flowing freely from his brow sprinkled the ground beneath him. After a moment, he looked up again, still unable to stand but able to see his running partner clear as day. Patrick was still running in place, now with a big smile on his face. Not a drop of sweat on him. He was fresh as a daisy. You could still smell the fragrance of the fabric softener on his running shorts. After another couple minutes staring at the ground, the exhausted Juan was able to stagger to a somewhat upright position. Another ten or twenty seconds, and he could speak again.

“You really suck, you know that?”

Patrick just smiled wider, and kept running in place. “So are you officially surrendering? Next time we go out, you pay?”

“Yeah, yeah”, came the concession, with the wave of a hand. “I pay.”

“Including if we go out after. Movies, a club, bar, whatever—you cover everything.”

“Okay, okay, I will be your sugar daddy on that yet-to-be specified occasion. Now will you stop bouncing around before I throw up from just watching you?”

The vibrant young athlete stopped running in place. He took a few steps toward his companion and offered an arm to steady him. “You going to be okay?”

“I think I’m dying, my insides caving in or something, but other than that I should be fine.”

“It sounds like your condition is desperate”, the smiling runner said. “You need mouth to mouth.” With that, Patrick grabbed his companion by the straps of his soggy tank top and pulled him into a passionate kiss. Caught off guard, the spent Juan resisted at first, but then melted into the kiss and welcomed it. About a minute later, their lips separated. “All better now?”

“Not all the way, but I’m getting there.”

His boyfriend smiled a brilliant smile and took his lover by the hand. “C’mere, I want to show you something.” Patrick pulled Juan off the trail and over a couple crests in the woods, scattering dead leaves and wildflowers in their wake.

“Patty, slow down! You’re gonna pull my arm out of my socket! Are you a freakin’ machine, or what?”

“We’re almost there”, Patty assured him without looking back. He leapt over the next small crest, throwing his arm around Juan to steady him as they scampered down to the bottom.

“Oh”, Juan observed, wheezing, “a lot of trees and leaves. Thank the Lord we rushed to get or we would have missed it. You give my best to the trees. I’m gonna die now, m’kay?”

Juan made as if to topple over, but Patty caught his arm. “You’ll wanna be standing for this.”

His boyfriend was now whining like a little kid, “Whhhyyy--?” His sense of humor was at a very low ebb.

Patty propped him up against his bare chest and said, “Trust me.” Then they stood there for a few silent moments. Nothing happened.

“Well?”, Juan asked. “What exactly are we waiting fo--?”

Patty held up his hand. “Wait for it.” After another moment’s silence, a gentle breeze began to blow through the leaves of the trees. “Here it comes…”, Patty said softly.

“Her what com—“, but Juan’s question was cut short as he saw what Patty had made him wait for.

The air came alive with a shower of blossoms. Fuzzy little puffballs or leaves and seed tumbled gently down from the branches high above them, surrounding them in a flurry of fragrance and beauty.

“Patty, what?” Patty pointed upward. Juan looked up to see that the uppermost branches of two trees closest to them were filled with new blossoms and budding leaves. The wind broke them free of their moorings to send them down upon whomever stood beneath. This time, it was boyfriends Patty and Juan.

Juan was amazed. “Patty, this is beautiful.”

“So are you”, patty replied, giving his boyfriend another kiss.

“Cheeseball”, Juan said.

“This is the only part of the forest I know of that has this type of tree. This is the only time of year where the buds fall like this. I wanted you to see it.” He smiled again, adding, “I wanted to share it with you.”

They were both smiling now, as the fluffy offerings whirled around them with the soft breeze, giving the woods a magical quality. Patty peeled off Juan’s soaked tank top and tossed it aside. They pressed their bare chests together, arms entwined around one another, savoring the moment. It didn’t last long.

“Hey, I love the way the light hits some of these things”, Juan commented.

“What’s that”, Patty said. He had been smelling his boyfriend’s hair and had missed what Juan had been looking at.

“Look, the way some of them almost seem to sparkle, or—wait, there’s another one!” The two stepped apart and looked around them. “That’s not a trick of the light”, Juan realized. “Are some of these actually glowing?”

Patty had no chance to respond. Glowing spheres, a bit larger than the scattered blossoms, began to fall down upon Juan. None drifted near Patty, at least not yet.

The glowing objects sparkled and gleamed, with a plethora of spiky ridges sticking out all around them. They looked like oversized sand burs, but they floated like milkweed. “These are really pretty”, Juan marveled. “What kind of plants are these?”

Patty had no idea what he was seeing. “I—I don’t think those are plants”, Patty admitted. The hair began to stand up on the back of his neck.

“You mean you’ve never seen these before?”, Juan asked, incredulous. “I thought you knew all about this stuff. Then what are they--?”

An electric spark shot from one floating sphere to another. They stopped in mid-flight, hovering five feet above the ground, then slowly drifted closer to Juan, circling around him.

Juan’s mouth fell open. “What the hell?”

Another cluster of energy spheres bristled and sparked, three of them sharing a tiny lance of electricity between them. Then they too, faster, drifted toward Juan.

“Patty, get away from them, now!”, Patty cried.

“How? They’re following me wherever I move!”

It was true. Whatever the energy spores were, they followed Juan closer and closer, circling him quickly as they began to buzz like angry hornets. Juan swatted at them and tried to bob and weave in an attempt to free himself of them, but it was all for naught. Juan then felt a harsh sting, far worse than any hornet, as one of the spores latched onto his arm. “Oww! Hey!!” Another attached itself to Juan, on his other arm. Then one on his leg. Three onto his shoulder, and more moving in rapidly. “Stop! Get ‘em off’a me!” Contrary to Juan’s outcry, the spores dove onto him, burrowing into his exposed skin, releasing tiny arcs of electricity as it scorched his body and filled the air with the stink of burning flesh.

“What’s happening?!”, Juan shouted. “Patty, HELP ME!!”

But Patty was in shock, too terrified to move. His boyfriend had come alive with the buzzing, sparking balls of energy, which were intent on infesting him or taking over his body for whatever reason. The spores ate away at Juan’s running shorts, burning them as they seared them against the boy’s legs. Juan tore at his hair, where a number of the spores had begun to nest, digging deep into his scalp, setting it aflame. Juan cried out in pain, alternately cursing and begging for mercy, but none came. He stumbled forward, toward his boyfriend, his legs now covered in the sizzling spores, his shoes heating up, their rubber soles melting into the ground in bubbling pools to burn the dead leaves to ash on contact.

Juan’s arms stretched out to Patty, a feeble gesture for rescue his young love was helpless to provide. Juan tried to call to Patty again, but the energy spores were sinking into his cheeks and gouging out his eyes, making coherent speech impossible. All that issued forth from his mouth was the ghoulish, “PpphhuuahhutthHAAYY!”

Horrified, Patty stumbled backward, tripping over his own feet as the monstrosity that had once been his boyfriend shuffled toward him, body aflame with ravenous energy that consumed his body. If feeding some hunger was the motivation of this angry swarm, it was clearly unsated by the meal of the screaming teenager, even as it forced his withered, smoldering legs toward its next target.

Patty was screaming at a high pitch, able to form only one word again and again. “Juan! JUAANN!!”

But Juan was gone. The shambling wreck that moved toward the other boy was quickly disintegrating, while the glowing spores themselves seemed unimpeded. They would continue on even after they had consumed every last bit of their original target. What had once been Juan fell to its knees with a sickening crack as bones snapped and began to burn. The skin on Juan’s face now blackened and brittle clung to his skull the way his shirt had clung to his body earlier. As Patty scrambled backwards, desperate to get away but unable to tear his eyes from his dying lover, a voice rasped up from Juan’s collapsing throat straight from the depths of hell.

“Doonnn’tt LEEAVVE MUHEEEE!!”

With that, Juan’s ashen corpse began to fall forward, his jaw cracking open to vomit a swarm of energy spores, still brightly glowing orange. They whirled about for a split second before rushing toward Patty. The experienced runner’s instincts kicked in as he spun on his heel and darted off through the trees. He glanced back once over his shoulder to see the bubbling pile that had once been his best friend and love of his life glowing like a pool of lava; the remaining bones splitting and radiating heat as they melted into the steaming sludge.

Patty ran faster. He was crying as he ran. He was leaving his boyfriend, he had run away from Juan, he had just left him there. Patty understood that his young lover was no more, that he had just died a hideous death right in front of him, but emotionally Patty knew he would never forgive himself for running away. Still, he ran. Patty was fast, and the speed he demonstrated proved that he had more than earned the trophies that cluttered his room. The glowing spores continued after him, moving faster, slowly gaining on him. Knowing it was not the best use of his breath but unable to stop himself, Patty screamed for help. “Help! Somebody! ANYbody! HEELLPP!!”

But Patty had chosen the spot for his romantic interlude too well. There was no one in earshot and his cries went unheeded. Ahead, there was a broad stretch over a dry gulch and beyond that, a worn path that led to a major thoroughfare. Patty knew that if he could just make that leap, the momentum could carry him onto that road where he might be able to find help from a passing car.

The buzzing grew louder behind him, and Patty could hear the sparks and lances of electricity as his feet pounded against the ground and his heart pounded in his chest. He could smell the raw energy burn the air. Putting on an extra burst of speed, Patty threw himself into the air to catapult himself over the gulch and on to the potential rescue that lay beyond.

His feet never touched the ground.

Above the orange glowing spores that gouged at the teenager like angry nettles, a winged monster circled lazily, its head angled down to observe the inexorable slaughter of the young man whose screams were slowly silenced. The cries died out to be replaced by electrical humming and the sickly wet sound of liquefied flesh spattering the ground. Soulless eyes blinked twice, taking in what they could from the two hideous deaths. Its nostrils flared, exhaling hot breath and small jolts of electricity. Instinctively, the creature understood that to find what it needed, new prey must be sought. With the beat of leathery wings, it soared upwards into the clouds.

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hey-i-wrote-a-story · 7 years

Text

Chapter 6 Fancy Meeting You Here

Scott tossed Aadesh a bottle of water from the fridge. Liam had hopped up on top of the kitchen counter and was drinking Gatorade from a sports bottle. Aadesh looked around the room like a kid on his first trip to Disneyland. Under his breath he murmured, “I can’t believe I’m actually here…”

Scott’s heightened hearing picked up on it, but he wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. Scott looked at Aadesh curiously. “Sorry, what was that?”

Aadesh quickly composed himself. “Oh. I was just thinking you’ve got a really nice house here.”

That could’ve been what he heard, but not quite. Scott decided to let it pass. “Thanks. My mom tries to keep it pretty clean.” Then to his Beta, “Liam, use a chair.” Liam rolled his eyes but hopped down to take a seat at the table. Aadesh was still eyeing the room with a sense of wonder he couldn’t disguise. Had this kid never been in a house before?

“You don’t work out much, do you?”, Liam asked the newcomer.

Aadesh was snapped back to the conversation with that question. Why would Liam ask him that? Had he let something slip? Were they onto him? Then he realized that of the three of them, his shirt was the most saturated with perspiration, he’d had to put up the greatest effort during the workout, and his build was relatively skinny compared to his two new companions.

“Well, I just started getting into it. It’s still kind of new to me.” Liam nodded at that. Okay, sure. Then Aadesh’s tone changed and he added, “That, and there’s this girl I really like.” Aadesh walked over to the table, leaning forward against a chair. “I just want to look nice for her. You know, get in shape, bulk up a bit. Not a lot, just enough to—“

“Get her attention?”, Liam prompted.

“Yeah”, Aadesh admitted, his eyes far away. His voice and expression were so sincere that Scott dismissed the boy’s earlier statement. Whatever he may have said a moment ago, Aadesh was being open and honest now.

Scott grinned. He knew that look. He’d seen it in the mirror a time or two. “Tell us about her.”

“Yeah”, Liam urged him. “What’s she like?”

Aadesh’s eyes got all dreamy again, and his mouth curled into a dopey grin. “Well, she’s smart, and confident. Beautiful face, and she’s got this incredible long hair she wears straight down her back. She’s tall. I think even a little bit taller than me.” Aadesh realized he was staring off into space, seeing this dream girl in his mind, and pulled himself back to see both his new friends smiling broadly. Aadesh cleared his throat and decided to steer clear of the mushy stuff for now. “We’ve always been friends and like that”, he said, changing tacks slightly. “But lately it’s grown into something more. I really like her and she’s said she really likes me, and we’re kind of going together but nothing official. Everyone knows we’re totally into each other. But, y’know, we haven’t made any kind of announcement to our other friends that we’re boyfriend/girlfriend or anything, but I’ve just been hoping—“

“That maybe she would?”, Scott ventured.

Aadesh nodded. “I don’t want to do it without consulting her, but I also don’t want to be the first to broach the subject, and she’s—“ Aadesh stopped suddenly. Once again he was looking past Scott and Liam, but his expression was anything but dreamy.

“And she’s what?”, Liam prompted. Aadesh didn’t offer a response, but he was thinking one.

And she’s walking through your door.

“Just a quick stop”, Kira was saying. “I want Scott to see my new outfit before we go over to Lydia’s. I promise it won’t take a second.”

In came Kira, Lydia, and their new friend Kaitlyn. Aadesh visibly stiffened. Kaitlyn did the same.

“Oh, you have company”, Kira said. “Hi”, she said in cheerful introduction. “Kira. How’s it goin’?”

Aadesh tried to smile back but it came across as more of a grimace. “Pretty good, I guess…”

Kira turned to Scott and gave him a quick kiss. “Sorry to just barge in, but I had to show you my new ensemble.” She took a step back, letting her boyfriend get a good look at her. Her jacket had been complemented by a new blouse, new skirt, new shoes, and some very tasteful jewelry. Kira spun around once and struck an exaggerated model’s pose.

“Nice”, Scott said. “You look great. You always look great.” He stepped forward, placing his hands around her waist. “So is this more of Lydia’s handiwork?”

“Actually”, Lydia grinned, “allow us to introduce our newly-discovered fashion consultant, Kaitlyn.”

Kaitlyn smiled as if she had just sat on a pin cushion. She looked at Aadesh with accusing eyes.

What are you doing here?

Aadesh looked back, appearing painfully constipated.

ME? What are you doing here??

Everyone felt the sudden awkwardness in the room but weren’t sure why. There was clear tension between the two newcomers. Again, why?

Scott broke the silence. “Umm…this is Aadesh. We met him during our workout.” Scott indicated Liam to include him in the “we”. Liam waved at Kaitlyn.

“I’m Liam. ‘Sup?”

Lydia paused in her praise of their new fashion-conscious companion. Kaitlyn and Aadesh had switched from glaring at each other to trying very hard not to make eye contact. “Wait a minute…”, she started to say. That was as far as she got.

“Scott! What the hell, man?!” Stiles had burst through the door in classic frantic style. "I've been trying to reach you, I’ve been driving all over, and--what, are you throwing a party?"

Stiles looked around the crowded kitchen peopled by the majority of Scott's pack and two newcomers. "Seriously, what's going on?"

"Nothing's going on", Scott answered. "This is Aadesh, he joined us at the school during our workout. I just invited him over, is all. This is Kathryn--"

"Kaitlyn", the new girl corrected him.

"Kaitlyn, sorry", Scott amended. "Kira and Lydia met her at the mall. What's up? Why are you so freaked out?"

Stiles took his best friend by the arm and turned him away from the group while tossing a curt greeting over his shoulder. "Charmed, I'm sure we'll get along famously." Then, in a harsh whisper to Scott, "We have a problem here. New problem, as in monster problem."

Scott looked at Stiles with concern. "Stiles, calm down. Not every little thing that pops up means some major threat has shown up and the sky's crashing down."

"Except when they do, and it does", Stiles pointed out, mildly offended that his warnings should be dismissed so readily. "Because they usually do. This is us. We are disaster magnets, and we've had what, a whole week with no disasters? We're due."

"Okay, okay. So tell about this disaster, whatever it is. You said a monster? What kind of monster? Have you seen it?"

"I haven't", Stiles said. "But she has."

Stiles stepped to the side so Scott could see the latest arrival standing in the doorway. It was Erin. Framed by the entryway, everyone was able to get a good look at her. It was the first time Stiles had gotten a good look at her, too. Their meeting on the highway was too abrupt for pleasantries. Now that he could see her clearly, Stiles knew Erin was not someone he would soon forget.

She was of average height for a girl her age, but anything average about her stopped there. She had short auburn hair that hung not far below her ears. It was clean and kempt and in direct contrast to the rest of her.

The most noticeable thing about Erin was her gigantic coat. It could have been leather or some imitation thereof, but whatever it was it was heavy and laden with pockets and zippers. Large buckled straps encircled the cuffs of her sleeves and wrapped around the waist of the jacket, pulled slightly taut, tied together in a loose knot to keep the coat from flapping about. The jacket extended down to her calves, pockets and zips peppering it all the way down. She wore heavy boots with 15-hole laces that, while scuffed and worn, still had plenty of use in them. Tuck into those formidable boots were the legs of heavy corduroy pants. The cords were three times better secured than the jacket, as that's how many belts she had wrapped around the waist. She wore a navy blue V-neck sweater rolled up to the elbows. Under those you could see a men’s thermal top of either stately gray or overused cream. She was not hurting for bracelets and necklaces either, as they climbed up her forearms or draped down from her neck, respectively.

"Um, hi", Scott managed, still taken aback by the sight of her.

"What's the deal with your phone?", Stiles asked him. "I've been calling and calling and it always goes straight to voice mail."

"You could've just called me", Liam pointed out.

"Yeah, because that was going to happen", Stiles sniped back.

Scott quickly pulled out his phone. "It shouldn't have", he said. "Huh. I must have turned it off when we were working out. I don't remember doing that."

Aadesh suddenly looked nervous.

Kaitlyn looked equally nervous as she shot a look to Erin. What do we do now?? Erin returned her gaze calmly. Kaitlyn knew that look. The unshakable Erin was just going to go with it. And as was often the case with Erin, it was going to work out fine.

"I hate to break up the social hour", Stiles told Scott, "but I really think we've got a situation. Like a girl chased down the highway by a giant monsterie situation."

Scott was quickly all business. "Really? What kind of monst--"

Erin strode directly up to Scott and extended a hand. "I'm Erin. Your friend Stiles here came to my rescue today." Scott accepted her hand and she shook his warmly. "Thank God he did, too, because I didn't know what I was going to do."

Scott met her gaze and was quickly caught up in the gleam of her eyes. There was nothing supernatural about them, but they were captivating, to say the least. Scott lost another moment to them before saying, "I'm glad you're okay." The auburn strands of Erin's hair contrasted her deep eyes. Scott looked back into Erin's eyes. He couldn't help it. Those haunting eyes had seen far more than most twice her age would care to, and they seemed to want her to tell him about it.

"It must have been bad. She was really freaking out when I found her", Stiles said.

Scott found that hard to believe. Erin did not look like the kind of person who would freak out very easily. She had a look of intelligence about her, and it was clear by her posture and expression that she was used to being the smartest one in the room. Whatever she had seemed earlier, she wasn't scared now. If anything, she was confident.

Stiles jabbed a thumb toward his friend. "Erin, this is the guy I was telling you about. He may not look like much now--"

"Hey, thanks for that", Scott said.

"--but trust me", Stiles continued unabated, "this is the man we need."

"Yes", Erin smiled. "You told me about him on the way over. "Scott McCall."

Stiles froze. He shared a knowing look with Scott. Then he looked coldly at Erin.

"I never told you his last name."

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hey-i-wrote-a-story · 7 years

Text

Chapter 7 The Kitchen Parlay

The room went very quiet as Erin stared back at Stiles.

"Sorry, what--?"

"His last name. I never told you his name was McCall."

"Well...you must have", Erin responded. Her voice sounded innocent. Her expression did not match her tone.

“Nope.” Stiles’ manner shifted from that of protector to protagonist. Instead of searching for solutions to serve in this girl’s rescue, he started looking her up and down in search of clues. It didn’t take him long to find some.

“You seem pretty calm now”, Stiles observed. “Considering not long ago you leapt off the road into my jeep to escape something.”

“What?”, Scott said, then lowering his voice to keep from being heard from the other two newcomers, “What were you escaping from?”

Stiles held up a hand. Wait a second. “We’ll get to that in a minute. But whatever it was, it was big? Scary?”

“Well, yeah”, Erin said, inching back a little.

“But for however big and scary it was, you’re pretty collected here and now.”

“Because you brought me here”, Erin answered quickly. “You said he could help--!”

“Which you never questioned”, Stiles interjected. “I led you to my best friend. Not a cop, not a monster hunter, not a soldier. But another teenage boy. Like me. And you acted like you were expecting to see him.”

Erin looked rattled, which Scott responded to immediately. “Stiles, ease off, man. She looks pretty scared to me.”

“I am!”, Erin said, which at this point was true.

“Scared of being found out--?”, Stiles prompted.

Scott shot him a look. Enough.

While all that was going on, Lydia had been watching Aadesh and Kaitlyn. They were looking at each other nervously. Then they’d look at Erin, then back at each other. It was the shared glance of close friends, or siblings, who knew they were about to get caught while up to something.

“You two know each other”, Lydia said. Her words were not phrased as a question. The two stiffened. “Don’t you?”

“W-what?”, Aadesh stammered. “No! No, no. I only just got here. I don’t know anybody, I mean, I haven’t had the chance to meet—“

Kaitlyn cut in. “I’ve never seen him before. Why would you think that?” Then, to Aadesh, she added lamely, “Hi. I’m Kaitlyn. Nice to meet you.”

Aadesh nodded back in mock innocence. “Hey.”

Stiles’ eyes went into sharp focus. He was now in full-on sleuth mode. He quickly scanned the room without moving from where he stood. Very little escaped him. The new kid sitting by Liam was looking off to the side. The tall girl next to Kira was staring out the window. If they didn’t know anyone, wouldn’t they be looking around the room taking in all the new faces? If they didn’t know each other, why make such a big fuss about the fact? Kaitlyn glanced at Aadesh. Their eyes met, and Kaitlyn made a quick gesture with her hand while keeping it partially hidden at her side. Palm down, fingers together, two sharp jerks back and forth. Say nothing. That settled that. They knew each other, and they’d known each other long enough to be able to share subtle signals and have them understood. Stiles looked at Erin, whose focus was concentrated on him and Scott. She seemed pretty scared out on the road, not so much now. Now she was more anxious, tentative, like someone trying to do something they’d never done before. When they arrived, she kept her eyes forward as they raced into the house. She never looked around to see if the thing that was following her was still coming. Maybe it never existed in the first place. If she was being pursued by…something, why keep focused on him and Scott? Surely she’d be looking around the room, seeing who’s who and what’s what. Friends? Helpers? Possibly other monsters? But she was very focused from the moment they came in. Particularly on Scott. Like she knew the whole time that he was the one they were coming to meet. Stiles looked again at the other two newcomers. They were still working very hard not to look at each other or anyone else. There was teenage drama unfolding before them. Why weren’t they watching? Why no “Sorry, it looks like we’ve walked in on something”, no “Gee, do you want us to leave?”, not even a “Hey, what’s going on here?”. Why weren’t they at least looking at Erin? Maybe because they weren’t supposed to. Then they both looked at Stiles. Nervously. They fidgeted like contestants waiting to see if the judge was going to eliminate them from the game. They not only knew each other, but they knew a lot more about what was going on than Stiles did. That he did not like, and that was about to change.

“No, you do know each other”, Stiles said. His entire analysis and deduction had taken less than twenty seconds. To him, it felt a bit longer. To the three new arrivals, it had felt like an eternity. “All three of you do.”

“Stiles, you can’t say that—“, Scott began.

Stiles held up a finger. “Trust me.” He looked at Scott, who saw the confidence in his best friend’s eyes. He offered Stiles a slight nod. He did trust him. Go ahead.

“It’s just a question of how long you’ve known each other, and what you’re all doing here.” Stiles looked at them. He was done talking. Now it was their turn. They shared a quick exchange of looks between them. Stiles read their expressions as a mutual question. Do we keep protesting, or do we come clean? Stiles waited for their response. He’d wait all day if he had to, but he was going to find out.

Kira was less patient. “What’s going on here?”, she asked. She looked hard at Kaitlyn, whom she had accepted as a new friend. Apparently, that assessment was off, and possibly way off. The trickster did not like being tricked.

Erin started to say something, but Aadesh beat her to it. “What makes you think there’s something going on?”

That was when Malia arrived, her timing perfect for undermining Aadesh’s remark.

“No, I’m not going to call him. The last thing he needs is for you to get a look at his cell number. It’s bad enough you know where he lives. And I told you, if he’s not there, then this is the most likely place that he’d be—“

Malia began to enter the doorway, and eager Freddie hot on her heels. She stopped short, making the much shorter boy bump into her. Malia looked around the room, saw all of her friends, saw the new faces, and immediately felt the tension. She frowned.

“So what’s all this, then?”

Before anyone could answer, Freddie pushed his way past Malia and into the room. His bright red hair and eager expression commanded everyone’s attention. As did his gregarious voice.

“Heeeyyy”, he beamed. “Hi, everybody. Looks like we’re a little late I guess.” He quickly scanned the room, offering nods and smiles to all present, completely missing the looks of anguish and warning on his friends’ faces. His survey stopped when he saw Stiles. Then his eyes opened as wide as a kid on Christmas morning.

“You…you must be Stiles”, he practically gasped. In a moment he was across the room and shaking Stiles’ hand warmly with both of his. “It is so…so awesome to finally meet you. ‘Cause you’re like…seriously, of everyone here, and no offense to how cool they all are because they are and I don’t mean to say they’re not, but you…you are my absolute favorite! You’re really him. You’re…you’re Stiles! Wow.”

Stiles gave the kid who was apparently his Number One Fan (in the creepy way) a long hard look. NOF never stopped pumping his hero’s hand. Stiles looked to his girlfriend and pointed at the fanboy.

“What is this?”

“That’s a Freddie”, Malia said. “For some reason, he wanted to meet you.”

“I see that.” Stiles looked at Freddie, then at his hand going up, going down. Shake, shake, shake. Freddie offered a wider smile. He may have been going for joyous, but he looked as if he were trying to push his dental work out of his face. “You can let go now.”

Freddie suddenly realized what he’d been doing. “Oh. Right. Sorry.” He let go and took a step back. “It’s just that, after all this time…you’re Stiles, man!” he paused for breath, then added one more “Wow.” Stiles looked at his hand for a moment and then stuffed it in his pocket, out of sight.

No one in the room said anything as Freddie strolled over to where Aadesh was sitting. “So it looks like you guys are way ahead of me. Already having the big meeting. That’s cool. The sooner, the better.” He took a seat beside Aadesh, patting his friend on the back happily. Then he looked to Erin and Kaitlyn, eyes bright with anticipation. “So what did they say?”

Aadesh did a classic facepalm. Kaitlyn closed her eyes and shook her head. Erin said something under her breath. No one made it out, but it was most likely profanity.

“They said you should leave”, Scott said.

Aadesh looked up. “Wait, no. We’re not—this isn’t what it looks like, I swear.”

“I’m still trying to figure out just what it is that it looks like”, Malia interjected.

“Join the club”, Kira agreed.

“Who are you people and what are you doing here?”, Stiles said. “Although I already have some pretty good ideas.”

“We’re not doing anything”, Kaitlyn said, trying her best to sound sincere. “I mean, we are, but it’s nothing bad.” Stiles squinted at her. He was so not convinced.

Erin stopped her friend from continuing. “Give it up.” She said nothing more. She saw no need.

The light was finally starting to dawn for Freddie. “Ohhh…I jumped the gun, didn’t I?”

Malia pointed at him. “Stop talking.”

Freddie shrank into himself, hands in his lap. “…okay...”

“Jumped the gun on what?”, Lydia asked. “I for one would like to know what it is you all think you’re doing.”

“I don’t”, Scott snapped.

The room was silent for a moment, then Lydia spoke again. “Shouldn’t we at least—“

“No.”

Scott walked over to Aadesh and looked him in the eye. “I’ve had my share of people who came to me as friends only to prove they’re anything but. We didn’t meet by chance today, did we?” Aadesh could only shake his head. “I suppose that goes for all of us.” This time Aadesh nodded. “Then you should go. Right now.”

Everyone was very quiet. This was rather out-of-character for the ever-trusting Scott. Then he added, in a softer tone. “Look, whatever this was all about, which you don’t seem to want to tell us, none of you have done anything to hurt any of us.”

Erin quickly said, “No! And we won’t! We wouldn’t. I swear.”

Scott sounded more himself as he said to her, “I believe you.” Erin and her three friends visibly breathed a sigh of relief. “So let’s just quit while we’re ahead. You know where the door is.”

Freddie started to protest. “Wait, no…we have to at least tell you—“ and to his friends, “Guys, we can’t just not—“

Malia snapped her fingers and jerked a thumb toward the door. Sufficiently intimidated, Freddie shuffled out. Kaitlyn and Aadesh followed him. Erin began to offer an apology to Scott, who waved it away. She looked at Stiles, wanting to make sure he held no hard feelings, but his expression showed that would be a futile effort. As Erin approached the door, Malia touched her jacket. Erin jerked away, but realized that Malia wasn’t trying to get rough with her. She appeared to be simply examining the long coat.

“Nice jacket”, Malia observed. “Where’d you get it?”

“I made it”, Erin said.

“Hm. I guess you make up a lot of things, don’t you?”

Without offering a response, Erin departed. Scott’s pack watched as they walked to an old pickup truck waiting nearby. It was beaten and rusty, and may have at one time been red. It was hard to tell now. The quartet got into the ramshackle vehicle, and with a clattering of loose parts, a grinding of gears, and a cough of smoke, they rolled away.

“What was that??”, Kira asked.

“Oh, Freddie’s truck”, Malia said. “He drove us here. I don’t give it long.”

Stiles turned to Scott. “So we’re just going to let them go? Without even knowing what all this was about?”

“I really didn’t get the impression that they had any malicious intentions”, Scott said.

“And we won’t know for sure now because you just sent them packing.”

“I’m a little concerned”, Lydia added, “that they seemed to know who we are. As in, what we can do.”

“That list seems to be growing exponentially by the month”, Kira remarked.

Liam, who had been watching without comment as the entire drama unfolded before him, asked, “So is it not possible for us to have a normal day, or what? Because that seems like something, as a werewolf-in-training, I should know.”

“I say we follow them”, Kira said. To Malia, she said, “Did you get his license plate number?”

“No, but I got something else”, she said. Malia held up a slip of paper. “I took it out of whatshername’s pocket as she was leaving.”

“Good girl!”, Stiles beamed, clearly impressed at his girlfriend’s light fingers.

“What is it?”, Lydia asked.

“That’s a pretty good question”, Malia said back. “Any one of you know?” She held out the paper for the others to see. What they saw captured their full attention.

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hey-i-wrote-a-story · 7 years

Text

Chapter 8 Fishing with Grandpa

Jacob Patterson loved being a grandfather. He didn’t think he would, what with that title marking his advancing years which he’d prefer to ignore, but he loved it all the same. He was able to dote on his grandson and shower him with treats, and gifts, and outdoor adventures without fear of spoiling him. He knew that his mother would see to all the discipline and denial and all that other parenting stuff. One of the perks of being the grandad was being the fun grownup. Besides, since his daughter’s marriage, he knew there wouldn’t be a man in the boy’s life, not in the traditional sense, so he could indulge in his old-fashioned notions from time to time with model building, playing catch, bicycle repair, and fishing trips. Today it was a fishing trip.

It had been a fun afternoon for the both of them. The learned grandad with his near-limitless knowledge of tying flies and casting rods and watching the water’s surface for signs of movement below, and the eager grandson with his excited yearning to match his elder’s skill, making progress with every attempt. In another hour or two, afternoon would give way to evening, and as much as both participants wanted to stay out until the sun set, mom had been promised that they’d be back on the shore and ready to head for home upon her arrival. Jacob already looked forward to climbing in the backseat as his grandson regaled those in the front with stories of his adventure of Fishing With Gramps as said gramps beamed with pride. But they had to get ashore first.

“Okay, that’s it for today, Grayson”, Jacob announced, doing his best to sound stern and authoritative. “It’s time to head back.”

“Aww, c’mon, grandpa”, Grayson whined. “Can’t we stay out for just one more cast? I’m getting really good at it, honest. Watch, and I’ll show you!”

Jacob rested a hand on Grayson’s small shoulder, stopping the lad from reeling back for a mighty cast of his line. “I know you’re getting good at it”, he grinned. “I’d say a fair sight better than I was at your age, as a matter of fact.”

“Really??”, Grayson glowed at the praise.

“Really. Why would I lie about a thing like that?”, Jacob asked, feigning offense. His white moustache bristled at the edges as he grinned. “But we’ll talk about it later after we’re on dry land. About face, kiddo!”

Grayson whirled around in the water and bobbed about a bit. Both he and his grandfather were in chest high fishing waders, the heavy-duty variety with the boots attached. Grayson loved them. He loved the waders and the vest with its many pockets for stashing lures, and bait, and a compass, and a wad of beef jerky. He was also inordinately fond of his heavy checkered shirt and his tattered cap. He loved them because his grandfather had picked everything out for him, and was dressed the same way. So if Grayson was stuck wearing a gorilla costume, he’d be delighted with that too, provided his beloved gramps was similarly attired.

“Now, remember how I taught you to walk in those”, Jacob cautioned. “I know you’ve got the life jacket on, but I don’t want you capsizing, all the same.”

“But it’s fun to jump when I walk”, Grayson insisted. “It feels like I’m floating on air every time I lift my foot up. It’s like I’m an astronaut on a planet with less gravity!”

Less gravity. The kid was sharp as a whip and getting smarter all the time. It wouldn’t be long before he’d be coaching his old gramps about new-fangled fishing techniques. “All the same, spaceman. I don’t want you going under.”

“You’d catch me”, Grayson said confidently.

“Not if it meant dropping this line of trout”, Jacob smirked. “Don’t overestimate your worth, there.”

“I wouldn’t sink anyways”, Grayson assured him. “I already tested it.”

“You did what?”

“I jumped off the dock once when I had my waders all buckled on. I floated. My feet stick up out of the water like a life raft, but I don’t sink.”

“When the Sam Hill did you do this, then??”

“Last time we went fishing. When you had to run up to the house and told me to wait at the dock. You never said if that meant on the dock or floating close by.” Grayson snickered as he kept hopping and bounding lightly along as the water receded from above the waist to below, to halfway down his thighs as they moved closer to shore.

“You stinker!” Jacob reached out and took hold of the back of Grayson’s life jacket and hefted him up off his feet, leaving the toes of his boots to drag in the sand and silt. “It’s dock fishing for you on our next time out, you wait and see.” Grayson laughed, amused as always when his soft-hearted gramps tried to act as if he were “taking charge” as he put it. Grayson threw his head back, snorting and giggling, trying to catch his gramps’ eye. He knew that if he met his eye while laughing, Gramps was a goner for sure and would wind up laughing right along with him, regardless how hard he resisted.

But the glint of the late afternoon sun on the water made Grayson squint. Eyes closed tight, the boy could still see a field of sparkling after-effects behind his eyelids. “Ack! Sun in the eyes!”, he cried.

“Well, get’cher head back down where it belongs”, Jacob scolded. “Don’t crane your neck like a…well, a crane. Here, we’re almost out anyways.” Jacob set his grandson back down on his feet but kept a guiding hand at the boy’s back. They were almost up on the thick grass beyond the shore at this point, the water now down to their ankles. “You alright?”

Grayson rubbed his eyes and found everything back to normal when he opened them. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s okay. I’m good now.” Only then did Jacob feel it was safe to remove his hand from his grandson’s back and leave him to stand on his own. For a brief time, they both just looked out at the lake, caught up in the beauty and serenity of the water, the grove of trees on the far side, and the occasional gull flying by.

“It’s really pretty out here”, Grayson said at last.

“It is that.”

“I like how it’s so quiet and you can just look at everything without having to really listen much.” He stood for another moment and did just that. “All the little flashes of light on the lake look kind of like jewels or something”, he observed.

“Yes, they rather do at that”, the grandfather said, reflecting on how often he’d thought the same thing after a day’s fishing.

“It’s cool”, Grayson offered, not yet having the words to convey his feelings about the quiet grace of nature. Then, “I like how some of the sparkles look like they’re floating up off the water. I never noticed that before.”

Jacob was about to tell his grandson about how the combination of the lake water and the fading light of late afternoon and evening can play tricks on your eyes. Or at least he was, until he saw them himself.

“I’ll be…”, he muttered. “What is that? That’s no trick of the light.”

Small sparkling puffs of energy blew lightly across the surface of the lake towards the two fishing companions and proceeded to float up to hover around their heads.

“Woooww…”, Grayson said quietly. “I’ve never seen anything like this before!”, he exclaimed. “What are these, grandpa?”

As the small cluster of energy puffs began to whisk around them, Jacob stared intently. That was a good question. What were they? Not mere seedlings or spores—they’d not glow like this if they were. Insects? They did swarm about like bugs.

“It’s way too early for these to be fireflies”, Grayson deduced. “I wonder if we can catch ‘em in jars like them, though.” He reached out a curious finger but his grandfather brought his arm back.

“Let’s not touch them just yet, Grayson. In case they have stingers or bite, like nettles or a chigger.” Something in Jacob’s mind sensed danger. The hair rose on the back of his neck as one of the glowing wisps zipped past his head. Firmly, he took hold of Grayson by the shoulder. “You know what? I’ll bet they look even better from the grass. All glowing and floating against the water like that. Let’s get out of the water all the way now.”

As Jacob began to hurry his grandson along—not much further to go—one of the energy puffs (nettles? thistles?) flew down and landed on Grayson’s waders.

“Hey look! I think it likes me.” Grayson reached down to his glowing passenger--perhaps it could be coaxed to climb into his hand--when a sharp spark shot for them glowing ball and burnt his finger. “Ow! Hey, watch it!”

Grayson tried to swat the glowing ball away, but it wouldn’t budge. “I think it’s stuck”, Grayson frowned. “G’wan, shoo!” After another ineffectual swat, there were half a dozen glowing nettles clinging to Grayson’s waders. “Gramps, they’re all over.”

Jacob tried to swipe the energy thistles away from his grandson, doing no more than gather some on himself, which clung to his sleeves and his vest.

“They’re sure sticky little devils”, Jacob chuckled, trying his best to hide the fear he felt rising inside him with a lighthearted tone of voice. “Let’s hurry now onto the grass and head uphill towards the cabin. See if that doesn’t discourage ‘em.”

As Jacob helped his grandson quickly lift his muddy boots from the shallows toward the soft grass, the thistles increased in number and in aggression. The buzz that was nearly silent from one or two of them became a rising hum that rang in the ears. In moments, both grandson and grandfather’s heavy waders were covered in the glistening thistles, which began to spark energy angrily, even as more of their number settled on their victim’s sleeves and caps.

“Grampa”, Grayson cried. “What ARE they? Why won’t they come off? Make them stop!”

“I’m tryin’, buddy! Just hold tight!” But Jacob’s words were hollow. He couldn’t brush the stinging thistles from himself, much less rescue his grandson. Jacob swung at the floating thistles with his fishing rod, hoping to sweep them away or swat them out of the air. Neither approach worked. Soon both were engulfed in a swarm of angry sparking lights. The smell of burning fabric and melting rubber began to assault the afternoon air. The stench of burning flesh and hair was not far behind.

“GRANDPA!!” Grayson thrashed wildly, having no more effect than anything else had. The young boy screamed for his grandfather’s help even as his eyes lost their natural color and surged with a sickly orange. The boy’s soft voice was replaced by something horrible; low, wet, and gurgling. His body stiffened and his fingers gnarled like claws. His small body jerked and spasmed so violently that it was punctuated by the sound of breaking bones.

Jacob screamed as well, but in defiance against these tiny creatures and out of fear for his grandson whom he adored beyond measure. The last conscious thing that Jacob Patterson did was rip his fishing vest from his back and attempt to drape its underside, still free from the attacking thistles, over his grandson like a cloak to protect him. He was still moving forward, arms outstretched and vest offered, as a cloud of thistles rushed in to cover his chest and back. Jacob’s eyes went orange and his shriek of pain melted into some kind of inhuman roar as he fell upon the writhing form of what had once been his beloved grandson.

Above, held aloft by the steady beat of huge leathery wings, the monster observed with dispassionate eyes. The destruction of these two beings was total. It was still not satisfied.

“Is that the right time? Is the clock on your dash right?”

The nervous mother tapped the small plastic disc on the dashboard, as if the jostling of her fingernail might prompt the clock’s hands to suddenly adjust themselves.

“Gretchen, I swear to God, you could make needless worrying a full-time career. We’re almost there. Just sit back and exhale already.”

Judith held the steering wheel with one hand and gently guided her wife back into her seat with her right. She offered a reassuring smile while keeping her eyes on the road. Gretchen began to chew on a fingernail.

“It’s just that we are running late”, Gretchen said, trying to justify her anxiety. “I don’t want Grayson to worry.”

“He’s fishing with your dad, for Pete’s sake”, Judith said. “The sun could set and rise again before he noticed the time. He loves it out there. Besides, we’re only five minutes late.”

“Closer to seven, actually.”

“Relax. Everything is fine. You’ll see.”

When the women pulled into the small dirt lot just off the boat launch, they both had a feeling that everything was most certainly not fine. Judith quickly turned off the engine and stepped out of the car. “Pop? Gray? You guys even in from the lake yet or are you hiding somewhere gobbling down your catch?”

Gretchen was less composed as she leapt from the car, leaving the door opened as she ventured onto the grass and across the lawn. “Grayson honey? Dad? Where are you?” Despite Judith’s jibes, it was unlike Grayson to not be waiting for his moms as they pulled up, waving the day’s catch in the air as his proud grandpa stood behind him. She hurried to the section of lawn that dipped down into the lake. It was her dad’s favorite spot to wade out into the water and cast his line. Every once in a great while, her father would be busy untangling lines or helping her son with the fish and would fall a bit behind in their schedule. But not today. Today there was no one. “Dad?”, she called with louder voice. “Grayson??”

“You suppose maybe they’ve gone up to the house?”, Judith offered, although that didn’t seem likely, as they rarely went inside before dark unless there was bad weather. There was an eerie quiet to the area, as if everything living or otherwise was holding its breath. “There’s not need to get all worked up”, Judith said, in a failed attempt to prevent her better half from doing just that. “It could be something as simple as your dad needing to get something from the neighbors. Or more likely, that Mrs. McGillicuddy has got them at her place and is stuffing Gray with cookies as reward for a successful outing on the lake.”

“Even so”, Gretchen said. “They wouldn’t have left these here.” She reached down and picked up a handsome string of trout from the ground, covered in sand and stray weeds.

Judith was now looking around with eyes as keen as Gretchen’s. “G, look. They wouldn’t have left these behind, either.” Judith stooped down and picked up two fishing rods, one child sized and one for an adult. There was also a handful of lures scattered along the sand.

They needed no further searching or discussion. Without another word, Judith was on her phone trying to reach Jacob. Gretchen was already dialing 9-1-1. At least one of them got an answer.

Nearby, out of sight of the two concerned mothers, two pairs of half-melted fishing waders drifted lazily down the shoreline toward the next dock. Stray bits of cloth and charred chunks of life jacket were either stuck to them or floated alongside. A glowing and stinking orange goo oozed slowly out of the ravaged waders, sinking down to settle on the lake bed below, raising a bit of sand, its lingering heat causing steam to rise off the lake surface and disturb the algae hovering around the odd plant. As it cooled, the odd orange substance mixed with the small stones and gravel along the sandy bottom, formless and luminescent, giving no indication it had ever been the doting Jacob Patterson and his young grandson.

High above, the monster soared. Its eyes sparked, small lances of electricity arced from one orb to the other. Things were so different now. The garb, the coverings these creatures wore, had changed drastically since last it had escaped its hellish confines. It knew now that no matter how fit its prey, lack of covering would result in its loss. And weightier skins would provide little protection were the subjects too old or too young. It was getting closer. At least there was that.

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hey-i-wrote-a-story · 7 years

Text

Chapter 9 The List

The APPRENTICE [x] The WILD CARD [x] The DETECTIVE [x] The WARRIOR [x] The ORACLE [x] The MENTOR The CHAMPION [x]

That was what the list said. This was the list on the piece of paper that Malia had lifted from Erin. The group, Scott’s pack, stared at it for a moment. They passed it around so each of them could get a good look at it. Scott and Kira exchanged meaningful glances. Stiles scrunched his brow as he worried about just what this list was and what it meant. Malia looked at it with a mixture of disinterest and disappointment. Liam, the last to get a good look at the paper, stared at it blankly.

“So what is this?”, he asked. “What are these names, these titles, supposed to mean?”

“They’re archetypes”, Lydia said.

Liam tilted his head forward, his expression one of a student who’d been asked to give the definition of a word he thought he might know, but wasn’t entirely sure of.

“They’re examples of a specific type of personality or ideal”, Scott explained. Liam nodded, an ‘Oh, okay’ look on his face.

“They’re used to identify characters in a story”, Stiles added. “Or in some cases…actual people.”

“So, what—these titles are supposed to identify real people?”, Liam asked.

“If they fit the archetype, then yeah, it’s possible”, Scott answered. He looked worriedly at Stiles, who silently returned the concerned look.

“I was hoping for something a little more revelatory than this”, Malia remarked.

“Oh, I’d say it reveals plenty”, Stiles said, the fear evident in his voice. He began to pace.

“We don’t know exactly what this means yet”, Lydia cautioned. “So let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves.”

“Lydia’s right”, Scott agreed. “This isn’t the time to panic.”

“No?”, Kira said. “When would be the time for that, do you think?”

“Oh, you can do it just about any time, actually”, Stiles said. “Trust me, I’m a certified master. I’m doing it right now, in fact. Care to join me?” His pacing quickened.

Liam’s eyes widened a bit as he recalled what they had just been through recently. He remembered his nightmares, which were disturbed only once by his printer spewing page after page of an unwanted deadpool. “Is this…do you think this is like last time?”, he asked no one in particular.

“Are we doing the list thing again?”, Stiles blurted out. “Tell me we are not doing the list thing again. Why would we be doing that?! It’s been done already!”

Kira took the list and scanned it once more. “Well, from what I can see, it’s pretty obvious who these archetypes are supposed to represent.”

Lydia nodded. “They’re us.”

Everyone drew closer to look at the names again, hoping to pick themselves out.

“We’ll start at the top”, Lydia suggested. “Looking at every archetype that’s been checked off. So. The Apprentice.”

“That’s got to be me”, Liam guessed correctly. “I mean, I am the newbie around here and I’m pretty much under Scott’s tutelage, so…” He shrugged.

The others in the huddle nodded. “Okay, I can see that easily enough”, Lydia said. “Moving down, The Wild Card. So, what is a wild card? Something unpredictable, something few can anticipate, something that can appear suddenly to disrupt a game and even cause problems.” Everyone looked at Malia.

“What? I’m not wild. At least not anymore.”

Stiles stopped pacing and nodded at his girlfriend. “You’re doing much better.”

“I’m doing much better”, Malia repeated defensively.

“Let’s just assign that title to you until a better candidate comes along”, Lydia suggested. “Next. The Detective.”

“Ohhhh my God, there it is”, Stiles moaned. He started pacing again.

“No debate over who that is”, Lydia said. Everyone nodded. “Moving on to The Warrior. Kira?”

“Huh?” Kira was caught completely off guard. “Why would that be me? I’d be called The Trickster or something synonymous with that, wouldn’t I? The Warrior would more likely be--” She gestured to Scott.

“Being able to do battle is part of your natural heritage”, Lydia mentioned. “Or your supernatural heritage”, she corrected herself. “Pick one.”

“And you do carry a sword”, Liam pointed out. “Which you are totally badass with.”

Kira rolled her eyes. “Fine. So I’m The Warrior. Who’s next?”

“The Oracle”, Lydia read.

“Oracles can look into the future”, Scott stated. “Someone of power who can see things other people can’t.”

“Like a banshee”, Malia stated.

“I’m not going to argue that one”, Lydia conceded. “And the last one that’s been checked off, The Champion.” She then looked directly at Scott. Scott blinked.

“What?”

“That would be you”, Lydia said.

“Champion? Me? Ohhhh no, no, no”, Scott protested. “I’m no champion. An Alpha, definitely. Even a True Alpha. But some kind of hero? That’s not who I am. Look there”, and he pointed to the only other remaining name on the list. “The Mentor. That makes more sense. If Liam is my apprentice, then I must be the—“

Lydia began to argue the point, but Malia plucked the paper from her hands before she could. “No, that wouldn’t be right”, she said. “For one thing, your name has a check mark by it just like the rest of ours. You’re here, you got checked off. It looks that simple to me”, Malia said.

“Why would you say that?”, Kira asked.

“Because this doesn’t look like a hit list”, Malia said frankly. “Or a deadpool or whatever. It looks like a substitute teacher’s roll call list. Just checking off who’s present.”

Lydia looked at the page again, “She’s right. None of these names have any kind of bounty offer or a reward written next to them. And they haven’t been crossed out, they’ve only been checked off.”

“Like a shopping list”, Kira said.

“Which means that The Mentor is not the one who’s teaching Liam, it’s somebody who’s taught someone else”, Malia concluded.

Scott was about to ask who on the list had been taught by this so-called mentor, and had he taught more than one of them, or perhaps everyone else on the list? Who would that describe--?

“It’s Derek”, Stiles said, not slowing his pacing. “The Mentor is Derek. He was your mentor”, and he pointed at Scott. “He’s also the only one not here.” Derek Hale, the original Alpha werewolf who had trained Scott briefly in the use of his supernatural abilities, had at one time posed a considerable threat as an enemy, and eventually became an invaluable ally and trusted friend. Fast, strong, and smart, to say nothing of being recently evolved as a werewolf, Derek had long been a powerful presence in Beacon Hills.

Malia pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows. Derek. Yeah, that made sense.

“You’re the champion, Scott. Deal with it”, Stiles said. “Some are born to greatness, others have greatness thrust upon them. I guess this list heralds that thrusting. That sounded so much better in my head.”

“So why not just write out our names?”, Kira asked, steering them back on track. “Why bother with the archetype titles?”

“Either they already know our names, and which category we fit under”, Lydia suggested, “or they don’t want anyone who might see the list to know to whom it’s referring.”

“Or who they’re hunting down”, Stiles interjected.

“Stiles, there’s no indication that this list was written out with any malicious intent”, Scott told him. “This doesn’t look anything like the assassins’ deadpool.”

“No, this one’s worse”, Stiles said back.

“Why’s that?”

“Because this time I’m ON it!”

Liam had found his way to the kitchen counter, atop which he had been sitting as he watched the drama unfold. He decided that Stiles’ freakout was the perfect time to intervene. “There’s an easy way to find out what the list is for”, he said.

Everyone turned to look at him with expectant expressions. He looked back, astonished that this group of young heroes had not thought of it themselves. Scott stared back, not wanting to wait through his Beta’s astonishment.

“And that is?”

“We ask them”, Liam said, hopping down from the counter.

Lydia made a quirky face. “So we just zip down to the end of the driveway, wave a hand and say, ‘Yoo-hoo! Come on back, we need to ask you about this list thingy’?”

“They could be anywhere by now”, Kira agreed.

“I didn’t really pay that much attention to anyone’s scent”, Scott admitted. “But Liam and I did spend the most time with Aadesh. He and I might be able to trace him.”

“Or I could track them”, Malia stated simply. “Remember, I’ve spent more than my share of time tracking things in the woods around here. And with that clatter-trap pickup truck, it should be easy to find them, even if they’ve already gotten as far as—“

“Or we could just call them”, Stiles said, cutting her off.

Now everyone looked at him. How would they do that, pray tell?

Stiles held up a small slip of paper. On it was a hastily-scrawled phone number and a note that said,

Call me! PLEASE. Freddie. 213-555-6298

“He slipped it into my hand as they were arriving, when he shook my hand. Hand-shaking my arm out of its socket, more accurately.”

Scott turned back to the group. “Or we could just call them.”

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hey-i-wrote-a-story · 7 years

Text

Chapter 10 In Freddie’s Truck

“That went just beautifully, now didn’t it?”

Erin was so pissed off that she was practically fuming. Everyone was afraid to say anything when she was like this. Everyone except Freddie.

“You can see the smoke coming out your ears”, he remarked from behind the wheel.

“Well you should!”, she snapped. Freddie shrank down in his seat. He hoped the rattle and clank of his pickup would help to drown out Erin’s diatribe that was no doubt coming next. It didn’t.

“The whole thing was going along pretty well until you burst in, flapping your gums! You with your whole ‘Hey-Hey the Gang’s All Here’ intrusion.”

“It’s actually ‘Hail, Hail’ the gang’s all here”, Freddie corrected.

“Whatever! You know what I meant! Why is it that you insist on screwing everything up??”

“Lay off him”, Aadesh said. “I’d say there’s plenty of blame to go around. You’re not gonna load this whole thing on Freddie’s shoulders.” Aadesh was no fan of Freddie’s tendency to let his exuberance get the better of him, usually at the worst possible times, but he was not going to just sit there and let his best friend be attacked.

“Face it, Erin”, Kaitlyn added, “The situation was going south all on its own well before Freddie got there.”

“I could have fixed it!”, Erin declared.

Aadesh provided a quick recap. “We’d all made contact with our respective members of the pack—some of us actually finding two at once, I might add”, and he nodded toward Kaitlyn. She gave a slight bow of her head. Thank-you very much, I’m sure. “Then we proceed as we were instructed, exactly as instructed, by the way”, and this time he sent a couple raised eyebrows Erin’s way. “And by whatever twist of fate that happened to befall us—“

“Or maybe the Bluebird of Happiness dropping a big steamer on our heads”, Freddie suggested.

“Or that”, Aadesh conceded, “All of us end up in exactly the same place en masse for a front-row seat as everything we’d carefully set up unraveled. Let me know if I missed anything.” He put his chin in his palm and stared out the window at the passing scenery. He felt a full-on sulk coming on.

“I still say I could have fixed it”, Erin insisted.

“I would love to hear how”, Aadesh mumbled.

“Me too!”, Freddie chimed in.

Erin looked at her heavy footwear and sighed dejectedly. “It was all worked out. There was nothing wrong with the plan.” She began to tick off the major points on her fingers. “We get to Beacon Hills. We each make contact with our assigned member, or members, of the pack. We make friends. We bond as best we can as quickly as we can. Then and only then do we begin to voice our concerns about this supernatural creature that seems to be stalking us and THAT’S when the pack would convene and lo and behold, we all have the same problem, the same monster is after all of us. We join forces with the Heroes of Beacon Hills and then”, and she swiped her palms together in an ‘all finished’ gesture, “problem solved.”

“With a glorious fight scene, I’d hope”, Freddie grinned.

Arms crossed, Erin slumped back in her seat. “Now it’s never going to happen and we’re just plain screwed.”

“So what now, chief?”, Kaitlyn asked. She knew the irony of her calling the Native American girl “chief”, as did Erin, and it usually brought a smile to her face. Not this time. Erin just looked back, an expression of desperation in her eyes.

“I honestly have no idea.”

They sat in silence for a while, the sound of the dilapidated pickup the only thing making any noise. What now indeed? The heroes whom they sought out for help now regarded them as the enemy. Meanwhile, a terrifying otherworldly monster was gunning for them and could pounce at any moment. The situation was less than hopeful.

“I don’t suppose we could go back and apologize?”, Aadesh pondered. “Maybe start over.”

“Somehow I don’t see them being very receptive to that”, Erin lamented.

“Well, we’ve got to do something”, Kaitlyn said. “We need to be proactive here. It’s not like we can expect them to just up and call us—“

Someone’s cell phone rang.

Everyone froze. Freddie gripped the wheel tighter. The only ones who had their numbers were the four already in the truck. They were not listed or posted anywhere. Kaitlyn looked at her phone and shook her head. It wasn’t her.

Erin looked as Aadesh dug into his pockets. “Not me”, Erin said.

“Not me”, said Aadesh.

It rang again.

The incoming call wasn’t coming from any of the three riding and Freddie’s hands were on the steering wheel, so who--? Freddie retrieved his phone. He looked at the screen and his eyes bulged.

“It’s Stiles.”

“Stop the car!”, Erin cried.

Freddie did, quickly. Everyone jerked forward in their seats. Erin spoke first, as she always preferred. “What do you mean it’s Stiles?”

Another ring.

“Um…I mean that it’s Stiles. He’s calling me.”

“How do you know it’s him?”

“Because Caller I.D. shows a local number.”

Still ringing.

“SO?! How does that prove—“

“And it says STILINSKI, STI.”

“Sti?”, Aadesh asked, confused.

“There isn’t enough room on the little screen for all of it.”

And yet another ring.

“How could he be calling us?”, Kaitlyn demanded.

“Because I kind of gave him my phone number”, Freddie admitted sheepishly.

“Pull over!”, Erin brayed. “PULL OVER!”

Ring, ring.

Freddie pulled the pickup off the road into a small grove and shut off the engine. He turned in his seat and looked to the rest of the group. “So what do I do?”

“ANSWER IT!!” It didn’t matter which of them was the most forceful in that command, as all three said it at once.

Freddie took a deep breath, swallowed, and held the phone up to his ear.

“Um. Yellooo--?”

Momentary pause.

“Hey, how’s it goin’? Thanks for calling.”

Another pause. Everyone was getting antsy.

“Yeah, I agree. Really. It was a rocky start. But I thin—what’sat?”

Another pause. Everyone was leaning in, trying to hear the other end of the line.

“Ha-ha! That’s good. Yeah, it kinda was. That’s really good. You’re funny.”

Faces were turning red from the strain of waiting.

“Sure! Absolutely. I’d like that. Where?”

Fingers were drummed on the torn seats, a thumbnail was being chewed, and long hair twisted around an index finger.

“I have no clue where that is whatsoever. But my phone has GPS. I can find it—Oh, hey, yeah. If you could text me directions, that’d be great.” Freddie stopped and held out his phone to look at the text appearing on the small screen. Freddie nodded.

“Yeah, I got it. Okay, cool. So until then, I guess. Yeah. I really appreciate you calling. Will do. Bye.”

He put the phone down and looked at his three friends who were staring at him wide-eyed. Freddie just stared back until Erin asked, “Well--?”

Freddie smiled. “He wants to meet.”

Erin fell backwards in her seat, body limp, and let out a long breath.

Aadesh looked at her and grinned. “Or one of us could just give them our phone number.”

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hey-i-wrote-a-story · 7 years

Text

Chapter 11 The Meeting

It was dark by the time the foursome arrived at the designated meeting spot. Freddie parked the car and turned off the cracked and yellowing headlights. He let out a long breath of exasperation.

“We’re late”, Erin grumped, which everyone already knew.

“It’s not my fault”, Freddie protested.

“Who was the one driving?”, Erin said. “I thought your phone had GPS.”

“We all do, I think”, Aadesh said. “But mine must be on the fritz or something. It’s not working right.”

“Mine either”, Freddie explained. “It’s like it would get us partway and then send us off in a different direction or just blank out entirely. Seriously, it’s like this place didn’t want to be found.” Neither Freddie nor any of his friends knew that the meeting spot had been chosen for that very reason. It was near the location of the Nemeton, a massive tree stump and magical nexus consecrated ages ago by druid priests. It was difficult, often impossible, to find without some type of supernatural power. The choice of location was a test to see if any of the four had such power.

“If it hadn’t been for Kaitlyn’s suggestions--”

“I’m getting a weird vibe from this place”, Kaitlyn added, interrupting.

“Well, maybe we’re over some kind of ley lines or near some power lines or something. Whatever the deal is, we’re here and we just deal.”

“It’s not like we’re not used to dealing with weird creepy stuff”, Aadesh said.

Erin hopped out of the car and started looking around for a sign of someone else approaching, but saw nothing.

“Why do you suppose he asked us to come all the way out here?”, Aadesh wondered aloud. “Why not just have us come back to the house?”

“Would you want somebody you don’t trust romping around your living room?”, Kaitlyn asked. The two boys looked sheepish, realizing she was right.

“I knew it”, Erin said. “I knew it! We took too damn long to find this place—assuming we’re even in the right place—and he got tired of waiting and left.” She started fuming. “He thought we chickened out at the idea of meeting him and telling him the truth. Ergo, we’re a bunch of liars who can’t be trusted that they’ll want nothing to do with!”

“We did lie, Erin”, Kaitlyn pointed out. “We’ve already got that against us.”

“We didn’t lie”, Erin protested. “Not exactly. We just didn’t tell them everything that was true right up front. We do that next, or we would have, given the chance.” She looked around again. More trees, dense woods, the road they came down to get here. Only a plethora of dead leaves covering the ground, rustling quietly in the slight breeze. There was really nothing to see in any direction other than what seemed like the perfect setting for a horror movie. She resisted the urge to shiver, despite the warm temperature. “Stiles took off thinking we’re cowards and God only knows where he is now.”

“I’ve been here for over half an hour.”

The group spun to see Stiles standing there (where had he come from??) not a dozen feet away. “And yeah, you’re late.”

His appearance took everyone off guard. Aadesh jumped, Kaitlyn nearly gasped, and Freddie, in a fit of confused panic, turned and ran straight into the door of his pickup truck. There was a dull KTUNK! And he fell backwards into a cluster of dead leaves.

Nobody moved. They didn’t even look down to check on Freddie, who lay flat on his back. Stiles walked up to them and peered down at the fallen ginger boy. Freddie looked up, seeing his hero staring down at him, his face upside-down from that angle.

“Hey, Stiles. Good to see you. Had a heck of a time finding this place.”

Stiles scrunched his brow. “And I actually thought you people might pose a threat.” He shook his head and stepped away.

Freddie scrambled to his feet, crunchy leaves clinging to his clothes. He looked around and asked, “How did you get here? You just showed up out of nowher—“

“My jeep’s right over there.” Stiles jerked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating a spot somewhere behind him. “Has been the whole time.”

Freddie craned his neck. “Where? I don’t see—“

A pair of gleaming blue eyes lit up from inside the jeep, staring out at the quartet of strangers. That time, everyone started a bit. They could then make out portions of the jeep, parked in the shadows several yards away. There was a slight creak of metal as the door of the jeep opened and out stepped Malia, her were-coyote eyes agleam and her expression stern.

“Can you see it now?”, Stiles asked.

All four friends could feel the hair rise on the back of their necks.

“Um, n-now that we know where to look”, Aadesh answered.

“Look…”, Erin began cautiously. “I think there’s some mistake about why we’re here.”

“So why don’t you tell us.” This voice came from behind them. They spun around to see another pair of glowing eyes, these bright yellow, hovering in the shadows behind them. Liam emerged from the dense woods, wolfen eyes peering right through the newcomers, his expression a grin devoid of all humor. He rested his arms on the rim of the pickup bed and said, “Feel free to clear the whole thing up.”

Erin stepped back, but realized that if she continued backing up, she’d bump into Stiles as well as Malia, who was now standing beside him.

Kaitlyn tried to say something, but no words came out of her mouth. Then a scraping sound caught everyone’s attention. The only ones who didn’t turn toward the sound was Stiles, Malia, and Liam. The other four watched intently as Kira approached, where she had come from yet another uncomfortable mystery. Her sword was out, and with her hand gripping the hilt, she dragged the blade behind her, the very tip of it scraping along the ground. The sound it made was more than just metal on earth. There was something eerie about it, unnerving. It was clear to the four teens that the blade was far from normal, as was the young woman who held it.

The four gathered together in a tight huddle at the rear of Freddie’s pickup truck. They instinctively felt safer together, whether or not that was actually the case. They looked at each other, uncertain of who should speak first, or what they should say. Erin swallowed hard and mustered enough nerve to say, “We never wanted to upset any of you, honestly.”

“Too late”, Malia said flatly. She nodded to something behind the four kids and they turned to see what it was. They immediately wished they hadn’t.

A pair of red eyes, glowing brighter than the previous two, appeared behind them. Scott McCall stepped out of the shadows, the canopy of branches above him still casting dark patches over his face and torso, making him look slightly unreal and monstrous. “I think it’s time for a long talk where we ask the questions”, he said, his voice a bit deeper than it usually was. “And you can start with explaining this.” Scott held out the list of archetypes and Erin felt her blood freeze. Aadesh, Freddie and Kaitlyn stared at it wide-eyed, as if they’d never seen it before. Indeed they hadn’t.

“The good news is”, said Lydia, suddenly there beside Stiles, “that nobody dies. At least not that I can tell. At least not yet.”

Erin absently fingered the inside of her coat. Secured there were a few small cloth bags, each tied with a rust-colored cord. The two nearest to her reach were small, no larger than an egg, and fit easily into her palm. One was marked with a rough drawing of a wolf’s head. The other, with a mountain peak, entirely black. Erin fingered the tiny bags, and felt her heart beat faster even as she hoped she wouldn’t have to use either of them.

“It’s, ah…it’s a list of archetypes”, Erin said. “Character descriptions, individual titles.”

“We already knew that”, Lydia said back. “Keep going.” Erin withered under Lydia’s gaze. There was something about making eye contact with the strawberry blond that she didn’t like.

Aadesh gestured to Scott that he’d like to see the paper, his arm extended. Scott gave it to him. Aadesh looked it over, and even in the dim light, he could make out exactly what it said. “Geez, you carry it around with you? Why do you even have it written down?” He was as surprised by the list as Scott’s pack was.

“I’ve told you guys”, Erin said, “I like the—“

“—tactile sensation of pen and paper”, Kaitlyn finished her sentence.

Freddie dropped his head into both hands. “Gaah...how many times are we going to hear that?”

Lydia and Malia glanced at one another quickly. What was all this, then?

Stiles snapped his fingers rapidly. “Yo! No side conversations or distractions, children. What’s up with the list?”

“That can wait”, Scott interrupted. “First and most important, how did you even know about us?” The four friends stared back at him blankly. “Now would be your turn to talk”, he prompted.

The four looked at one another and recognized the time for subterfuge was long past. This would be a good time to start telling the truth. Erin looked at Scott and spoke first.

“We…learned about a unique pack in Light-, in Beacon Hills. This pack was unlike any other. It wasn’t just an Alpha werewolf and a few Betas. This one was comprised of unique supernaturals, no two exactly alike.” She looked the members of Scott’s pack over and just let the words come. “You weren’t monsters or freaks. You were protectors, guardians. Of each other and everyone around you.”

Scott listened intently to her heartbeat. Erin was nervous and somewhat high-strung, but she wasn’t lying. Her heart was going a bit faster than it normally would, but there were no jumps or skips to indicate any falsehood. Scott looked to Malia. It was clear from her expression that she was doing the same check as Scott. She returned his gaze and nodded. Same here. She’s telling the truth.

“The more we knew about you, the more we looked up to you”, Erin admitted. “You grew beyond urban legend or hearsay…you, well…”

“You became our idols”, Aadesh said, completing her thought.

“Us?”, Lydia asked. In her mind, she and her friends may have power, but with all they had faced, they had also been very, very lucky. For the most part, in any case. They were not movie or TV show champions who went out looking for trouble, eager to unearth wrongs to right. Mostly the trouble came to them, whether they wanted it to or not.

“Oh God, yes”, Freddie gushed. Erin held up a hand to quiet him. Hold on, I’ll take it from here. Aadesh ushered his best friend back a step and nodded to her. Okay, go on.

“You showed us all this excitement, this sense of purpose, a higher calling to be better people.”

Stiles cut in. “Why do you keep talking about us as if we have a weekly YouTube channel? How are you getting enough information to come to these conclusions? Hearsay isn’t going to give you that.”

“It wasn’t just you”, Erin said, speaking faster in hopes of dodging Stiles’ question. “It was what you were facing, what you were up against, time after time. You always seemed grossly outmatched, and yet every time, every single time, you won. It became all we ever talked about.”

Stiles was about to interrupt again, getting back to the how, but Scott sensed a more pressing question that needed asking.

“But it didn’t stop there, did it?”, Scott prodded. “Just talking.”

Erin lowered her head slightly. “No.”

“We wanted more”, Kaitlyn told them.

“More what?”, Liam asked, confused.

Nobody answered that question. Scott was going to push when Lydia answered for them. “More of the supernatural. More than just hearing about everything second-hand. You wanted a taste of it up close and personal. Am I right?”

“We…dabbled in the supernatural”, Erin admitted. Her three friends looked very uncomfortable.

“Uh-huh”, Lydia nodded. “I don’t suppose you met with such great success that you sought us out to brag about it.”

“Not exactly”, Erin answered.

“There’s a monster after us”, Aadesh said.

“Just what kind of dabbling did you do?!”, Malia snapped.

Erin took over the narrative again. “This monster that’s after us is far more than we can handle alone. But for Scott McCall’s pack…”

“And the pieces begin to fall into place”, Stiles observed. “You discover something new, get all caught up in it, and you want someone else to clean up your mess. That about sum it up?”

“I know you can do it”, Erin said, as if what they needed was encouragement rather than explanations. “Supernatural creatures, despicable people, ancient demons--You’ve faced down all kinds of threats, to yourselves, and your entire community, and you’re undefeated.”

“If anybody can stop this thing—“, Aadesh began.

“So you wanted ringside seats to us taking on the next big threat”, Malia spat, “which you so conveniently provided.”

“No!”, Aadesh cried. “It’s not like that!”

“We just really need help”, Erin said. “The kind you can’t get by dialing 911.”

“Maybe so”, Scott said. “But that still doesn’t explain this.” He snatched the paper with the list of archetypes from Aadesh’s hand and held it up for the four friends to see.

Erin began speaking rapidly, as if she were rattling off a memorized list of place names and corresponding events for a history test. “We all agreed that we wanted to meet you one day anyway. So when we found this monster, or more like it found us, we came up with the plan to come here, meet you, become friends, present ourselves as people your pack would want to help—“

“But the wheels came off when everyone wound up a Scott’s house at the same time”, Kaitlyn said.

Scott jabbed the paper with his finger. “You’re still not telling me about this. I already know what you’re saying. How did you know enough about us to write this list??”

“This is descriptive enough to be inside information”, Stiles stressed.

“We told you”, Erin said, sounding exasperated, “we learned about your pack. After that, we—“

“Where’d you learn about us?”, Scott pressed. “And how?”

The four looked at each other nervously. They looked like a group trying desperately to hang on to one last secret. A secret they were loath to give up.

“I think what my friend is trying to say”, Stiles said, “Is who sent you?”

Everyone froze at that question. Whether it was spot-on or totally off the mark, it had the same effect on the four friends. They had no idea what to say. This could not be going worse for them.

“Whuh…why would we…no one”, Erin stammered. “Nobody sent us. We’re on our own! That’s why we need you.”

“And we have only your word on that. We come to your rescue to save you from this entirely hypothetical monsterie only to stumble headlong into a trap.”

Freddie looked horrified at the idea. “No…we’d never…”

“Then we find ourselves surrounded by some crazy distant relative who should be dead but instead is now a scary were-thing, or one of us gets possessed by some gazillion-year-old demon, or who knows what the hell, and—whoopsie!—guess we should have shown a little more scrutiny before diving headlong into this latest escapade.”

“Stiles, take it easy.” Scott did not like seeing his friend getting so worked up. He knew it was out of fear for his friends rather than any sense of self-righteous rage.

Stiles took a deep breath and began again, considerably more composed. “You said you dabbled in the occult, the supernatural.” They all nodded. “How? In what way exactly did you do your dabbling?”

“It’s…a little complicated”, Erin offered.

“Okay, then”, Stiles conceded. “Simpler question. Why? Why do it at all? It can’t have been just because you wanted some facetime with the supernatural. You could have done that just by coming here. But you didn’t come here until after this alleged thing you did, which you won’t even describe.”

The four friends had nowhere to go with that. No answers were coming to mind that wouldn’t make them sound like the schemers they were being painted to be. They hadn’t thought this all the way through and Stiles was already too far ahead of him. None of them could match his skill at deductive reasoning. They were sunk. Not knowing what to say, they said nothing.

“The silence is deafening, guys”, Stiles stated. “There’s something you’re not telling us, something big, and lies of omission are still lies.”

The four teens looked to the others standing around them. Lydia, Kira, Malia, Scott, even the young Liam. None of their expressions offered any kind of support or willingness to listen further. Stiles held up his hands as if to say, ‘Well that’s that, then’, and he turned and began to walk away. The others followed suit, each one of Scott’s pack moving away from the old pickup truck, and back to their respective vehicles. They were done here. If there was any way to salvage the situation, it had to be now. Aadesh called out to them.

“WAIT!”

Scott’s pack stopped and half-turned around. What now?

“We aren’t lying about the monster”, Aadesh assured them. “We swear.”

“Uh-huh”, Stiles said, thoroughly unconvinced. “What kind of monster?”

Aadesh looked nervous. “What do you mean, what kind of—“

“There are all kinds of different monsters”, Lydia pointed out. “Trust us, we know.”

Stiles looked Aadesh square in the eyes. “Was it a wendigo? A werewolf? Kanima?”

Freddie looked baffled. “What’s a kanima?”

Aadesh swatted him on the arm and shot him an angry look.

“Okay, it was nice meeting you”, Stiles said, turning away. “Have a safe trip back to wherever it was you came from, stalker-groupies.”

“You guys!”, Erin cried desperately. “This is serious! We genuinely need your help.” It was the first time since Stiles had picked her up in his jeep that she seemed vulnerable.

“Can you at least describe this monster?”, Scott asked.

Stiles frowned at him. “Scott, don’t encourage them. It’s pretty obvious they made it all up—“

“It was orange”, Kaitlyn said.

For a second, everyone was quiet. No one was expecting an answer, much less one so specific. So they held their tongues. Things were very still, until Stiles spoke.

“Okay. So was it like a cheese puff orange or hazard cone orange?”

“It was more orange like lava”, Freddie offered.

“Lava is red”, Lydia stated.

“Not when it’s really, super-duper hot”, Freddie countered.

“So we’ve got a scary hot lava monster to deal with, then?”, Kira asked no one in particular.

“What else did it look like?”, Scott inquired. “Was it big, was it human-sized, could it speak?”

“Come on already!”, Stiles said. “With all they’ve given us to go on, it sounds like we’re supposed to be hunting a giant creamsicle.” He turned back to the new kids. “Which would be more plausible than what they’re saying.”

Aadesh started talking, rapidly. He was not going to let go of this foothold they had on the conversation, regardless how tenuous. Scott and his pack needed to know they were sincere. “It was big, bigger than a person”, he started. “Large head, neck was pretty wide, thick. It looked as if it could extend its neck to a longer length, even. But I can’t be sure.” He had begun to fidget. “It had claws. Nasty, long, and sharp. And a tail. Strong, thick like a crocodile’s, but much longer. The main portion of its body was easily twelve feet tall. I’d say bigger.”

“The main part?”, Scott asked. “Above the tail, you mean?”

“It has wings”, Aadesh answered. “Kind of like a bat. Leathery, rough. They looked strong.”

“Wings”, Stiles considered. “Delightful.”

“How big was its wingspan?”, Scott asked.

Aadesh spread out his arms as he thought. “Wide. Huge. Maybe two dozen feet, end to end.”

“At least”, Freddie added.

“It sounds like you’re describing a pterodactyl”, Kira observed.

“No, it’s not like that”, Kaitlyn interjected. “It didn’t look…I don’t know, prehistoric.”

“Didn’t look as old as a dinosaur then?”, Scott ventured.

“No”, Kaitlyn answered quickly. “It looked older. Ancient. Like it had been around forever.”

The group was very quiet for a moment. The more the new kids described their monster, the less Scott and his pack liked it. It was Malia who broke the silence.

“I’m still not ready to believe any of this. Have we ever heard of a creature that even remotely fits this description? Any of us?”

The newcomers all looked ready to defend their claim, but Scott beat them to it. “Most of the things we’ve encountered we didn’t know anything about or had even heard of until they first showed up.”

“It’s true”, Lydia agreed.

“So lack of familiarity isn’t proof that this thing doesn’t exist”, Scott said.

“But wouldn’t it be nice, though?”, Stiles muttered, just loud enough for everyone to hear.

“I think the best thing for us to do now--”, Scott began, but that was as far as he got with his suggestion. He suddenly stood very still. Everyone looked to him.

“What?”, Stiles asked.

Scott held up a finger. Hold it a minute. He tilted his head slightly and asked, “Do you hear that?” No one responded. He looked at Liam.

Liam paused, craning his neck slightly. Then his eyes widened. “Yeah, I do hear it. What is that?”

“I hear it too”, Malia said. She listened intently, searching for the right words. “Like someone slowly shaking out a big sheet or blanket.”

“More like the wind in a tall sail”, Liam added. If it were possible for a fluttering sail to sound menacing, that was how this sounded.

“Whatever it is, it’s getting closer”, Scott warned.

“Where is it coming from?”, Kira asked. “Which direction is—oh, I hear it, too.”

“Can we decide what to do before those of us without super-hearing pick up on it, please?”, Stiles pleaded.

“Everyone get to the shadows”, Scott said. “And stay quiet!”

They did. And they were.

There was only a moment of tense silence before the sound mentioned before could be heard by everyone. It was no longer reaching them from a distance. Now it was directly above. A huge shadow darted back and forth along the ground past the trees where everyone hid. Slowly, cautious not to make any noise, all eyes looked up.

Perhaps one hundred feet above them, the monster circled. It was not quite as the newcomers described. It was much worse. The wingspan was easily two dozen feet, possibly more. It was hard to tell as the leathery appendages beat effortlessly against the wind, guiding the creature back and forth as it appeared to scan the area. Its coloring was primarily orange, but an odd hue, ranging from tangerine to rust. Light shifted from within the monster, as jolts of what looked like lightning shot along its wings, across its torso, and down its tail. It curled and uncurled its sharp talons repeatedly, as if eager to grab onto or snatch up something it could not yet see. A godawful rumble grew in its throat and a low shriek emitted from between its fangs. The sound was one more of frustration than rage, but the pitch was still enough to hurt the ears of the two werewolves below. Malia fared no better, as she pressed her hands over her ears to block the sound.

The small bit of movement may have been enough to get the monster’s attention, because as it was drifting away, it made a sharp turn back for a second look. It looked down, sparks and electrical charges lancing back and forth between its eyes, scanning the ground. The whole group held its breath. The monster hovered, wings beating stronger against the evening air as it held itself aloft. It craned its neck to the left, then to the right. It listened intently. It heard nothing. With an angry huff, spitting a ball of lightning into the air, the monster turned around and, with just two more flaps of its wings, disappeared into the sky faster than the frightened onlookers could follow.

Everyone was silent. Some had even stopped breathing. When that moment had passed, Scott and Stiles began speaking, still keeping their eyes on the sky.

“If I could amend my previous statements somewhat”, Stiles began, his voice a bit shaky.

Scott placed a comforting hand on his best friend’s shoulder and turned to the rest of the group. “Is everyone alright?” Although the monster never descended, Scott knew there were other ways to be hurt. He was already astonished that Stiles had not fainted. He wasn’t sure about the fortitude of the four newcomers.

“We seem to be fine”, Malia said, the first one to her feet. She glanced at Aadesh, and pointing said, “Although that one peed a little.”

“Did not”, Aadesh muttered low, placing both hands over his crotch.

Lydia was helping Erin and Kaitlyn up as she asked, “What was that thing?”

“It’s not what we—“, Kaitlyn started, but Erin cut her off.

“We really don’t know. Other than big and mean and scary, we have no idea. We just know it seems really interested in us.”

Kira looked at Kaitlyn. “You were just about to say something. What were you going to say?”

Erin shot Kaitlyn a warning glance. Kaitlyn cleared her throat and said, “It’s just, it’s not…it’s not what we expected when we wanted to explore the supernatural.”

“Like not at all”, Freddie added.

Liam stood behind Freddie, as frightened as any of them but working hard not to show it. “So we know you were telling the truth, at least.”

At least part of it, Stiles thought.

Aadesh was still visibly shaken. His legs were trembling as he said, “I wish that this time it really was just a story!”

“A story?”, Lydia asked. “What do you mean?”

“The questions are going to have to wait”, Scott said. “We can’t stay here.” Stiles stood beside him.

“Scott, we need someplace safe. As much as we can be from that Mega Charizard.”

“You thinking what I’m thinking, then?”

“Sheriff’s station”, Stiles said.

“Right. You get everybody there, quick as you can. Kira and I will go get Derek. Even if he doesn’t know what that thing is, and I hope he does, we may need the big guns.”

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