#my car has all wheel drive. trying to leave results in my just spinning sideways.

[cuntwrap--supreme]

Day 3 of being stuck in my house because neither the city or my apartment is making an effort to clear the snow and I don't have the tools to do it myself. I've spent no money in just as long. I've made a blanket. I've almost finished a 500 page book that I was 2 chapters into at the start. My dog is not even entertained by the snow any more. I can only eat freezer pizza so many times more before I simply stop eating. We've never had snow here like this, so I didn't prepare by, say, buying actual food, as I tend to forget I have produce in my fridge. In the past, snow either doesn't stick and is gone by the end of the day or it does stick but is melted by the next afternoon. It's currently 1F outside. My dog has to piss, but won't go outside. She's 10. She has arthritis. This can't be comfortable. I can't go on walks because the snow is above my ankles and it's difficult to walk in. The furthest I've explored is out to the main road about 1/4 of a mile away, and even that was a sheet of ice and snow, despite it being right off a major interstate exit. People I know across town are complaining that their areas are also not cleared. The city is seemingly refusing to utilize the 15 snow plows at their disposal, and all the hillbillies with big lifted trucks who own plows for situations like this appear to be asleep. Only the interstate was salted before this began. The Waffle House on my side of town is closed (granted it's 10 miles off the interstate, but still). I haven't worked in 4 days, meaning I'll only get paid for 2 days this entire week. My boss will not let me use PTO to cover. My boss says we have to return to work tomorrow because we're all done "pretending we're kids having a snow day." It's 1F. I'm on a hill that's almost a 45 degree angle. It's all ice. I can't even walk down it, let alone drive my car to my silly little job. I will not be going anywhere until the sun can melt that away. The high is 27 for the next week. There is no hope of escape.

[yammineyammine]

Yammine: A Mustang Rear That Won’t Break: Quick Performance’s 9-Inch Rearend

After a few conversations discussing out plans for the Fake Snake Mustang, Quick Performance put together this nine-inch rear end perfectly suited to our needs. It includes beefy axles, a center section with an Eaton Truetrac posi, and a fabricated housing sized specifically to fit an SN95 Mustang. Note that the bracket bolted to the axle housing is the lower coilover shock mount from the QA1 suspension kit and not part of Quick Performance’s rear end kit.

A great way to make practically any car fun is to throw big horsepower at it. But that also comes with a potential drawback, because a great way to become quickly frustrated with practically any car is to throw more horsepower at it than the driveline can reliably handle.

Truth bomb: Cars that consistently break are no fun.

That’s why we’ve so far taken the slow-and-steady route as we transform Car Craft’s Fake Snake project Mustang from run-of-the-mill to ridiculously fun. We’ve spent time rebuilding the transmission, strengthening the chassis with BMR subframe connectors and torque box reinforcements, and we’ve made some serious handling upgrades thanks to a complete suspension kit from QA1.

We’ve got plans to make some ridiculous power in this Mustang thanks to a partnership with Ford, but before we can do that, we knew we had to do something about the stock 8.8-inch rearend currently under the car. After 240,000 miles of service, it was beyond worn. We’ve already mentioned that it makes a growling sound under load that we suspect is either a pinion or axle bearing about to give up the ghost. Also, the clutches in the limited-slip rear (Ford calls their brand Traction-LOK) were so worn we might as well have been running an open-diff rear.

Pulling the OEM rearend involves little more than getting the car up on jackstands, removing the lines (brake, anti-lock, and parking), and unbolting the four control arms. Just make sure to use a jack to support the rearend housing as you unbolt it. That joker’s heavy!

Driveline specialist Quick Performance had been helping us put together a game plan to rebuild the existing rearend to make it serviceable again, but as they learned more about our plans for increasing both the horsepower and traction thanks to significantly bigger rubber, they told us that trying to keep the 8.8 alive in such an environment would likely be more trouble than it is worth.

Instead, they put together a build sheet for a 9-inch Ford-style rearend that could handle well over 800 horsepower reliably with a limited-slip diff that wouldn’t wear out over time. The larger 9-inch ring and pinion set is naturally stronger than the smaller 8.8-inch rear. Couple that with Quick Performance’s fabricated housing and quality 35-spline axles and the result is a rearend that can handle significantly more power than the original—even with significant upgrades.

Here’s a look at the stock Ford Traction-LOK system installed in Mustang GTs of this vintage. It is a posi mechanism that uses clutches to lock the rear wheels together, which you can see just behind the spider gear on the right. The problem with this style posi is the clutches will wear over time and leave you with what is essentially an open dif.

Likewise, the Eaton Truetrac limited-slip diff in the new rearend uses a design that not only won’t wear out over time but also typically works better in most situations than the stock unit. “In my opinion, it is the best differential on the market,” explains Quick Performance’s Max Ramos. “The device doesn’t ever wear. There are no clutch-type units that can handle the power levels that the Truetrac can, but if you are in the 400- to 700-horsepower range you do have the option of the clutch-type limited-slip.

Compare the previous photo with the center section provided by Quick Performance. This one uses an Eaton Truetrac to provide traction. It “locks” harder as more torque is applied through the pinion, plus there are no clutches to wear out. The ring and pinion is a 3.70 ratio, which is slightly lower than the 3.27 gears installed in the stock 8.8 rear.

“The problem with the clutch type is you still have a system of spider gears just like an open carrier. So the gear system is still trying to do a one-wheel peel, it is still trying to find the path of least resistance. The clutches and springs are basically a band-aid that puts resistance between the two wheels. That’s your posi grip. Beside the fact that the clutches will eventually wear out and require a rebuild, the system also can be difficult to work with. The clutches are too stiff when you are trying to push the car around the shop when you don’t need any posi, and they might not be stiff enough when you are breaking free in the burnout box.

On the left is the stock 28-spline axle that measures 1.250 inches in diameter. On the right is the Quick Performance 35-spline axle measuring 1.500 inches. Besides the extra girth, the metallurgy is also designed for maximum street performance. Quick Performance’s Max Ramos says it is a 1541H steel with a deep heat treat. It is ideal for street use because while strong it also has a measure of flexibility to allow the axle to twist if the wheels spin because of uneven traction.

“The Truetrac posi completely does away with those issues by using helical gears, or worm gears, to do the work,” Ramos continues. “The sets of gears engage at 45-degree angles with each other and meet in the middle like a ‘V.’ It can be difficult to imagine, but because they meet in that ‘V’ they will rotate like any other gear but also slide sideways when pressure is put to them.

“So if there is no force coming to the unit, it is 100-percent open. Just like an open carrier—nice and free. Then as soon as you get on the throttle and a load comes to the thing, the teeth on those gears slide into each other and build friction based on how much power is coming down the driveline.

The Quick Performance fabricated axle housing can be built to the width you require and with a variety of mounting flanges to fit a wide variety of chassis. This may be overkill for many applications, but Quick Performance has other options to help save a buck if all this beef isn’t needed.

“That way if there is little or no throttle input you get little to no posi grip. That gives you good street manners. But then when you get on it, the more force going through the driveshaft to the rearend, the stiffer the device gets. So how much throttle you give, the more grip you get—which is exactly when you need it. That’s normally way better than the clutch type unit where you get one level of posi no matter the situation.”

As you can see from the photos, the rearend came in major components and did require some assembly. But that was no big deal, and once together it bolted up into the Mustang with no issues. As soon as we get a driveshaft and new brakes on the car (More on that next month!) we can get the car back on the ground and start the break-in process.

Unlike the stock rearend, the Quick Performance 9-inch keeps the axle in place with flanges bolted to the end of the axle housings. This is a much more secure setup than using C-clips. These are the flanges supplied by Quick Performance, be we won’t be using them because the Bear Brakes kit we’ll be installing next month uses its own flanges for mounting the brake calipers.

Ramos recommends a pretty simple break-in process to make sure the gears seat-in properly. Because this is a street car, we’ll run mineral-based 80w-90 gear oil because Ramos says they see no real benefit for the more expensive synthetic oils in street service. Then we’ll follow Quick Performance’s prescribed break-in.

“Typically, we only require four or five easy heat cycles,” Ramos explains. “A lot of guys do the first one on jackstands if possible, just to put minimal drag on the driveline. Run the car for about 10 minutes to get everything warmed up, then shut it down and let it rest for about 30 to 45 minutes to let it get back down to temperature. And we consider that a heat cycle.

And with that, the rear is ready for installation. It is a pain to get the gear oil into the housing with everything in the car, so we stopped here to put in a few quarts of Lucas Oil 80w-90 weight non-synthetic gear oil.

“The next four heat cycles you can do out on the road. Drive it like normal for approximately 15 minutes, then park it for 30 or 40 minutes—or even an hour if it’s summer—to allow it to cool back down. That is going to set in the seals, and it’s going to get the bearings started to break in. Until you get through the break-ins you may see a little bit of a drip of gear oil get past the pinion seal, so don’t be alarmed if that happens. So that’s the first five heat cycles; and then the sixth time you get in the car you can drive it like you are 16 again.”

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[itsworn]

A Mustang Rear That Won’t Break: Quick Performance’s 9-Inch Rearend

After a few conversations discussing out plans for the Fake Snake Mustang, Quick Performance put together this nine-inch rear end perfectly suited to our needs. It includes beefy axles, a center section with an Eaton Truetrac posi, and a fabricated housing sized specifically to fit an SN95 Mustang. Note that the bracket bolted to the axle housing is the lower coilover shock mount from the QA1 suspension kit and not part of Quick Performance’s rear end kit.

A great way to make practically any car fun is to throw big horsepower at it. But that also comes with a potential drawback, because a great way to become quickly frustrated with practically any car is to throw more horsepower at it than the driveline can reliably handle.

Truth bomb: Cars that consistently break are no fun.

That’s why we’ve so far taken the slow-and-steady route as we transform Car Craft’s Fake Snake project Mustang from run-of-the-mill to ridiculously fun. We’ve spent time rebuilding the transmission, strengthening the chassis with BMR subframe connectors and torque box reinforcements, and we’ve made some serious handling upgrades thanks to a complete suspension kit from QA1.

We’ve got plans to make some ridiculous power in this Mustang thanks to a partnership with Ford, but before we can do that, we knew we had to do something about the stock 8.8-inch rearend currently under the car. After 240,000 miles of service, it was beyond worn. We’ve already mentioned that it makes a growling sound under load that we suspect is either a pinion or axle bearing about to give up the ghost. Also, the clutches in the limited-slip rear (Ford calls their brand Traction-LOK) were so worn we might as well have been running an open-diff rear.

Pulling the OEM rearend involves little more than getting the car up on jackstands, removing the lines (brake, anti-lock, and parking), and unbolting the four control arms. Just make sure to use a jack to support the rearend housing as you unbolt it. That joker’s heavy!

Driveline specialist Quick Performance had been helping us put together a game plan to rebuild the existing rearend to make it serviceable again, but as they learned more about our plans for increasing both the horsepower and traction thanks to significantly bigger rubber, they told us that trying to keep the 8.8 alive in such an environment would likely be more trouble than it is worth.

Instead, they put together a build sheet for a 9-inch Ford-style rearend that could handle well over 800 horsepower reliably with a limited-slip diff that wouldn’t wear out over time. The larger 9-inch ring and pinion set is naturally stronger than the smaller 8.8-inch rear. Couple that with Quick Performance’s fabricated housing and quality 35-spline axles and the result is a rearend that can handle significantly more power than the original—even with significant upgrades.

Here’s a look at the stock Ford Traction-LOK system installed in Mustang GTs of this vintage. It is a posi mechanism that uses clutches to lock the rear wheels together, which you can see just behind the spider gear on the right. The problem with this style posi is the clutches will wear over time and leave you with what is essentially an open dif.

Likewise, the Eaton Truetrac limited-slip diff in the new rearend uses a design that not only won’t wear out over time but also typically works better in most situations than the stock unit. “In my opinion, it is the best differential on the market,” explains Quick Performance’s Max Ramos. “The device doesn’t ever wear. There are no clutch-type units that can handle the power levels that the Truetrac can, but if you are in the 400- to 700-horsepower range you do have the option of the clutch-type limited-slip.

Compare the previous photo with the center section provided by Quick Performance. This one uses an Eaton Truetrac to provide traction. It “locks” harder as more torque is applied through the pinion, plus there are no clutches to wear out. The ring and pinion is a 3.70 ratio, which is slightly lower than the 3.27 gears installed in the stock 8.8 rear.

“The problem with the clutch type is you still have a system of spider gears just like an open carrier. So the gear system is still trying to do a one-wheel peel, it is still trying to find the path of least resistance. The clutches and springs are basically a band-aid that puts resistance between the two wheels. That’s your posi grip. Beside the fact that the clutches will eventually wear out and require a rebuild, the system also can be difficult to work with. The clutches are too stiff when you are trying to push the car around the shop when you don’t need any posi, and they might not be stiff enough when you are breaking free in the burnout box.

On the left is the stock 28-spline axle that measures 1.250 inches in diameter. On the right is the Quick Performance 35-spline axle measuring 1.500 inches. Besides the extra girth, the metallurgy is also designed for maximum street performance. Quick Performance’s Max Ramos says it is a 1541H steel with a deep heat treat. It is ideal for street use because while strong it also has a measure of flexibility to allow the axle to twist if the wheels spin because of uneven traction.

“The Truetrac posi completely does away with those issues by using helical gears, or worm gears, to do the work,” Ramos continues. “The sets of gears engage at 45-degree angles with each other and meet in the middle like a ‘V.’ It can be difficult to imagine, but because they meet in that ‘V’ they will rotate like any other gear but also slide sideways when pressure is put to them.

“So if there is no force coming to the unit, it is 100-percent open. Just like an open carrier—nice and free. Then as soon as you get on the throttle and a load comes to the thing, the teeth on those gears slide into each other and build friction based on how much power is coming down the driveline.

The Quick Performance fabricated axle housing can be built to the width you require and with a variety of mounting flanges to fit a wide variety of chassis. This may be overkill for many applications, but Quick Performance has other options to help save a buck if all this beef isn’t needed.

“That way if there is little or no throttle input you get little to no posi grip. That gives you good street manners. But then when you get on it, the more force going through the driveshaft to the rearend, the stiffer the device gets. So how much throttle you give, the more grip you get—which is exactly when you need it. That’s normally way better than the clutch type unit where you get one level of posi no matter the situation.”

As you can see from the photos, the rearend came in major components and did require some assembly. But that was no big deal, and once together it bolted up into the Mustang with no issues. As soon as we get a driveshaft and new brakes on the car (More on that next month!) we can get the car back on the ground and start the break-in process.

Unlike the stock rearend, the Quick Performance 9-inch keeps the axle in place with flanges bolted to the end of the axle housings. This is a much more secure setup than using C-clips. These are the flanges supplied by Quick Performance, be we won’t be using them because the Bear Brakes kit we’ll be installing next month uses its own flanges for mounting the brake calipers.

Ramos recommends a pretty simple break-in process to make sure the gears seat-in properly. Because this is a street car, we’ll run mineral-based 80w-90 gear oil because Ramos says they see no real benefit for the more expensive synthetic oils in street service. Then we’ll follow Quick Performance’s prescribed break-in.

“Typically, we only require four or five easy heat cycles,” Ramos explains. “A lot of guys do the first one on jackstands if possible, just to put minimal drag on the driveline. Run the car for about 10 minutes to get everything warmed up, then shut it down and let it rest for about 30 to 45 minutes to let it get back down to temperature. And we consider that a heat cycle.

And with that, the rear is ready for installation. It is a pain to get the gear oil into the housing with everything in the car, so we stopped here to put in a few quarts of Lucas Oil 80w-90 weight non-synthetic gear oil.

“The next four heat cycles you can do out on the road. Drive it like normal for approximately 15 minutes, then park it for 30 or 40 minutes—or even an hour if it’s summer—to allow it to cool back down. That is going to set in the seals, and it’s going to get the bearings started to break in. Until you get through the break-ins you may see a little bit of a drip of gear oil get past the pinion seal, so don’t be alarmed if that happens. So that’s the first five heat cycles; and then the sixth time you get in the car you can drive it like you are 16 again.”

The post A Mustang Rear That Won’t Break: Quick Performance’s 9-Inch Rearend appeared first on Hot Rod Network.

from Hot Rod Network https://www.hotrod.com/articles/mustang-rear-wont-break-quick-performances-9-inch/ via IFTTT

[thejerkstorecalled]

How Hard is it to Travel w a Peloton bike?

I checked into my first hotel/nomad lodging situation of this trek of living out of a car and suitcases, and kind of felt like I hit the jackpot. A very good rate on a very comfortable hotel that serves cookies and has a space to set up a spin studio in the room!

On my first full day staying here, I did ride in the room, and pretty much didn’t leave the room. It was a stressful work Friday trying to launch an online store and get out an important RFP that has a tight closing timeline, among other things. It was definitely too much alone time. At the end of the day, I started getting anxious about the idea of leaving the room. I woke up in the middle night thinking about my plans for Saturday - driving down to where my normal ride crew meets to join them for 80 miles on my tri bike - and got nervous about the whole of it with what felt like paralyzing anxiety. About driving in general on the highway, driving with my bike strapped to the hitch rack, having a bike mechanical on my first outdoor ride on the tri bike in five months, being able to properly ride the bike without losing control of it among the group, all the cars that might be on the route, if I would get struck and killed by one of those cars, and the list goes on. There have been far too many stories lately about cyclists getting hit by cars, resulting in serious injury or death. That, coupled with the news of the school shooting in Florida this week, makes it seem all too inevitable that we’re just a hair away from death at any moment. Perhaps I would just stay in the room and do my long ride in my makeshift spin studio, watching the Olympics. But living inside a bubble out of fear of what could happen is no way to live at all. I decided I’d rather be doing things I know I’ll inevitably love with people I enjoy. I then read a few pages of the book I’m on right now, a biography of Stevie Nicks, and was able to get to sleep. I woke to an encouraging piece of scripture in a friend’s Instagram story and was ready to take on the day. This is the part where I’m supposed to say that everything went swimmingly and all my fears were completely unfounded, but that would simply not be true. 

I got packed up and out the door just fine, albeit always ten minutes later than hoped. I still felt good about things getting on the highway; afterall, I’d used a Starbucks gift card and got a nice breakfast for free! But things quickly turned sideways, literally. I looked in the rearview mirror and my bike was flying sideways on the hitchrack. I pulled off the interstate to fix it but there wasn’t much to fix, so I cruised in the slow lane at a cool 55 in a 65 down to our ride meet up spot, nerves a plenty, and made it just five minutes before wheels down. 

Luckily the aerial nature of the ride didn’t seem to affect my bike in anway, and I got set up okay. I gave the guys a heads up that I would be in the back today, relearning how to ride my tri bike. It immediately felt so foreign. It felt smaller than I remembered, and the brakes felt weird with much more give than the brake pads on my road bike. I hung on the back, which was fine for the first ten miles through more suburban traffic with stop lights, but then we hit the country roads and the group started hammering. This was a bit unnerving because I didn’t feel steady at all in aero and was nervous that I’d either ride off the road or into a car. Through this strech of country rollers, I was riding hard just to hang on the back and wondering if I was out of shape. And then I saw my five mile split for the country rollers - more than 23 mph. I was not going to get through the day on this riding style and was seriously considering if it was too soon to turn back and if I’d need to cut the ride short and ride back solo. Between miles 20 and 25, we had a planned stop for refuel, bathroom, etc and I had a reckoning with the crew: the rest of the ride would not go like this, we would committ to all staying together, at least at the regroup points, and I was assured that car traffic would be light on the long, steep climb along a two lane road that’s actually the size of a one-lane road. I also texted Carrie to let her know I’d need a post-ride therapy session fueld by wine. 

We took off and the dynamics felt more relaxed although we were still pedaling at an umtempo pace. The climb was longer and steeper than I remember, which didn’t feel great after the hard early effort, and evidently something was afoot on the nearby interstate because we started seeing a huge influx of traffic. This started to pick up near the final, steep strech of the climb where my legs felt crappy enough that I was spending a lot of time out of the saddle, which feels especially unstable on this tri bike that I hadn’t ridden outdoors in months. While I was happy to complete the climb and know that the bulk of the work for the ride was done, the steep descent with cars whizzing by on this tiny road was terrifying. More of my fears being realized. 

At the next stop, I treated myself to a coke and the ride back was tough but less eventful, and I was even able to get some good practice in aero when my inadequate chammy would allow. Any ride that you finish safely, without damage to your person, is a good ride. I faced my fears though wouldn’t say that I conquered them, as the experience reflected that some of these fears were founded, but such is the journey of life I suppose. And here you thought you were reading what was just an entry about how to stay fit while living in a hotel, fooled ya :)

PS - for the ride home, I was able to deconstruct my bike enough to fit it in the back of the car! No more aerial tricks on the interstate!  

[hey-i-wrote-a-story]

Chapter 48 Like Being Buried Alive

           Malia and Lydia raced down the road at top speed. The road was rough, so the ride was rocky. Lydia sat in the passenger’s seat while Malia drove. Following her experience, Lydia’s head was killer her. She felt like it was being crushed. But she wasn’t so disoriented that she could share her conclusions with Malia.

           “Okay, if that’s the case, this changes everything”, Malia said. “And you’re sure of what you saw? What it meant?”

           “Pretty darn sure”, Lydia said, cradling her head in her hands.

           “Hay, are you going to be alright?”, Malia asked.

           “I sincerely hope so”, Lydia answered. “Beyond that, I can’t say.”

           “Do your visions always affect you like this?”

           “I don’t think I’ve ever had two that were exactly the same…but no, this feeling is new.” She squinted her eyes closed. “Is it hot in here? It’s getting hard to breathe.”

           Malia felt no change in temperature or humidity. Whatever was happening, it was going on inside her friend. “Lay back”, she told Lydia. “I’ll be ignoring the speed limit from here on.”

           Lydia dropped her seat back, and Malia put the pedal to the floor. The tires screeched and the car bounced hard over the next few potholes, but soon rubber met the road and the two young ladies sped off toward Beacon Hills. Their frantic departure did not go unnoticed. A family of four diehard farmers watched from their property as the car raced by.

           “What do you suppose that was all about, Gramps?”, a young man bundled in heavy farm wear asked.

           “Oh, who the hell knows”, his grandfather grumped. “Stupid city folk, school kids and the like. Come out here to see their haunted houses just to find there ain’t none.” The bearded old man shook his head in dismay.

           “Then get themselves all worked up over nothin’ so they think they see ghosts everywhere”, commented a woman, similarly dressed for hard labor.

           “Well, that’s enough of that talk, anyways”, the older man stated. “Some of us don’t got time to wander all over hell’s half acre lookin’ for something that isn’t there. We still got work to do.” He pointed at the patch of land they’d been furiously working to no result. “Lay it down right in that row there, now.”

           The younger farmer slung a large bag of fertilizer over his shoulder, from which he poured a steady flow of the stinking substance into the shallow trench they’d dug. The grandfather gestured to a tall man with features similar to the boy’s plus several years. This man remained close by with a new concoction of growth formula to add to the fertilizer in hopes of rejuvenating the long-dead earth. “Stay with him, now.”

           As the young farmer added generous sprinklings of the growth aid to the rank fertilizer, his taller counterpart stepped up to survey their progress, such as it was. “You think it’s gonna work this time?”

           The grandfather twisted his mouth in an expression rife with doubt, but said, “We can’t find out any younger.”

           Their concentrated focus stayed with their futile attempts to regenerate the cursed soil. As such, none of them noticed the large, winged shadow cast from something circling high above them.

              “So where the hell are they?”, Kaitlyn asked again, growing ever more impatient.

           “How are we supposed to know?”, Freddie snapped.

           “We’ve been to all the places we calculated they would be”, Aadesh reminded her. We’ve got the spells ready, we just need to keep level heads for now.”

           The three circled the town in Freddie’s pickup, in a futile hunt for Lydia and Malia. They were the only ones remaining who had not yet been caught in one of the prearranged traps.

           Kaitlyn was grinding her teeth and rocking back and forth slightly in her seat. “We should have had them by now. If we can’t eliminate them, this whole thing could go sideways.”

           “Especially if we don’t nab Lydia”, Freddie pointed out, which they all already knew. “For all we know, she might have it all figured out already.”

           Aadesh shot his ginger friend and angry look. Not helping, Freddie. He turned to Kaitlyn again. “We’re going to get them, don’t worry. We put a lot into this. We’ve prepped for it. It’s going to happen.”

           “What if we don’t get them before the others get loose? This has got to go down exactly as we planned. If it doesn’t—“

           Quickly, Aadesh kissed Kaitlyn. She started at first, then gave in to it. After a minute or so, the couple disengaged. Kaitlyn was a bit calmer. Aadesh cradled her face in his hand, his index finger stroking her hair.

           “Better?”, he asked.

           Kaitlyn suppressed a grin. “A little.”

           “Look. You are amazing and beautiful and brilliant and you’ve got this. We’re going to pull it off and we’re going to finish what we started. I believe in you.”

           In the front seat, Freddie remarked, “I feel like I should be playing inspirational theme music right now.”

             Malia and Lydia exited the Stilinski house confounded. “Where the hell is everybody?”, Malia snapped. “Nobody’s answering their phone, God only knows where took off to—“ She stopped in her exclamations when she saw Lydia cradling her head in her hands. “Hey, are you alright?”

           “I think…I will be”, Lydia lied.

           Malia was beside her immediately. “What did that barrier thing do to you?”

           “I don’t think…this is from the barrier”, Lydia told her. “It feels different.”

           “What does it feel like?”

           “Like I’m being buried alive.”

             Freddie’s pickup truck sped down the road, with the freckled redhead behind the wheel and his best friend peering frantically out the window. “Where are they?”, Aadesh asked no one in particular. “We should have found them by now!”

           Freddie didn’t like when Aadesh got nervous. That tended to make him nervous, too. “We checked all the most likely places to find the ladies. Where else could they have gone?”

           “I don’t know”, Aadesh huffed. “We’ve been every place on the list—should we be going faster? We need to cover more ground!”

           “Driving aimlessly?”, Freddie countered. “Oh yes. Going absolutely nowhere, but making excellent time. Do you want to get a speeding ticket?”

           Aadesh pulled his head back from the window to stare at his friend. “For real? With what we’re about to do, you’re worried about getting a speeding ticket?”

           Just then a car sped past them going in the other direction. It was moving fast enough to indicate that whomever was behind the wheel had no concerns whatever about getting a speeding ticket. Freddie’s ramshackle truck shook a bit as the new-model car passed.

           Freddie blinked. “Was that just them?”

           Aadesh whirled around and studied the ever-shrinking car as it raced into the distance. “I think it was! It was them! Turn around, turn around quick!”

           Freddie rolled his eyes for a split second. He was already in the process of making an unsteady U-turn when Aadesh put in his hurried request. Freddie stepped on the gas, worn wheels spinning for a moment before the truck lurched forward at top speed, such as it was, leaving skid marks of hot rubber on the road the poor truck could not afford to lose.

           “Can’t we go faster?”, Aadesh demanded, bouncing slightly in his seat. “C’mon, step on it!”

           “Get behind me!”, Freddie barked, jerking a thumb to the seat behind the driver’s.

           Aadesh paused in confusion. “Why?”

           “If you’re gonna be a backseat driver, you might as well be in the right spot!” Freddie pushed the pedal down as far as it would go. They began to push forward, but the beater truck was no match for the car with Malia and Lydia inside. “Grab your phone”, Freddie said. Aadesh did, but looked to his friend with questioning eyes. Who would he be calling—he didn’t have either Malia’s or Lidia’s number.

           “Call Kaitlyn”, Freddie said. Aadesh nodded and quickly thumbed in the number. “Tell her the girls are on their way and she should be on the lookout.”

           Aadesh was busily texting the information to Kaitlyn as he observed aloud. “They’ll be the last two. Just them, and that’s it.”

           Freddie sighed, still pushing the old truck forward, which shuddered under the strain. “God willing”, he muttered.

             “Got it”, Kaitlyn answered, speaking into her phone. “Judging from the road you guys are on, I think I can guess where they’re heading. I’m still on foot, but I’ll see what our chances are of me catching up to them at a crossroad or intersection—“

           Kaitlyn was cut off as she saw the car with Lydia slumped against the window and Malia at the wheel skid to a halt and pull into a lot not far from her. “It looks our chances are pretty good.” Kaitlyn typed in the street names where she was. “Get to me as quick as you can.”  With that, she ran over to the car, with had stopped with its motor still running.

           Malia was already out of the car and opening the passenger door. She braced Lydia, as the young banshee nearly feel out into her arms.

           “I told you to keep going…”, Lydia complained.

           “You look like you’re about to die”, Malia countered. “And sorry if it gets my attention when you tell me you feel like you’re being smothered.”

           “Buried.”

           “Same difference! Is it that you can’t breathe?”, Malia asked. “Are you breathing okay? Is it your throat or your chest, or--?”

           Lydia waved the questions away meekly. “No, it’s not like that.”

           “What the hell was in that barrier, anyway?”, Malia pondered.

           “I don’t think is because of me crossing the barrier”, Lydia stated.

           “So you’re an expert in the side effects of interdimensional barrier crossing, now?”

           The snarky retort reminded Lydia that Stiles was Malia’s boyfriend, and not everything that rubbed off on her was a positive attribute. But before she could try to explain further, the heard a voice calling out to them.

           “Lydia! Malia!” They turned to see Kaitlyn running toward them. Malia furrowed her brow and Lydia felt a growing sense of unease.

           “What the hell is she doing out here?”, Malia asked aloud.

           Kaitlyn approached the girls, panting as she spoke. “What’s going on? I saw you two pull over here, then Lydia almost fell out of the car—are you alright? Is she okay?”

           “Why are you here right now??”, Malia demanded.

           The remark threw Kaitlyn off balance. “Whuh…what, I just said I saw you—“

           “No”, Malia persisted, “how is it that you’re exactly at this spot, right now? Have you been looking for us?”

           “Wh-why would you ask that?”, Kaitlyn stammered. “Lydia, are you okay? What happened?”, she asked, trying to avert attention from herself.

           “She’s having trouble breathing”, Malia snapped. “So I suggest you give her some room.”

           At that moment, Lydia gasped. She took in a deep breath, her eyes wide with surprise. As she exhaled, her color returned to normal and head began to clear.

           “What is it?!”, Malia asked in alarm.

           Lydia shook her head, dismissing her friend’s concern. “It’s alright, it’s alright. The feeling’s gone. I can breathe again. I’m okay. Let’s just—we need to get going.”

           “I have something here that might help”, Kaitlyn said, rummaging through a bag she had with her. She turned away from the two girls.

           “She said she’s alright now”, Malia told her, gesturing for Kaitlyn to back off.

           “I have it right here. I’ve used it myself whenever I’m not feeling well—“, Kaitlyn’s voice drifted off mid-sentence as she closed her hand around something concealed in her bag. The hair stood up on the back of Malia’s neck and began to grow. She could feel something was not right.

           “Where are the other two?”, Malia asked brusquely. “Why aren’t the boys with you? I thought Scott told you to stick together.” Lydia regained her footing and began to stand on her own, prompting Malia to place herself between her friend and the newcomer. “Where are they? Are the back at the McCall’s house? And you still haven’t told me why you’re here.”

           Kaitlyn turned back quickly, something small in her hand leaving a faint trail of dust behind it as she thrust her arm forward at Malia. Malia was already on her guard. Slow to trust by nature, she had suspected that Kaitlyn was hardly digging in her bag to find a bottle of Tylenol. Malia’s eyes went glowing blue and she bared her fangs. With a snarl she swung her clawed hand toward Kaitlyn’s outstretched arm. Malia’s claws sliced into the meat of Kaitlyn’s palm, forcing her to let go of what she held. A small poultice bag flew through the air, its contents beginning to spill from its loosely-secured body. The aura the bag gave off caused Malia to howl. Whatever was in that little pouch, it was most certainly not natural. Fighting against her instinct to back away from it, Malia lunged forward with blinding speed, snatching the neck of the pouch and hurling it away with all her might.

           Kaitlyn looked on in horror as her makeshift weapon was sent flying away to burst harmlessly against the ground. Or nearly harmlessly, for when it impacted with the ground, it erupted in a spray of colored dust and a small burst of light. For a split second, all three young women were blinded by an overpowering vision that twisted around them like a tarpaulin woven from thought. Each girl felt as if she were racing through an unending, twisting trail deep within a bleak, haunted woods. Wind howled around them as they believed they raced up over hills, darted around trees and through gullies, heart pounding with the desperate sensation that something deadly was directly behind them and gaining fast. Like a frightened coyote running from a hungry cougar.

           Bu tit was only for a moment and then it was past. Lydia, more experienced in emerging from disturbing visions, was already collecting herself. Kaitlyn was terribly disoriented, and Malia’s vision was clearing at a rapid pace. When she could clearly see she stumbling Native American girl before her, Malia raged, jaws open and fangs bared, he claws grabbing Kaitlyn shirtfront and partly shredding it as she pulled the girl off her feet.

           “You bitch!”, Malia roared. “What were you trying to do just now? TELL ME!!”

           The terrified Kaitlyn shook her head frantically, either in a meek attempt at apology or out of fear for her life. Probably both. Malia pulled her close so they were eye to eye. Kaitlyn could feel the heat of Malia’s angry breath and her heart pounded at the sight of her glowing blue eyes boring through her.

           “Never trusted you”, Malia growled. “You or your little criminal friends.”

           So caught up in her rage, Malia almost missed Kaitlyn lobbing something in the direction of Lydia. Malia jerked her head around quickly to see a gem about the size of a small egg land on the ground at Lydia’s feet, a length of a slender chain trailing behind it. The gem sparked and began too radiate some kind of unnatural light. Lydia fell back against the car, mesmerized by it.

Malia shouted, “Dammit!”, and let go of Kaitlyn. But Kaitlyn had dropped no more than half an inch from Malia’s grasp before the werecoyote shoved her palm forward against her chest, sending Kaitlyn flying backwards over a dozen feet. In less time than it takes to tell, Malia was at Lydia’s side and brought her heel down hard on the gem (or whatever it was), shattering it to pieces. Whatever light it had been emitting died with it. Malia looked to Lydia, whose eyes were coming back into focus.

“You alright?”

Lydia nodded. “Yes. Whatever that was, you stopped it.” Lydia looked to Kaitlyn, was sprawled out on the ground, her clothes covered in dust and dirt, a bloody hand clutching her chest as she gasped for breath.

“Did you hurt her?”, Lydia asked.

Malia turned, going down into a crouch and answered, “No, but it sounds like a good idea.”

Malia began to move on her prey when Freddie’s beat-up pickup truck pulled up behind Kaitlyn. Its clattering arrival distracted Malia enough for Aadesh to push the door open and holler to his girlfriend. “Get in!”

Kaitlyn scrambled to the truck. Aadesh reached out and grabbed her arms, pulling her into the cab.

“You’re hurt!”, he said, seeing the blood on her palm, the stains smeared across her chest.

“Just go”, she gasped. Glancing back, she could see Malia striding towards them. “Go! GO!!”

The truck sped off, as best it could. Malia thought about giving chase, when Lydia touched her on the arm. “Let them go”, she said.

Malia looked at her friend askance. “You sure?”

Lydia’s expression was firm. “There are more important things to deal with first. My head’s clearing, I can sense it. We need to keep going.”

Malia felt her eyes return to their normal color and her claws retract. “Get in the car.” They did, and Lydia explained as Malia began to drive in the direction the young banshee indicated.

“They’re in trouble”, Lydia said.

“Who is?”

“All of us—all of them. The rest of the pack.”

Malia realized what Lydia was saying. “Those kids did to Scott, Stiles, Kira, and Liam what they just tried to do to us. Whatever that was.” Malia thought about the illusion of unending panicked flight through treacherous woods and felt a growing rage about the idea of someone trying to trap her in it. “What about that gemstone thing, with the light coming out of it. You looked hypnotized by it. What was it doing to you?”

Lydia flashed back for a moment to when the light struck her eyes and pierced her mind. She felt with all certainty then that skeletal hands were reaching from behind her, clutching her head, about to pull her down into an endless black well built with premonitions of death. She forced the image away. “Nothing. You crushed the stone before it could do anything. I’m fine. Thanks, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it. But the others—“

“Are in danger. Getting to each of them is our first priority. I can point the way.”

“Stiles first”, Malia said firmly.

“Kira is actually the closest right now—“, Lydia began.

Malia looked at Lydia with harsh eyes. “Stiles first”, she reiterated.

Lydia looked back, seeing Malia’s expression set like flint, her tone unyielding. Lydia realized then that she didn’t even want to argue about it. So instead she looked forward down the road and nodded.

“Stiles first.”

           In the Beacon Hills High swimming pool, Stiles’ shoes and pants were soaked and beginning to weight him down. He cursed himself for not getting a temporary cell phone as Scott had, but just as quickly realized that any call for help would most likely be blocked by the metal pool cover. His throat was already hoarse from yelling for help, but there was nobody nearby to hear him. Stiles was doing his best not to give in to panic, which was rising faster than the water. So he redirected his emotions to rage.

           “I’m gonna kill him”, he grumbled under his breath. “I swear I’m gonna kill him. I don’t care how much he hero-worships me, or even that he finds me attractive. I will kill that little ginger turd in ways Kate Argent would think are too extreme. When I get out of here—“

           The water was already sloshing up over Stiles’ waist, and rising fast. He needed to get up to the shallow end quickly.

           “—oh, please let me get out of here.” Shaking off that doomed thinking, Stiles half swam/half-scrambled toward the shallow end of the pool. His progress was slow going. “When was the last time I was in this pool without all my clothes on?!”, he growled.

           Stiles had made it to the shallow end of the pool, the last section to be flooded. Even at that, the water was rising quickly, if not faster. All of his clothes were soaked and pulling him down like an anchor. In short order, Stiles could barely keep his face above the water. His nose pressed against the cold pool cover as he pushed against it with his hands. There was no way he was going to dislodge it, and the sides were secured fast in their housings.  The water rose up over Stiles’ head. He barely had enough time to gulp down one last breath before being completely submerged. The cover itself touched the water, denying him even an inch of air for him to draw from. What was he going to do? He couldn’t die here, not like this? What would Scott do without him? He’d get killed the next time he went up against some Big Bad without his best friend at his side. He might get killed by the one they were fighting now. He couldn’t let that happen.

           Stiles looked down, searching his mind for both a means of escape as well as the last time he had told Malia he loved her. Had it been recently? Please let it be the last thing he had said to her. Then he saw the necklace Freddie had given him. His goodbye gift, given without warning it would be the last gift Stiles would ever receive. There it lay, resting against his chest, glowing softly as it hung from…wait a minute.

           Stiles touched the necklace. It was very lightweight, despite the little stone in it. Why wasn’t it floating? Stiles pulled the necklace away from his chest and let go of it. He didn’t have to wait for it to slowly drift back down to where it had been. It fell back instantly against his chest without resistance. That wasn’t right. Freddie may have betrayed his hero with this elaborate trap, but he couldn’t change the laws of physics. Stiles looked up at the pool cover and thrust his fist against it. Clank! Ow! His knuckles were red from where he’d struck it. It felt pretty real, alright. But the necklace…

           Stiles closed his eyes. Slowly, he raised his arm upward, reaching for the pool cover just an inch or two above him. And he kept reaching, and reaching. Stiles opened his eyes and looked up to see his arm going through the pool cover. In fact, he couldn’t even see his arm past the elbow. As if he had all the substance of a ghost. Or rather, the pool cover did.

Now his lungs were burning, his vision blurring. He needed air desperately. Stiles gritted his teeth and squinted his eyes in concentration. So if the pool cover had no substance to it and posed no threat, what about the water? Stiles stood completely still, fearful of opening his mouth and swallowing it all in, drowning inches away from safety. This was, after all, his greatest fear. But his faith in himself and his capacity for deductive reasoning was greater than his fear. No cover above him most likely meant no water around him. Freddie adored him, so why would he kill him? Answer: He wouldn’t. Stiles opened his eyes again, forcing himself to see the truth. The pool was empty. There was no water. There never was.

“PuhhGAAAGGGHHH--!” Stiles let out a gasp and breathed in precious air by the lungful. He began to stumble backwards, but regained his footing rapidly. As his dizziness subsided, Stiles realized that his arm was still held high above his head. He never moved it. Perhaps subconsciously, he was afraid that if he lowered his arm again, the pool cover would suddenly solidify. As long as his arm was passing through it, his knowledge of the illusion was sustained. As his breathing began to return to normal, Stiles straightened up and stood taller. His arm continued its path upward, passing through the metal cover to the elbow, down the bicep, toward his shoulder. Breathing easier, Stiles stood to his full height, his head now passing effortlessly through the illusory metal sheet. The crown of his head was barely through when something strong grabbed his arm.

Oh God, now what?

Malia pulled Stiles out of the pool, quickly setting him on the tiled floor. When he saw that it was her, Stiles hugged Malia gratefully.

“I could tell that you were seeing something that wasn’t there, so I had to snap you out of it.”

Stiles smiled happily. “You came to my rescue.”

Malia rolled her eyes. “As if you needed rescuing. You looked pretty calm doing…whatever it was you were doing.”

“It was an illusion”, Stiles said unnecessarily. “But it seemed so real. Freddie had trapped me under the retractable metal pool cover, filled up the pool, left me to drown.”

Malia furrowed her brow. “You think the school can afford a retractable metal pool cover?”

Stiles looked at the pool again. No water, and no cover, either. He snatched up the necklace he was wearing and saw that what he thought was a false gem in its center had grown dark. Whatever magic was in it had burned out. Stiles ripped the necklace off and tossed it into the empty pool. He looked at Malia again, with all fear gone from his face. “I know what they’re doing. This was all a big—“

“—distraction”, Malia finished. “Yeah, we know.”

“We have to find Scott”, Stiles said, his tone one of urgency. “And get to the—“

“—Willoughby farm”, Malia answered, finishing his sentence again.

For a second, Stiles was taken aback by the brilliance of this girl he had fallen in love with. Hurriedly, he gave her a quick kiss and then leapt to his feet. “Well, let’s go.”  He took Malia by the hand and they ran off, as fast as Stiles could go. (If they had gone as fast as Malia could go, she’d be dragging the young detective behind her.)

As they ran out the door and sped towards the nearest exit, Stiles said quickly, “Love you.”

Malia replied, “Love you more.”

  Scott realized that what he was seeing made no sense. Not just that two of the people closest to him had been possessed physically and set upon him by an electric monster. But why were they in lacrosse gear?

Scott prepared to dodge as Liam lunged at him, his powerful beta legs launching him forward with deadly claws protruding from the fingers of his thick gloves. Scott sidestepped at the last moment, smacking Liam across the back, adding momentum to his leap and sending him flying dozens of feet away. The controlled Stiles leapt on Scott, eyes blazing in orange surges, helmet and padding alight with dazzling spores. Stiles toppled Scott and came down on his throat with his lacrosse stick gripped in his hands. Did he have that a minute ago? Stiles pressed against Scott’s throat with unearthly strength, lances of electricity arcing up and down the stick’s length, spitting sparks into the air. Scott could smell the air burn, as well as the slow singing of his best friend’s jersey. Scott kicked at Stiles to send him sailing over his head to land with a hard thud against the ground. Thank God for that helmet.

On his feet in an instant, Scott stood again before his two assailants, formerly his dearest friends. Stiles was working to right himself and Liam was making his way back from where Scott had thrown him. Again, what was up with the lacrosse gear? Scott knew that the monster could hold on to his thralls longer when they were in thicker clothing, as with the armored crusaders of old. But how did he get them into their lacrosse gear to begin with? True, it could be that the monster—which he already knew was pretty smart—could have picked up on the advantages of the sturdy gear when he attacked the bonfire game. But enough to possess Stiles and Liam (wouldn’t Liam have given the monster a run for his money? At least fought enough to protect Stiles and send him for help?)…then, once the two were possessed, march them all the way to the school locker room from wherever they’d been before, have them suit up, and douse them with a heavy coating of spores with the order to attack? Talk about an incongruous situation.

Both Liam and Stiles attacked in unison this time, each snarling and raging, they’re arms flailing wildly. Scott, his head clearer than theirs, ducked between them, and knocked them both aside with his forearms. Liam hit the ground and rolled himself into a crouch, lightning shooting from one eye to another, setting his helmet guard aglow. Stiles was slower to right himself, but as he did, electricity surges up and down his arms and around the back of his helmet as he prepared to renew his attack.

“Guys, you don’t have to do this”, Scott pleaded. How long would it take him to shred their uniforms and gear to rid them of the spores? Even then, wouldn’t there be residual spores buried in their skin? There’d have to be, for them to have been forced into their gear in the first place. Again…double-you tee eff? The monster could have just doused both of the boys in its spores and set them upon each other, as it did with Scott and Stiles at the farm. Was the thing that frightened of the Alpha werewolf to go to all this trouble? Did its brain have the capacity to come up with a plan as convoluted as this?

Liam braced his cleats against the ground and shot bolts of pure energy from his hands, claws glowing and glove bursting at the seams. Scott leapt backwards more than ten feet in the air before coming down to see the ground exploding and grass catch fire.

“Didn’t know they could do that”, Scott said.

Liam appeared to be building up another charge. Another bright glow caught Scott’s attention and he turned to see Stiles with arms outstretched, his entire body fiercely lit with energy. It looked as if he were going to explode.

Scott felt his heartbeat race. Oh my God, if his best friend was blown apart by the energy that had imprisoned him, how much damage would it do? To Liam, as well as to himself? How could he prevent it from happening and still save the best friend in the world?? Scott breathed deep and pushed down the fight or flight instinct. Then he repressed his urge to help. That one was a little harder to resist, but he managed. He turned away from Stiles and his apparent countdown to detonation and looked at Liam. Time to test a theory. Scott moved forward, slowly.

Liam shot another burst of energy and it barely missed Scott. But it missed him. A bolt of electricity thrown by the best lacrosse player Scott had seen in years, and he missed. Scott growled and assumed a fighting stance. Come and get me. Liam launched himself forward and Scott stood there and did nothing. Before Liam would have struck (and quite possibly gone right through) his Alpha, he twisted at the waist and shot past him, sending blinding energy bolts out from both hands. Which both missed. Uh-huh.

Scott looked again to the glowing Stiles. He looked pretty scary, but that was all he was doing; looking scary. Why hadn’t he fired all that energy at Scott while he was facing off against Liam? I mean, Stiles truly sucked at lacrosse, but even he got in the zone sometimes. Yet still no impact, from either of them. Scott moved on Liam, who backed up a pace. Then two. Scott ignore him and walked directly toward Stiles. Not lunging, no claws out, fangs not bared. Just walking. Scott approached the terrifying visage of Stiles and proceeded to walk right through him. Once on the other side, Scott looked back to see the image of Stiles vanish. Liam was already long gone.

“Thought so”, Scott observed.

Scott felt a faint tingle on the back of his neck. He had felt it during the imagined battle, but passed it off as his hair rising from the energy flying left and right. He rubbed the back of his neck with his fingers and the feeling diminished. Scott could see a trace of some kind of red dust on his fingertips. It faded away after rubbing it with his thumb. And who had been hanging on his back not moments ago? A terrible realization came to his mind and he started to run.

              The animated corpses of the perished plant workmen surrounded Kira. There was no way to face one, or even two of them, without opening herself to a blindside attack from either side or from behind. Her opponents dead eyes sparked with orange energy and their bodies twitched as they shambled this way and that, their movements erratic and spontaneous. It was impossible to anticipate which way they would go or how they would attack. How do you second-guess something that doesn’t even think anymore?

Kira knew she was going to need backup. Luckily, she just happened to have some with her. She gripped the hilt of her sword tighter and called upon the ancient fires inside her. Her eyes flashed golden and the essence of the fox spirit rose from her frame like eldritch fire, and there it perched above her head. Kira let the power flow through her limbs. She had felt a connection to her sword ever since she first picked it up, but at this moment it felt like an extension of her body. At times, her power had frightened her, but this time she welcomed it. She raised her head to meet the empty eyes of her opponents before she finished them. “Shinu!”, she cried, her voice deep and guttural. But before Kira could take a step forward, before she could even register that she had just shouted “Die!” in Japanese, she saw her foes. This time, however, she saw them through the eyes of the kitsune. The horrifyingly disfigured ghouls no longer appeared solid. In fact, Kira could see right through them, like a fine mist or fading vapor. She drew her sword back, the pieces falling together. There was no foe she needed to battle. She was combatting phantoms. It took less than another few seconds to understand why.

Kira grabbed the poultice and threw it into the air before her. As it began to fall, she sliced the bag in half with a blinding swipe of her blade. The spell bag exploded in a burst of sparkling dust and grit. The oncoming undead vanished even as they appeared to lunge forward. With three quick swipes of her sword, Kira verified that there was nothing else there but her. She allowed herself a half smile.

           “Don’t try to trick a trickster”, she said.

           She slung her sword across her back and turned her mind to things more important than self-congratulations. If she had been detained by fighting illusions, what about the others? What if her friends were set up to face the same, or something worse?

           “Scott”, she whispered aloud, fearing the worst.

           Kira was moving at top speed in a moment. Wherever he was, Scott could need his own backup. Kira was certain that she was going to provide it.

  Liam’s heart beat like a trip hammer. He looked at the two berserkers, their already frightening power increased by the flying monster’s energy spores, and he swallowed hard. He looked down at the bands upon his arms and gave a silent prayer of thanks for their arrival, which could not have been better timed. Liam closed his eyes and imagined the power of these gauntlets flowing through him as he ran. He ran faster, he thought, than he had ever run before. He bolted around the berserker to his right, whose arm swung at his head and barely missed. Liam stopped a few dozen feet away to get his bearings and catch his breath. He knew he wouldn’t have long, as the berserkers were also fast, and they had begun running after him. Liam knew he could try to outrun them, and with these new power gauntlets, he might just make it. But then there’d be two mad berserkers amped-up on monster spores, left to do who knew what damage to how many people. He couldn’t just escape them. He had to fight them, and find a way to stop them.

“Dammit”, Liam snarled.

With his heart about to burst through his chest, Liam fought back his fear—which was now building to terror—and ran to face the beast-men full on. He made it quite close to one of them before he stopped in his tracks. The berserker on the right had a double-band tattoo on his arm. He knew instantly what that meant.

“Omigod”, Liam gasped. “Scott?”

The berserker bore down on Liam, and the beta werewolf saw the eyes inside the bear skull. Yup, that was his mentor and Alpha, alright. Liam ducked out of the way, muttering angrily to himself, “How many times do we have to go through this?”

The berserker that was Scott thrust dual claws forward and tore up the ground on either side of Liam. As it reeled back to strike again, Liam rolled out of the way. Leaping to his feet, Liam called out. “Scott! This isn’t you!” What the hell, it worked the last time.  “You’re not a monster! You’re a werewolf, like—“

The Scott Berserker thrashed his arm at Liam, cutting him off. Liam felt the claws slice the air above his head, barely missing his skull.

“Okay, maybe that only works once”, Liam muttered as he sped away from his opponent. Unfortunately, that led him directly into the path of the second berserker. It cornered Liam against a large tree, arms slashing at the wood to send thick section of bark flying as the Beta did his best to duck out of the way. The assault was fierce and furious, allowing Liam little time to think. But as he worked to get around this berserker before the second (formerly Scott) could join it, Liam saw that this one didn’t have bare arms. It was still wearing the shirt its human host must have had on when subjected to the curse of becoming a gruesome beast. Besides being a mindless killing machine, the berserker didn’t have very good fashion sense, either. Rarely had Liam seen such an unattractive plaid—

Plaid?

Liam moved with incredible speed, getting right up in the face of the berserker. He needed to see its eyes. He did.

“Holy crap—Stiles?!”

The berserker tried to crush the much smaller teenager in a bear hug (kind of ironic, that), which Liam only just escaped. The berserker then turned on Liam, a guttural snarl coming from within its skull-covered face. Sounding like an overturning gravel truck, one word echoed outward. “RUNT!”

           Liam gulped as the berserker in the flannel shirt stomped toward him. Yup, that was Stiles, alright. Liam braced himself to attempt to get through to Stiles in the way that had just failed with Scott. “Oh man”, he realized, “this isn’t gonna be easy. You never really liked me anyway.” Liam knew he had to at least try, and do it fast, as Scott was coming up behind his fellow berserker quickly.

           “Stiles!”, Liam cried. “Come on, man. Don’t do this! This isn’t you. You trusted me to work on your jeep—you even let me wear your farmer boots!”

           Liam backed up fast, only to find he had been herded into a tight grove of trees. There was no way out behind him, and the way forward was blocked by the raging beasts that were once two of his most-trusted friends. With no escape nor means of reasoning with them, Liam knew he had put off the inevitable long enough. He glanced at the power gauntlets and knew it was time to put them to the test to see if they could do more than make him run faster. Liam’s eyes went yellow, his ears pointed and his face sprouted hair. Stiles was almost on top of him.

           Liam looked at Stiles’ eyes as they burned orange, deep within the sockets of the bear skull. Energy spores spilled out the back of the skull mask to run down his arms, combining their strength with that of the berserker curse. The berserker that used to be Scott stood close behind him, staring dispassionately at Liam and radiating rage and hate. Liam gritted his teeth and steeled himself. He couldn’t avoid it anymore. He was going to have to fight them. Liam knew the odds were that he’d most likely die in the attempt, but if that was so, he would at least go down fighting.

           Liam’s claws sprung from his fingertips as he tensed his right hand to strike. “I’m sorry, guys.” Then he snarled, fangs bared, the gems on his armbands gleaming as he lunged forward. Before he could impact with the first berserker, someone grabbed his wrist, stopping him. Liam’s eye darted to the side to see who held him. The hand looked human, but it was strong—incredibly strong. Liam began to lash out at it with the claws of his left hand when a single word stopped him.

           “Liam!”

           Liam froze, and the person connected to the hand came into full view as if emerging from a fog. It was Scott. He looked at Liam with determination and focus. Liam swallowed hard.

           “S-scott?”

           “Whatever you think you’re seeing, it’s not real. Let it go.”

           Liam looked at the berserkers he thought were Scott and Stiles, and they dissipated like pollen on a summer breeze. Liam didn’t even realize he’d been holding his breath until he exhaled. Slowly, Liam’s claws receded into his fingertips.

           “Man, am I glad to see you”, he panted.

           “What are these?” Scott looked at the bands on Liam’s forearms even as he loosened the grip on his Beta’s wrist.

           “These?” Liam was still a bit stunned from his harrowing encounter with the twin illusions. “A-adesh gave them to me.”

           Scott broke one of the bands off of Liam’s wrist and examined it. He brought the gemstone—or whatever it was—close and sniffed once. He wrinkled his nose and frowned. “I’m catching a faint trace of wolfsbane, but there’s something else mixed in here, too.” With no effort at all, Scott pressed his thumb down on the gem, cracking it open. It released a puff of purple dust. “Judging by how it almost my head go light, I’m going to guess it’s a pretty powerful hallucinogen.” Liam stared at the other arm band he still wore as if it were an old friend who had betrayed him. Scott reached over and tore that one away, too.  

Liam looked to Scott, feeling foolish to have been duped as he was, and began to apologize. Scott didn’t let him.

“It’s not your fault. They got to everyone. Including me.”

Scott turned to leave, already moving with purpose when he realized Liam was not beside him. He turned back to see Liam still standing there, shaken and humiliated.

“Come on”, Scott said. Then, with strength in his tone, he added, “We can’t do this without you.”

With that, Liam stood straighter and fell in line beside his mentor.

“What did you mean ‘they got to everyone’?”

“I’ll tell you on the way.”

  Before long, everyone had reconvened at Stiles’ house. Scott considered it prudent to skip his house as their meeting place, given that there could be more traps set there since that was where the kids had spent most of their time. Scott pulled into the driveway on his motor bike, with its brand new set of tires, and Liam riding behind Scott with his hands on his mentor’s shoulders. Stiles and Malia had gotten there first, joined shortly thereafter by Kira, then Lydia and Malia.

As Scott and Liam dismounted the bike, Stiles jumped right in. “These setups—these traps they put us all through—they were nothing but distractions.” The pack shared looks indicating that tidbit wasn’t exactly news. “Those illusions were meant to keep the rest of us busy while the kids singled out the one of us they’d chosen for the sacrifice.” Stiles stopped. Then, “And…given that everyone is here and accounted for, what the hell?” A thought came to him. He turned to Lydia. “Where’s Parrish?”

Lydia snapped back, “What are you looking at me for??”

Stiles began to roll his eyes. In a slight falsetto, he said, “Gee, Jordan, you wanna borrow my book of monsters, given that you can’t catch on fire or anything…”

Scott held up a hand to stop that before it went any further. “I have a feeling that Parrish is just fine. And for the moment, let’s not worry about Aadesh, Kaitlyn, and Freddie. Right now we have a bigger threat to consider.” Liam and Stiles both shot Scott a look that screamed Are you out of your mind?, but he barreled on ahead before they could give voice to it. “The Unspoken. That’s what we should be focusing on right now. For one thing, where has it been during all this business with us fighting illusions?”

The pack shared glances as they realized they hadn’t even thought of that. “Yeah”, Liam said cautiously, “where has it been?”

           “Think about it”, Scott said. “Am I the only one who’s been wondering why the monster hasn’t been tearing through town turning everything that moves into potential minions?”

           The rest of the pack shared a look as the light dawned. Malia said, “That’s actually a pretty valid question.”

           “Look”, Scott continued, “I don’t know much about the legend of The Unspoken, but I do know animals. That’s pretty much what this thing is. Bigger, scarier, more powerful, but it’s still an animal, and it’s acting on instinct. And right now it’s focused on the two main threats to its survival.”

           “You.”, Liam said, pointing at Scott. “You’re the only other alpha around here. So you’re the only viable threat to its territory.”

           “Right”, Scott nodded. “That just leaves one other thing.” He got blank looks all around. “The portal”, he said. “If it could be sent back through it, it’ll be finished, and it can sense it. First thing it did when it got out—“

           “It pounded the pattern with its tail”, Lydia reminded everyone. “Trying to destroy it. But it couldn’t.”

           Stiles snapped his fingers. “That’s why it showed up at the farm when the two of us were there.” Scott smiled at his friend. That keen detective mind was filling in all the blanks. “There’s no other reason why it would’ve come back to an empty and lifeless place when the whole town was ripe with potential victims. It wanted another shot at wrecking the portal.” Stiles met his best friend’s eye. “But then it saw you, and its priorities changed.”

           “Exactly.”

           “Ohmigod”, Lydia said. “I’ve been having feelings, sensations of being crushed, of being buried alive. But that wasn’t about me—the monster’s going to try to bury the portal.”

           “Would that work to close it?”, Kira asked.

           “Let’s not wait to find out”, Scott said.

           “One thing you need to know”, Lydia said, even as they began to move, “it wasn’t just a sacrifice that stopped the monster last time. And it wasn’t just because Marguerite Willoughby was supernatural herself. It had to be a willing sacrifice.” Everyone froze at her words. “The reason the monster could be banished in 1927 was that Marguerite chose to die to save her town.”

           “So all those traps the other kids set”, Liam said, “they weren’t to set up any of us to be sacrificed. We didn’t even know what was going on when—“

           “I know exactly what they’re doing”, Scott said, his eyes wide. “We need to get back to the farm, fast.” Then his eyes tightened, a new thought forming. “But first, listen to me.”