Monday dawned with that typical weight of a moral hangover, even though I hadn't drunk a single drop of alcohol.
I killed the Charger's engine in my usual spot. The V8's roar died down, leaving only the hum of arriving students. I took a deep breath, trying to organize the mess inside my head.
Last night's dinner had been a political minefield, yes. But what was keeping me awake wasn't the deal between my father and Chris Argent.
It was what happened in the bedroom. And Friday, when I drove Allison home after Scott stood her up.
Those exchanges of glances. The silence that lasted a second longer than it should have. The static electricity when our hands accidentally brushed in her room last night.
I got out of the car, threw my backpack over my shoulder, and locked the door.
As soon as I turned around, I saw her.
Allison was standing near the main stairs, hugging her books against her chest, listening to Lydia talk about something with emphatic gestures.
The moment she saw me, her posture changed. It wasn't fear. It was... a freeze. She stopped paying attention to Lydia. Her face gained a faint shade of pink, and she looked away quickly, pretending to fix a strand of hair, only to look back half a second later.
I swallowed hard. That "tension" hadn't disappeared overnight. It had gotten worse.
I walked over to them, feeling every step.
"Hey," I said, stopping in front of them. My voice came out a little raspier than I planned.
Allison looked up. There was a shyness there that didn't match the confident girl who shot arrows.
"Hi... Nate," she replied. Her smile was small, nervous. "Did you... get home okay yesterday? After you guys left?"
"I did," I confirmed, scratching the back of my neck. "It was fine. And you? Your parents... did they go easy on you?"
"Oh, you know," she shrugged, looking at her own shoes and then into my eyes, biting her lower lip. "They are... them. But thank you. For coming. And for... you know. Listening to me upstairs."
"Whenever you need it," I replied, lowering my voice.
We stared at each other for a moment. The school around us seemed to vanish. The memory of her perfume in the bedroom, the proximity...
"For the love of God, someone get me a bucket of ice or a fire extinguisher."
Lydia's voice cut through the moment like the crack of a whip.
Allison jumped; her face turned red as a tomato.
Lydia was looking at us with an arched eyebrow, an expression of boredom mixed with sharp clinical analysis.
"Seriously," Lydia continued, shifting her gaze between me and Allison. "The sexual tension here is so thick I'm going to need a chainsaw to get through it. What happened at that dinner yesterday? Did you two skip dessert?"
"Lydia!" Allison exclaimed, choking on air, looking around to see if anyone had heard. "Nothing happened! We just talked!"
"Talked," Lydia repeated, skeptical. "Right. And what about Scott? Because as far as I remember, on Friday you were crying because he stood you up, and today you're looking at Nathan like he's the last drop of water in the desert."
Allison deflated a little, guilt crossing her face.
"I... I don't know," she murmured, confused. "It's complicated, Lydia."
I looked at Allison, seeing the conflict. She liked Scott. But Scott was full of secrets and disappearing acts.
Allison was a unique teenager, and the confusion Scott caused had opened a space that I had involuntarily taken.
"I'll see you in class, Allison," I said, deciding to give her space before she exploded from embarrassment. "Bye, Lydia."
"Bye, Nate," Allison said, her voice soft, visibly relieved that I wasn't pushing it.
I walked away, feeling Lydia's gaze burning into my back, probably already calculating the odds of this love triangle.
An incomprehensible problem came right after.
I was at my locker, grabbing my Economics book, when a hand slammed against the metal door next to me, shutting it with force.
"We need to talk."
Stiles.
He looked like someone who had downed five energy drinks and hadn't slept in two days. Deep dark circles, wide eyes, foot tapping on the floor.
"Good morning to you too, Stiles," I said, spinning the padlock combination.
"No good morning. No stalling," he said, looking around suspiciously. "Come with me."
"I have class."
"No, you don't. Finstock ate a bad burrito and is puking his soul out in the locker room. Free period. Now come."
He grabbed me by my jacket sleeve and dragged me to the empty hallway leading to the library. He shoved us into a blind corner, behind a water fountain.
"Spill it," he hissed, pointing a finger in my face. "Who are you? What are you? And don't come at me with that 'rich transfer student' crap, because I researched your family and it's all too boring to be true, which only makes it more suspicious!"
I crossed my arms, keeping my expression neutral.
"Stiles, how much coffee did you have today?"
"Look. I am an observant guy. My dad is the Sheriff, it's in the blood, genetics, all that stuff. And I've noticed a pattern. A very specific, very... you pattern," he countered, gesturing frantically. "Erica. In Economics class. She wasn't just having a seizure. She was dying. I was holding her head. She stopped breathing! Then you arrive, put your hand on her chest like a healer from a bad movie, and boom! She wakes up flushed and breathing like she just ran a marathon."
He took a step back, running a hand through his buzz cut, starting to pace in circles in the tight space.
"And that wasn't all! Last night! The party was turning into a fight club. Jackson was literally foaming at the mouth. The music was... wrong. It felt like it was scratching my brain. And then? You walk up to the sound system, and the speakers explode. Explode, Nathan! They didn't blow a fuse, the cones tore from the inside out! I saw it!"
He stopped pacing and got in my face again, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial and desperate whisper.
"I'm not crazy. Weird things happen in this town. I know how to identify weird. And you... you are the King of Weird this week."
I took a deep breath, calculating. Stiles was the smartest character in the series. Lying to him now would only waste my time and create an annoying enemy.
"Stiles, you're seeing things where there's nothing," I tried one last weak defense, just to test his limit.
"I am not!" he almost shouted, frustration exploding. "I know what I see! I spend all day covering the tracks of a teenage werewolf who can't control himself on the full moon, so don't tell me I don't know when I see something supernatural!"
Silence fell between us like an anvil.
Stiles froze. His eyes widened so much I thought they would pop out of their sockets. He opened his mouth, closed it, and made a high-pitched noise in his throat.
"Did I say werewolf?" he squeaked, his voice cracking. "I meant... uh... Maned Wolf. It's an endangered species. Scott and I are raising one. Illegally. That's why it's a secret. Forget what I said."
I couldn't hold it back. A corner-smile appeared on my face.
"A Maned Wolf, Stiles? Seriously?"
He deflated, leaning his forehead against the wall next to my head. "Ah, crap. Derek is going to rip my throat out with his teeth."
I uncrossed my arms and relaxed my posture. The charade was over.
"He won't. Because you won't tell him you told me. And I won't tell anyone that Scott is the werewolf."
Stiles raised his head slowly, looking at me with caution.
"You... you already knew?"
"Scott isn't exactly subtle," I replied, leaning off the wall. "But I'm not here to hunt werewolves, Stiles. And I'm not one either."
"Then what are you? Because that thing with Erica wasn't normal. I already went crazy finding out about Scott, but I couldn't find anything that matched you."
"Let's just say I understand how energy works," I summarized, without going into details about grimoires or lineages. "But we have a bigger problem than Scott's secret."
Stiles' expression changed from panic to investigative curiosity in a millisecond.
"Bigger how? Like, 'Alpha Killer' bigger?"
"Worse. The Alpha is an animal, Stiles. He kills out of instinct or revenge. What is in town now is... calculated."
I looked both ways down the hall to ensure we were alone.
"What happened to Erica wasn't an illness. It was an attack. Someone used her as bait to find me. And the sound at the party? Not a technical failure. Someone was using the frequency to induce rage in everyone. Including Scott."
Stiles' face paled.
"Wait... are you saying Scott's freak-out yesterday wasn't just the Full Moon? Someone made him freak out?"
"gave him a little push," I confirmed. "I stopped the music before the worst happened, but the guy who did it is still out there."
"Who is he?" Stiles asked, his mind already working a mile a minute.
"His name is Elias," I said, the weight of the name bitter in my mouth. "But he won't use that name here. He's smart. Probably got a new job, a new identity. He blends in."
Stiles narrowed his eyes.
"Elias... okay. And what does he want? Besides making Erica a puppet and ruining parties?"
"Power. Chaos. He feeds on it," I lied partially, simplifying the complexity of a Dark Maestro's magic into something Stiles would understand. "He's dangerous, Stiles. Nightmare level. If Scott is a dog biting the mailman, this guy is the one who burns the house down with the family inside."
Stiles swallowed hard, processing the information.
"Okay. Arson. Got it," he nodded, nervous. "And why are you telling me this? Besides the fact that I dropped the werewolf bomb?"
"Because you're the only one in this school who pays attention," I said seriously. "I'm new. I don't know the faces, I don't have access to the files. You're the Sheriff's son. You know everyone."
I stepped closer, lowering my voice.
"I need you to find this guy. Look for someone new in town. A substitute teacher, a janitor who appeared out of nowhere, a weird librarian. Someone who arrived in the last two weeks and seems... out of place."
Stiles was silent for a moment, absorbing the mission. I saw the gears turning. The fear was there, but the excitement of solving a mystery was greater.
"There's Mr. Harris, but he's been a jerk for years, so he doesn't count," Stiles muttered to himself. "The coach is crazy, but he's our crazy... Okay."
He looked me in the eyes, a new determination emerging.
"I'll find out. If there's someone new in Beacon Hills, I'll find them. But you owe me explanations, Salt. Detailed explanations. With charts, if possible."
"Find the guy, and I'll give you a PowerPoint," I promised.
"Deal," Stiles said. "And... hey. The thing with Erica. You really saved her, right? Like, she was going to die?"
"She was," I confirmed, grimly.
Stiles nodded, a shadow of respect crossing his face.
"Alright. Then we're on the same team. For now."
The bell rang, making us both jump.
"Go," I said. "And Stiles? If you see any purple smoke or smell ozone and blood... run. Don't try to be a hero. Call me."
"Purple smoke. Noted. Super normal," he said, already backing into the hallway. "Oh, and there's one other thing, Salt. One important thing," he pointed a finger, waving it in the air. "Allison. Just for the record, Scott still likes her. Like, a lot. Level 'bad poetry in the back of the notebook'. And he's going through a... hairy moment. Literally. So, if you're planning on using that 'mysterious stranger with a villain car' charm to cross his path while he's vulnerable..."
Stiles narrowed his eyes, trying to look intimidating, which was difficult with his backpack hanging off just one shoulder.
"I will find out. And I might not know what you did to Erica or how you exploded that stereo with a look, but I have a baseball bat and a total disregard for my own physical well-being. Don't hurt Scott, man. He already has enough problems."
I took a deep breath, keeping calm. I knew that for Stiles, Scott was the absolute priority.
"Stiles, relax," I said, crossing my arms. "Allison is an amazing girl, and I respect Scott. He's a good guy in a shitty situation. But between me and her... it's not what you're thinking. I was only there because she needed someone who wasn't running into the woods on Friday."
I focused on his eyes, trying to convey sincerity.
"She's just my friend, Stiles. Nothing more. I didn't come to Beacon Hills to steal anyone's girlfriend. My focus is something else."
"Good. Great. Excellent," Stiles nodded, looking relieved. "Because a love triangle would be the cherry on top of this disaster cake that is my week."
He turned to leave but froze. His eyes widened, fixed on something behind me. He made a high-pitched choking sound.
I turned slowly.
Allison was standing just a few meters away. She was clutching her books against her chest so hard her knuckles were white. From her expression, she had heard the last sentence with absolute clarity.
The silence was cutting.
"Allison!" Stiles jumped. "Hey! You... you're here! How long? Seconds? Milliseconds? We were talking about... Nathan! And how he is a... loyal guy! A loyal friend. A platonic friend. Almost a... a piece of furniture. Like a lamp. You don't have feelings for a lamp, right?"
Allison ignored Stiles' babbling. Her eyes were fixed on mine, and there was a spark of hurt that hit me harder than any spell from Elias.
"Just a friend, Nate?" she asked. Her voice was calm, but it was that dangerous calm of someone who had just been unexpectedly slapped.
"Allison, I was just—"
"No need to explain," she cut me off, taking a step back. "I came to tell you that Finstock canceled class. But I see you're busy... putting people into boxes."
She turned around and walked away quickly down the hall.
Stiles looked at me, face in panic.
"Dude... did you see that? The look? That was the look of death. I know that look, Lydia gives it to me a lot. If you're really one of those... guys who do things... do a trick! Make her forget! Because if Scott finds out you upset her and I was involved, he'll bite me out of pure reflex!"
"Shut up, Stiles," I grumbled, already going after her.
I caught up to Allison near the side exit of the school. The hallway was empty, except for the two of us and the muffled sound of sirens starting to approach the parking lot, something I only registered peripherally.
I grabbed her arm. Not hard, just enough to stop her momentum.
"Allison, wait."
She stopped but didn't turn around immediately. I felt the tension in her arm muscles under the thin cardigan.
"Let go of me, Nate," she said, voice trembling but firm. "I get it. I'm just a piece on the board. A 'platonic friend'. A lamp."
"I didn't say lamp, Stiles did," I corrected, letting go of her arm and stepping to the side to enter her field of vision. "And I was trying to make Stiles shut up and stop creating conspiracy theories. You know how he is."
She finally looked up. There was hurt there, yes, but also that sharp Argent intelligence.
"I know how Stiles is," she countered. "But I also saw how you spoke. Cold. Practical. As if..." She hesitated, searching for the word. "As if liking me was a logistical problem you needed to solve."
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. She wasn't wrong. For me, liking her was a logistical problem. It broke canon, annoyed Scott, and put me in the crosshairs of Chris and Kate.
But seeing her there, vulnerable and angry, made my logic waver.
"It's not logistics, Allison," I said, lowering my tone, taking a step forward. I broke the safe distance. "It's protection."
She frowned, confused. "Protection? From what?"
"From everything," I replied, sincere. "From this town. From Scott. From me."
I looked into her eyes, letting the mask of indifference fall for a second.
"I'm not the good guy in the story, Allison. I have secrets that would give your father a heart attack. Scott... Scott has his problems, but he is genuine. He is light. I am..." I made a vague gesture to myself, to the black sapphire ring on my finger. "I am complicated. And I said that to Stiles because if he thinks I'm after you, it becomes a war. And I don't want you in the crossfire."
Allison stared at me, processing. Her breathing got a little faster. The proximity was dangerous. The hallway was silent. If I leaned in now...
"Nate..." she whispered, and her gaze dropped to my mouth.
It was the moment. The deviation from the script.
But fate—or the chaos of Beacon Hills—had other plans.
The sound of sirens, which was a background hum before, exploded in volume. Red and blue lights began to flash through the glass windows of the corridor, bathing us both in a frenetic strobe.
Voices were shouting outside. Police radios echoed.
Allison blinked, snapping out of the trance, and looked at the window.
"What's happening?" her voice changed, hurt replaced by alarm.
"I don't know," I lied, though a cold suspicion was already crawling up my spine. "Let's see."
We went out the side door, straight into the cold morning air.
The main parking lot was chaos.
Police cars blocked the entrance. Yellow "CRIME SCENE" tapes were being stretched hastily. A crowd of students huddled near the barrier, phones raised, filming.
And in the center of it all... the bus.
Not my Charger, thank God. A yellow school bus.
But it didn't look like a bus anymore. It looked like it had been chewed up.
The door was ripped off. The windows, shattered. There were deep claw marks on the metal of the side, tearing the sheet metal like it was aluminum foil. And blood. A lot of blood on the asphalt.
I felt Allison freeze beside me. Her hand went to her mouth.
"My God..."
I said nothing. I just activated Magic Vision.
The world turned blue. I focused on the bus.
Immediately, I saw the obvious trail. A red, wild, hot aura covered the vehicle. The mark of an Alpha. Peter Hale had had fun last night.
But then, I forced my vision. I squinted, using Level 3 to see beneath the surface.
"Come on... where are you?" I murmured.
And there it was.
Intertwined in the claw marks, hidden under the Alpha's red like a silent infection, was a purple mist.
Thin. Oily.
It wasn't on the claws. It was on the wheels. And in the gas tank.
Resonance, I realized mentally.
Elias didn't control the Alpha. The Alpha was too strong for that. But Elias had set the stage. He had used the sound of the bus engine, or maybe the driver's radio, to lure the monster or to put the victim in a trance before the attack.
They were working together. Or, at the very least, Elias was following the Alpha like a vulture, taking advantage of the chaos.
"Nate!"
Stiles' voice.
I turned. He and Scott were standing near the yellow tape, away from the crowd.
Scott looked like he was going to vomit. He was pale, sweating cold, staring at the bus with absolute terror.
"Allison," I said, touching her shoulder. "Stay here. Don't go near it. I need to talk to them."
She nodded, still in shock. "Go."
I walked over to the two of them. Stiles saw me coming and grabbed my arm, pulling me away from curious ears.
"Did you see it?" Stiles hissed. "Tell me you saw something magical. Tell me it was a gremlin. A ghost. Anything that isn't..." He pointed discreetly at Scott.
Scott looked up at me. There were tears there.
"I dreamed it, Nate," Scott whispered, his voice broken. "I dreamed I was there. I tasted blood. I... did I do this?"
I looked at him. His aura was a mess of guilt and fear, the inner wolf shrinking back.
I looked back at the bus. The mixture of Red and Purple.
I could tell the truth. I could say "It wasn't you, it was Peter Hale and a crazy Mage."
But if I said that now, Scott would relax. He would stop fearing his own power. And he needed that fear to learn to control himself. His hero arc depended on this initial terror.
Besides, I couldn't reveal Peter yet.
"Scott," I said, my voice hard and clinical. "Look at me."
He looked.
"Did you dream of blood?"
"Yes."
"Did you wake up with blood?"
He hesitated, looking at his own hands. "No... I don't know. I don't think so."
"Then breathe," I ordered. "Werewolf dreams are vivid. Psychic connection with the pack, maybe. You might have seen what another wolf did."
Hope shone in Stiles' eyes.
"See?! I told you! Wolf Wi-Fi connection! You were watching it live, not playing!"
Scott didn't seem convinced. "It felt too real, Nate."
"Magic makes things seem real, Scott," I said, casting a meaningful look at the bus and the invisible purple mist. "There is a lot going on in this town that you don't understand. Don't take the blame for a corpse you aren't sure you created."
Before he could answer, the school door opened with a bang.
Coach Finstock came out, looking recovered from the food poisoning, blowing his whistle like a madman.
"Show's over! Nothing to see here! It's just a broken bus, probably mechanical defect or a very pissed off bear! Everyone inside! If I see one more cell phone recording, I'm going to shove whistles in places you won't like!"
The crowd began to disperse.
"Let's go," I said to both of them. "Acting guilty is the first step to getting arrested, Scott. Head up."
Scott nodded, swallowing his tears, and started walking toward the entrance.
Stiles stayed back for a second, looking at me.
"You know something," he stated.
"I know that bus has two energy signatures," I whispered back, fast. "One wild. And one sonic."
Stiles' eyes widened.
"Elias?"
"He was there," I confirmed. "Which means our Dark Mage is following the Alpha's blood trail. Stiles... this is worse than I thought. They might not be allies, but they are feeding off each other."
"Great. Monster symbiosis. I love biology," Stiles grumbled, sarcastic. "What do we do?"
"You watch Scott. Don't let him do anything stupid, like turn himself in to the police."
"And you?"
I looked at the bus one last time, where the purple mana pulsed, disappearing under the sunlight.
"I'm going to have a little chat with Jackson," I replied, adjusting my jacket. "If Elias is playing with minds and aggression... I need to ensure my unstable 'ally' isn't the next time bomb."
Stiles frowned. "Jackson? Why?"
"Because if I were a mage who feeds on chaos..." I looked at the school entrance, where Jackson was yelling at someone. "...I would target the most insecure and angry guy in school."
I turned my back on the bus.
"See you at lunch. Try not to let Scott howl in the middle of math class."
I walked into the school, feeling the weight of the Reserve Ring on my finger.
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Hey guys, I know people usually skip the author notes, so I'm writing this right here. Sorry for the delay, I'm trying my best! I had a bit of writer's block, but I'm back now. I wrote a ton today, so if this story gets enough Power Stones, I'll do a 5-chapter mass release on the next update!