Bandruí - Book 2 - L.M.

Currents

It was a strange noise by her ear that woke her up that morning. Not her alarm, not even her uncle moving around the house to get ready for work as it usually happened. That day, it had been a weird noise that had woken Angie up - like the flapping of wings, but not mosquito ones that usually buzzed and vibrated. That noise... That noise was different. Like the wings flapping around her were bigger than that. A lot bigger than that.

Angie frowned, sitting up on the couch she had claimed as her bed at the corner of the living room of her uncle's house as she rubbed her eyes and tried to situate herself. At the very least, she was still at her uncle Alan's house, waking up exactly where she had fallen asleep. That alone was a victory. But the house was quiet. Almost too quiet.

"Uncle Alan?" Angie called, pushing her cover off of herself as she twisted in her bed and planted her both feet on the ground. "Uncle Alan? Are you there?"

Usually, if he had heard her, Alan Deaton would have called out to Angie already. The two of them knowing quite well they were too involved with a very dangerous life-style in Beacon Hills to even risk worry one another without actual reason. And that was exactly why, as soon as Uncle Alan hadn't responded to her, Angie felt a lump starting to form in her troath.

"Uncle Alan?" Angie called out again, starting to make her way around the house in search of any sign of her uncle to, instead, stop in the middle of the living room where, flying around a lamp, was a huge, brown butterfly. "No... No, no, no..."

Frantically, Angie rushed around the house, going as far as going inside her uncle's bedroom, practically calling out his name as she hoped that her theory was wrong. When she found absolutely no sign of Alan Deaton, she fell into slight despair. After all, if she was right - and, as much as she hated it, Angie usually was - the butterfly in her living room that had woken her up that morning was not just a butterfly. Instead, she was a sign. And a sign that something really, really bad was just about to happen.

"Shit..." She mumbled under her breath, going back to the living room and gasping when she saw, just outside her window, a swarm of butterflies, all trying to get inside and practically covering the whole glass, making the room a lot darker than it should be considering it was already seven in the morning. "Oh, no, please..."

It was a desperate attempt, Angie knew, but she needed to try it anyway. Pulling out her phone, Angie called her uncle, shaking her head when it went straight to voice mail. She tried again. Same thing. After the third time didn't work either, Angie decided that trying was a waste of time and, instead of calling up her uncle again, she decided to try and call for someone who she knew was probably more than likely to come over and help her: Scott McCall.

***

Scott practically barreled through the doors of the clinic, with Stiles in tow and barely noticing the presence of the sheriff and some of his deputies there as he moved to crouch down in front of Angie as she sat on one of the chairs of the waiting area.

"You okay?" He asked, his eyebrows furrowing in worry as they usually did.

"I'm... I'm okay." Angie nodded, even though she wasn't too sure of that answer herself.

"What happened?" He asked, his hands hovering over Angie's knees, almost afraid of touching her at all, the two of them still feeling slightly awkward around each other after everything that had gone down at the motel a few days before. "How did you know?"

"I just woke up and uncle Alan wasn't home." She sniffled quietly, her own hand shooting out to grab's Scott in search of some very needed comfort. "I looked for him everywhere and he just wasn't there anymore."

Scott nodded then, squeezing Angie's hand in his, unsure on what else to say or do that would, at least, help Angie calm down even if for a moment.

"And how did my dad know?" Stiles asked, after giving Angie a moment to gather herself.