St. Clair || Stilinski [2]

Eleven || You're Gonna Need A Bigger Blade

|| You're Gonna Need A Bigger Blade

     Morning surfaced over Beacon Hills welcomingly, the supernatural atmosphere significantly less scarier in daylight. Given that, it was still fairly terrifying.

     Two drink trays of Stella's sat on the hood of Stiles' Jeep in the high school parking lot, drousy eyes slowly beginning to be overpowered by coffee as they tried to regroup for the day ahead.

      Jacy paced in front of Beacon's own Mystery Gang, shaking her head. "Tracy wasn't just having trouble sleeping. It was a real disorder. It was night terrors."

     "Well, now she's the night terror," said Stiles, forearms rested on Roscoe's hood. "Especially since no one can find her."

     Jacy lightly nodded, gripping her second cup of coffee. She couldn't remember off the top of her head the last time she slept. "I was out all night and there was no sign of her. Not even a scent. It's bizarre."

     "Okay, I know we're all tired and miserable." Scott turned to an alarmingly awake Mason, his energy pulsing so bright it nearly made him wince. "Except you."

     "Oh," Mason quickly said, "I'm sorry. This is all just mind blowing." He hadn't stopped smiling since the night before when Liam had finally explained the underside of Beacon Hills. Mason motioned to Allison, "You were dead for like, three months. Jacy, you can see ghosts and you're a werewolf. I don't even understand how that works."

     Stiles sighed. "Liam, we said you could tell him. Not invite him to the inner circle."

     Mason's eyes bulged. "I'm in the inner circle?"

     "No," Stiles and Liam said in sync.

     "Guys," Scott pressed, "look, back to Tracy. She's just one lone wolf. We can find her."

     "One lone serial killing wolf," Allison put in between sips of coffee.

     Stiles hesitated, minorly defensive. "Uh, she only killed one person, y'know. The other two were mauled." He looked around the group questionably. "What do we do when we catch her?"

     Allison spoke up first, one arm across her stomach absently holding on the fabric of her cardigan. "I say we put her down."

     And when no objections came, Mason announced his thoughts. "Intense."

     Ignoring the sophomore entirely, Scott said, "Guys, let's concentrate on catching her first. We'll figure out the rest later."

     The five minute warning bell rang over head, the group to beginning to disband on cue.

     "I'll keep you guys updated on Donovan. Jordan's been texting me since he woke up." Jacy adjusted the strap of her bookbag, still clutching her coffee as if it were a lifeline. "Right now he's still not answering questions. He just keeps asking for a lawyer."

     The group parted, Scott and Lydia headed for bio, Mason and Liam for history while Allison, Jacy and Stiles went together towards their lockers.

     Jacy's phone buzzed in her bag, causing her to reach in for the device. "Ah, shit," she muttered as she opened the new message from Jordan. "Well that explains where she was last night."

     Stiles' eyebrows furrowed, pushing open the heavy double doors. "Who, Tracy?"

     "Yeah. Push her kill count to two," Jacy said with a sigh. "She killed her psychiatrist."

||

     The atmosphere of AP Bio was as dismal as always, but today was particularly worse. Mrs. Finch's tests were being returned to terrified students.