Somewhere amidst bloodthirsty werewolves and vengeful hunters, Carson Bradley did the one thing she thought she never would: she fell for her best friend.
(season 1, book 1)
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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE SOUR WOLF IS NOT A CHAFFEUR
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Now I know I've seen a lot of movies with car chases. And yes, I enjoyed them very much. Especially the ones in the Fast and the Furious movies. I mean, how could you not love seeing Paul Walker? But my love for car races did not under any circumstances mean that I wanted to partake in one. But when your friends with Scott McCall and linked to Derek Hale, apparently it was unavoidable.
I was sat in the backseat of Derek Hale's Camaro. I was sliding back and forth across the leather upholstery seeing as the back had dysfunctional seat belts. Normally if it were Derek driving, I don't think they would have been necessary: it's not like he'd have friends to cart around anyways.
I had only been home for about four hours when Stiles and Scott had shown up in Derek's Camaro, yelling for me to get in. They had only a three minute window, having just outrun Kate a little while back. No needing her to know where I lived. I was thankful I had changed into sweats and sneakers by then. I mean, who wants to book it down their driveway in heels?
Scott was driving the car and Stiles was beside him the passenger seat yelling remarks about him driving too slowly. He may have sounded like a jerk but it was for a good cause; we were being tailed. By someone who thought they were following Derek.
I turned around in my seat, kneeling on it. I peered out the window, trying to see past the bright blur of the other car's headlights. With my eyes narrowed, I could barely make out the features of Kate Argent, Allison's volatile aunt.
I had only met Kate once, pre-night school incident. I had been over Allison's house and Kate had come in, talking to Allison about things like certain books to use for her history project, all about something called the La Bête du Gevudan. It was also known as the Beast of Gevudan and it ended up being a French tale about Allison's family lineage. Supposedly, one of Allison's crazy werewolf hunting ancestors killed some giant werewolf. Anyways, Kate was going on and on about it and it started to seem like her words had a double meaning. The things that Kate began saying made it seem like she wanted Allison to find out; she wanted Allison to become as nuts as she was.
To sum it up, Kate was a crazy werewolf hunter. But I only had to spend a good fifteen minutes within a ten foot radius of her; Scott had to spend an entire dinner with her. And Allison's parents.
"Uh, Scott," I began warily. "Not to be a backseat driver, but I think you need to pick up the pace a bit. We have Kate Argent on our ass right now!"
Scott took a quick look in the rearview mirror. "Faster?" he asked.
"Much faster," Stiles agreed. Scott nodded nervously, shifting into the next gear.
The car did end up picking up speed. You have to give Scott credit for following orders. But the thing was that he only accelerated by five. This clearly didn't faze Kate at all. Any closer and she'd be rear ending us. And then catching us and most likely killing us. That was going to pose an issue.
