Gracie frowned when she saw her old him. Pulling up to what was left of the Hale house, she parked her car as she got out to see Derek standing on the porch.
"Why did you want me to come here?" She asked as she walked up the steps, stuffing her hands in her pockets as a cold breeze hit her. "You told me you were gonna look for Laura."
"I did," he said after he let out a heavy breath. He stood there stiffly, not sure how to keep on going.
Gracie furrowed her eyebrows. "So you were right? She's missing?"
"She was..."
"What does that mean? Did you find her? Is she okay?"
Derek pursed his lips sadly and looked over at his baby sister. "Laura's dead, Grace."
"No..." Gracie shook her head vehemently. "No, no, no...She just was fine. Just a few days ago."
After Derek showed her where he found their older sister, Gracie stared down at Laura's body, which had been completely cut in half. Her hair had been matted with mud and leaves. Her eyes were foggy and clouded with death.
Gracie swallowed thickly as she stepped back, turning away as she finally broke. Derek stepped forward as he held her, pulling her into a hug as she sobbed. Out of everyone, Gracie had been the closest with Laura. She was probably the closest thing she had to a mother since the fire.
"Was it them?" She finally asked when she stepped back, wiping the tears away. Anger blossomed in her chest for a second as she thought about who could've done this. "Was it the Argents?"
The Argents were one of the most infamous werewolf hunters throughout the world. Their lineage went back over four hundred years. But they had a code. They wouldn't harm or kill wolves unless they harmed any hunters.
But Gracie knew better.
While most people in the town had gossiped about the Argents burning down the Hale house, she and her brother knew the truth. They knew they did it. They knew what that family was capable of, and this wasn't even the worst they could do.
"Maybe," Derek breathed with a nod before he handed her something. "But there's something else. I found this near her body. Do you recognize the name?"
Gracie stared at what she was holding, which was an inhaler. Wiping the dirt off the label, she squinted at the name "Scott McCall", which was marked along the side.
"Yeah, I recognize the name," the Hale girl confirmed, handing the inhaler back. "We go to school together. He's in some of my classes." Swiping a strand of hair behind her ear, Gracie sighed. "What are we gonna do now?"
"First...we're gonna bury her," Derek planned out as the look on his face turned into a scowl. "And then I'm going to find out who did this."
Suddenly, Gracie's brother looked back, turning to the trees as something caught his attention.
"Der, what's wrong?" She asked.
"Someone's here."
"I don't-I don't know what it was," Scott admitted as he and Stiles went through a small stream with a log on top as they climbed across it. "It was like I had all the time in the world to catch the ball. And that's not the only weird thing. I-I can hear stuff I shouldn't be able to hear. Smell things."
"Smell things? Like what?" Stiles asked skeptically.
"Like the mint mojito gum in your pocket."
"I don't even have any mint mojito..." The boy's voice trailed off as he dug into his pocket, and slowly pulled out an old, smooshed piece of gum. "So all this started with a bite?"
"What if it's like an infection, like, my body's flooding with adrenaline before I go into shock or something?"
"You know what? I actually think I've heard of this. It's a specific kind of infection," Stiles began as Scott stopped in his tracks with raised brows.
"Are you serious?" Scott asked.
"Yeah. Yeah, I think it's called 'Lycanthropy'."
Scott's eyes widened. "What is it? Is it bad?"
"Oh, yeah, it's the worst," Stiles nodded. "But only once a month."
"Once a month?" Scott furrowed his eyebrows and Stiles placed his hands on his hips.
"Mm-hmm. On the night of the full moon," Stiles sighed and he made a howling noise. He laughed as Scott gave him a shove. "Hey, you're the one who heard a wolf howling."
"Hey, there could be something seriously wrong with me," Scott whined, not really amused by his friend's joke.
"I know! You're a werewolf!" Stiles kept going, making growling noises as he mocked Scott. "Okay, obviously I'm kidding. But if you see me in shop class trying to melt all the silver I can find, it's 'cause Friday's a full moon."
Scott stopped in his tracks, kicking around the leaves and branches, his eyes widening. It wasn't there. His inhaler was gone.
"No, I-I could have sworn this was it," he said, bending over as he examined the ground around them. "I saw the body, the deer came running, and then I dropped my inhaler."
"Maybe the killer moved the body," Stiles suggested, helping him look.
"If he did, I hope he left my inhaler. Those things are like 80 bucks."
As he helped Scott look around, Stiles practically jumped when he saw some man standing a few feet away. It was a man...an eerie-looking man. His skin was unusually pale and he was wearing all black.
Stiles slapped Scott's shoulder, getting his attention. As Scott got to his feet, the guy stalked forward. "What are you doing? This is private property."
"Uh, sorry, man, we didn't know,"Stiles spoke up nervously, feeling awkward.
"Yeah, we were just looking for something, but...uh, forget it," Scott said, keeping his eyes glued on the strange man.
The pale, dark-haired man pulled something from his pocket and tossed it over to Scott. He glanced down, now grasping his inhaler that he lost. The two glanced from the inhaler back at Derek, only to find that he was gone.
"Uhm. All right, come on, I gotta get to work," Scott told Stiles as they waited for the strange man to leave. When he was gone, they headed back to Stiles' Jeep. "Who the hell was that guy?"
"Dude, that was Derek Hale. Gracie Hale's brother!" Stiles answered, making it sound like he should've heard about it. "You remember, right? He's only like a few years older than us."
"Remember what?" Scott asked, giving him a bewildered look.
"Their family. They all burned to death in a fire, like, ten years ago," Stiles explained.
"What's he still doing here?"
"Looking after Gracie, I guess."
By the time FRIDAY came, Scott was still freaking out and kind of slightly amazed by his new abilities. Gracie, on the other hand, watched him and a few other players run out onto the field with the rest of the team. Derek had told her about his sneaking-suspicion and told her to keep a close-eye on him.
"Okay. You know how this goes," Coach began. "If you don't make the cut, you're most likely sitting on the bench for the rest of the season. You make the cut -- you play. Your parents are proud. Your girlfriend loves ya! Huh? Everything else is, uh, cream cheese. Now, get out there and show me whatcha got! Come on."
"Let's go! Let's go!" Jackson yelled as Finstock blew the whistle. Gracie cringed as watched the fast and brutal pace of the game. When the ball was tossed to Scott, Jackson came right after him. His lacrosse stick smacked down on his gloved hands as he tossed Scott to ground. He flew back, rolling over and over again as he kicked dirt up around until he came to a stop.
Scott glowered when he looked above and his teeth were clenched as Jackson stood over him with a smirk, picking up the ball with his gloved hand.
When he was back on his feet, Coach gave his whistle a sharp blow. As the next play started, the tension filled the air with Scott and Jackson sharing glares from across the field, waiting for the ball to drop.
As soon as the ball dropped, Scott moved at an incredible speed, his arms swinging back and forth as he sped forward and grabbed the ball right from under Jackson. Sprinting across the field, he dodged the players coming at him, ducking under them.
As Jackson caught up to him, Gracie watched as the defense blocked him off. Then, out of nowhere, Scott twisted his stick to keep Jackson from stealing the ball as he flipped into the air. He whirled around them as he landed back on the ground.
Turning forward, Scott tossed the ball over the goalie's shoulder and straight into the net. Gracie clapped softly as everyone in the crowd roared.
"McCall!" Finstock shouted and Scott made his way over to Coach. "Get over here! What in God's name was that? This is a lacrosse field. What, are you trying out for the gymnastics team?"
"No, Coach," Scott shook his head with an unsure expression on his face.
"What the hell was that?"
"I don't know. I was just trying to make the shot."
"Yeah, well, you made the shot. And guess what? You're startin', buddy," Coach grinned, patting Scott's shoulder. "You made first line. Come on!"
Gracie, clapping slowly from the stands, stood as she watched. She wasn't sure until now, but Derek was right.
Scott McCall was a werewolf.