Saving Scott

8: Argent

Outside of the Yukimura House

Sunrise

After a lot of pleading, Malia got the twins to help take Kira home that morning. They left immediately after dropping the girls off outside of Kira's house. Malia made sure to ride with Ethan, because he was gay and Malia was still only in her bra.

"Don't you need a ride, too?" Kira watched them leave.

"No, I can just run home," Malia shrugged. "I usually do. I'm more concerned about how my dad's going to react to me being in just my bra, actually."

Kira winced. "Overprotective dad?"

"The worst," Malia nodded. "You gonna be okay?"

Kira didn't respond; instead, she let out a sigh. "So, all of your friends are..." she didn't finish the question, but it was obvious what she was asking.

"Yeah," nodded Malia.

"And you're a - "

"Yeah," Malia cut her off. "I'm a were-coyote true alpha. Not a werewolf, even though I know I basically look the exact same as one."

"Can I see?" Kira asked.

"Sure," nodded Malia, and with that said, she glanced around to make sure nobody was watching and then made her eyes brilliant red. Facial hair grew almost like sideburns on her face, and her ears became pointed. She looked at Kira, who was watching her in something resembling awe.

"Aiden and Ethan had blue eyes," Kira remembered, her fingers circling Malia's red eyes. "And Isaac, his were yellow. What do the different colored eyes mean?"

"Red means you're an alpha," Malia said, turning her eyes back to brown. "Yellow means you're a beta, it's the color of most of werewolves - or were-coyotes' - eyes. And blue means that you've killed someone."

Kira's eyes widened, and Malia's phone rang. "Oh, Allison wants me. Maybe I won't have to go back home topless after all," she grinned over at Kira, detransforming completely. "See you at school, Kira!"

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The Argent House

Later That Morning

"Its eyes were glowing," Malia told Christopher Argent, Allison's father, who was currently undergoing a first aid treatment as his daughter dabbed at various cuts on his face with gauze. Allison had been able to find her flannel shirt, unlike Malia, and had put it back on; Malia was currently wearing a striped T-shirt of Allison's, inwardly cringing at how girly it looked. All of them had taken their paint off.

"There was something almost ritualistic about it," nodded Argent, "like it was looking, right into his soul."

"Same thing it did to me," Isaac said, sitting on a table by the edge of Argent's office and looking at Allison, her father, and Malia in turn. 

"That's what they did to everyone," Allison said, focusing on her father's injuries; he had come home that morning, battered and bruised, and still hadn't told Malia where he'd gotten the injuries from.