Thunder and Blood

6

Scott

Peter begins to take off his sweatshirt, and I think everyone in the changing room stops what they're doing to watch him. I find myself watching his out of the corner of my eye, he seems to pause, feeling everyone's eyes on his back as he starts to pull off his orange t-shirt underneath. He's reluctant, that part is obvious. But if he doesn't change, he'll get yelled at by coach.

He pulls the shirt over his head, revealing his back.

My heart speeds up when I see them.

He's scarred. Heavily. Most of his back is covered in the white tissue.

There is a tattoo on his forearm, it says SPQR, with a fork above it. But I don't focus on it for long. This kid is ripped, he has lean, hard muscle everywhere. I have never seen anyone our age, especially not human, with that type of build. I lock eyes with Isaac, he has a small grin on his face.

Peter turns around, pulling on his gym shirt. Every one of us return to what we were doing, trying not to look like we had been watching him.

I swallow the lump in my throat as I face my locker. I need to figure out what this kid is. And fast.

With the timing of his arrival, he must have something to do with Void and Stiles. I don't have a lot of time to find out what it is, but I can't afford to waste time. Not when Stiles is missing.

I wait until everyone has left the change room, and knowing Peter would be the last one out, I block the doorway. He grabs something from his sweater, stuffing it into my gym shorts. He looks up to see me in his way. "Do you need something?" He asks, folding his clothes up and putting them in a neat pile on the bench.

"Who are you." I cross my arms in front of my chest.

"Um- I'm Peter Johnson, I came here from New York-"

"No. Who are you really?"

"Excuse me?" He doesn't look scared, or intimidated. He looks calm, amused even.

"You heard me. Stop pretending."

He reaches back into his pocket, and I think I might have seen a smirk flicker across his face. "You're a shapeshifter, am I right?" He asks, the smirk gone as soon as it came, he wraps his fingers around whatever he had put into his pocket.

"What are you?" I ask, ready for a fight.

"I don't feel like playing around right now, Scott. Move out of the way, please."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll send you back to where you came from, tέρας." He says the last work like an insult, his eyes darkening, he pulls the object out of his pocket. A pen. A ballpoint pen. I almost laugh. Who does this kid think he is?

"I think you have it backwar-" I start, but he uncaps the pen, and instantly it transforms into a bronze sword. He point the blade in my direction. The corner of his mouth turns upwards into a corrupt grin, he says something to me in a different language, one I've heard Lydia speak before.

"What?" He asks in English, I try to recompose myself. I don't know if I succeed. "Are you scared, Scott?" Who the Hell is this boy?

"Where's Stiles?" I ask, my voice soft. This might be my best shot at finding him.

"Who?" He blinks. "Oh, your little friend? The possessed one, right?"

"Where is he?" I snarl, he raises an eyebrow.

"That's what I'm here to figure out, Scott. Now move from the doorway so I can find him and go home."