𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐋 | ❝ I will protect you until my dying breath. And every lifetime after that. ❞
They just can't catch a break.
Old and new enemies appear in Beacon Hills.
With the help of old and new allies, they have to...
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ALARIC'S LEG BOUNCED ANXIOUSLY as he sat at his desk behind Scott in Economics class. That was the last place he wanted to be, what with everything he had going on. By now, the three girls who showed up at his house were in the office getting their schedules and whatnot. They had apparently been enrolled right after they got dispatched to Beacon Hills and would be attending the school to stay close to Alaric and his friends.
Close in case they were needed.
They had fully briefed Alaric and his family before Alaric left for school with Adella. His mother was supposed to bring the girls in order to do all that new student stuff.
The cover story was that they were Alaric's cousins staying with them for an unforeseeable amount of time while their parents were out of the country.
Alaric didn't know how to tell Lydia of the news of these girls. Because they were also to keep an extremely close eye on his and Lydia's bond and relationship. He hated the idea...he could only imagine how she was going to feel. He chewed on his thumbnail nervously at the thought.
Stiles didn't know yet either, but Alaric had a feeling that Stiles would find it all extremely cool. He'd been dying to learn more about nephilim culture and, well...he was about to get his wish.
Scott, Sarah, and Derek were the only ones of Alaric's friends who knew right now.
"Economic disparity," Coach's loud voice forced Alaric out of his thoughts to pay attention to the lesson, "exists in all forms. Well, take sports, for example. Some teams have better training facilities. Some have better equipment." Coach started walking down the aisle of desks between Stiles and Scott's desks. "Unlike Beacon Hills that can barely afford the duct tape to keep our equipment together."
Coach saw that Stiles wasn't paying attention to the lesson. He was instead looking through crime scene photos of the werewolf woman who had been killed over the weekend at the school. Coach slammed the butt end of the lacrosse stick in his hand against Stiles' desk, scaring the poor spastic boy. Alaric snorted, covering his mouth with his hand.
Coach leaned over the desk, taking one of the crime scene photos in his hand and grimacing at it slightly. "You know, Stilinski, if I could grade you on how profoundly you disturb me, you'd be an A plus student."
"Thanks, Coach," Stiles stated back, making Alaric chortle under his breath again.
"Put those pictures away." Coach stood up straighter again, tapping the butt end of the stick a couple of times against Stiles' desk.
Stiles started to do just that until he stopped, staring at the rubber piece on the stick. He grabbed it tightly before Coach could pull it away. "Stilinski!" Coach protested, trying to pull it back.
Stiles grabbed the stick with both hands and pulled the rubber piece off so that he was looking down the hollow opening of the titanium stick. He grabbed another crime scene photo and began looking between the two.
