The Calling of Whitechapel | MBSAV Fanfiction

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞

"Good morning!" My eyes open slowly as Jane comes into view. She leans over me, chomping down on a piece of toast. "Why are you all sleeping in the basement?" After dealing with death a couple of hours of go, we tried our best to calm ourselves but it was still too real. Benny had already insisted he stay over and we all quickly decided to take refuge in the basement. After laying in silence for too long, Ethan flicked on a movie, Ice Age to try and relieve some stress before all nodding off. It had occurred to me that vampires could not enter the house unless given direct permission but I couldn't allow myself the chance.

"Get outta here Jane!" Ethan demands.

"Sorry. I don't know what going on with you guys. Like why you're sneaking around in the forest and going to parties at midnight."

"Jane, we never went to a party-"

"Yes you did. I was awake when you guys ditched me with Gran and I heard you talking about a university party."

"Jane, wait!" She leaves without allowing Ethan to explain himself.

"I guess that means it wasn't a dream," Benny says.

"Do you think they're gonna be at school today?" I ask.

"I don't know. If Erica and Rory aren't there... I guess we can assume they're dead." I felt wrong to say it with such blatantance, but it was very true.

"I wonder how Sarah's doing," Ethan worries. "It must have been difficult to see her best friend go through that."

"Yeah. We better get going," I remind. "Help me fold the blankets."

Stiles slowly pulls into the school. He and I Scott had briefly questioned the whereabouts of Rory but Ethan simply remarked he was not feeling well. I skim the parking lot thoroughly, checking for any signs of Rory, Erica, or even Sarah. No old sports cars or people dressed in black. I sigh in worry. Ethan, Benny and I exit the vehicle, waving goodbye to Stiles and Scott who drive off to the car park. The ground is still damp from last night's rain, and a couple of broken branches lay scattered in the garden across from the parking lot. The wet smell is unnerving and I feel my skin crawl again. Students buzz with excitement about the destructive storm from the previous night, sharing about how it escalated after midnight. I overhear one student mentioning how their dog couldn't stop barking at the thunder. As we make our way through the bustling halls, our curiosity is piqued by a commotion caused by a group of jocks. They have cornered someone against a locker. We pause to watch, intrigued by the tension. The guy they have trapped appears surprisingly composed, leaning confidently against the lockers while maintaining a firm grip on his bag.

"Guys, please. There's no need to fight over me," he calmly interjects. However, one of the jocks hurls a punch at the locker beside him, the force making the scruffy-haired boy's hair sway. The jock retrieves his hand, leaving behind a noticeable dent in the metal.

"Say that again. I dare you!" the jock challenges, his tone laced with aggression. The boy maintains his composure. I look to Benny, assuming he has the answers to every high school drama.

"Who are those guys?" I ask.

"Football team. The only team I hate more than Lacross. I think most wanna go pro," Benny explains.

"Who's that guy?"

"Jet? That's Jackson Whittemore. He's the captain of the-"

"No, I mean him," I say, pointing to one of the jocks. He stands slightly apart from the rest, his presence noticeably different. His deep brown eyes watch the unfolding fight cautiously. Long, dark hair tied into a bun revealing strong cheekbones and jawline. He stands tall with a rugged appearance and a colourful red and cyan feather hanging from a string around his neck.