Blood Moon | A Teen Wolf Fanfiction

Chapter 37

We will have a full moon in 3 days and we need to be in La Puerta when it happens. Reid hasn't come to school ever since the incident at the game against Devenport. I don't have any reason to want to see him in the first place. Drake's been a little distant, but not from me. But the whole concept of demons. Whenever Scott brings it up to talk about, Drake has no interest in discussing. I don't blame him. I remember I was always distant whenever someone brought up an idea to find my parents. Drake misses his father. While I still have Scott. His father was the only person he had. Well, family wise.

I decided to wake up early this morning and make breakfast for Scott and I. He's the one that usually wakes up first. But I woke up from a nightmare and I couldn't go back to sleep. When I opened a cupboard to grab a frying pan to cook bacon, I noticed dust collecting on it. So, I had to wash it off and then put a cooking oil on it. There was already pre-sliced bacon in the freezer and only had a few weeks left till it expires. So, I decided to put some good use to it. What were we going to drink? I thought long and hard about this one because Scott is a picky drinker. I didn't have school today because it was a weekend so I was in no hurry to get breakfast done fast. I decided on using orange juice as a drink because it was the only juice we had in the refrigerator. I also chose to make french toast. I have many memories of making french toast. When I was 5, Scott came over to my parent's house and my mom was making french toast. It was Scott's favorite. The way she made it was delicious. Her own special recipe in fact. Once, I learned it, I would always make it for him. I remember liking how it brought I smile to his face.

My mother's special way to do it was always to put the egg yolk down first, then the toast, and following the butter. She would sprinkle a little pepper and salt onto a bar of butter then microwave it. Once it had completely melted. She then trickled the melted butter onto the toast and let in cook on the frying pan the raw toast turned a dark brown golden.

Unexpectically, Scott didn't come downstairs till 10. He came down drowsy and unfocused. Tripping over himself frequently and unaware the I was downstairs. His eyes half open and face a dull rosy red. His hair not gelled but uneven and scattered on his forehead.

"Good morning," he yawns, "Allison," I reveal to him a plate of delicious food and his face lights up. "When did you wake up?" he wonders as he approaches me and takes to plate and glass of orange juice from my hands. I watch as he walks extremely slow to the table and sits down. I quickly grab my own food off the counter and sit beside him.

"Well, dunno, just decided to wake up early to make your favorite," I pause to wait for for his expression of uncertainty, then smiling, "French Toast." He turns back to his plate and pokes at the toast with his fork. Then he has a bite. "How is it?" I say anxiously. There's a long pause he processes my words and focuses on the taste like a food critic.

"Well..." Scott says in a British accent like how a bon vivant would describe their food, a snicker a little at his humor, " I don't like the french toast." I frown in surprise as I stare wondrously into his eyes. There's a long pause as he smirks, "I love it!" my face lights up and he chuckles in a British manor, "It tastes as good as how your mother made it." Relieved, I sigh and pick up my fork with a square of french toast with maple syrup on top at the end. I taste it cautiously, and to my surprise, it actually tastes as good as when my mother made it for my dad and me for breakfast. I did a pretty excellent job if I do say so myself.

5 long minutes pass and I think intevely. Thinking over the words that I am about to tell Scott. Unsure if I am going to say them right. "Hey Scott,"

"Yeah?" Scott says lifting his head.

"Do you still have the Beastiary. Y'know, the one Chris gave you at the end of your senior year of high school?" I say cautiously, scared to what he might say.

"Yeah, sure. Why?" he wonders.

"I just wanted to look up something," I answer.

"Ok. It's up in my room," he responds.

I finish my food quickly, putting my dishes in the sink. "Thanks," I exclaim to Scott and immediately head upstairs. When I reach his room, the incoming sunlight almost blinds as I try to make out a large book on his neatly made bed. "The Beastiary" I whisper to myself in excitement. I slide onto the bed and lay the book on my lap. it's in a different language, but I learned how to understand it when I was very young. Flipping to the table of contents and then using my finger to scroll down the page to 'symptoms'. I flip the pages impatiently to the right page. Once I reach the page, I look for 'rapid healing'. It takes me to a different section, then I look for the next symptom, 'ability to contact the dead'. Then that takes me to another section. I repeat saying symptoms I've been getting that involve all things supernatural. 'Easily sweats' , 'high-pitched scream' , 'allergic to iron' , etc. This leads me to the last page of the book where all my symptoms match. I read.

'Powerful supernatural beings who appear human, and are very rare in existence. They have the power to burn anyone into ash with a simple touch of its hand. Even though immortal and powerful, it was still vulnerable to iron like many other supernatural creatures. They would combust upon death, and their ashes can kill any immortal or invulnerable supernatural creature. Their tears can heal any human soul and they have the ability to see and contact those of the dead and living. Their cries can single their location or be used as a weapon much like a banshee. Due to them being rare, they can be the offspring of a banshee. But this only occurs one in thousands of centuries. Some call this supernatural being 'the firebird' but it's better known for its mythology name...'

I stare at the next word, that will explain what or who I am.

'Pheonix'